union. The male from A-7 was as computed, total, willing to commit, sensuous to an extravagant degree. Together, with the atmosphere odorous with trang, they had built rapidly to maximum potential and then, their systems reinforced by the trang, past maximum to a paralyzing ecstasy which they prolonged by shared mental
patterns of past couplings with others. It was as if they were able to couple with dozens, hundreds simultaneously. It was a good union and the trang, sweet, potent, euphoric trang, made time timeless and a period passed with nerves screaming at full climactic capability and that was but the beginning. Period after period they would lie, coupled, moving at times, wild at times, passive at times, minds woven, bodies clasped. Thus it was and thus it had always been and thus it would ever be and she knew no other way and would have wanted no other way. She was uncommitted for two stellar circuits and the delightful fusing of their gangliogroupings indicated that two circuits might not be enough. This male from A-7 was, indeed, superior. Around them, around the soft-hard couch, the chamber was softly feminine in glowing star colors. Alter rhythmic sounds sent languor to ears; aromas of life and goodness blended with the trang. And the room changed, pulsingly, with irregular pleasing patterns of color and form. Timeless time passed and the good coupling made her alive with pure sentience. «I will cancel my next commitment.» She didn't say words. She knew no language. Her mental pattern told him and it was the greatest of compliments. «I knew of you.» He communicated. «I made no commitments.» «And when we tire I will lie in numbness and remember.» His mind sent a message meaning long, long circuits, a great lapse of time, contentment, total caress. She had no name, as such. Her mental patterns were distinctive and by them she was known. In the mind of her lover she made a bright, rosy glow. By that pattern she was known. His mind was hard, masculine, metal. Trang infused her, made her all mental, removed her from the physical and made her endless nerve pathways for voluptuousness. A servomech extended a mobile arm. A sweet taste in her mouth. Liquid. Servomechs tending to the physical, outside of her responsibility, automatic. He was served likewise. On the world outside a red sun gleamed, died. A crowded sky lit the dark period with huge, near stars. Three moons chased across the night. Her structure was atop a hill overlooking a valley of trees with fernfrond limbs, a stream. Small furry things played. Winged nightbirds swept the air. No light showed from the structure. It was dark, permanent, private, isolated. Around the planet, at intervals of hundreds of miles, other structures reared darkly from scenic spots. A few floating structures were scattered over a great, single sea. Water creatures swam in the sea and feral things roamed the night and there was no other movement except in the chambers of the structures. There couples lay, trangized, libidinous, living, living, living. Servomechs coiled silently to serve, to nourish. A network of giant stations drew power from the crowding stars and sent it winging to keep alive the structures, the servomechs. And all around the blazing stars crowded in a fairyland density and no ships cruised the space between for commitment time had come and gone and the ships rested at darkened ports awaiting the next shifting of male to female, female to male. On one planet, however, near the heartland, there was movement. It was a light period, although that made no difference to the automated things which rolled and tested waving fields of green with nodules of gold ripening atop some of the fields and careful machines gleaning the golden buds tenderly and transporting them. Soon ships would flash from the planet Trang. Soon the mobile computer machines would send the Trang fleet moving out, scattering in hundreds over the widespread field at the heart of the galaxy to deliver golden euphoric Trang to each world, to each structure scattered widely over the populated planets, to bring Trang. At the end of harvest time, ancient, self-servicing traffic computers would sense the arrival of a single ship where once there had been frantic movement. Traffic computers designed to handle the landing and takeoff of one ship per heartbeat would put into action their vast capabilities to land one, single, small automated freighter with one small vital cargo. Trang. And servocenters would channel the new Trang to the isolated structures and local servomechs would grind it, sort it, feed it into the perpetually burning Trangers. And those without names would breathe and know maximum contentment, would breathe and live, would
