say.'
'I agree with the Psychologist and the Clericalist,' said Will Archer, clearing his throat. 'Star?'
'I don't know. Perhaps—Madame Tung, do you think it would help if I spoke to him?'
'No, Star—I don't. The impact of your two personalities would be mutually exclusive. That's something you can understand, seeing as it's math.'
'I don't understand it yet, madame. Archer, does that man have to die?'
Will Archer nodded to Yancey Mears.
'Naturally, Star. We wouldn't argue with you if you told us that you'd reached a certain resultant. As for the emotional side—well, we allow for the fact that you're half human …' She stopped, her face red.
'Bad slip, Yancey,' volunteered Mamie Tung. 'Maybe you'd better have an atonic. I can operate on a femina superior as easily as a Homo sap.'
Star Macduff had covered his face with both hands. He dropped them to stare desperately at the Clericalist, his eyes bewildered. Yancey Mears met his gaze levelly, said simply: 'I'm sorry, Star.'
The Computator's shoulders quivered a little as he turned to the golden-skinned woman. 'Madame Tung, maybe I'd better have an atonic. Perhaps if my glands weren't—acting up—I wouldn't forget every now and then that I'm one of the lower animals.'
'No,' said the Psychologist. 'You're too important. I have no data available; I don't know whether glandular activity correlates with math-mindedness.'
'Nevertheless,' said Will Archer, 'I order it.'
'Thank you, Archer,' said Star Macduff. He stepped through the tube; the Psychologist followed him, a supple flash of golden skin.
'That was kind of you, Will,' said Yancey Mears. 'Maybe it wasn't very bright.' She leaned back and shut her eyes.
'You're using unreal figures, Yancey. The bearing of all this is solely on whether we return to Earth or not. I, for one, don't much care whether we arrive personally or not—so long as the records of observations get into the proper hands. It's such a terribly ticklish thing to be doing …
lapsing one moment and letting emotion override judgment may tip the balance against a satisfactory solution to our personal equation. The moment our path ceases to be part of a perfect circle we, to all real purposes, cease to exist.'
'Is it so very important—this being the ninth sphere they've sent out?'
'It has legitimate bearing on improvement of the species. The cosmic rays, wherever they come from, upset our genetic plans; we can achieve success only in a certain small percentage of cases. We—you and I, personally —are examples of that small percentage. It is logic—common sense—what you will—to block off the cosmic rays before going any further in genetic work.
'And, before we know what to do to block them we must find out what they are. And before that we must find out where they come from. That is what we, personally, are engaged in doing.'
'Sounds big.'
'Is big,' said Will Archer somberly. 'Why didn't you want that glandular atonic?'
'Because I can control myself—I hope.'
'With respect to me?'
'Yes. Now, don't go getting male. I'm going to wait till 1 see what happens to our Calculator first. If he quiets down sufficiently I'll notify you. However, I won't risk any emotional upset if he doesn't.'
'And of course,' said Will Archer, tipping his cap over his eyes, 'it might even be necessary to be unusually kind to him …'
'How unusually do you mean?'
Silence.
'No, Will. After all, he has three h. s. strains!'
'Not even if I order it?'
Yancey Mears took hold of a wall loop and pulled herself to her feet. 'I'll blink Mamie Tung tomorrow and tell her I'm ready for an atonic. That's what you want, isn't it?'
'That,' said Will Archer slowly, 'is the very last thing I want.'
The Calculator slipped through the tube, checked neatly as he saw the two move slowly towards each other. Not by the blink of an eye did they betray that they were aware of his presence. Star Macduff did not move, stood flat-footed and mute, one hand reaching for something, he had forgotten what.
For a long moment in that ship there was no time. The forward slice, where batteries and files of business machinery clucked quietly away, doing duty for any one who would feed them figures; the midships slice where living quarters and offices were for superiors and ratings; the aft slice, greater than both the others combined, where electronic tension was built on ponderous discharge points and went cracking out into space at the rate of one bolt in every five-thousandth of a second; even out beyond the ship, even to the end of the shimmering, evanescent trail of electrons that it left as a wake, there was no time while those three stood in Executive Officer Will Archer's office, two loving and one in hate unspeakable.
Mamie Tung stepped through the tube, took Star Macduff up by the arm after sizing up the situation in one swift glance. 'Did you ask Will to enter the time of the operation?'
Will Archer and Yancey Mears snapped back to reality in a split-second.
'Speak up, Mamie,' he said. 'Yancey and I are going to enter permanent union.'
'I advise against it,' said the golden-skinned woman. 'It will complicate our living arrangements.' She rolled back her eyes, breathing deeply, made as though to speak, but said nothing more.
'Congratulations,' said Star Macduff. 'I'll plot a joint life probability line for you two.'
'You needn't bother.'
'It will be a pleasure, Archer.' The Computator left them standing silently, a little embarrassed.
'Again I advise against it, Will andYancey. What reasons have you for permanent union at this time?'
The Clericalist smiled a little bitterly. 'The same reason you have against it, madame—love.'
'No!' The golden-skinned woman recoiled. 'I haven't done that—my judgment is still sound!'
'Prove that by leaving us alone, madame.'
The Psychologist clutched at the rim of the tube as though she were fighting gravity that tried to drag her through. Intensely, pleadingly, she said: 'That's not true. You know nothing of such things—you haven't specialized. I have nothing against permanent union, but on the ship it would be suicidal—time lost and relationships unbearably complicated—think again before you do this!'
'You were asked to leave for personal reasons,' stated Will Archer. 'You have seen that two mature minds are in agreement on this matter. Yet you did not obey this request, nor did you respect our decision. Your behavior is irrational and anti social. Mamie, I never thought that you were our weakest link.'
There was fear in his eyes as she silently departed, looking somehow crushed and shrunken.
'I was afraid of this,' he said. 'The most delicately balanced organism is neither flesh, fish, fowl nor good red machinery. It's the socal organism, whether the world of man or our little blob of metal, out here in the middle of a vacuum. Will you take a reading of the counters, please?'
Yancey Mears extruded the sensitive plates from the hull and checked off the slowly revolving dials as they responded to the cosmic rays impinging on the plates.
'Intensity's about twenty times the last reading.'
'We're there.'
'What?' she asked incredulously.
'We're there. At least, there's only an insignificant distance separating the ship and the source of cosmic rays. Bring in some of the photo-plates.'
The Clericalist operated the fishing-rod arrangement that reached the cameras with which the hull was studded. For not since the voyage's beginning had any of them seen outside the ship. The Executive slipped the transparencies against a lighted screen. 'Shows nothing,' he said.
'What did you expect to find?'
'I didn't expect anything in particular. But I believed I was correct in anticipating a visible object. It seems I was not. We'll change course as soon as we've disposed of the other two superiors.'
'What plans have you made?'
