than retarded mind, she was moodily irritated. The ship made its first jump. Behind them, the star R-875948 was lost amid thousands of other stars. Ahead was a long, deadly period of waiting. She prowled the living quarters, scorning the entertainment possibilities of the central memory bank, thinking now of the male from A-7 who had been free, for some rotations now, to make a new commitment. Her frustration caused a slight acid unbalance in her stomach. Impatiently, she adjusted. Her mind, usually a bright, rosy glow, was aureate, a blaze. For lack of something better to do, she forwarded a bitter protest regarding the thoughtless, absolutely punitive lack of Trang aboard the ship. It was explained, once again, that the old-empire planners had deemed it necessary for the autosystems aboard a ship of the line to be backed up by an alert member of the race. It was explained to her, as if she were a child, that emergencies in space can happen with a devastating swiftness. In the time it would take for a member of the race to recover from the euphoria of Trang, an entire ship could be lost in the event of a major system failure. And when has there ever been a systems failure? Never. So it is impossible. On the contrary. It is almost inevitable. Explain. This ship was built in— The date had meaning only to a member of the race. She was surprised. So long ago? No ship has left the old empire in— Again, she was surprised. But no wonder. Who would want to leave? Space was cold and lifeless and lonely and endless and dull. Space was endless sun after endless sun. Space was dull, dead planets and sworls of cosmic dust and beyond the boundaries of the empire there was only
worlds such as the third planet of that sick little yellow sun she'd just left behind. Who would want to leave the comfort and the euphoria and the bliss of eternal love? She had not closed the communications circuit. And a machine, the huge, eternal central computer said, They did. And her mind was filled with a series of outward movements, the first swing into space in quaint, accident-prone chemical vehicles, the first leap to a near star, the vast enthusiasm of exploration and the zesty battles of conquest as one segment of the empire fought another for domination. They did. Ancient barbarians. Who built an empire which covers vast distances, a starfield of glory and achievement. Achievement? You're programmed for the past. We'll have to see about changing your mode. I am programmed for all contingencies which would affect the well-being of the race. The well-being of the race is Trang. And love. We do not need to go out to the stars anymore. Why do we need more planets ? Yes. With Trang we have reached the highest limits of racial fulfillment. The empire was projected into her mind, far-flung systems peopled by the race, all beautiful, all Trangized, scattered widely, isolated in pairs in splendid structures on a thousand thousand worlds. Exactly, she sent. Would you want it differently? I am not programmed for emotions. But she was shown vast autosystems lying idle. Sections capable of directing the landing and takeoff of one ship per heartbeat from a million ports were idle. Fleets of ships were stationary on the ground. Vast places for the making of a million things were silent. I don't care. What right have you, a mere machine, to chide me, a member of the race? Angered, she broke off. She paced the spacious room. She was dressed in a close-fitting singlet which showed her beautiful form to perfection and there was no one to see. She, the most desirable woman on the old, home planet, perhaps in the original system, was alone. With only a sub-being within countless light years. But the sub-being was a male. Once, when she committed with a male from an outlying planet, she was told of an ancient custom. Women of the planet, in the early days of the lovely Trang euphoria, in order to experience the completeness of sexual love, had, said the male, experimented with a form of animal life, an upright animal covered with hair. At the time it had seemed deliciously funny. A woman couple with an animal? Now she was to be isolated on a ship of the line for long, long revolutions with a sub-being. If members of the race had once coupled with animals. It could be amusing, in a revolting sort of way. She stood before him, radiant in a tightly fitted one-piece thing which clung to rounded curves. She had had to wait for the machines to finish with him. Now he had been examined, rated, cataloged. She was not interested in that. She was alone. She was bored. It would be a long, long time before she was back on A-l and it would be in the middle of a commitment period and she would have to join in the conference regarding these sub-beings from Section G-1034876 and, meanwhile, he was looking at her with a stupid, wide-eyed stare, making sounds with his mouth like an animal. An animal. She would pretend that he was one of the hairy, upright beasts of the outlying planets. I am—her mind spread out—Blaze. He made sounds with his mouth. He fell to his knees and held his hands clasped in front of him. She projected the idea she had in mind in all its sweet possibilities. He made noises with his mouth. She moved toward him in a graceful, floating, sensuous walk. She was, to him, eye-burningly beautiful. He'd never seen so perfect a woman before. And, although heaven was, apparently, a thing of metals and other materials he didn't know with machines which probed and searched him and machines which fed and watched him, she was divine, an angel sent from God. Blaze—wants you. Blaze—soft and warm and willing—will make things so nice for you. He cringed away from her. She couldn't read him. Inside his head were the usual arrangements of
