"If that's really the way you look at it, I think I'll tell a tale out of school. You know Bun isn't the jealous type."

  Of course she isn't. My God, with what she's got, why should she be? How could she be?"

  "Okay. Since she met you she's told me a dozen times that if anybody in all space could make a hair-piece like that-nobody can, she says-she'd shave her head and get one tomorrow."

  Cecily leaned back-she had been dancing very close -far enough to look into his eyes. "Why, you great big damn liar...."

  "Ask her, next time you see her."

  "I'll do just that. In the meantime, for the prize-winning big lie of the year, tell me that next to Bun I'm the prettiest girl here; not a hard-boiled hard-rock man in a hall gown."

  "I'll tell you something a lot better than that. You've got stuff by the cubic mile that no merely pretty girl ever did have or ever will have."

  "Such as?" she scoffed.

  "If you really don't know, take a complete inventory of yourself sometime."

  "I have, thousands of times." "Wrong system, then. Change it."

  She leaned still farther away from him. "You sound as though you really mean that."

  "I do, Scout's Honor. And Bun agrees with me."

  "She does? I'll bet she does. You've got a nice line, Here."

  "No line, Curly; believe me."

  "It'd be nice if I could... but Here, the chief thinks I have a terrific case of inferiority complex... except he called it insecurity'... and Babe said... do you think so?"

  "I'm no psych, so I wouldn't know. But why in all the hells of space should you have?"

  She actually missed a step. "Why should I have! Just look at me! Or can't you imagine what it's like, being the ugliest duckling in the pond all your life.?"

  "Can't I? You have got a complex. Look at me, you dumb... what do you think I've been all my life?" She stared at him in amazement. "Why, you're positively distinguished-looking!"

  "Comet-gas! I've always been the homeliest guy around, but I got so I didn't let it throw me."

  "Anyway, men don't have to be good-looking." "Neither do women. Look at history."

  "Let's look at Bun instead-one of the most beautiful women who ever lived. You wouldn't have..."

  "I certainly would have. Beauty helps, of course-and I admit that I like it, that she's a beauty-but over the long route it isn't a drop in the bucket and you know it. She'll still be a charmer at ninety, and so will you. She's prettier than you are, but you've got a lot of stuff she hasn't. What did you think I was talking about, a minute ago'?"

  "Sex. Anybody can throw that around."

  "Not the way you can. But that wasn't it, at all; that's only one phase. It's the total personality that carries the wallop. You've got it. So has Bun. And Bobby. Who else aboard? Nobody."

  "I wonder..." They danced in silence for a time. "You could be right, I suppose... after all, you and Maynard and Babe are certainly three of the smartest men I know."

  "You know we're right. So why don't you cut the jaw flapping and get down to reality?"

  "Maybe you are right. Thanks, Here, the thought is one to dwell on. You know what I'm going to do?" She giggled suddenly. "I haven't done it since my Freshman Frolic." She drew herself up very close to him, snuggled her head down onto his shoulder, and closed both eyes.

  And thus they finished the dance. He brought her back to a place beside his wife, thanked her, and turned away toward Barbara.

  Cecily stared after his retreating figure. "That's a lot of man you have there, Bun," she breathed, as Smith and Phelps came up to claim them.

  "I know," Bernice agreed.

  Ten minutes later, in the improvised powder room, Bernice continued the conversation quite as though it had not been interrupted. "You wouldn't by any chance have it in mind to do anything about it, would you, darling?"

  Each woman studied the other. Both were tall and superb of figure. Each projected in quantity-and not only unconsciously-the tremendous basic force that is sex appeal. But there all resemblance ceased. Bernice, as has been said, was one of the most beautiful women of her time. And besides beauty of face and figure, besides strength of physique and of character, she had the poise and confidence of her status and of her sure knowledge of her husband's love. Cecily Byrd, on the other hand, radiated a personality that was uniquely hers and that made itself tellingly felt wherever she was. In addition, she had the driving force, the sheer willpower, and the ruthlessly competent brain of the top bracket executive she had so fully proved herself to be.

