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book one dawnchapter 1 arisia and eddore two thousand million or so years ago twogalaxies were colliding; or, rather, were passing through each other. a couple of hundreds of millions of yearseither way do not matter, since at least that much time was required for the inter-passage. at about that same time--within the sameplus-or-minus ten percent margin of error, it is believed--practically all of the sunsof both those galaxies became possessed of planets. there is much evidence to support thebelief that it was not merely a coincidence

that so many planets came into being atabout the same time as the galactic inter- passage. another school of thought holds that it waspure coincidence; that all suns have planets as naturally and as inevitably ascats have kittens. be that as it may, arisian records areclear upon the point that before the two galaxies began to coalesce, there werenever more than three solar systems present in either; and usually only one. thus, when the sun of the planet upon whichtheir race originated grew old and cool, the arisians were hard put to it topreserve their culture, since they had to

work against time in solving the engineering problems associated with movinga planet from an older to a younger sun. since nothing material was destroyed whenthe eddorians were forced into the next plane of existence, their historicalrecords also have become available. those records--folios and tapes andplayable discs of platinum alloy, resistant indefinitely even to eddore's noxiousatmosphere--agree with those of the arisians upon this point. immediately before the coalescence beganthere was one, and only one, planetary solar system in the second galaxy; and,until the advent of eddore, the second

galaxy was entirely devoid of intelligentlife. thus for millions upon untold millions ofyears the two races, each the sole intelligent life of a galaxy, perhaps of anentire space-time continuum, remained completely in ignorance of each other. both were already ancient at the time ofthe coalescence. the only other respect in which the twowere similar, however, was in the possession of minds of power. since arisia was earth-like in composition,atmosphere, and climate, the arisians were at that time distinctly humanoid.the eddorians were not.

eddore was and is large and dense; itsliquid a poisonous, sludgy syrup; its atmosphere a foul and corrosive fog. eddore was and is unique; so different fromany other world of either galaxy that its very existence was inexplicable until itsown records revealed the fact that it did not originate in normal space-time at all, but came to our universe from some alienand horribly different other. as differed the planets, so differed thepeoples. the arisians went through the usual stagesof savagery and barbarism on the way to civilization.the age of stone.

the ages of bronze, of iron, of steel, andof electricity. indeed, it is probable that it is becausethe arisians went through these various stages that all subsequent civilizationshave done so, since the spores which burgeoned into life upon the cooling surfaces of all the planets of thecommingling galaxies were arisian, not eddorian, in origin. eddorian spores, while undoubtedly present,must have been so alien that they could not develop in any one of the environments,widely variant although they are, existing naturally or coming naturally into being innormal space and time.

the arisians--especially after atomicenergy freed them from physical labor-- devoted themselves more and ever moreintensively to the exploration of the limitless possibilities of the mind. even before the coalescence, then, thearisians had need neither of space-ships nor of telescopes. by power of mind alone they watched thelenticular aggregation of stars which was much later to be known to tellurianastronomers as lundmark's nebula approach their own galaxy. they observed attentively and minutely andwith high elation the occurrence of

mathematical impossibility; for the chanceof two galaxies ever meeting in direct, central, equatorial-plane impact and of passing completely through each other is aninfinitesimal of such a high order as to be, even mathematically, practicallyindistinguishable from zero. they observed the birth of numberlessplanets, recording minutely in their perfect memories every detail of everythingthat happened; in the hope that, as ages passed, either they or their descendants would be able to develop a symbology and amethodology capable of explaining the then inexplicable phenomenon.

carefree, busy, absorbedly intent, thearisian mentalities roamed throughout space--until one of them struck an eddorianmind. while any eddorian could, if it chose,assume the form of a man, they were in no sense man-like. nor, since the term implies a softness anda lack of organization, can they be described as being amoeboid.they were both versatile and variant. each eddorian changed, not only its shape,but also its texture, in accordance with the requirements of the moment. each produced--extruded--members wheneverand wherever it needed them; members

uniquely appropriate to the task then inwork. if hardness was indicated, the members werehard; if softness, they were soft. small or large, rigid or flexible; joinedor tentacular--all one. filaments or cables; fingers or feet;needles or mauls--equally simple. one thought and the body fitted the job. they were asexual: sexless to a degreeunapproached by any form of tellurian life higher than the yeasts.they were not merely hermaphroditic, nor androgynous, nor parthenogenetic. they were completely without sex.they were also, to all intents and purposes

and except for death by violence, immortal. for each eddorian, as its mind approachedthe stagnation of saturation after a lifetime of millions of years, simplydivided into two new-old beings. new in capacity and in zest; old in abilityand in power, since each of the two "children" possessed in toto the knowledgesand the memories of their one "parent." and if it is difficult to describe in wordsthe physical aspects of the eddorians, it is virtually impossible to write or todraw, in any symbology of civilization, a true picture of an eddorian's--anyeddorian's--mind. they were intolerant, domineering,rapacious, insatiable, cold, callous, and

brutal. they were keen, capable, persevering,analytical, and efficient. they had no trace of any of the softeremotions or sensibilities possessed by races adherent to civilization. no eddorian ever had anything even remotelyresembling a sense of humor. while not essentially bloodthirsty--thatis, not loving bloodshed for its own sweet sake--they were no more averse to blood-letting than they were in favor of it. any amount of killing which would or whichmight advance an eddorian toward his goal was commendable; useless slaughter wasfrowned upon, not because it was slaughter,

but because it was useless--and henceinefficient. and, instead of the multiplicity of goalssought by the various entities of any race of civilization, each and every eddorianhad only one. the same one: power. power!p-o-w-e-r!! since eddore was peopled originally byvarious races, perhaps as similar to each other as are the various human races ofearth, it is understandable that the early history of the planet--while it was still in its own space, that is--was one ofcontinuous and ages-long war.

and, since war always was and probablyalways will be linked solidly to technological advancement, the race nowknown simply as "the eddorians" became technologists supreme. all other races disappeared.so did all other forms of life, however lowly, which interfered in any way with themasters of the planet. then, all racial opposition liquidated andovermastering lust as unquenched as ever, the surviving eddorians fought amongthemselves: "push-button" wars employing engines of destruction against which the only possible defense was a fantasticthickness of planetary bedrock.

finally, unable either to kill or toenslave each other, the comparatively few survivors made a peace of sorts. since their own space was practicallybarren of planetary systems, they would move their planet from space to space untilthey found one which so teemed with planets that each living eddorian could become the sole master of an ever increasing number ofworlds. this was a program very much worthwhile,promising as it did an outlet for even the recognizedly insatiable eddorian cravingfor power. therefore the eddorians, for the first timein their prodigiously long history of

fanatical non-cooperation, decided to pooltheir resources of mind and of material and to work as a group. union of a sort was accomplishedeventually; neither peaceably nor without highly lethal friction. they knew that a democracy, by its verynature, was inefficient; hence a democratic form of government was not even considered.an efficient government must of necessity be dictatorial. nor were they all exactly alike or ofexactly equal ability; perfect identity of any two such complex structures was in factimpossible, and any difference, however

slight, was ample justification forstratification in such a society as theirs. thus one of them, fractionally morepowerful and more ruthless than the rest, became the all-highest--his ultimatesupremacy--and a group of about a dozen others, only infinitesimally weaker, became his council; a cabinet which was later tobecome known as the innermost circle. the tally of this cabinet varied somewhatfrom age to age; increasing by one when a member divided, decreasing by one when ajealous fellow or an envious underling managed to perpetrate a successfulassassination. and thus, at long last, the eddorians beganreally to work together.

there resulted, among other things, thehyper-spatial tube and the fully inertialess drive--the drive which was,millions of years later, to be given to civilization by an arisian operating underthe name of bergenholm. another result, which occured shortly afterthe galactic inter-passage had begun, was the eruption into normal space of theplanet eddore. "i must now decide whether to make thisspace our permanent headquarters or to search farther," the all-highest radiatedharshly to his council. "on the one hand, it will take some timefor even those planets which have already formed to cool.

still more will be required for life todevelop sufficiently to form a part of the empire which we have planned or to occupyour abilities to any great degree. on the other, we have already spentmillions of years in surveying hundreds of millions of continua, without having foundanywhere such a profusion of planets as will, in all probability, soon fill both ofthese galaxies. there may also be certain advantagesinherent in the fact that these planets are not yet populated. as life develops, we can mold it as weplease. krongenes, what are your findings in regardto the planetary possibilities of other

spaces?" the term "krongenes" was not, in theaccepted sense, a name. or, rather, it was more than a name. it was a key-thought, in mental shorthand;a condensation and abbreviation of the life-pattern or ego of that particulareddorian. "not at all promising, your supremacy,"krongenes replied promptly. "no space within reach of my instrumentshas more than a small fraction of the inhabitable worlds which will presentlyexist in this one." "very well.

have any of you others any valid objectionsto the establishment of our empire here in this space?if so, give me your thought now." no objecting thoughts appeared, since noneof the monsters then knew anything of arisia or of the arisians. indeed, even if they had known, it ishighly improbable that any objection would have been raised. first, because no eddorian, from the all-highest down, could conceive or would under any circumstances admit that any race,anywhere, had ever approached or ever would approach the eddorians in any quality

whatever; and second, because, as isroutine in all dictatorships, disagreement with the all-highest did not operate tolengthen the span of life. we will now confer as to ... but hold!that thought is not one of ours! who are you, stranger, to dare to intrudethus upon a conference of the innermost circle?" "i am enphilistor, a younger student, ofthe planet arisia." this name, too, was a symbol. nor was the young arisian yet a watchman,as he and so many of his fellows were so soon to become, for before eddore's arrivalarisia had had no need of watchmen.

"i am not intruding, as you know. i have not touched any one of your minds;have not read any one of your thoughts. i have been waiting for you to notice mypresence, so that we could become acquainted with each other. a surprising development, truly--we havethought for many cycles of time that we were the only highly advanced life in thisuniverse...." "be silent, worm, in the presence of themasters. land your ship and surrender, and yourplanet will be allowed to serve us. refuse, or even hesitate, and everyindividual of your race shall die."

"worm?masters? land my ship?" the young arisian's thought was purecuriosity, with no tinge of fear, dismay, or awe."surrender? serve you? i seem to be receiving your thought withoutambiguity, but your meaning is entirely....""address me as 'your supremacy'," the all- highest directed, coldly. "land now or die now--this is your lastwarning."

