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Authors: F. L. Wallace
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Huntners, women are vigorous and aggressive," said
Dimanche. The voice grew weaker as the ship, already light-years away,
slid into unfathomable distances. "Where words are concerned, morals
are very strict. For instance, 'dear' is never used unless the person
means it. Huntner men are weak and not overburdened with intelligence."
The voice was barely audible, but it continued: "The principal romantic
figure in the dreams of women. . ." Dimanche failed altogether.
"Manche!" cried Cassal.
Manche responded with everything it had. ". . . is the Teddy bear."
The elation that had been missing, and the triumph, came
now. It was no time for hesitation, and Cassal didn't hesitate.
Their actions had been directed against each other, but their
emotions, which each had tried to ignore, were real and strong.
The gravitor dropped him to the ground floor. In a few minutes, Cassal
was at the Travelers Aid Bureau.
Correction. Now it was Star Travelers Aid Bureau.
And, though no one but himself knew it, even that was wrong, Quickly he
found the old technician.
"There's been a reorganization," said Cassal bluntly. "I want the signs
changed."
The old man drew himself up. "Who are you?"
"I've just elected myself," said Cassal. "I'm the new first
counselor."
He hoped no one would be foolish enough to challenge him. He wanted
an organization that could function immediately, not a hospital full
of cripples.
The old man thought about it. He was merely a menial, but
he had been with the bureau for a long time. He was nobody,
nothing, but he could recognize power when it was near him.
He wiped his eyes and shambled out into the fine cold rain.
Swiftly the new signs went up.
STAR TRAVELERS AID BUREAU
S. T. A. with us
Denton Cassal, first counselor
Cassal sat at the control center. Every question cubicle was visible at a
glance. In addition there was a special panel, direct from the spaceport,
which recorded essential data about every newly arrived traveler. He
could think of a few minor improvements, but he wouldn't have time to
put them into effect. He'd mention them to his assistant, a man with a
fine, logical mind. Not really first-rate, of course, but well suited to
his secondary position. Every member quickly rose or sank to his proper
level in this organization, and this one had, without a struggle.
Business was dull. The last few ships had brought travelers who were bound
for unimaginably dreary destinations, nothing he need be concerned with.
He thought about the instrument. It was the addition of power that made
the difference. Dimanche plus power equaled Manche, and Manche raised
the user far above tho level of other men. There was little to fear.
But essentially the real value of Manche lay in this -- it was a
beginning. Through it, he had communicated with a ship traveling
far faster than light. The only one instrument capable of that was
instantaneous radio. Actually it wasn't radio, but the old name had
stuck to it.
Manche was really a very primitive model of instantaneous radio. It
was crude; all first steps were. Limited in range, it was practically
valueless for the purpose now. Eventually the range would be
extended. Hitch a neuronic manufactured brain to a human one, add the
power of a tiny atomic battery, and Manche was created.
The last step was his share of the invention. Or maybe the credit belonged
to Murra Foray. If she hadn't stolen Dimanche, it never would have been
necessary to put together the new instrument.
The stern lines on his face relaxed. Murra Foray. He wondered about
the marriage customs of the Huntners. He hoped marriage *was* a custom
on Kettikat.
Cassal leaned back; officially, his mission was complete. There was no
longer any need to go to Tunney 21. The scientist he was sent to bring
back might as well remain there in obscure arrogance.
Dimanche. The voice grew weaker as the ship, already light-years away,
slid into unfathomable distances. "Where words are concerned, morals
are very strict. For instance, 'dear' is never used unless the person
means it. Huntner men are weak and not overburdened with intelligence."
The voice was barely audible, but it continued: "The principal romantic
figure in the dreams of women. . ." Dimanche failed altogether.
"Manche!" cried Cassal.
Manche responded with everything it had. ". . . is the Teddy bear."
The elation that had been missing, and the triumph, came
now. It was no time for hesitation, and Cassal didn't hesitate.
Their actions had been directed against each other, but their
emotions, which each had tried to ignore, were real and strong.
The gravitor dropped him to the ground floor. In a few minutes, Cassal
was at the Travelers Aid Bureau.
Correction. Now it was Star Travelers Aid Bureau.
And, though no one but himself knew it, even that was wrong, Quickly he
found the old technician.
"There's been a reorganization," said Cassal bluntly. "I want the signs
changed."
The old man drew himself up. "Who are you?"
"I've just elected myself," said Cassal. "I'm the new first
counselor."
He hoped no one would be foolish enough to challenge him. He wanted
an organization that could function immediately, not a hospital full
of cripples.
The old man thought about it. He was merely a menial, but
he had been with the bureau for a long time. He was nobody,
nothing, but he could recognize power when it was near him.
He wiped his eyes and shambled out into the fine cold rain.
Swiftly the new signs went up.
STAR TRAVELERS AID BUREAU
S. T. A. with us
Denton Cassal, first counselor
Cassal sat at the control center. Every question cubicle was visible at a
glance. In addition there was a special panel, direct from the spaceport,
which recorded essential data about every newly arrived traveler. He
could think of a few minor improvements, but he wouldn't have time to
put them into effect. He'd mention them to his assistant, a man with a
fine, logical mind. Not really first-rate, of course, but well suited to
his secondary position. Every member quickly rose or sank to his proper
level in this organization, and this one had, without a struggle.
Business was dull. The last few ships had brought travelers who were bound
for unimaginably dreary destinations, nothing he need be concerned with.
He thought about the instrument. It was the addition of power that made
the difference. Dimanche plus power equaled Manche, and Manche raised
the user far above tho level of other men. There was little to fear.
But essentially the real value of Manche lay in this -- it was a
beginning. Through it, he had communicated with a ship traveling
far faster than light. The only one instrument capable of that was
instantaneous radio. Actually it wasn't radio, but the old name had
stuck to it.
Manche was really a very primitive model of instantaneous radio. It
was crude; all first steps were. Limited in range, it was practically
valueless for the purpose now. Eventually the range would be
extended. Hitch a neuronic manufactured brain to a human one, add the
power of a tiny atomic battery, and Manche was created.
The last step was his share of the invention. Or maybe the credit belonged
to Murra Foray. If she hadn't stolen Dimanche, it never would have been
necessary to put together the new instrument.
The stern lines on his face relaxed. Murra Foray. He wondered about
the marriage customs of the Huntners. He hoped marriage *was* a custom
on Kettikat.
Cassal leaned back; officially, his mission was complete. There was no
longer any need to go to Tunney 21. The scientist he was sent to bring
back might as well remain there in obscure arrogance.
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