  "It'd be fun," the red-head said, thoughtfully. "That would really be a battle."

  "As Here likes to say, you chirped it that time, birdie." "Ordinarily, that would make it all the more fun, but I'll be working like a dog yet for quite a while-I'll hardly have time enough in bed even to sleep. So let's take a rain-check on it, shall we, my dear?"

  'Any time, darling. Any time at all. Whenever you please." Blue eyes stared steadily into eyes of Irish green.

  Then Cecily shook her head. "I'm not going to try, Bun. I think too much of both of you . . . and besides, I might not be able to... You know, Bun...." She paused, then went on, slowly, "I never have liked women very much; they're such flabby, gutless things... but you're a lot of woman yourself."

  "We're a lot alike in some ways, Curly-there aren't very many women like you and me and Barbara-for which fact, of course, most men would say 'Thank God!' " "You're so right!"

  Not being men, the two almost-antagonists did not shake hands; but at that moment the ice began definitely to melt.

  "But listen," Bernice said. "There are hundreds of men around here. Good men and big ones."

  Cecily grinned. "But not usually both; and just being big isn't enough to make me come apart at the seams. He has to have a brain, too; and maybe what Here just called a 'total personality'."

  "'That doer narrow the field... just about to Lew, I guess... but I suppose Executives' Code cuts both ways."

  "It's supposed to, probably, but I wouldn't care about that if he weren't such a stuffed shirt... but I'm getting an idea. Let's go hunt Babe up." Then, as Bernice looked at her quizzically, "My God, no-who except a half-portion like Bobby would want him? I just want to ask him a question."

  They found Deston easily enough. "Babe," Cecily said, you said there's a lot of tantalum here. As much as on Tantalia Three?"

  "More. Thousands of times as much. Why?"

  "Then Perce Train ought to come out here and look it over. I'll tell the chief so. Thanks, Babe."

  "Perce Train?" Bernice asked, the next time they sat together. "The boy friend?"

  "Not yet. We were knifing each other all over the place, back at HQ, but we're both on top now. He'll be good for what ails me. Wait 'till you see him, sister -and hang on to your hat."

  "I'll have no trouble doing that, I'm positive," Bernice said, a little stiffly; just as Jones came up, again to dance her away.

  Percival Train appeared in less than a week. He was, as has been said, a big bruiser. He was just about Leyton's size, and even handsomer. As soon as he got over the shock of discovering what a hellish planet Rhenia Four was, he became enthusiastic about its possibilities. He also, Bernice was sure, became enthusiastic about Project Engineer Byrd.

  "But there's nothing flagrant about it that I can see, pet," Jones argued one night, just before going to sleep. "What makes you think so except Curly's jaw flapping?"

  "I just know they are," Bernice said, darkly. "She really meant it, and she's the type to. She ought to be ashamed of herself, but she isn't. Not the least little tiny bit."

  "Well, neither of 'em's married, so what's the dif? Even if they are stepping out, which is a moot point, you know."

  "Well... maybe. One good thing about it, she isn't making any passes at you, and she'd better not. I'll scratch both her green eyes out if she tries it, the hussy-so help me!"

  "Oh, she was just chomping her choppers, sweetheart. Besides, I'm as prejudiced as I am insulated. I've never seen anyone within seven thousands parsecs of being you."

  "You're a darling, Here, and I love you all to pieces. She snuggled up close and closed her eyes; but she did not drop easily, as was her wont, to sleep.

  If that red-headed, green-eyed vixen-that sex-flaunting powerhouse-had unlimbered her heavy artillery... but she hadn't... and it was just as well for all concerned, Bernice thought, just before she did go to sleep, that that particular triangular issue had not been joined.

  Chapter 11

  PSIONTISTS

  Secretary of Labor Deissner was very unhappy. The United Copper Miners, as a union, had been wiped out of existence. Mighty Drivers' all-out effort at New York Spaceport had been smashed with an ease that was, to Deissner's mind, appalling. Worse, it was inexplicable; and, since no one else really knew anything, either, he was being buffeted, pushed, and pulled in a dozen different directions at once.