"your supremacy?certainly, if that is the customary form. but as to landing--and warning--and dying--surely you do not think that i am present in the flesh? and can it be possible that you areactually so aberrant as to believe that you can kill me--or even the youngest arisianinfant? what a peculiar--what an extraordinary--psychology!" "die, then, worm, if you must have it so!"the all-highest snarled, and launched a mental bolt whose energies were calculatedto slay any living thing. enphilistor, however, parried the viciousattack without apparent effort.

his manner did not change.he did not strike back. the eddorian then drove in with ananalyzing probe, only to be surprised again--the arisian's thought could not betraced! and enphilistor, while warding off theraging eddorian, directed a quiet thought as though he were addressing someone closeby his side: "come in, please, one or more of theelders. there is a situation here which i am notqualified to handle." "we, the elders of arisia in fusion, arehere." a grave, deeply resonant pseudo-voicefilled the eddorians' minds; each perceived

in three-dimensional fidelity an aged,white-bearded human face. "you of eddore have been expected. the course of action which we must take hasbeen determined long since. you will forget this incident completely. for cycles upon cycles of time to come noeddorian shall know that we arisians exist." even before the thought was issued thefused elders had gone quietly and smoothly to work.the eddorians forgot utterly the incident which had just happened.

not one of them retained in his consciousmind any inkling that eddore did not possess the only intelligent life in space.and upon distant arisia a full meeting of minds was held. "but why didn't you simply kill them?"enphilistor asked. "such action would be distasteful in theextreme, of course--almost impossible--but even i can perceive...." he paused, overcome by his thought."that which you perceive, youth, is but a very small fraction of the whole.we did not attempt to slay them because we could not have done so.

not because of squeamishness, as youintimate, but from sheer inability. the eddorian tenacity of life is a thingfar beyond your present understanding; to have attempted to kill them would haverendered it impossible to make them forget us. we must have time ... cycles and cycles oftime." the fusion broke off, pondered for minutes,then addressed the group as a whole: "we, the elder thinkers, have not sharedfully with you our visualization of the cosmic all, because until the eddoriansactually appeared there was always the possibility that our findings might havebeen in error.

now, however, there is no doubt. the civilization which has been pictured asdeveloping peacefully upon all the teeming planets of two galaxies will not now ofitself come into being. we of arisia should be able to bring iteventually to full fruition, but the task will be long and difficult."the eddorians' minds are of tremendous latent power. were they to know of us now, it ispractically certain that they would be able to develop powers and mechanisms by the useof which they would negate our every effort--they would hurl us out of this, ournative space and time.

we must have time ... given time, we shallsucceed. there shall be lenses ... and entities ofcivilization worthy in every respect to wear them.but we of arisia alone will never be able to conquer the eddorians. indeed, while this is not yet certain, theprobability is exceedingly great that despite our utmost efforts at self-development our descendants will have to breed, from some people to evolve upon a planet not yet in existence, an entirelynew race--a race tremendously more capable than ours--to succeed us as guardians ofcivilization."

centuries passed. millenia.cosmic and geologic ages. planets cooled to solidity and stability.life formed and grew and developed. and as life evolved it was subjected to,and strongly if subtly affected by, the diametrically opposed forces of arisia andeddore. > book one dawnchapter 2 the fall of atlantis 1. eddore"members of the innermost circle, wherever you are and whatever you may be doing, tunein!" the all-highest broadcast.

"analysis of the data furnished by thesurvey just completed shows that in general the great plan is progressingsatisfactorily. there seem to be only four planets whichour delegates have not been or may not be able to control properly: sol iii, rigeliv, velantia iii, and palain vii. all four, you will observe, are in theother galaxy. no trouble whatever has developed in ourown. "of these four, the first requires drasticand immediate personal attention. its people, in the brief interval since ourprevious general survey, have developed nuclear energy and have fallen into acultural pattern which does not conform in

any respect to the basic principles laiddown by us long since. our deputies there, thinking erroneouslythat they could handle matters without reporting fully to or calling for help uponthe next higher operating echelon, must be disciplined sharply. failure, from whatever cause, can not betolerated. "gharlane, as master number two, you willassume control of sol iii immediately. this circle now authorizes and instructsyou to take whatever steps may prove necessary to restore order upon thatplanet. examine carefully this data concerning theother three worlds which may very shortly

become troublesome. is it your thought that one or more othersof this circle should be assigned to work with you, to be sure that these untowarddevelopments are suppressed?" "it is not, your supremacy," that worthydecided, after a time of study. "since the peoples in question are as yetof low intelligence; since one form of flesh at a time is all that will have to beenergized; and since the techniques will be essentially similar; i can handle all four more efficiently alone than with the helpor cooperation of others. if i read this data correctly, there willbe need of only the most elementary

precaution in the employment of mentalforce, since of the four races, only the velantians have even a rudimentaryknowledge of its uses. right?""we so read the data." surprisingly enough, the innermost circleagreed unanimously. "go, then.when finished, report in full." "i go, all-highest. i shall render a complete and conclusivereport." 2. arisia "we, the elder thinkers in fusion, arespreading in public view, for study and

full discussion, a visualization of therelationships existing and to exist between civilization and its irreconcilable andimplacable foe. several of our younger members,particularly eukonidor, who has just attained watchmanship, have requestedinstruction in this matter. being as yet immature, their visualizationsdo not show clearly why nedanillor, kriedigan, drounli, and brolenteen, eithersingly or in fusion, have in the past performed certain acts and have not performed certain others; or that thefuture actions of those moulders of civilization will be similarly constrained.

"this visualization, while more complex,more complete, and more detailed than the one set up by our forefathers at the timeof the coalescence, agrees with it in every essential. the five basics remain unchanged.first: the eddorians can be overcome only by mental force. second: the magnitude of the required forceis such that its only possible generator is such an organization as the galactic patroltoward which we have been and are working. third: since no arisian or any fusion ofarisians will ever be able to spear-head that force, it was and is necessary todevelop a race of mentality sufficient to

perform that task. fourth: this new race, having beeninstrumental in removing the menace of eddore, will as a matter of course displacethe arisians as guardians of civilization. fifth: the eddorians must not becomeinformed of us until such a time as it will be physically, mathematically impossiblefor them to construct any effective counter-devices." "a cheerless outlook, truly," came a somberthought. "not so, daughter.a little reflection will show you that your present thinking is loose and turbid.

when that time comes, every arisian will beready for the change. we know the way. we do not know to what that way leads; butthe arisian purpose in this phase of existence--this space-time continuum--willhave been fulfilled and we will go eagerly and joyfully on to the next. are there any more questions?"there were none. "study this material, then, each of you,with exceeding care. it may be that some one of you, even achild, will perceive some facet of the truth which we have missed or have notexamined fully; some fact or implication

which may be made to operate to shorten the time of conflict or to lessen the number ofbudding civilizations whose destruction seems to us at present to be sheerlyunavoidable." hours passed. days.no criticisms or suggestions were offered. "we take it, then, that this visualizationis the fullest and most accurate one possible for the massed intellect of arisiato construct from the information available at the moment. the moulders therefore, after describingbriefly what they have already done, will

inform us as to what they deem it necessaryto do in the near future." "we have observed, and at times haveguided, the evolution of intelligent life upon many planets," the fusion began. "we have, to the best of our ability,directed the energies of these entities into the channels of civilization; we haveadhered consistently to the policy of steering as many different races as possible toward the intellectual levelnecessary for the effective use of the lens, without which the proposed galacticpatrol cannot come into being. "for many cycles of time we have beenworking as individuals with the four

strongest races, from one of which will bedeveloped the people who will one day replace us as guardians of civilization. blood lines have been established.we have encouraged matings which concentrate traits of strength anddissipate those of weakness. while no very great departure from thenorm, either physically or mentally, will take place until after the penultimateshave been allowed to meet and to mate, a definite general improvement of each racehas been unavoidable. "thus the eddorians have already interestedthemselves in our budding civilization upon the planet tellus, and it is inevitablethat they will very shortly interfere with

our work upon the other three. these four young civilizations must beallowed to fall. it is to warn every arisian against well-meant but inconsidered action that this conference was called. we ourselves will operate through forms offlesh of no higher intelligence than, and indistinguishable from, the natives of theplanets affected. no traceable connection will exist betweenthose forms and us. no other arisians will operate withinextreme range of any one of those four planets; they will from now on be given thesame status as has been so long accorded

eddore itself. the eddorians must not learn of us untilafter it is too late for them to act effectively upon that knowledge.any chance bit of information obtained by any eddorian must be obliterated at once. it is to guard against and to negate suchaccidental disclosures that our watchmen have been trained.""but if all of our civilizations go down...." eukonidor began to protest."study will show you, youth, that the general level of mind, and hence ofstrength, is rising," the fused elders

interrupted. "the trend is ever upward; each peak andvalley being higher than its predecessor. when the indicated level has been reached--the level at which the efficient use of the lens will become possible--we will not onlyallow ourselves to become known to them; we will engage them at every point." "one factor remains obscure."a thinker broke the ensuing silence. "in this visualization i do not perceiveanything to preclude the possibility that the eddorians may at any time visualize us. granted that the elders of long ago did notmerely visualize the eddorians, but

perceived them in time-space surveys; thatthey and subsequent elders were able to maintain the status quo; and that the eddorian way of thought is essentiallymechanistic, rather than philosophic, in nature. there is still a possibility that the enemymay be able to deduce us by processes of logic alone. this thought is particularly disturbing tome at the present time because a rigid statistical analysis of the occurrencesupon those four planets shows that they cannot possibly have been due to chance.

with such an analysis as a starting point,a mind of even moderate ability could visualize us practically in toto. i assume, however, that this possibilityhas been taken into consideration, and suggest that the membership be informed.""the point is well taken. the possibility exists. while the probability is very great thatsuch an analysis will not be made until after we have declared ourselves, it is nota certainty. immediately upon deducing our existence,however, the eddorians would begin to build against us, upon the four planets andelsewhere.

since there is only one effective counter-structure possible, and since we elders have long been alert to detect the firstindications of that particular activity, we know that the situation remains unchanged. if it changes, we will call at once anotherfull meeting of minds. are there any other matters of moment...?if not, this conference will dissolve." 3. atlantisariponides, recently elected faros of atlantis for his third five-year term,stood at a window of his office atop the towering farostery. his hands were clasped loosely behind hisback.

he did not really see the tremendousexpanse of quiet ocean, nor the bustling harbor, nor the metropolis spread out somagnificently and so busily beneath him. he stood there, motionless, until a subtlevibration warned him that visitors were approaching his door."come in, gentlemen.... please be seated." he sat down at one end of a table molded oftransparent plastic. "psychologist talmonides, statesman cleto,minister philamon, minister marxes and officer artomenes, i have asked you to comehere personally because i have every reason to believe that the shielding of this room

is proof against eavesdroppers; a thingwhich can no longer be said of our supposedly private television channels. we must discuss, and if possible come tosome decision concerning, the state in which our nation now finds itself."each of us knows within himself exactly what he is. of our own powers, we cannot surely knoweach others' inward selves. the tools and techniques of psychology,however, are potent and exact; and talmonides, after exhaustive and rigorousexamination of each one of us, has certified that no taint of disloyaltyexists among us."

"which certification is not worth a damn,"the burly officer declared. "what assurance do we have that talmonideshimself is not one of the ringleaders? mind you, i have no reason to believe thathe is not completely loyal. in fact, since he has been one of my bestfriends for over twenty years, i believe implicitly that he is. nevertheless the plain fact is, ariponides,that all the precautions you have taken, and any you can take, are and will beuseless insofar as definite knowledge is concerned. the real truth is and will remain unknown.""you are right," the psychologist conceded.

"and, such being the case, perhaps i shouldwithdraw from the meeting." "that wouldn't help, either." artomenes shook his head."any competent plotter would be prepared for this, as for any other contingency.one of us others would be the real operator." "and the fact that our officer is the onewho is splitting hairs so finely could be taken to indicate which one of us the realoperator could be," marxes pointed out, cuttingly. "gentlemen!gentlemen!"

ariponides protested. "while absolute certainty is of courseimpossible to any finite mind, you all know how talmonides was tested; you know that inhis case there is no reasonable doubt. such chance as exists, however, must betaken, for if we do not trust each other fully in this undertaking, failure isinevitable. with this word of warning i will get onwith my report. "this worldwide frenzy of unrest followedclosely upon the controlled liberation of atomic energy and may be--probably is--traceable to it. it is in no part due to imperialistic aimsor acts on the part of atlantis.

this fact cannot be stressed too strongly.we never have been and are not now interested in empire. it is true that the other nations began asatlantean colonies, but no attempt was ever made to hold any one of them in colonialstatus against the wish of its electorate. all nations were and are sister states. we gain or lose together. atlantis, the parent, was and is aclearing-house, a co-ordinator of effort, but has never claimed or sought authorityto rule; all decisions being based upon free debate and free and secret ballot.

