darkness, they snatched athis mind, and as he opened his eyes, they, too, saw the splendors of themountains and the valley, the blue sky, and the gold sun high overhead.
* * * * *
The new man was young, only twenty-six. He was lean and dark and veryenthusiastic about his work. He sat straight in his chair waitingattentively while his superior across the desk leafed through a folder.
"Jordan. Tom Jordan," the older man finally said. "A nice old Earthname. I suppose your folks came from there."
"Yes, sir," the new man said briskly.
The chief closed the folder.
"Well," he said, "your first job is a pretty important one."
"I realize that, sir," Jordan said. "I know it's a great responsibilityfor a man just starting with the Commission, but I'll give it everything I have."
The chief leaned back in his seat and scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Normally we start a beginner like you working in a pair with an olderman. But we just haven't got enough men to go around. There are eightthousand planets there"--he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder toa wall-sized map of the galaxy--"and we've got to cover every one. Itseems reasonable that if he escaped this planet, he'll go to anotherthat will by its atmosphere or its temperature give him some naturaladvantage over us--some place that is either burning hot or at absolutezero, or perhaps with a chlorine or sulfur dioxide atmosphere. That'swhy"--he hesitated a minute, but continued because he was a truthfulman--"I picked you for Earth. It's the most populated of all the planetsand it seems the least likely one that he would choose."
Jordan's face dropped a little bit when he heard the last piece ofinformation, but he said: "I understand, sir, and if he's there, I'llbring him back."
The chief slouched farther back in his seat. He picked up a shard ofrubidium that served as a paper weight and toyed with it.
"I guess you know most of the facts. They are made out of permallium.Have you ever seen any of the stuff?"
The new man shook his head. "I read about it though--some new alloy,isn't it?"
"Plenty new. It's the hardest stuff anybody has ever made. If you setoff one hundred successive atom blasts over a lump of permallium, youmight crystallize and scale maybe a micron off the surface. It willstand any temperature or pressure we can produce. That just meansthere's no way to destroy it."
Jordan nodded. He felt a little honored that the chief was giving himthis explanation in person rather than just turning him over to one ofthe scientific personnel for a briefing. He did not understand that theold man was troubled and was talking the situation through as much forhis own sake as for anyone else's.
* * * * *
"That's the problem," the chief continued. "Essentially anindestructible machine with a built-in source of power that one can'treach. It had to be built that way--a war instrument, you know."
He stopped and looked squarely at the bright young man sitting acrossthe desk. "This lousy war. You'd think the human race would grow up sometime, wouldn't you?" He filled a pipe with imported Earth tobacco andlit it, and took a few deep puffs. "There's something else. I don't knowhow they do it, but they can communicate with one another over longdistances. That made them very useful for military purposes.
"They are loyal to one another, too. They try to protect each other andkeep one another from being captured. Do you find that surprising?"
The question caught Jordan unprepared. "Well, yes. It is, kind of--" hesaid. "They are only machines."
The chief closed his eyes for a moment. He seemed tired.
"Yes," he repeated, "they are only machines. Anyway, we don't knoweverything about them, even yet. There are still a few secret angles, Ithink. The men who could tell us are either dead or in hiding.
"There's one fact though that gives us a great advantage. Theirbrain"--he stopped on the word and considered it--"I mean their thinkingapparatus gives off a very penetrating short-wave length radiation whichyou can pick up on your meters anywhere in a radius of two thousandmiles, and you can locate the source accurately if you get within fiftymiles.
"The only real problem you'll have in finding them is the confusioncreated by illegal atomic piles. You'd be surprised how many of them wehave turned up recently. They are owned by private parties and are runillegally to keep from paying the tax on sources of power. You have totrack those down, but once you get them labeled it will be clearsailing."
He stopped to take a few puffs on his pipe.
"Don't try to be a hero," he said after a few moments. "Don't get closeto the thing you are hunting. None of them yet has injured any of us,but if one should want to, he could crush you to death with twofingers. Use the permallium nets and net bombs if you locate him."
He tamped his pipe out. "Well, that's it," he said.
The new man arose. "I want you to know that I appreciate the trust youhave put in me."
"Sure, sure," the chief said, but it was not unfriendly. "Do you likethe job?"
"It is a great opportunity," Jordan said, and he meant it.
"What do you think about what we do to them after we capture them?"
The new man shrugged. "I suppose it's the only thing to do. It's not asthough they were human."
"Yeah," the chief said. "I guess so. Anyway, good luck."
Jordan arose and shook the chief's hand. However, just as he wasstepping through the door, his superior asked him another question. "Didyou know that one of them stutters?"
He turned back, puzzled. "Stutters? Why should he stutter? How couldthat be?"
The chief shook his head and started cleaning out his pipe.
"I don't know for sure. You'd better get started." He sat back in hisseat and watched the back of the new man as he disappeared through thedoorway.
That young fellow has a lot to learn, he thought to himself. But evenso, maybe he's better off than I am. Maybe I've had too much experience.Maybe too much experience puts you back where you started from. You'vedone the wrong thing so many times and profited so many times from yourmistakes that you see errors and tragedies in everything.
He was depressed, and he did something that usually made him feel betteragain. He reached under the edge of his desk and pulled a little switchthat made the galactic map on the wall light up in three-dimensionaldepth, then he swung around in his chair so he could see it. Eightthousand planets that his race had conquered, eight thousand planetshundreds of light-years apart. Looking at the map gave him a sense ofaccomplishment and pride in humanity which even a stupid war and itsaftermath could not completely destroy.
* * * * *
Jon Hall, the fugitive, walked along the highway leading south from therocket port. There was very little traffic, only an occasional deliverytruck carrying meat or groceries. The real highway was half a mileoverhead where the copters shuttled back and forth up and down the statein neat orderly layers.
The seventeen were inside his head, looking through his eyes, andfeasting on the blueness of the sky, and the rich green vegetation thatcovered the fertile fields. From time to time they talked to him, givingadvice, asking questions, or making comments, but mostly they looked,each knowing that the hours of their sight might be very few.
After walking a while, Hall became aware of someone's footsteps behindhim. He stopped suddenly in apprehension and swung around. A dozen or sopaces away was a red-headed boy of about ten or eleven, dressed inplastic overalls, and carrying a basket of ripe raspberries. The stainsabout his mouth showed that not all the raspberries were carried in thebasket.
Hall's anxiety faded, and he was glad to see the child. He had hoped tomeet someone who was not so old that they would become suspicious, butold enough that they might give him directions.
He waited for the lad to catch up.
"Hello," the boy said. "I've been walking behind you most of a mile, butI guess you didn't hear me."
"It looks as though you've been p-p-picking rasp
berries," Hall said.
"Yup. My dad owns a patch by the river. Want some?" He proffered thebasket.
"No, thank you," Hall answered. He resumed his walk up the highway withthe boy at his side.
"D-do you live around here," he asked.
"Just up the road a ways." The lad studied his companion for a minute."You stutter, don't you?"
"A little."
"There was a boy in my class who used to stutter. The teacher said itwas because he thought so far ahead of what he said he got all tangledup." The boy reached in his basket for
The Stutterer Page 2