It continued for long minutes. The bodies swelled and the wrinkles disappeared. They retreated slowly, backing away, with the drinking tube flicking in and out, before receding finally into a pink, wrinkled mass above a wide, lipless mouth. They went to sleep in groups in the shaded angles, plump and sated.

'Animals!' said Zammo, with contempt.

'How often do they drink?' asked Antyok.

'As often as they want. They can go a week if they have to. We water them every day. They store it under their skin. They eat in the evenings. Vegetarians, you know.'

Antyok smiled chubbily, 'It's nice to get a bit of firsthand information occasionally. Can't read reports all the time.'

'Yes?' - noncommittally. Then, 'What's new? What about the lacy-pants boys on Trantor?'

Antyok shrugged dubiously, "You can't get the Bureau to commit itself, unfortunately. With the Emperor sympathetic to the Aurelionists, humanitarianism is the order of the day. You know that.'

There was a pause in which the administrator chewed his lip uncertainly. 'But there's this birth-rate problem now. It's finally been assigned to AdHQ, you know - and double A priority, too.'

Zammo muttered wordlessly.

Antyok said, 'You may not realize it, but that project will now take precedence over all other work proceeding on Ceph-eus 18. It's important.'

He turned back to the viewing window and said thoughtfully with a bald lack of preamble. 'Do you think those creatures might be unhappy?'

'Unhappy!' The word was an explosion.

'Well, then,' Antyok corrected hastily, 'maladjusted. You understand? It's difficult to adjust an environment to a race we know so little of.'

'Say - did you ever see the world we took them from?'

'I've read the reports-'

'Reports!' - infinite contempt. 'I've seen it. This may look like desert out there to you, but it's a watery paradise to those devils. They have all the food and water they can get. They have a world to themselves with vegetation and natural water flow, instead of a lump of silica and granite where fungi were force-grown in caves and water had to be steamed out of gypsum rock. In ten years, they would have been dead to the last beast, and we saved them. Unhappy? Ga-a-ah, if they are, they haven't the decency of most animals.'

'Well, perhaps. Yet I have a notion.'

'A notion? What is your notion?' Zammo reached for one of his cigars.

'It's something that might help you. Why not study the creatures in a more integrated fashion? Let them use their initiative. After all, they did have a highly-developed science. Your reports speak of it continually. Give them problems to solve.' 'Such as?'

'Oh... oh,' Antyok waved his hands helplessly. 'Whatever you think might help most. For instance, spaceships. Get them into the control room and study their reactions.' 'Why?' asked Zammo with dry bluntness. 'Because the reaction of their minds to tools and controls adjusted to the human temperament can teach you a lot. In addition, it will make a more effective bribe, it seems to me, than anything you've yet tried. You'll get more volunteers if they think they'll be doing something interesting.' 'That's your psychology coming out. Hm-m-m. Sounds better than it probably is. I'll sleep on it. And where would I get permission, in any case, to let them handle spaceships? I've none at my disposal, and it would take a good deal longer than it was worth to follow down the line of red tape to get one assigned to us.'

Antyok pondered, and his forehead creased lightly, 'It doesn't have to be spaceships. But even so - If you would write up another report and make the suggestion yourself - strongly, you understand - I might figure out some way of tying it up with my birth-rate project. A double-A priority can get practically anything, you know, without questions.'

Zammo's interest lacked a bit even of mildness, 'Well, maybe. Meanwhile, I've some basal metabolism tests in progress, and it's getting late. I'll think about it. It's got its points.'

From: AdHQ-Cephl8

To: BuOuProv

Subject: Outer Province Project 2910, Part I - Birth rate of non-Humans on Cepheus 18, Investigation of,

Reference:

(a) BuOuProv letr. Ceph-N-CM/car, 115097, 233/977 G.E.

Enclosure:

1. SciGroup 10, Physical amp; Biochemical Division report, Part XV, dated 220/977 G.E.

1. Enclosure 1 is forwarded herewith for the information of the BuOuProv.

2. Special attention is directed to Section V, Paragraph 3 of Enclosure 1 in which it is requested that a spaceship be as signed SciGroup 10 for use in expediting investigations author ized by the BuOuProv. It is considered by AdHQ-Ceph18 that such investigations may be of material use in aiding work now in progress on the subject project, authorized by reference (a). It is suggested, in view of the high priority placed by the BuOu Prov upon the subject project, that immediate consideration be given the SciGroup's request.

L. Antyok, Superv.

AdHQ-CephlS, 240/977 G.E.



From: BuOuProv

To: AdHQ-CephlS

Subject: Outer Province Project 2910 - Birth rate of non-Humans on Cepheus 18, Investigation of. Reference: (a) AdHQ-CephlS letr. AA-LA/mn, dated 240/977 G.E.