"but now!parties and factions everywhere, even in old atlantis.every nation is torn by internal dissensions and strife. nor is this all.uighar as a nation is insensately jealous of the islands of the south, who in turnare jealous of maya. maya of bantu, bantu of ekopt, ekopt ofnorheim, and norheim of uighar. a vicious circle, worsened by otherjealousies and hatreds intercrossing everywhere. each fears that some other is about to tryto seize control of the entire world; and

there seems to be spreading rapidly theutterly baseless belief that atlantis itself is about to reduce all other nationsof earth to vassalage. "this is a bald statement of the presentcondition of the world as i see it. since i can see no other course possiblewithin the constituted framework of our democratic government, i recommend that wecontinue our present activities, such as the international treaties and agreements upon which we are now at work, intensifyingour effort wherever possible. we will now hear from statesman cleto.""you have outlined the situation clearly enough, faros.

my thought, however, is that the principalcause of the trouble is the coming into being of this multiplicity of politicalparties, particularly those composed principally of crackpots and extremists. the connection with atomic energy is clear:since the atomic bomb gives a small group of people the power to destroy the world,they reason that it thereby confers upon them the authority to dictate to the world. my recommendation is merely a special caseof yours; that every effort be made to influence the electorates of norheim and ofuighar into supporting an effective international control of atomic energy."

"you have your data tabulated insymbolics?" asked talmonides, from his seat at the keyboard of a calculating machine."yes. here they are." "thanks." "minister philamon," the faros announced. "as i see it--as any intelligent man shouldbe able to see it--the principal contribution of atomic energy to thisworldwide chaos was the complete demoralization of labor," the gray-hairedminister of trade stated, flatly. "output per man-hour should have gone up atleast twenty percent, in which case prices would automatically have come down.

instead, short-sighted guilds imposeddrastic curbs on production, and now seem to be surprised that as production fallsand hourly wages rise, prices also rise and real income drops. only one course is possible, gentlemen;labor must be made to listen to reason. this feather-bedding, this protectedloafing, this...." "i protest!" marxes, minister of work, leaped to hisfeet. "the blame lies squarely with thecapitalists. their greed, their rapacity, theirexploitation of...."

"one moment, please!"ariponides rapped the table sharply. "it is highly significant of the deplorablecondition of the times that two ministers of state should speak as you two have justspoken. i take it that neither of you has anythingnew to contribute to this symposium?" both claimed the floor, but both wererefused it by vote. "hand your tabulated data to talmonides,"the faros directed. "officer artomenes?" "you, our faros, have more than intimatedthat our defense program, for which i am primarily responsible, has been largely toblame for what has happened," the grizzled

warrior began. "in part, perhaps it was--one must be blindindeed not to see the connection, and biased indeed not to admit it. but what should i have done, knowing thatthere is no practical defense against the atomic bomb?every nation has them, and is manufacturing more and more. every nation is infested with the agents ofevery other. should i have tried to keep atlantistoothless in a world bristling with fangs? and could i--or anyone else--have succeededin doing so?"

"probably not.no criticism was intended; we must deal with the situation as it actually exists. your recommendations, please?""i have thought this thing over day and night, and can see no solution which can bemade acceptable to our--or to any real-- democracy. nevertheless, i have one recommendation tomake. we all know that norheim and uighar are thesore spots--particularly norheim. we have more bombs as of now than both ofthem together. we know that uighar's super-sonic jobs areready.

we don't know exactly what norheim has,since they cut my intelligence line a while back, but i'm sending over anotheroperative--my best man, too--tonight. if he finds out that we have enoughadvantage in speed, and i'm pretty sure that we have, i say hit both norheim anduighar right then, while we can, before they hit us. and hit them hard--pulverize them.then set up a world government strong enough to knock out any nation--includingatlantis--that will not cooperate with it. this course of action is flagrantly againstall international law and all the principles of democracy, i know; and evenit might not work.

it is, however, as far as i can see, theonly course which can work." "you--we all--perceive its weaknesses."the faros thought for minutes. "you cannot be sure that your intelligencehas located all of the danger points, and many of them must be so far underground asto be safe from even our heaviest missiles. we all, including you, believe that thepsychologist is right in holding that the reaction of the other nations to suchaction would be both unfavorable and violent. your report, please, talmonides.""i have already put my data into the integrator."the psychologist punched a button and the

mechanism began to whir and to click. "i have only one new fact of anyimportance; the name of one of the higher- ups and its corollary implication thatthere may be some degree of cooperation between norheim and uighar...." he broke off as the machine stoppedclicking and ejected its report. "look at that graph--up ten points in sevendays!" talmonides pointed a finger. "the situation is deteriorating faster andfaster. the conclusion is unavoidable--you can seeyourselves that this summation line is fast

approaching unity--that the outbreaks willbecome uncontrollable in approximately eight days. with one slight exception--here--you willnotice that the lines of organization and purpose are as random as ever. in spite of this conclusive integration iwould be tempted to believe that this seeming lack of coherence was due toinsufficient data--that back of this whole movement there is a carefully-set-up and completely-integrated plan--except for thefact that the factions and the nations are so evenly matched.but the data are sufficient.

it is shown conclusively that no one of theother nations can possibly win, even by totally destroying atlantis.they would merely destroy each other and our entire civilization. according to this forecast, in arriving atwhich the data furnished by our officer were prime determinants, that will surelybe the outcome unless remedial measures be taken at once. you are of course sure of your facts,artomenes?" "i am sure.but you said you had a name, and that it indicated a norheim-uighar hookup.

what is that name?""an old friend of yours...." "lo sung!"the words as spoken were a curse of fury. "none other. and, unfortunately, there is as yet nocourse of action indicated which is at all promising of success.""use mine, then!" artomenes jumped up and banged the tablewith his fist. "let me send two flights of rockets overright now that will blow uigharstoy and norgrad into radioactive dust and make athousand square miles around each of them uninhabitable for ten thousand years!

if that's the only way they can learnanything, let them learn!" "sit down, officer," ariponides directed,quietly. "that course, as you have already pointedout, is indefensible. it violates every prime basic of ourcivilization. moreover, it would be entirely futile,since this resultant makes it clear that every nation on earth would be destroyedwithin the day." "what, then?" artomenes demanded, bitterly."sit still here and let them annihilate us?""not necessarily.

it is to formulate plans that we are here. talmonides will by now have decided, uponthe basis of our pooled knowledge, what must be done.""the outlook is not good: not good at all," the psychologist announced, gloomily. "the only course of action which carriesany promise whatever of success--and its probability is only point one eight--is theone recommended by the faros, modified slightly to include artomenes' suggestion of sending his best operative on theindicated mission. for highest morale, by the way, the farosshould also interview this agent before he

sets out. ordinarily i would not advocate a course ofaction having so little likelihood of success; but since it is simply acontinuation and intensification of what we are already doing, i do not see how we canadopt any other." "are we agreed?"ariponides asked, after a short silence. they were agreed. four of the conferees filed out and a briskyoung man strode in. although he did not look at the faros hiseyes asked questions. "reporting for orders, sir."

he saluted the officer punctiliously."at ease, sir." artomenes returned the salute."you were called here for a word from the faros. sir, i present captain phryges.""not orders, son ... no." ariponides' right hand rested in greetingupon the captain's left shoulder, wise old eyes probed deeply into gold-flecked, tawnyeyes of youth; the faros saw, without really noticing, a flaming thatch of red-bronze-auburn hair. "i asked you here to wish you well; notonly for myself, but for all our nation and perhaps for our entire race.

while everything in my being rebels againstan unprovoked and unannounced assault, we may be compelled to choose between ourofficer's plan of campaign and the destruction of civilization. since you already know the vital importanceof your mission, i need not enlarge upon it. but i want you to know fully, captainphryges, that all atlantis flies with you this night.""th ... thank you, sir." phryges gulped twice to steady his voice. "i'll do my best, sir."and later, in a wingless craft flying

toward the airfield, young phryges broke along silence. "so that is the faros ... i like him, officer ...i have never seen him close up before ... there's something about him.... he isn't like my father, much, but it seemsas though i have known him for a thousand years!""hm ... m ... m. peculiar. you two are a lot alike, at that, eventhough you don't look anything like each other.can't put a finger on exactly what it is,

but it's there." although artomenes nor any other of histime could place it, the resemblance was indeed there. it was in and back of the eyes; it was the"look of eagles" which was long later to become associated with the wearers ofarisia's lens. "but here we are, and your ship's ready. luck, son.""thanks, sir. but one more thing.if it should--if i don't get back--will you see that my wife and the baby are...?"

"i will, son.they will leave for north maya tomorrow morning.they will live, whether you and i do or not. anything else?""no, sir. thanks.goodbye." the ship was a tremendous flying wing. a standard commercial job.empty--passengers, even crewmen, were never subjected to the brutal accelerationsregularly used by unmanned carriers. phryges scanned the panel.

tiny motors were pulling tapes through thecontrollers. every light showed green.everything was set. donning a water-proof coverall, he slidthrough a flexible valve into his acceleration-tank and waited.a siren yelled briefly. black night turned blinding white as theharnessed energies of the atom were released. for five and six-tenths seconds the sharp,hard, beryllium-bronze leading edge of the back-sweeping v sliced its way throughever-thinning air. the vessel seemed to pause momentarily;paused and bucked viciously.

she shuddered and shivered, tried to tearherself into shreds and chunks; but phryges in his tank was unconcerned. earlier, weaker ships went to piecesagainst the solid-seeming wall of atmospheric incompressibility at thevelocity of sound; but this one was built solidly enough, and powered to hit thatwall hard enough, to go through unharmed. the hellish vibration ceased; the fantasticviolence of the drive subsided to a mere shove; phryges knew that the vessel hadleveled off at its cruising speed of two thousand miles per hour. he emerged, spilling the least possibleamount of water upon the polished steel

floor.he took off his coverall and stuffed it back through the valve into the tank. he mopped and polished the floor withtowels, which likewise went into the tank. he drew on a pair of soft gloves and, bymanual control, jettisoned the acceleration tank and all the apparatus which had madethat unloading possible. this junk would fall into the ocean; wouldsink; would never be found. he examined the compartment and the hatchminutely. no scratches, no scars, no mars; no tell-tale marks or prints of any kind. let the norskies search.so far, so good.

back toward the trailing edge then, to asmall escape-hatch beside which was fastened a dull black ball.the anchoring devices went out first. he gasped as the air rushed out into near-vacuum, but he had been trained to take sudden and violent fluctuations inpressure. he rolled the ball out upon the hatch,where he opened it; two hinged hemispheres, each heavily padded with molded compositionresembling sponge rubber. it seemed incredible that a man as big asphryges, especially when wearing a parachute, could be crammed into a space sosmall; but that lining had been molded to fit.

this ball had to be small. the ship, even though it was on aregularly-scheduled commercial flight, would be scanned intensively andcontinuously from the moment of entering norheiman radar range. since the ball would be invisible on anyradar screen, no suspicion would be aroused; particularly since--as far asatlantean intelligence had been able to discover--the norheimans had not yet succeeded in perfecting any device by theuse of which a living man could bail out of a super-sonic plane.