  The Dutchman, however, was nobody's push-over. He merely set his stubborn jaw a little more stubbornly. "I want facts!" he bellowed, smashing his open hand down onto the top of his desk. "I've got to have facts! Until I get facts we can't move-I won't move!"

  For weeks, then, and months, "Dutch" Deissner studied ultra confidential reports and interviewed ultra-secret agents-many of whom were so ultra-ultra-secret as to be entirely unknown to any other member of WestHem's government . . and the more he worked the less secure he felt and the more unhappy he became. He was particularly unhappy when, late one night and very secretly, he conferred with a plenipotentiary from EastHem.

  "The Nameless One is weary of meaningless replies to his questions," the Slay said, bruskly. "I therefore demand with his mouth a plan of action and its date of execution."

  "Demand and be damned," Deissner said, flatly. "I will not act until I know what that verdammte Maynard has got up his sleeve. Tell Nameless that."

  "In that case you will come with me now."

  "You talk like a fool. One false move and you and your escort die where you sit. Tell Nameless he does not own me yet and it may very well be he never will. If he wants to talk to me I will arrange a meeting in South Africa."

  "You are rash. Are you fool enough to believe that he will condescend to meet you at any place of your choosing?"

  "I don't care whether he does or not. If he knows as much as I do, he will."

  The messenger went away; and, a long time. later, the Nameless One did meet Deissner-with due precautions on each side, of course-in South Africa.

  "Don't you know, fool," the dictator opened up, "that you will die for this?"

  "No. Neither do you. Glance over this list of the real names of some men who have died lately in accidents of various kinds."

  If the Slav's iron control was shaken as he read the long list, it was scarcely perceptible. Deissner went on: "As long as it was to my advantage I let you think that I was just another one of your puppets, but I'm not. If you insist on committing suicide by jumping in the dark, count me out."

  "In the dark? My information is that..."

  "Have you any information as to where those so-huge tanks came from? Where they could possibly have been built?"

  "No, but.

  "Then whatever information you have is completely useless," the Dutchman drove relentlessly on. " Maynard has been ready. What more is he ready for? That thought made me think. How did he get that way? I investigated. Do you know that computers and automation to the amount of hundreds of millions of dollars have been paid for by and delivered to non-existent firms?"

  "No, but what... ?"

  "From that fact I drew the tentative conclusion that MetEnge has industrialized a virgin planet somewhere; one that we know nothing whatever about."

  "Ridiculous! MetEnge builds its own automation . but to save time they might... but such a planet would have to be staffed, and that could not be done tracelessly."

  "It was done tracelessly enough so that we did not suspect it. I find that about sixty thousand male graduate engineers and scientists, and about the same number of young and nubile females of the same types, have disappeared from the ninety six planets."

  "So?" This information had little visible effect.

  "So those disappearances prove beyond any reasonable doubt that my tentative conclusion is a fact. Maynard is not bluffing; he is ready. Now, if MetEnge has worked that long and hard in complete secrecy it should be clear even to you that you and your missiles are precisely as dangerous to them as a one-week-old kitten would be. Before we can act we must find that planet and bomb it out of existence."

  "It is impossible to hide so many people, especially young..."

  "Do you think my agents didn't check? They did, thoroughly, and could find..."

  "Bah! Your agents are stupid!"

  "They were smart enough to put the arm on your men on that list, and if you think Maynard is stupid you had better think again. The worst fact is that twenty eight of my agents have disappeared, too, all of whom had worked up into good jobs with MetEnge and any one of whom could have and would have built a subspace communicator had it been humanly possible. The situation is bad. Very bad. That is why I have not acted. I will not act until I have enough facts to act on."

  "My agents would have found that planet if it exists. I will send my own men and they will find it if it exists." "You think you've got a monopoly on brains?" Deissner sneered. "Send your men and be damned. You'll learn. Here are copies of everything I have found out," and he handed The Nameless One a bulging brief-case.

  Nameless took it without thanks. "In three months I will know all about everything and I will act accordingly." "You hope. In the meantime you must agree that a general strike is out of the question."