1. Training Ship AN-R-2055 is being placed at the disposal of AdHQ-Ceph18 for use in investigation of non-Humans on Cepheus 18 with respect to the subject project and other authorized OuProv projects, as requested in Enclosure 1 to reference (a).

2. It is urgently requested that work on the subject project be expedited by all available means.

C. Morily, Head,

BuOuProv, 251/977G.E.

IV

The little, bricky creature must have been more uncomfortable than his bearing would admit to. He was carefully wrapped in a temperature already adjusted to the point where his human companions steamed in their open shirts.

His speech was high-pitched and careful, 'I find it damp, but not unbearably so at this low temperature.'

Antyok smiled, 'It was nice of you to come. I had planned to visit you. but a trial run in yoUr atmosphere out there-' The smile had become rueful.

'It doesn't matter. You other worldlings have done more for us than ever we were able to do for ourselves. It is an obligation that is but imperfectly returned by the endurance on my part of a trifling discomfort.' His speech seemed always indirect, as if he approached his thoughts sidelong, or as if it were against all etiquette to be blunt.

Gustiv Bannerd, seated in an angle of the room, with one long leg crossing the other, scrawled nimbly and said, 'You don't mind if I record all this?'

The Cepheid non-Human glanced briefly at the journalist, 'I have no objection.'

Antyok's apologetics persisted. This is not a purely social affair, sir. I would not have forced discomfort on you for that. There are important questions to be considered, and you are the leader of your people.'

The Cepheid nodded, 'I am satisfied your purposes are kindly. Please proceed.'

The administrator almost wriggled in his difficulty in putting thoughts into words. 'It is a subject,' he said, 'of delicacy, and one I wou'd never bring up if it weren't for the overwhelming importance of the... uh... question. I am only the spokesman of my government-'

'My people consider the otherworld government a kindly one.'

'Well, yes, they are kindly. For that reason, they are disturbed over the fact that your people no longer breed.'

Antyok paused, and waited with worry for a reaction that did not come. The Cepheid's face was motionless except for the soft, trembling motion of the wrinkled area that was Ms deflated drinking tube.

Antyok continued, 'It is a question we have hesitated to bring up because of its extremely personal angles. Noninterference is my government's prime aim, and we have done our best to investigate the problem quietly and without disturbing your people. But, frankly, we -'

'Have failed?' finished the Cepheid, at the other's pause.

'Yes. Or at least, we have not discovered a concrete failure to reproduce the exact environment of your original world; with, of course, the necessary modification to make it more livable. Naturally, it is thought there is some chemical shortcoming. And so I ask your voluntary help in the matter. Your people are advanced in the study of your own biochemistry. If you do not choose, or would rather not -'

'No, no, I can help.' The Cepheid seemed cheerful about it. The smooth flat planes of his loose-skinned, hairless skull wrinkled in an alien response to an uncertain emotion. 'It is not a matter that any of us would have thought would have disturbed you other-worldlings. That it does is but another indication of your well-meaning kindness. This wor'd we find congenial, a paradise in comparison to our o!d. It lacks in nothing. Conditions such as now prevail belong in our legends of the Golden Age.'

'Well-'

'But there is a something; a something you may not understand. We cannot expect different intelligences to think alike.'

'I shall try to understand.'

The Cepheid's voice had grown soft, its liquid undertones more pronounced, 'We were dying on our native world; but we were fighting. Our science, developed through a history older than yours, was losing; but it had not yet lost. Perhans it was because our science was fundamentally biological. rather than physical as yours is. Your people discovered new forms of energy and reached the stars. Our people d:scovered new truths of psychology and psychiatry and built up a working society free of disease and crime.

'There is no need to question which of the two angles of approach was the more laudable, but there is no uncertainty as to which proved more successful in the end. In our dying world, without the means of life or sources of power, our biological science could but make the dying easier.

'And yet we fought. For centuries past, we had been groping toward the elements of atomic power, and slowly the spark of hope had glimmered that we might break through the two-dimensional limits of our planetary surface and reach the stars. There were no other planets in our system to serve as stepping stones. Nothing but some twenty light-years to the nearest star, without the knowledge of the possibility of the existence of other planetary systems, but rather of the contrary.

'But there is something in all life that insists on striving; even on useless striving. There were only five thousand of us left in the last days. Only five thousand. And our first ship was ready. It was experimental. It would probably have been a failure. But already we had all the principles of propulsion and navigation correctly worked out.'

There was a long pause, and the Cepheid's small black eyes seemed glazed in retrospect.