phryges waited--and waited--until thesecond hand of his watch marked the arrival of zero time.he curled up into one half of the ball; the other half closed over him and locked. the hatch opened.ball and closely-prisoned man plummeted downward; slowing abruptly, with a horribledeceleration, to terminal velocity. had the air been any trifle thicker theatlantean captain would have died then and there; but that, too, had been computedaccurately and phryges lived. and as the ball bulleted downward on ascreaming slant, it shrank! this, too, the atlanteans hoped, was new--asynthetic which air-friction would erode

away, molecule by molecule, so rapidly thatno perceptible fragment of it would reach ground. the casing disappeared, and the yieldingporous lining. and phryges, still at an altitude of overthirty thousand feet, kicked away the remaining fragments of his cocoon and, byjudicious planning, turned himself so that he could see the ground, now dimly visiblein the first dull gray of dawn. there was the highway, paralleling his lineof flight; he wouldn't miss it more than a hundred yards. he fought down an almost overwhelming urgeto pull his rip-cord too soon.

he had to wait--wait until the lastpossible second--because parachutes were big and norheiman radar practically sweptthe ground. low enough at last, he pulled the ring. z-r-r-e-e-k--whap!the chute banged open; his harness tightened with a savage jerk, mere secondsbefore his hard-sprung knees took the shock of landing. that was close--too close!he was white and shaking, but unhurt, as he gathered in the billowing, fighting sheetand rolled it, together with his harness, into a wad.

he broke open a tiny ampoule, and as thedrops of liquid touched it the stout fabric began to disappear.it did not burn; it simply disintegrated and vanished. in less than a minute there remained only afew steel snaps and rings, which the atlantean buried under a meticulously-replaced circle of sod. he was still on schedule. in less than three minutes the signalswould be on the air and he would know where he was--unless the norsks had succeeded infinding and eliminating the whole atlantean under-cover group.

he pressed a stud on a small instrument;held it down. a line burned green across the dial--flaredred--vanished. "damn!" he breathed, explosively. the strength of the signal told him that hewas within a mile or so of the hide-out-- first-class computation--but the red flashwarned him to keep away. kinnexa--it had better be kinnexa!--wouldcome to him. how? by air?along the road? through the woods on foot? he had no way of knowing--talking, even ona tight beam, was out of the question.

he made his way to the highway and crouchedbehind a tree. here she could come at him by any route ofthe three. again he waited, pressing infrequently astud of his sender. a long, low-slung ground-car swung aroundthe curve and phryges' binoculars were at his eyes.it was kinnexa--or a duplicate. at the thought he dropped his glasses andpulled his guns--blaster in right hand, air-pistol in left.but no, that wouldn't do. she'd be suspicious, too--she'd have to be--and that car probably mounted heavy stuff. if he stepped out ready for business she'dfry him, and quick.

maybe not--she might have protection--buthe couldn't take the chance. the car slowed; stopped. the girl got out, examined a front tire,straightened up, and looked down the road, straight at phryges' hiding place.this time the binoculars brought her up to little more than arm's length. tall, blonde, beautifully built; theslightly crooked left eyebrow. the thread-line of gold betraying a one-tooth bridge and the tiny scar on her upper lip, for both of which he had beenresponsible--she always did insist on playing cops-and-robbers with boys olderand bigger than herself--it was kinnexa!

not even norheim's science could imitate soperfectly every personalizing characteristic of a girl he had known eversince she was knee-high to a duck! the girl slid back into her seat and theheavy car began to move. open-handed, phryges stepped out into itsway. the car stopped. "turn around.back up to me, hands behind you," she directed, crisply.the man, although surprised, obeyed. not until he felt a finger exploring theshort hair at the back of his neck did he realize what she was seeking--the almostimperceptible scar marking the place where

she bit him when she was seven years old! "oh, fry! it is you!really you! thank the gods!i've been ashamed of that all my life, but now...." he whirled and caught her as she slumped,but she did not quite faint. "quick! get in ... drive on ... not too fast!" shecautioned, sharply, as the tires began to scream."the speed limit along here is seventy, and we can't be picked up."

"easy it is, kinny.but give! what's the score?where's kolanides? or rather, what happened to him?" "dead.so are the others, i think. they put him on a psycho-bench and turnedhim inside out." "but the blocks?" "didn't hold--over here they add suchtrimmings as skinning and salt to the regular psycho routine. but none of them knew anything about me,nor about how their reports were picked up,

or i'd have been dead, too.but it doesn't make any difference, fry-- we're just one week too late." "what do you mean, too late?speed it up!" his tone was rough, but the hand he placedon her arm was gentleness itself. "i'm telling you as fast as i can. i picked up his last report day beforeyesterday. they have missiles just as big and just asfast as ours--maybe more so--and they are going to fire one at atlantis tonight atexactly seven o'clock." "tonight!

holy gods!"the man's mind raced. "yes."kinnexa's voice was low, uninflected. "and there was nothing in the world that icould do about it. if i approached any one of our places, ortried to use a beam strong enough to reach anywhere, i would simply have got pickedup, too. i've thought and thought, but could figureout only one thing that might possibly be of any use, and i couldn't do that alone.but two of us, perhaps...." "go on. brief me.nobody ever accused you of not having a

brain, and you know this whole country likethe palm of your hand." "steal a ship. be over the ramp at exactly seven pay emma. when the lid opens, go into a full-powerdive, beam artomenes--if i had a second before they blanketed my wave--and meettheir rocket head-on in their own launching-tube." this was stark stuff, but so tense was themoment and so highly keyed up were the two that neither of them saw anything out ofthe ordinary in it. "not bad, if we can't figure out anythingbetter.

the joker being, of course, that you didn'tsee how you could steal a ship?" "exactly. i can't carry blasters.no woman in norheim is wearing a coat or a cloak now, so i can't either.and just look at this dress! do you see any place where i could hideeven one?" he looked, appreciatively, and she had thegrace to blush. "can't say that i do," he admitted. "but i'd rather have one of our own ships,if we could make the approach. could both of us make it, do you suppose?""not a chance.

they'd keep at least one man inside all thetime. even if we killed everybody outside, theship would take off before we could get close enough to open the port with theoutside controls." "probably. go on.but first, are you sure that you're in the clear?""positive." she grinned mirthlessly. "the fact that i am still alive isconclusive evidence that they didn't find out anything about me.but i don't want you to work on that idea

if you can think of a better one. i've got passports and so on for you to beanything you want to be, from a tube-man up to an ekoptian banker.ditto for me, and for us both, as mr. and mrs." "smart girl."he thought for minutes, then shook his head."no possible way out that i can see. the sneak-boat isn't due for a week, andfrom what you've said it probably won't get here.but you might make it, at that. i'll drop you somewhere...."

"you will not," she interrupted, quietlybut definitely. "which would you rather--go out in a blastlike that one will be, beside a good atlantean, or, after deserting him, bepsychoed, skinned, salted, and--still alive--drawn and quartered?" "together, then, all the way," he assented."man and wife. tourists--newlyweds--from some town not toofar away. pretty well fixed, to match what we'reriding in. can do?""very simple." she opened a compartment and selected oneof a stack of documents.

"i can fix this one up in ten minutes.we'll have to dispose of the rest of these, and a lot of other stuff, too. and you had better get out of that leatherand into a suit that matches this passport photo.""right. straight road for miles, and nothing insight either way. give me the suit and i'll change now.keep on going or stop?" "better stop, i think," the girl decided. "quicker, and we'll have to find a place tohide or bury this evidence." while the man changed clothes, kinnexacollected the contraband, wrapping it up in

the discarded jacket. she looked up just as phryges was adjustinghis coat. she glanced at his armpits, then stared."where are your blasters?" she demanded. "they ought to show, at least a little, andeven i can't see a sign of them." he showed her."but they're so tiny! i never saw blasters like that!" "i've got a blaster, but it's in the tailpocket. these aren't.they're air-guns. poisoned needles.

not worth a damn beyond a hundred feet, butdeadly close up. one touch anywhere and the guy dies rightthen. two seconds max." "nice!"she was no shrinking violet this young atlantean spy."you have spares, of course, and i can hide two of them easily enough in leg-holsters. gimme, and show me how they work.""standard controls, pretty much like blasters.like so." he demonstrated, and as he drove sedatelydown the highway the girl sewed

industriously.the day wore on, nor was it uneventful. one incident, in fact--the detailing ofwhich would serve no useful purpose here-- was of such a nature that at its end:"better pin-point me, don't you think, on that ramp?" phryges asked, quietly."just in case you get scragged in one of these brawls and i don't?""oh! of course! forgive me, fry--it slipped my mindcompletely that you didn't know where it was.area six; pin-point four seven three dash six oh five.

"got it."he repeated the figures. but neither of the atlanteans was"scragged", and at six p.m. an allegedly honeymooning couple parked their bigroadster in the garage at norgrad field and went through the gates. their papers, tickets included, were inperfect order; they were as inconspicuous and as undemonstrative as newlyweds arewont to be. no more so, and no less. strolling idly, gazing eagerly at each newthing, they made their circuitous way toward a certain small hangar.

as the girl had said, this field boastedhundreds of super-sonic fighters, so many that servicing was a round-the-clockroutine. in that hangar was a sharp-nosed, stubby-v'd flyer, one of norheim's fastest. it was serviced and ready. it was too much to hope, of course, thatthe visitors could actually get into the building unchallenged.nor did they. "back, you!" a guard waved them away."get back to the concourse, where you belong--no visitors allowed out here!"f-f-t!

f-f-t! phryges' air-gun broke into soft but deadlycoughing. kinnexa whirled--hands flashing down, skirtflying up-and ran. guards tried to head her off; tried tobring their own weapons to bear. tried--failed--died.phryges, too, ran; ran backward. his blaster was out now and flaming, for noliving enemy remained within needle range. a rifle bullet w-h-i-n-g-e-d past his head,making him duck involuntarily and uselessly. rifles were bad; but their hazard, too, hadbeen considered and had been accepted.

kinnexa reached the fighter's port, openedit, sprang in. he jumped. she fell against him.he tossed her clear, slammed and dogged the door.he looked at her then, and swore bitterly. a small, round hole marred the bridge ofher nose: the back of her head was gone. he leaped to the controls and the fleetlittle ship screamed skyward. he cut in transmitter and receiver, keyedand twiddled briefly. no soap.he had been afraid of that. they were already blanketing everyfrequency he could employ; using power

through which he could not drive even atight beam a hundred miles. but he could still crash that missile inits tube. or--could he? he was not afraid of other norheimanfighters; he had a long lead and he rode one of their very fastest. but since they were already so suspicious,wouldn't they launch the bomb before seven o'clock?he tried vainly to coax another knot out of his wide-open engines. with all his speed, he neared the pin-pointjust in time to see a trail of super-heated

vapor extending up into and disappearingbeyond the stratosphere. he nosed his flyer upward, locked themissile into his sights, and leveled off. although his ship did not have the giantrocket's acceleration, he could catch it before it got to atlantis, since he did notneed its altitude and since most of its journey would be made without power. what he could do about it after he caughtit he did not know, but he'd do something. he caught it; and, by a feat of piloting tobe appreciated only by those who have handled planes at super-sonic speeds, hematched its course and velocity. then, from a distance of barely a hundredfeet, he poured his heaviest shells into

the missile's war-head.he couldn't be missing! it was worse than shooting sitting ducks--it was like dynamiting fish in a bucket! nevertheless, nothing happened. the thing wasn't fuzed for impact, then,but for time; and the activating mechanism would be shell-and shock-proof.but there was still a way. he didn't need to call artomenes now, evenif he could get through the interference which the fast-approaching pursuers werestill sending out. atlantean observers would have lined thisstuff up long since; the officer would know exactly what was going on.

driving ahead and downward, at maximumpower, phryges swung his ship slowly into a right-angle collision course. the fighter's needle nose struck the war-head within a foot of the atlantean's point of aim, and as he died phryges knew that hehad accomplished his mission. norheim's missile would not strikeatlantis, but would fall at least ten miles short, and the water there was very deep.very, very deep. atlantis would not be harmed. it might have been better, however, ifphryges had died with kinnexa on norgrad field; in which case the continent wouldprobably have endured.

as it was, while that one missile did notreach the city, its frightful atomic charge exploded under six hundred fathoms ofwater, ten scant miles from atlantis' harbor, and very close to an ancientgeological fault. artomenes, as phryges had surmised, had hadtime in which to act, and he knew much more than phryges did about what was comingtoward atlantis. too late, he knew that not one missile, butseven, had been launched from norheim, and at least five from uighar. the retaliatory rockets which were to wipeout norgrad, uigharstoy, and thousands of square miles of environs were on their waylong before either bomb or earthquake

destroyed all of the atlantean launchingramps. but when equilibrium was at last restored,the ocean rolled serenely where a minor continent had been. book one dawnchapter 3 the fall of rome 1. eddore like two high executives of a telluriancorporation discussing business affairs during a chance meeting at one of theirclubs, eddore's all highest and gharlane, his second in command, were having the eddorian equivalent of an after-business-hours chat.