  "Until I investigate, yes. Harassing tactics merely." "Exactly what I am doing. Plan M."

  "As good as any. Your status in my organization will depend upon my findings," and the Nameless One of EastHem strode out.

  The tremendous new starship, the Explorer, built of leybyrdite and equipped for any foreseeable eventuality, was ready to fly. The Destons and the Joneses were holding their last pre-flight conference. No one had said anything for a couple of minutes; yet no one had suggested that the meeting was over.

  "Well, that covers it... I guess...." Deston said, finally. "Except maybe for one thing that's been niggling at me... but it makes so little sense that I'm afraid to say it out loud. So if any of you can think of anything else we might need, no matter how wild it sounds... I'm playing a hunch. Write it down on a slip of paper and put it face-down on the table ... here's mine... it'll be three out of four, I think... read 'em and weep, Bun."

  Bernice turned the four slips over. "Four out of four. Perce Train and Cecily Byrd. But what in hell do we want 'em for?"

  "Search me; just a hunch," Deston said, and:

  "Me neither; just intuition." Barbara nodded her head. "But why didn't we say anything... oh, I see. You and I didn't, Babe, because we thought Bun wouldn't want her along. Bun didn't because she thought we'd think it was so she could kick her teeth out. Here didn't because Bun might think he wanted her along for monkey business. Right?"

  That was right, and Deston called Maynard. "You can have 'em both and welcome," was the tycoon's surprising reaction to Deston's request. "They're the two hardest cases I ever tried to handle in my life, and I've got troubles enough without combing them out of my hair every hour on the hour. They did such good jobs on their projects that they haven't got enough to do. I'd like to fire them both-their assistants are a lot better for their present jobs than they are-but of course I can't. But listen, son. Why lead with your chin? If I can't handle those two damned kittyhawks, how do you expect to?"

  "I don't know, chief; I'm just playing a hunch. Thanks a lot, and so-long."

  Percival Train and Cecily Byrd boarded the Explorer together. "What can you four want of us?" the red-head asked, as soon as the six were seated around a table. "Particularly, what can you possibly want of me?"

  "We haven't the foggiest idea," was Deston's surprising answer. "But four solid hunches can't be wrong. So suppose you break down and tell us."

  "In that case I think I can. That must mean that you and Bobby are a lot more than just a wizard and a witch; and that both Here and Bun are heavy-duty psionicists, too-I've more than suspected just that of Here. Right?"

  That's right," Barbara agreed. "So you and Perce both are too." Train's jaw dropped and he looked at Barbara in pop-eyed astonishment. "Which I didn't suspect consciously for a second. How long have you had it, Curly-known that you had it, I mean?"

  "Just since the dance. You gave me bell, Here, remember? And before that, the chief and Babe had worked me over, too...."

  "I remember." Jones began to grin. "All I'm surprised at . .

  Hush, you." Cecily grinned back at him. "I don't get these moments of truth very often, so you just listen. Anyway, after the dance I felt lower than a snake's feet. I didn't feel even like going over to my hand-bag after a cigarette, so I just sat there and looked at it and pretty soon I could see everything perfectly plainly and one jumped out of my case inside my bag and into my mouth and lit itself. Then I knew, of course, and started working on it and 'I got pretty good at it. Watch. I'm over here in the comer and now back in my chair. Now count the cigarettes in your case, Babe."

  "He doesn't need to," Train put in. "Twelve King Camfields. Stainless steel case-not the one you carried on Rhenia, by the way-right-hand shirt pocket." A king-size Camfield appeared between Cecily's lips and came alight. "One gone, eleven left."

  "Oh?" "Ah!" "So." came three voices at once; and Deston, after counting his cigarettes, said, "Eleven is right. That's a neat trick, Curly-just a minute."

  Grasping his case he stared fixedly at it and a Camfield appeared in his mouth, too; but it did not light up. "How do you concentrate the energy without burning the end of your..." He broke off as Barbara shot him a thought, then went on, ".., yeah, that can come later. Go ahead, Perce."

 

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