The newspaperman put in suddenly, from his corner, 'And then we came?'

'And then you came,' the Cepheid agreed simply. 'It changed everything. Energy was ours for the asking. A new world, congenial and, indeed, ideal, was ours even without asking. If our problems of society had long been solved by ourselves, our more difficult problems of environment were suddenly solved for us, no less completely.'

'Well?' urged Antyok.

'Well - it was somehow not well. For centuries, our ancestors had fought toward the stars, and now the stars suddenly proved to be the property of others. We had fought for life, and it had become a present handed to us by others. There is no longer any reason to fight. There is no longer anything to attain. All the universe is the property of your race.'

'This world is yours,' said Antyok, gently.

'By sufferance. It is a gift. It is not ours by right'

'You have earned it, in my opinion.'

And now the Cepheid's eyes were sharply fixed on the other's countenance, 'You mean well, but I doubt that you understand. We have nowhere to go, save this gift of a world. We are in a blind alley. The function of life is striving, and that is taken from us. Life can no longer interest us. We have no offspring - voluntarily. It is our way of removing ourselves from your way.'

Absent-mindedly, Antyok had removed the fluoro-globe from the window seat, and spun it on its base. Its gaudy surface reflected light as it spun, and its three-foot-high bulk floated with incongruous grace and lightness in the air.

Antyok said, 'Is that your only solution? Sterility?'

'We might escape still,' whispered the Cepheid, 'but where in the Galaxy is there place for us? It is all yours.'

'Yes, there is no place for you nearer than the Magellame Clouds if you wished independence. The Magellanic Clouds -'

'And you would not let us go of yourselves. You mean kindly, I know.'

'Yes, we mean kindly - but we could not let you go.'

'It is a mistaken kindness.'

'Perhaps, but could you not reconcile yourselves? You have a world.'

'It is something past complete explanations. Your mind is different. We could not reconcile ourselves. I believe, administrator, that you have thought of all this before. The concept of the blind alley we find ourselves trapped in is not new to you.'

Antyok looked up, startled, and one hand steadied the fluoro-globe, 'Can you read my mind?'

'It is just a guess. A good one, I think.'

'Yes - but can you read my mind? The minds of humans in general, I mean. It is an interesting point. The scientists say you cannot, but sometimes I wonder if it is that you simply will not. Could you answer that? I am detaining you, unduly, perhaps.'

'No... no -' But the little Cepheid drew his enveloping robe closer, and buried his face in the electrically-heated pad at the collar for a moment. 'You other-worldlings speak of reading minds. It is not so at all, but it is assuredly hopeless to explain.'

Antyok mumbled the old proverb, 'One cannot explain sight to a man blind from birth.'

'Yes, just so. This sense which you call "mind reading," quite erroneously, cannot be applied to us. It is not that we cannot receive the proper sensations, it is that your people do not transmit them, and we have no way of explaining to you how to go about it.'

'Hm-m-m.'

'There are times, of course, of great concentration or emotional tension on the part of an other-worldling when some of us who are more expert in this sense; more sharp-eyed, so to speak; detect vaguely something. It is uncertain; yet I myself have at times wondered -'

Carefully, Antyok began spinning the fluoro-globe once more. His pink face was set in thought, and his eyes were fixed upon the Cepheid. Gustiv Bannerd stretched his fingers and reread his notes, his lips moving silently.

The fluoro-globe spun, and slowly the Cepheid seemed to grow tense as well, as his eyes shifted to the colorful sheen of the globe's fragile surface.

The Cepheid said, 'What is that?'

Antyok started, and his face smoothed into an almost chuckling placidity, 'This? A Galactic fad of three years ago; which means that it is a hopelessly old-fashioned relic this year. It is a useless device but it looks pretty. Bannerd, could you adjust the windows to non-transmission?'

There was the soft click of a contact, and the windows became curved regions of darkness, while in the center of the room, the fluoro-globe was suddenly the focus of a rosy effulgence that seemed to leap outward in streamers. Antyok, a scarlet figure in a scarlet room, placed it upon the table and spun it with a hand that dripped red. As it spun, the colors changed with a slowly increasing rapidity, blended and fell apart into more extreme contrasts.

Antyok was speaking in an eerie atmosphere of molten, shifting rainbow, 'The surface is of a material that exhibits variable fluorescence. It is almost weightless, extremely fragile, but gyroscopically balanced so that it rarely falls, with ordinary care. It is rather pretty, don't you think?'

From somewhere the Cepheid's voice came, 'Extremely pretty.'

'But it has outworn its welcome; outlived its fashionable existence.'

The Cepheid's voice was abstracted, 'It is very pretty.'