"you did a nice job on tellus," the all-highest commended. "on the other three, too, of course, buttellus was so far and away the worst of the lot that the excellence of the work standsout. when the atlantean nations destroyed eachother so thoroughly i thought that this thing called 'democracy' was done away withforever, but it seems to be mighty hard to kill. however, i take it that you have this romesituation entirely under control?" "definitely.mithradates of pontus was mine. so were both sulla and marius.

through them and others i killedpractically all of the brains and ability of rome, and reduced that so-called'democracy' to a howling, aimless mob. my nero will end it. rome will go on by momentum--outwardly,will even appear to grow--for a few generations, but what nero will do cannever be undone." "good. a difficult task, truly.""not difficult, exactly ... but it's so damned steady."gharlane's thought was bitter. "but that's the hell of working with suchshort-lived races.

since each creature lives only a minute orso, they change so fast that a man can't take his mind off of them for a second. i've been wanting to take a little vacationtrip back to our old time-space, but it doesn't look as though i'll be able to doit until after they get some age and settle down." "that won't be too long.life-spans lengthen, you know, as races approach their norms.""yes. but none of the others is having half the trouble that i am. most of them, in fact, have things comingalong just about the way they want them.

my four planets are raising more hell thanall the rest of both galaxies put together, and i know that it isn't me--next to you,i'm the most efficient operator we've got. what i'm wondering about is why i happen tobe the goat." "precisely because you are our mostefficient operator." if an eddorian can be said to smile, theall-highest smiled. "you know, as well as i do, the findings ofthe integrator." "yes, but i am wondering more and more asto whether to believe them unreservedly or spores from an extinct life-form--suitableenvironments--operation of the laws of chance--tommyrot!

i am beginning to suspect that chance isbeing strained beyond its elastic limit, for my particular benefit, and as soon as ican find out who is doing that straining there will be one empty place in theinnermost circle." "have a care, gharlane!"all levity, all casualness disappeared. "whom do you suspect? whom do you accuse?""nobody, as yet. the true angle never occurred to me untiljust now, while i have been discussing the thing with you. nor shall i either suspect or accuse, ever.i shall determine, then i shall act."

"in defiance of me?of my orders?" the all-highest demanded, his short temper flaring. "say, rather, in support," the lieutenantshot back, unabashed. "if some one is working on me through myjob, what position are you probably already in, without knowing it? assume that i am right, that these fourplanets of mine got the way they are because of monkey business inside thecircle. who would be next? and how sure are you that there isn'tsomething similar, but not so far advanced,

already aimed at you?it seems to me that serious thought is in order." "perhaps so....you may be right.... there have been a few nonconformable items. taken separately, they did not seem to beof any importance; but together, and considered in this new light...." thus was borne out the conclusion of thearisian elders that the eddorians would not at that time deduce arisia; and thus eddorelost its chance to begin in time the forging of a weapon with which to oppose

effectively arisia's--civilization's--galactic patrol, so soon to come into being. if either of the two had been lesssuspicious, less jealous, less arrogant and domineering--in other words, had not beeneddorians--this history of civilization might never have been written; or writtenvery differently and by another hand. both were, however, eddorians. 2. arisiain the brief interval between the fall of atlantis and the rise of rome to the summitof her power, eukonidor of arisia had aged scarcely at all.

he was still a youth.he was, and would be for many centuries to come, a watchman. although his mind was powerful enough tounderstand the elders' visualization of the course of civilization--in fact, he hadalready made significant progress in his own visualization of the cosmic all--he was not sufficiently mature to contemplateunmoved the events which, according to all arisian visualizations, were bound tooccur. "your feeling is but natural, eukonidor." drounli, the moulder principally concernedwith the planet tellus, meshed his mind

smoothly with that of the young watchman."we do not enjoy it ourselves, as you know. it is, however, necessary. in no other way can the ultimate triumph ofcivilization be assured." "but can nothing be done to alleviate...?"eukonidor paused. drounli waited. "have you any suggestions to offer?""none," the younger arisian confessed. "but i thought ... you, or the elders, somuch older and stronger ... could...." "we can not. rome will fall.it must be allowed to fall."

"it will be nero, then?and we can do nothing?" "nero. we can do little enough.our forms of flesh--petronius, acte, and the others--will do whatever they can; buttheir powers will be exactly the same as those of other human beings of their time. they must be and will be constrained, sinceany show of unusual powers, either mental or physical, would be detected instantlyand would be far too revealing. on the other hand, nero--that is, gharlaneof eddore--will be operating much more freely.""very much so.

practically unhampered, except in purelyphysical matters. but, if nothing can be done to stop it....if nero must be allowed to sow his seeds of ruin...." and upon that cheerless note the conferenceended. 3. rome"but what have you, livius, or any of us, for that matter, got to live for?" demandedpatroclus the gladiator of his cell-mate. "we are well fed, well kept, wellexercised; like horses. but, like horses, we are lower than slaves.slaves have some freedom of action; most of us have none.

we fight--fight whoever or whatever ourcursed owners send us against. those of us who live fight again; but theend is certain and comes soon. i had a wife and children once. so did you.is there any chance, however slight, that either of us will ever know them again; orlearn even whether they live or die? none. at this price, is your life worth living?mine is not." livius the bithynian, who had been staringout past the bars of the cubicle and over the smooth sand of the arena toward nero'sgarlanded and purple-bannered throne,

turned and studied his fellow gladiatorfrom toe to crown. the heavily-muscled legs, the narrow waist,the sharply-tapering torso, the enormous shoulders. the leonine head, surmounted by an unkemptshock of red-bronze-auburn hair. and, lastly, the eyes--gold-flecked, tawnyeyes--hard and cold now with a ferocity and a purpose not to be concealed. "i have been more or less expectingsomething of this sort," livius said then, quietly. "nothing overt--you have builded well,patroclus--but to one who knows gladiators

as i know them there has been something inthe wind for weeks past. i take it that someone swore his life forme and that i should not ask who that friend might be.""one did. you should not." "so be it.to my unknown sponsor, then, and to the gods, i give thanks, for i am wholly withyou. not that i have any hope. although your tribe breeds men--from yourbuild and hair and eyes you descend from spartacus himself--you know that even hedid not succeed.

things now are worse, infinitely worse,than they were in his day. no one who has ever plotted against nerohas had any measure of success; not even his scheming slut of a mother. all have died, in what fashions you know.nero is vile, the basest of the base. nevertheless, his spies are the mostefficient that the world has ever known. in spite of that, i feel as you do. if i can take with me two or three of thepraetorians, i die content. but by your look, your plan is not what ithought, to storm vainly nero's podium yonder.

have you, by any chance, some trace of hopeof success?" "more than a trace; much more."the thracian's teeth bared in a wolfish grin. "his spies are, as you say, very good.but, this time, so are we. just as hard and just as ruthless.many of his spies among us have died; most, if not all, of the rest are known. they, too, shall die.glatius, for instance. once in a while, by the luck of the gods, aman kills a better man than he is; but glatius has done it six times in a row,without getting a scratch.

but the next time he fights, in spite ofnero's protection, glatius dies. word has gone out, and there aregladiators' tricks that nero never heard of." "quite true.one question, and i too may begin to hope. this is not the first time that gladiatorshave plotted against ahenobarbus. before the plotters could accomplishanything, however, they found themselves matched against each other and the signalwas always for death, never for mercy. has this...?" livius paused."it has not.

it is that which gives me the hope i have.nor are we gladiators alone in this. we have powerful friends at court; one ofwhom has for days been carrying a knife sharpened especially to slip between nero'sribs. that he still carries that knife and thatwe still live are proofs enough for me that ahenobarbus, the matricide and incendiary,has no suspicion whatever of what is going on." (at this point nero on his throne burstinto a roar of laughter, his gross body shaking with a merriment which petroniusand tigellinus ascribed to the death-throes of a christian woman in the arena.)

"is there any small thing which i should betold in order to be of greatest use?" livius asked."several. the prisons and the pits are so crowdedwith christians that they die and stink, and a pestilence threatens.to mend matters, some scores of hundreds of them are to be crucified here tomorrow." "why not?everyone knows that they are poisoners of wells and murderers of children, andpractitioners of magic. wizards and witches." "true enough."patroclus shrugged his massive shoulders.

"but to get on, tomorrow night, at fulldark, the remaining hundreds who have not been crucified are to be--have you everseen sarmentitii and semaxii?" "once only. a gorgeous spectacle, truly, almost asthrilling as to feel a man die on your sword. men and women, wrapped in oil-soakedgarments smeared with pitch and chained to posts, make splendid torches indeed.you mean, then, that...?" "aye. in caesar's own garden. when the light is brightest nero will ridein parade.

when his chariot passes the tenth torch ourally swings his knife. the praetorians will rush around, but therewill be a few moments of confusion during which we will go into action and the guardswill die. at the same time others of our party willtake the palace and kill every man, woman, and child adherent to nero.""very nice--in theory." the bithynian was frankly skeptical. "but just how are we going to get there? a few gladiators--such champions aspatroclus of thrace--are at times allowed to do pretty much as they please in theirfree time, and hence could possibly be on

hand to take part in such a brawl, but mostof us will be under lock and guard." "that too, has been arranged. our allies near the throne and certainother nobles and citizens of rome, who have been winning large sums by our victories,have prevailed upon our masters to give a grand banquet to all gladiators tomorrow night, immediately following the masscrucifixion. it is going to be held in the claudiangrove, just across from caesar's gardens." "ah!" livius breathed deep; his eyes flashed."by baal and bacchus!

by the round, high breasts of isis!for the first time in years i begin to live! our masters die first, then and there ...but hold--weapons?" "will be provided.bystanders will have them, and armor and shields, under their cloaks. our owners first, yes; and then thepraetorians. but note, livius, that tigellinus, thecommander of the guard, is mine--mine alone. i, personally, am going to cut his heartout."