continue, circuit after solar circuit, to know bliss in the arms of a fellow being with sympathetic gangliogroupings. Thus it was and thus it had always been in the memory of those who were Tranged, but in the nonemotional memory bank of the great port computers there were records of more than that, records of vast, restless movement, of a reaching out, of conquest and power and vitality. Then a simple cereal grass mutated on the planet Trang. A tranquil, vast, far-flung system of worlds was connected, at harvest time, by the small, flashing ships. An entire planet was sown in Trang. The galaxy wheeled on its axis and planets whirled around suns and there was no change as the endless present moved forward in a straight-curved line toward another harvest time, another flashing out of the Trang ships, another commitment time. Meantime, worlds peopled by perfect, beautiful beings Tranged through eternity glutting on the two most pleasant experiences known to cellular beings. Euphoria, Copulation. Then from the rim of the galaxy, an ancient sensor flashed: ALARM RED. PLANET KILLER SECTION G- 1034876. STARR-875948 PLANET 3. Where the stars began to thicken, a relay station picked up the signal, backchecked to find the ancient sensor in perfect working order, forwarded the signal to the heartland. On what had once been the central planet, in what had once been the greatest city in the galaxy, but which was now a deserted, quiet, machine-controlled metal desert of structures, a huge central computer received the signal, backchecked to find the relay station in perfect working order, sent instant orders to working parts, sorted the mind patterns of the population, and came up with a pattern which exuded a soft, rosy glow. A female member of the old civilization, relatively nearby on A-l. The computer, programmed by Old Kingdom scientists to stand guard over the Tranged worlds, took steps. In a glossy, dark, isolated structure a servomech extinguished the flame in the Tranger. Her body was wet. She felt cramped. She was being almost strangled by the male from A-7. With an unfamiliar irritation, she shoved him away. They analyzed it together. «The Trang—» Never, in her memory, had the Trang stopped. She felt panic, an emotion which was new and terrible to her. She wanted to scream. The male from A-7 wasn't taking it any better. He looked as if he were ready to bolt. But bolt to where? Without Trang— She leaped from the couch. This era, the style was small breasts, big hips, small waist. Red hair was in. She gasped. She breathed Trangless air and heard the male from A-7 gasping, making little choking sounds. «Servomech check!» she sent. «Servomech check! Malfunction!» Trang, she had to have Trang. On the near wall there was a regular flashing. Into her panic, her
helplessness, her fear, the flashing intruded until, to her dulled mind, the message came through. With a sob, she ran to the flashing instrument, touched it with her hand. Her mind pattern was communicated to her, a blaze. And then, RED ALERT PLANET KILLER. SECTION G-1034876 STAR R-875948 PLANET 3. «What does that mean to me?» she sent. «Why is the Trang missing?» Blaze. «You are the sentinel. For this circuit, you are on call.» «But there's never been a call,» she sent. She remembered, now. Always there had been the assignments. Numberless times before she had been the sentinel, had been on call. But they'd never stopped the flow of Trang before. «I demand to know the meaning of this.» Through her hand, into her mind, came the communication of the huge central computer. Behind her she heard the male from A-7 whimpering in his Trangless panic. And the incredible message went into her mind. «I can't do it,» she sent. «I won't do it.» «You must.» «I can't do it without Trang.» «There is a way.» A servomech snaked out. She opened her mouth, swallowed. Soon a strange feeling came to her. The aching need for Trang left her. She knew, but had never known, normalcy. She could feel the blood flowing. She could feel her heart beating. She knew the workings of her organs. It was horrible. Yet, it was bearable. «What must I do?» When she was told, she felt her heart sink. Out' Out into the open world? Worse. Into space. Into space without Trang. On the rare trips she made to commitments—she, being of superior quality usually had males coming to her—she was thoroughly Tranged, euphorized to the point of being blocked out of the necessary movements to port, to ship, to port to structure on another planet. Now she was being told that she had to go forth un-Tranged and not in a comfortable personal ship but in an armed, cold, vast ship of the line. «Why me?» she moaned. «You are on call.» «Let him go,» she sent, indicating the moaning male from A-7. «No,» he gasped. «No.» «Please,» she sent to him. «For me. When you come back I'll be yours, here, for the next two commitments.» «Without Trang?» he sent. He shuddered. «Three commitments, then,» she promised. «You know I'm good.» «No,» he said. «Please go. Please I must have Trang.» At her bidding, a servomech brought a gleaming singlet. She slipped into it. It molded her form. As she left the room she heard the sigh of the Tranger. Beautiful Trang. And he was going to have it all to himself. She turned to go back. The door was closed and her palm on the senlock had no effect. Damned computer. Locking her out. There was an atmoflyer on the roof. With a grim face, she entered, punched destination. She didn't know what was going on but whoever or whatever was responsible for taking her away from Trang and from a very promising coupling would suffer. She would promise that. CHAPTER SIX The morning news said that the vast light in the sky was the North American Station blowing up. Luke felt letdown for a moment. However, he soon brightened. He was not going to think that God had blown up the North American Station just to give him a sign, but the fact remained that the great light in the sky had acted as a sign and had inspired him to do something which was, beyond doubt, a genuine miracle. That fact could never be taken away