things, but in the receptive center was a ball of blackness, a dull non-life which puzzled her. The structure was there. And yet he did not acknowledge her generous invitation. She could not even get his thoughts. He was not sending. He was black inside. Stop making noises with your mouth. He prostrated himself at her feet, looking up at her fearfully, making the noises. Angered, she sent strongly. I am—Blaze. Arise. It is not necessary for you to crawl at my feet. He was making a series of strangled, wet sounds. Tears were running from his eyes. With growing impatience, she probed at the dark ball of nothing in his receptive center and could find nothing. Yet, she thought, he'd exuded the
life force, so that part of his brain was not totally useless. She searched for the crack, the opening which had to be there, a vent leading into that dark, shelled portion of his mind from which the healing force had to come. The ship's system was sending. Stop! Stop! But she felt an entrance and probed it. The male, still groveling at her feet, moaned and made noises with his mouth. She had to reach him. Her need was great. Stop! the machines warned. Don't force it. The examination concludes that there is a potential there, but it is dangerous. She listened. This is an alien mind. Should you penetrate it, the effects could be traumatic. We do not, yet, understand. There have been developments in this mind, developments which should not have happened. Yet, behind a
—shield—an encasing—a madness—there is potential. It is best not to tamper with it except under the most rigidly controlled conditions. She laughed. What did she care for his traumas? She needed. Not him, the ship's system sent frantically, its warning reinforced by a joint communication from the base on A-l, but she had found the crack, the opening, the entrance. I am —Blaze. I need. And with an effort of concentration, her mind entered, probed, saw horror and tried to retreat but too late; for the shell, the shield, the encasing, weakened by the emergence, at odd times, of the life force, split and exploded and her mind flowed in an opened and madness leaped out at her and overwhelmed her with a power which sent her reeling back, physically, as her mind trembled and cringed under the onslaught of the alien things, the mad, sick, evil things which filled the male mind before her. Her mind screamed and fought, but was helpless to overcome the terrible power of the raw sickness which poured out of the male. Weakly, she fell against the door and it opened and she stumbled out into the corridor, her mind retching, crying out in agony, knowing for the first time fear and hopelessness and rot and death and horror, knowing torture on the rack and the illness of body she'd never experienced and the worst of it was the repulsion which was the strongest immediate force which drowned her in putrid, mad, raw emotions. Stop! Stop! But compared to the power of the emanations coming from the alien male her mind was weak and she could do nothing to stop the horror. It sapped her strength. It oozed and slimed her own sanity and she could only retreat, get as far from it as possible. Huddled in her bed, hands to her head as if to stop the flow of horror, she sobbed and cringed in real pain as she was deluged, her mind helpless to stop it, her barrier down from the sheer power of it. Help me. Help me. Help me. CHAPTER THIRTEEN When Luke awakened in heaven he saw only a pastel ceiling and then, turning his head, walls lined with machines. He was not able to move. At first, he thought he was back on the rack, and he braced himself for the jolt of pain, but it didn't come. Flexible, snaky things were moving about his body. Things touched and probed and moved and there was not pain. There was in fact, a feeling of well-being much like that he'd experienced while he was being treated back in Zachary Wundt's underground hospital. Gradually, he was able to relax. When he was offered food, he ate. Afterward, he rose, unhindered, from the bed. He walked the small space of the room, tried the door. It had no visible way of opening. He prayed. There was a sort of hum about him. He could feel it in the floor, in the
walls. Once there was a slight, internal jolt, as if he'd been moved in some way. He was in a high state of excitement, his adrenals pumping, his pulse pounding. God was near. He had been raised. He'd risen above the miseries of the Earth and was now—where? «Oh, God,» he prayed. «Blessed be thy name and praise everlasting. Lead me to understanding. Show me the light. Help me to serve you, Lord.» And, in answer to his prayers, the door opened. The angel was there,
tall, radiant, beautiful, serene. He feel to his knees and clasped his hands. «Praise be to God in His glory and eternal wisdom. Thank you, Jesus.» She looked at him. She was disturbingly exposed. And he hated himself for