"granted.i heard that he had your wife for a time. but you seem quite confident that you willstill be alive tomorrow night. by baal and ishtar, i wish i could feel so! with something to live for at last, i canfeel my guts turning to water--i can hear charon's oars. like as not, now, some toe-dancingstripling of a retiarius will entangle me in his net this very afternoon, and nomercy signal has been or will be given this day. such is the crowd's temper, from caesardown, that even you will get 'pollice

verso' if you fall.""true enough. but you had better get over that feeling,if you want to live. as for me, i'm safe enough. i have made a vow to jupiter, and he whohas protected me so long will not desert me now.any man or any thing who faces me during these games, dies." "i hope so, sin ... but listen!the horns ... and someone is coming!" the door behind them swung open.a lanista, or master of gladiators, laden with arms and armor, entered.

the door swung to and was locked from theoutside. the visitor was obviously excited, butstared wordlessly at patroclus for seconds. "well, iron-heart," he burst out finally,"aren't you even curious about what you have got to do today?""not particularly," patroclus replied, indifferently. "except to dress to fit.why? something special?" "extra special.the sensation of the year. fermius himself. unlimited.free choice of weapons and armor."

"fermius!"livius exclaimed. "fermius the gaul? may athene cover you with her shield!""you can say that for me, too," the lanista agreed, callously. "before i knew who was entered, like afool, i bet a hundred sesterces on patroclus here, at odds of only one to two,against the field. but listen, bronze-head. if you get the best of fermius, i'll giveyou a full third of my winnings." "thanks.you'll collect.

a good man, fermius, and smart. i've heard a lot about him, but never sawhim work. he has seen me, which isn't so good.both heavy and fast--somewhat lighter than i am, and a bit faster. he knows that i always fight thracian, andthat i'd be a fool to try anything else against him.he fights either thracian or samnite depending upon the opposition. against me his best bet would be to gosamnite. do you know?""no. they didn't say.

he may not decide until the last moment." "unlimited, against me, he'll go samnite.he'll have to. these unlimiteds are tough, but it gives mea chance to use a new trick i've been working on. i'll take that sword there--no scabbard--and two daggers, besides my gladius. get me a mace; the lightest real macethey've got in their armory." "a mace! fighting thracian, against a samnite?""exactly. a mace.am i going to fight fermius, or do you want

to do it yourself?" the mace was brought and patroclus bangedit, with a two-handed roundhouse swing, against a stone of the wall.the head remained solid upon the shaft. good. they waited.trumpets blared; the roar of the vast assemblage subsided almost to silence. "grand champion fermius versus grandchampion patroclus," came the raucous announcement."single combat. any weapons that either chooses to use,used in any way possible.

no rest, no intermission.enter!" two armored figures strode toward thecenter of the arena. patroclus' armor, from towering helmetdown, and including the shield, was of dully-gleaming steel, completely bare ofornament. each piece was marred and scarred; veryplainly that armor was for use and had been used. on the other hand, the samnite half-armorof the gaul was resplendent with the decorations affected by his race. fermius' helmet sported three brilliantly-colored plumes, his shield and cuirass,

enameled in half the colors of thespectrum, looked as though they were being worn for the first time. five yards apart, the gladiators stoppedand wheeled to face the podium upon which nero lolled. the buzz of conversation--the mace hadexcited no little comment and speculation-- ceased. patroclus heaved his ponderous weapon intothe air; the gaul whirled up his long, sharp sword.they chanted in unison: "ave, caesar imperator!

morituri te salutant!"the starting-flag flashed downward; and at its first sight, long before it struck theground, both men moved. fermius whirled and leaped; but, fast as hewas, he was not quite fast enough. that mace, which had seemed so heavy in thethracian's hands a moment before, had become miraculously maneuverable--it washurtling through the air directly toward the middle of his body! it did not strike its goal--patroclus hopedthat he was the only one there who suspected that he had not expected it totouch his opponent--but in order to dodge the missile fermius had to break his

stride; lost momentarily the fine co-ordination of his attack. and in that moment patroclus struck.struck, and struck again. but, as has been said, fermius was bothstrong and fast. the first blow, aimed backhand at his bareright leg, struck his shield instead. the left-handed stab, shield-encumbered asthe left arm was, ditto. so did the next trial, a vicious forehandcut. the third of the mad flurry of swordcuts,only partially deflected by the sword which fermius could only then get into play,sheared down and a red, a green, and a white plume floated toward the ground.

the two fighters sprang apart and studiedeach other briefly. from the gladiators' standpoint, this hadbeen the veriest preliminary skirmishing. that the gaul had lost his plumes and thathis armor showed great streaks of missing enamel meant no more to either than thatthe thracian's supposedly surprise attack had failed. each knew that he faced the deadliestfighter of his world; but if that knowledge affected either man, the other could notperceive it. but the crowd went wild. nothing like that first terrific passage-at-arms had ever before been seen.

death, sudden and violent, had been in theair. the arena was saturated with it. hearts had been ecstatically in throats.each person there, man or woman, had felt the indescribable thrill of death--vicariously, safely--and every fiber of their lusts demanded more. more!each spectator knew that one of those men would die that afternoon.none wanted, or would permit them both to live. this was to the death, and death therewould be.

women, their faces blotched and purple withemotion, shrieked and screamed. men, stamping their feet and waving theirarms, yelled and swore. and many, men and women alike, laid wagers."five hundred sesterces on fermius!" one shouted, tablet and stylus in air. "taken!" came an answering yell."the gaul is done--patroclus all but had him there!""one thousand, you!" came another challenge. "patroclus missed his chance and will neverget another--a thousand on fermius!" "two thousand!""five thousand!"

"ten!" the fighters closed--swung--stabbed.shields clanged vibrantly under the impact of fended strokes, swords whined andsnarled. back and forth--circling--giving and takingground--for minute after endless minute that desperately furious exhibition ofskill, of speed and of power and of endurance went on. and as it went on, longer and longer pastthe time expected by even the most optimistic, tension mounted higher andhigher. blood flowed crimson down the gaul's bareleg and the crowd screamed its approval.

blood trickled out of the joints of thethracian's armor and it became a frenzied mob. no human body could stand that pace forlong. both men were tiring fast, and slowing. with the drive of his weight and armor,patroclus forced the gaul to go where he wanted him to go. then, apparently gathering his everyresource for a final effort, the thracian took one short, choppy step forward andswung straight down, with all his strength. the blood-smeared hilt turned in his hands;the blade struck flat and broke, its length

whining viciously away. fermius, although staggered by the sheerbrute force of the abortive stroke, recovered almost instantly; dropping hissword and snatching at his gladius to take advantage of the wonderful opportunity thusgiven him. but that breaking had not been accidental;patroclus made no attempt to recover his balance. instead, he ducked past the surprised andshaken gaul. still stooping, he seized the mace, whicheveryone except he had forgotten, and swung; swung with all the totalized andsynchronized power of hands, wrists, arms,

shoulders, and magnificent body. the iron head of the ponderous weaponstruck the center of the gaul's cuirass, which crunched inward like so muchcardboard. fermius seemed to leave the ground and,folded around the mace, to fly briefly through the air.as he struck the ground, patroclus was upon him. the gaul was probably already dead--thatblow would have killed an elephant--but that made no difference.if that mob knew that fermius was dead, they might start yelling for his life, too.

hence, by lifting his head and poising hisdirk high in air, he asked of caesar his imperial will.the crowd, already frantic, had gone stark mad at the blow. no thought of mercy could or did exist inthat insanely bloodthirsty throng; no thought of clemency for the man who hadfought such a magnificent fight. in cooler moments they would have wantedhim to live, to thrill them again and yet again; but now, for almost half an hour,they had been loving the hot, the suffocating thrill of death in theirthroats. now they wanted, and would have, theultimate thrill.

"death!" the solid structure rocked to the crescendoroar of the demand. "death!death!" nero's right thumb pressed horizontallyagainst his chest. every vestal was making the same sign.pollice verso. death. the strained and strident yelling of themob grew even louder. patroclus lowered his dagger and deliveredthe unnecessary and unfelt thrust; and-- "peractum est!" arose one deafening yell.

thus the red-haired thracian lived; andalso, somewhat to his own surprise, did livius. "i'm glad to see you, bronze-heart, by thewhite thighs of ceres, i am!" that worthy exclaimed, when the two met, the followingday. patroclus had never seen the bithynian sobuoyant. "pallas athene covered you, like i askedher to. but by the red beak of thoth and the sacredzaimph of tanit, it gave me the horrors when you made that throw so quick andmissed it, and i went as crazy as the rest of them when you pulled the real coup.

but now, curse it, i suppose that we'll allhave to be on the lookout for it--or no, unlimiteds aren't common, thank ninib thesmiter and his scarlet spears!" "i hear you didn't do so badly, yourself,"patroclus interrupted his friend's loquacity."i missed your first two, but i saw you take kalendios. he's a high-rater--one of the best of thelocals--and i was afraid he might snare you, but from the looks of you, you gotonly a couple of stabs. nice work." "prayer, my boy.prayer is the stuff.

i prayed to 'em in order, and hit thejackpot with shamash. my guts curled up again, like they belong,and i knew that the portents were all in my favor. besides, when you were walking out to meetfermius, did you notice that red-headed greek posturer making passes at you?""huh? don't be a fool. i had other things to think of." "so i figured.so did she, probably, because after a while she came around behind with a lanista andmade eyes at me. i must have the next best shape to youhere, i guess.

what a wench! anyway, i felt better and better, andbefore she left i knew that no damn retiarius that ever waved a trident couldput a net past my guard. and they couldn't either. a couple more like that and i'll be a grandchampion myself. but they're digging holes for the crossesand there's the horn that the feast is ready. this show is going to be really good."they ate, hugely and with unmarred appetite, of the heaped food which nero hadprovided.

they returned to their assigned places tosee crosses, standing as close together as they could be placed and each bearing asuffering christian, filling the whole vast expanse of the arena. and, if the truth must be told, those twomen enjoyed thoroughly every moment of that long and sickeningly horrible afternoon. they were the hardest products of thehardest school the world has ever known: trained rigorously to deal out deathmercilessly at command; to accept death unflinchingly at need. they should not and can not be judged bythe higher, finer standards of a softer,

gentler day.the afternoon passed; evening approached. all the gladiators then in rome assembledin the claudian grove, around tables creaking under their loads of food andwine. women, too, were there in profusion; womenfor the taking and yearning to be taken; and the tide of revelry ran open, wide, andhigh. although all ate and apparently drank withabandon, most of the wine was in fact wasted. and as the sky darkened, most of thegladiators, one by one, began to get rid of their female companions upon one pretext oranother and to drift toward the road which

separated the festivities from the cloakedand curious throng of lookers-on. at full dark, a red glare flared into thesky from caesar's garden and the gladiators, deployed now along the highway,dashed across it and seemed to wrestle briefly with cloaked figures. then armed, more-or-less-armored men ranback to the scene of their reveling. swords, daggers, and gladii thrust,stabbed, and cut. tables and benches ran red; ground andgrass grew slippery with blood. the conspirators turned then and rushedtoward the emperor's brilliantly torch-lit garden.

patroclus, however, was not in the van.he had had trouble in finding a cuirass big enough for him to get into. he had been delayed further by the factthat he had had to kill three strange lanistae before he could get at his owner,the man he really wanted to slay. he was therefore some little distancebehind the other gladiators when petronius rushed up to him and seized him by the arm. white and trembling, the noble was not nowthe exquisite arbiter elegantiae; nor the imperturbable augustian."patroclus! in the name of bacchus, patroclus, why dothe men go there now?

no signal was given--i could not get tonero!" "what?" the thracian blazed. "vulcan and his fiends!it was given--i heard it myself! what went wrong?""everything." petronius licked his lips. "i was standing right beside him.no one else was near enough to interfere. it was--should have been--easy.but after i got my knife out i couldn't move. it was his eyes, patroclus--i swear it, bythe white breasts of venus!

he has the evil eye--i couldn't move amuscle, i tell you! then, although i didn't want to, i turnedand ran!" "how did you find me so quick?""i--i--i--don't know," the frantic arbiter stuttered. "i ran and ran, and there you were.but what are we--you--going to do?" patroclus' mind raced.he believed implicitly that jupiter guarded him personally. he believed in the other gods and goddessesof rome. he more than half believed in themultitudinous deities of greece, of egypt,

and even of babylon. the other world was real and close; theevil eye only one of the many inexplicable facts of every-day life. nevertheless, in spite of his credulity--orperhaps in part because of it--he also believed firmly in himself; in his ownpowers. wherefore he soon came to a decision. "jupiter, ward from me ahenobarbus' evileye!" he called aloud, and turned. "where are you going?"petronius, still shaking, demanded. "to do the job you swore to do, of course--to kill that bloated toad.

and then to give tigellinus what i haveowed him so long." at full run, he soon overtook his fellows,and waded resistlessly into the fray. he was grand champion patroclus, working athis trade; the hard-learned trade which he knew so well. no praetorian or ordinary soldier couldstand before him save momentarily. he did not have all of his thracian armor,but he had enough. man after man faced him, and man after mandied. and nero, sitting at ease with a beautifulboy at his right and a beautiful harlot at his left, gazed appreciatively through hisemerald lens at the flaming torches; the

while, with a very small fraction of his eddorian mind, he mused upon the matter ofpatroclus and tigellinus. should he let the thracian kill thecommander of his guard? or not? it didn't really matter, one way or theother. in fact, nothing about this whole foulplanet--this ultra-microscopic, if offensive, speck of cosmic dust in theeddorian scheme of things--really mattered at all. it would be mildly amusing to watch thegladiator consummate his vengeance by

carving the roman to bits.but, on the other hand, there was such a thing as pride of workmanship. viewed in that light, the thracian couldnot kill tigellinus, because that bit of corruption had a few more jobs to do. he must descend lower and lower intounspeakable depravity, finally to cut his own throat with a razor. although patroclus would not know it--itwas better technique not to let him know it--the thracian's proposed vengeance wouldhave been futility itself compared with that which the luckless roman was to wreakon himself.

wherefore a shrewdly-placed blow knockedthe helmet from patroclus' head and a mace crashed down, spattering his brains abroad. thus ended the last significant attempt tosave the civilization of rome; in a fiasco so complete that even such meticuloushistorians as tacitus and suetonius mention it merely as a minor disturbance of nero'sgarden party. the planet tellus circled its sun sometwenty hundred times. sixty-odd generations of men were born anddied, but that was not enough. the arisian program of genetics requiredmore. therefore the elders, after duedeliberation, agreed that that

civilization, too, must be allowed to fall. and gharlane of eddore, recalled to dutyfrom the middle of a much-too-short vacation, found things in very bad shapeindeed and went busily to work setting them to rights. he had slain one fellow-member of theinnermost circle, but there might very well have been more than one master involved. book two the world warchapter 4 1918 sobbing furiously, captain ralph kinnisonwrenched at his stick--with half of his control surfaces shot away the crate washellishly logy.

he could step out, of course, the whilesaluting the victorious jerries, but he wasn't on fire--yet--and hadn't been hit--yet. he ducked and flinched sidewise as anotherburst of bullets stitched another seam along his riddled fuselage and whangedagainst his dead engine. afire? not yet--good!maybe he could land the heap, after all! slowly--oh, so sluggishly--the spad beganto level off, toward the edge of the wheatfield and that friendly, invitingditch. if the krauts didn't get him with theirnext pass....

he heard a chattering beneath him--brownings, by god!--and the expected burst did not come. he knew that he had been just about overthe front when they conked his engine; it was a toss-up whether he would come down inenemy territory or not. but now, for the first time in ages, itseemed, there were machine-guns going that were not aimed at him! his landing-gear swished against stubbleand he fought with all his strength of body and of will to keep the spad's tail down.he almost succeeded; his speed was almost spent when he began to nose over.

he leaped, then, and as he struck ground hecurled up and rolled--he had been a motorcycle racer for years--feeling as hedid so a wash of heat: a tracer had found his gas-tank at last! bullets were thudding into the ground; oneshrieked past his head as, stooping over, folded into the smallest possible target,he galloped awkwardly toward the ditch. the brownings still yammered, filling thesky with cupro-nickeled lead; and while kinnison was flinging himself full lengthinto the protecting water and mud, he heard a tremendous crash. one of those huns had been too intent onmurder; had stayed a few seconds too long;

had come a few meters too close.the clamor of the guns stopped abruptly. "we got one! we got one!" a yell of exultation."stay down! keep low, you boneheads!" roared a voice ofauthority, quite evidently a sergeant's. "wanna get your blocks shot off? take down them guns; we gotta get to hellout of here. hey, you flyer!are you o.k., or wounded, or maybe dead?" kinnison spat out mud until he could talk. "o.k.!" he shouted, and started to lift aneye above the low bank.

he stopped, however, as whistling metal,sheeting in from the north, told him that such action would be decidedly unsafe. "but i ain't leaving this ditch right now--sounds mighty hot out there!" "you said it, brother.it's hotter than the hinges of hell, from behind that ridge over there. but ooze down that ditch a piece, aroundthe first bend. it's pretty well in the clear there, andbesides, you'll find a ledge of rocks running straight across the flat. cross over there and climb the hill--joinus by that dead snag up there.

we got to get out of here. that sausage over there must have seen thisshindig and they'll blow this whole damn area off the map.snap it up! and you, you goldbricks, get the lead outof your pants!" kinnison followed directions.he found the ledge and emerged, scraping thick and sticky mud from his uniform. he crawled across the little plain.an occasional bullet whined through the air, far above him; but, as the sergeanthad said, this bit of terrain was "in the clear."

he climbed the hill, approached the gaunt,bare tree-trunk. he heard men moving, and cautiouslyannounced himself. "ok., fella," came the sergeant's deepbass. "yeah, it's us.shake a leg!" "that's easy!" kinnison laughed for the first time thatday. "i'm shaking already, like a hula-huladancer's empennage. what outfit is this, and where are we?" "brroom!"the earth trembled, the air vibrated.

below and to the north, almost exactlywhere the machine-guns had been, an awe- inspiring cloud billowed majestically intothe air; a cloud composed of smoke, vapor, pulverized earth, chunks of rock, anddebris of what had been trees. nor was it alone."crack! bang! tweet!boom! wham!"shells of all calibers, high explosive and gas, came down in droves. the landscape disappeared.the little company of americans, in

complete silence and with one mind, devotedthemselves to accumulating distance. finally, when they had to stop for breath: "section b, attached to the 76th fieldartillery," the sergeant answered the question as though it had just been asked. "as to where we are, somewhere betweenberlin and paris is about all i can tell you. we got hell knocked out of us yesterday,and have been running around lost ever since. they shot off a rally signal on top of thishere hill, though, and we was just going to

shove off when we seen the krauts chasingyou." "thanks. i'd better rally with you, i guess--findout where we are, and what's the chance of getting back to my own outfit.""damn slim, i'd say. boches are all around us here, thicker thanfleas on a dog." they approached the summit, werechallenged, were accepted. they saw a gray-haired man--an old man, forsuch a location--seated calmly upon a rock, smoking a cigarette. his smartly-tailored uniform, which fittedperfectly his not-so-slender figure, was

muddy and tattered.one leg of his breeches was torn half away, revealing a blood-soaked bandage. although he was very evidently an officer,no insignia were visible. as kinnison and the gunners approached, afirst lieutenant--practically spic-and- span--spoke to the man on the rock. "first thing to do is to settle the matterof rank," he announced, crisply. "i'm first lieutenant randolph, of....""rank, eh?" the seated one grinned and spat out thebutt of his cigarette. "but then, it was important to me, too,when i was a first lieutenant--about the

time that you were born. slayton, major-general.""oh ... excuse me, sir...." "skip it.how many men you got, and what are they?" "seven, sir. we brought in a wire from inf....""a wire! hellanddamnation, why haven't you got itwith you, then? get it!" the crestfallen officer disappeared; thegeneral turned to kinnison and the sergeant."have you got any ammunition, sergeant?"

"yes, sir. about thirty belts.""thank god! we can use it, and you. as for you, captain, i don't know...."the wire came up. the general seized the instrument andcranked. "get me spearmint ...spearmint? slayton--give me weatherby.... this is slayton ... yes, but ...no, but i want ... hellanddamnation, weatherby, shut up andlet me talk--don't you know that this wire's apt to be cut any second?

we're on top of hill fo-wer, ni-yun, sev-en--that's right--about two hundred men; maybe three.composite--somebody, apparently, from half the outfits in france. too fast and too far--both flanks wideopen--cut off ... hello!hello! hello!" he dropped the instrument and turned tokinnison. "you want to go back, captain, and i need arunner--bad. want to try to get through?"

"yes, sir.""first phone you come to, get spearmint-- general weatherby. tell him slayton says that we're cut off,but the germans aren't in much force nor in good position, and for god's sake to getsome air and tanks in here to keep them from consolidating. just a minute.sergeant, what's your name?" he studied the burly non-com minutely."wells, sir." "what would you say ought to be done withthe machine-guns?" "cover that ravine, there, first.then set up to enfilade if they try to come

up over there. then, if i could find any more guns,i'd...." "enough.second lieutenant wells, from now. ghq will confirm. take charge of all the guns we have.report when you have made disposition. now, kinnison, listen.i can probably hold out until tonight. the enemy doesn't know yet that we're here,but we are due for some action pretty quick now, and when they locate us--if therearen't too many of their own units here, too--they'll flatten this hill like atable.

so tell weatherby to throw a column in hereas soon as it gets dark, and to advance eight and sixty, so as to consolidate thiswhole area. got it?" "yes, sir.""got a compass?" "yes, sir.""pick up a tin hat and get going. a hair north of due west, about a kilometerand a half. keep cover, because the going will betough. then you'll come to a road. it's a mess, but it's ours--or was, at lastaccounts--so the worst of it will be over.

on that road, which goes south-west, abouttwo kilometers further, you'll find a post- -you'll know it by the motorcycles andsuch. phone from there. luck!"bullets began to whine and the general dropped to the ground and crawled toward acoppice, bellowing orders as he went. kinnison crawled, too, straight west,availing himself of all possible cover, until he encountered a sergeant-majorreclining against the south side of a great tree. "cigarette, buddy?" that wight demanded."sure.

take the pack.i've got another that'll last me--maybe more. but what the hell goes on here?who ever heard of a major general getting far enough up front to get shot in the leg,and he talks as though he were figuring on licking the whole german army. is the old bird nuts, or what?""not so you would notice it. didn'cha ever hear of 'hellandamnation'slayton? you will, buddy, you will. if pershing doesn't give him three starsafter this, he's crazier than hell.

he ain't supposed to be on combat at all--he's from ghq and can make or break anybody in the aef. out here on a look-see trip and couldn'tget back. but you got to hand it to him--he's gettingthings organized in great shape. i came in with him--i'm about all that'sleft of them that did--just waiting for this breeze to die down, but its gettingworse. we'd better duck--over there!" bullets whistled and stormed, breaking moretwigs and branches from the already shattered, practically denuded trees.the two slid precipitately into the

indicated shell-hole, into stinking mud. wells' guns burst into action."damn! i hated to do this," the sergeant grumbled,"on accounta i just got half dry." "wise me up," kinnison directed. "the more i know about things, the more apti am to get through." "this is what is left of two battalions,and a lot of casuals. they made objective, but it turns out theoutfits on their right and left couldn't, leaving their flanks right out in the openair. orders come in by blinker to rectify theline by falling back, but by then it

couldn't be done.under observation." kinnison nodded. he knew what a barrage would have done to aforce trying to cross such open ground in daylight. "one man could prob'ly make it, though, ifhe was careful and kept his eyes wide open," the sergeant-major continued."but you ain't got no binoculars, have you?" "no.""get a pair easy enough. you saw them boots without any hobnails in'em, sticking out from under some

blankets?" "yes. i get you."kinnison knew that combat officers did not wear hobnails, and usually carriedbinoculars. "how come so many at once?" "just about all the officers that got thisfar. conniving, my guess is, behind oldslayton's back. anyway, a kraut aviator spots 'em anddives. our machine-guns got him, but not untilafter he heaved a bomb. dead center.

christ, what a mess!but there's six-seven good glasses in there. i'd grab one myself, but the general wouldsee it--he can see right through the lid of a mess-kit. well, the boys have shut those krauts up,so i'll hunt the old man up and tell him what i found out.damn this mud!" kinnison emerged sinuously and snaked hisway to a row of blanket covered forms. he lifted a blanket and gasped: thenvomited up everything, it seemed, that he had eaten for days.

but he had to have the binoculars.he got them. then, still retching, white and shaken, hecrept westward; availing himself of every possible item of cover. for some time, from a point somewhere northof his route, a machine-gun had been intermittently at work. it was close; but the very loudness of itsnoise, confused as it was by resounding echoes, made it impossible to locate at allexactly the weapon's position. kinnison crept forward inchwise; scanningevery foot of visible terrain through his powerful glass.he knew by the sound that it was german.

more, since what he did not know aboutmachine-guns could have been printed in bill-poster type upon the back of his hand,he knew that it was a maxim, model 1907--a mean, mean gun. he deduced that it was doing plenty ofdamage to his fellows back on the hill, and that they had not been able to do much ofanything about it. and it was beautifully hidden; even he,close as he must be, couldn't see it. but damn it, there had to be a.... minute after minute, unmoving save for thetraverse of his binoculars, he searched, and finally he found.a tiny plume--the veriest wisp--of vapor,

rising from the surface of the brook. steam!steam from the cooling jacket of that maxim 1907!and there was the tube! cautiously he moved around until he couldtrace that tube to its business end--the carefully-hidden emplacement.there it was! he couldn't maintain his westward coursewithout them spotting him; nor could he go around far enough. and besides ... and besides that, therewould be at least a patrol, if it hadn't gone up the hill already.and there were grenades available, right

close.... he crept up to one of the gruesome objectshe had been avoiding, and when he crept away he half-carried, half-dragged threegrenades in a canvas bag. he wormed his way to a certain boulder. he straightened up, pulled three pins,swung his arm three times. bang! bam! pow!the camouflage disappeared; so did the shrubbery for yards around. kinnison had ducked behind the rock, but heducked still deeper as a chunk of something, its force pretty well spent,clanged against his steel helmet.

another object thudded beside him--a leg,gray-clad and wearing a heavy field boot! kinnison wanted to be sick again, but hehad neither the time nor the contents. and damn! what lousy throwing!he had never been any good at baseball, but he supposed that he could hit a thing asbig as that gun-pit--but not one of his grenades had gone in. the crew would probably be dead--fromconcussion, if nothing else--but the gun probably wasn't even hurt.he would have to go over there and cripple it himself.

he went--not exactly boldly--forty-five inhand. the germans looked dead.one of them sprawled on the parapet, right in his way. he gave the body a shove, watched it rolldown the slope. as it rolled, however, it came to life andyelled; and at that yell there occurred a thing at which young kinnison's hair stoodstraight up inside his iron helmet. on the gray of the blasted hillsidehitherto unseen gray forms moved; moved toward their howling comrade. and kinnison, blessing for the first timein his life his inept throwing arm, hoped

fervently that the maxim was still in goodworking order. a few seconds of inspection showed him thatit was. the gun had practically a full belt andthere was plenty more. he placed a box--he would have no numbertwo to help him here--took hold of the grips, shoved off the safety, and squeezedthe trip. the gun roared--what a gorgeous, what aheavenly racket that maxim made! he traversed until he could see where thebullets were striking: then swung the stream of metal to and fro. one belt and the germans were completelydisorganized; two belts and he could see no

signs of life.he pulled the maxim's block and threw it away; shot the water-jacket full of holes. that gun was done.nor had he increased his own hazard. unless more germans came very soon, nobodywould ever know who had done what, or to whom. he slithered away; resumed earnestly hiswestward course: going as fast as-- sometimes a trifle faster than--cautionwould permit. but there were no more alarms. he crossed the dangerously open ground;sulked rapidly through the frightfully

shattered wood.he reached the road, strode along it around the first bend, and stopped, appalled. he had heard of such things, but he hadnever seen one; and mere description has always been and always will be completelyinadequate. now he was walking right into it--the thinghe was to see in nightmare for all the rest of his ninety-six years of life.actually, there was very little to see. the road ended abruptly. what had been a road, what had beenwheatfields and farms, what had been woods, were practically indistinguishable, onefrom the other; were fantastically and

impossibly the same. the entire area had been churned.worse--it was as though the ground and its every surface object had been run through agargantuan mill and spewed abroad. splinters of wood, riven chunks of metal, afew scraps of bloody flesh. kinnison screamed, then, and ran; ran backand around that blasted acreage. and as he ran, his mind built up pictures;pictures which became only the more vivid because of his frantic efforts to wipe themout. that road, the night before, had been oneof the world's most heavily traveled highways.motorcycles, trucks, bicycles.

ambulances. kitchens.staff-cars and other automobiles. guns; from seventy-fives up to the bigboys, whose tremendous weight drove their wide caterpillar treads inches deep intosolid ground. horses. mules.and people--especially people--like himself. solid columns of men, marching as fast asthey could step--there weren't trucks enough to haul them all.that road had been crowded--jammed.

like state and madison at noon, only moreso. over-jammed with all the personnel, all theinstrumentation and incidentalia, all the weaponry, of war. and upon that teeming, seething highwaythere had descended a rain of steel-encased high explosive.possibly some gas, but probably not. the german high command had given orders topulverize that particular area at that particular time; and hundreds, or perhapsthousands, of german guns, in a micrometrically-synchronized symphony offirepower, had pulverized it. just that.literally.

precisely. no road remained; no farm, no field, nobuilding, no tree or shrub. the bits of flesh might have come fromhorse or man or mule; few indeed were the scraps of metal which retained enough oftheir original shape to show what they had once been. kinnison ran--or staggered--around thatobscene blot and struggled back to the road.it was shell-pocked, but passable. he hoped that the shell-holes woulddecrease in number as he went along, but they did not.the enemy had put this whole road out of

service. and that farm, the p.c., ought to be aroundthe next bend. it was, but it was no longer a post ofcommand. either by directed fire--star-shellillumination--or by uncannily accurate chart-work, they had put some heavy shellexactly where they would do the most damage. the buildings were gone; the cellar inwhich the p.c. had been was now a gaping crater.parts of motorcycles and of staff cars littered the ground.

stark tree trunks--all bare of leaves, someriven of all except the largest branches, a few stripped even of bark--stood gauntly. in a crotch of one, kinnison saw withrising horror, hung the limp and shattered naked torso of a man; blown completely outof his clothes. shells were--had been, right along--comingover occasionally. big ones, but high; headed for targets wellto the west. nothing close enough to worry about. two ambulances, a couple of hundred metersapart, were coming; working their way along the road, between the holes.the first one slowed ... stopped.

"seen anybody--look out! duck!"kinnison had already heard that unmistakable, unforgettable screech, wasalready diving headlong into the nearest hole. there was a crash as though the world werefalling apart. something smote him; seemed to drive himbodily into the ground. his light went out. when he recovered consciousness he waslying upon a stretcher; two men were bending over him."what hit me?" he gasped.

"am i...?" he stopped.he was afraid to ask: afraid even to try to move, lest he should find that he didn'thave any arms or legs. "a wheel, and maybe some of the axle, ofthe other ambulance, is all," one of the men assured him."nothing much; you're practically as good as ever. shoulder and arm bunged up a little andsomething--maybe shrapnel, though--poked you in the guts.but we've got you all fixed up, so take it easy and...."

"what we want to know is," his partnerinterrupted, "is there anybody else alive up here?""uh-huh," kinnison shook his head. "o.k. just wanted to be sure. lots of business back there, and it won'tdo any harm to have a doctor look at you." "get me to a 'phone, as fast as you can,"kinnison directed, in a voice which he thought was strong and full of authority,but which in fact was neither. "i've got an important message for generalweatherby, at spearmint." "better tell us what it is, hadn't you?"the ambulance was now jolting along what had been the road.

"they've got phones at the hospital wherewe're going, but you might faint or something before we get there."kinnison told, but fought to retain what consciousness he had. throughout that long, rough ride he fought.he won. he himself spoke to general weatherby--thedoctors, knowing him to be a captain of aviation and realizing that his messageshould go direct, helped him telephone. he himself received the general'ssizzlingly sulphurous assurance that relief would be sent and that that quadruply-qualified line would be rectified that night.

then someone jabbed him with a needle andhe lapsed into a dizzy, fuzzy coma, from which he did not emerge completely forweeks. he had lucid intervals at times, but he didnot, at the time or ever, know surely what was real and what was fantasy.there were doctors, doctors, doctors; operations, operations, operations. there were hospital tents, into which quietmen were carried; from which still quieter men were removed.there was a larger hospital, built of wood. there was a machine that buzzed and white-clad men who studied films and papers. there were scraps of conversation.

"belly wounds are bad," kinnison thought--he was never sure--that he heard one of them say. "and such contusions and multiple andcompound fractures as those don't help a bit.prognosis unfavorable--distinctly so--but we'll soon see what we can do. interesting case ... fascinating.what would you do, doctor, if you were doing it?""i'd let it alone!" a younger, stronger voice declared,fervently. "multiple perforations, infection,extravasation, oedema--uh-uh!

i am watching, doctor, and learning!" another interlude, and another.another. and others.until finally, orders were given which kinnison did not hear at all. "adrenalin!massage! massage hell out of him!" kinnison again came to--partially to,rather--anguished in every fiber of his somebody was sticking barbed arrows intoevery square inch of his skin; somebody else was pounding and mauling him all over,taking particular pains to pummel and to

wrench at all the places where he hurt theworst. he yelled at the top of his voice; yelledand swore bitterly: "quit it!" being the expurgated gist of his luridly profaneprotests. he did not make nearly as much noise as hesupposed, but he made enough. "thank god!"kinnison heard a lighter, softer voice. surprised, he stopped swearing and tried tostare. he couldn't see very well, either, but hewas pretty sure that there was a middle- aged woman there. there was, and her eyes were not dry."he is going to live, after all!"

as the days passed, he began really tosleep, naturally and deeply. he grew hungrier and hungrier, and theywould not give him enough to eat. he was by turns sullen, angry, and morose.in short, he was convalescent. for captain ralph k. kinnison, the war wasover.