Tubb, E.C. - Space Born

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The Space-Born

By E.C.Tubb

CAST OF CHARACTERS

THE SPACE-BORN

JAY WEST

He was on the horns of a dilemma-and they were dangerously sharp.

SUSAN CURTWAY

She wanted children, but she loved a man-and she couldn't have both.

GEORGE CURTWAY

He knew enough to kill him-but knew too little to save himself.

GREGSON

The price of his life was the death of another.

MERRILL

He was a dangerous tool-with a double edge.

QUENTIN

One thing they couldn't forgive him-his age.

CHAPTER ONE

JAY WEST, psych-policeman, arrived at headquarters just in time to see a case

brought for trial at Ship's Court. As usual Gregson, his chief, was acting as

judge and, aside from Kennedy and the communications man, the office was

empty. Jay grinned at the operator, nudged his fellow officer to make room on

the bench, and nodded towards the sheet of one-way glass separating them from

the courtroom.

"What goes on?"

"Waste charge. " Kennedy didn't shift his gaze from the scene. "Sector four.

Know him?"

"No. " Jay looked at the accused, a gardener by his green shorts, still

marriageable and with the thin limbs and delicate skin of one who had spent

most of his life in the low-gravity upper levels. He was nervous, his eyes

wide as he stared at the starkly simple appointments of the courtroom; looking

at him Jay was reminded of an animal, one of the small, brown, helpless

animals of distant Earth A deer, perhaps? Or was it a rabbit? He couldn't

remember, then forgot the problem as Gregson shifted in his chair

The chief of psych-police was a big, compact man with black eyes matching the

gleaming slickness of his uniform. At least twice as old as the accused, he

dominated the court by the sheer force of his personality, and as he leaned a

little forward over his wide desk, Jay was reminded of yet another animal. A

tiger-or was it a cat? He frowned as he tried to recall just when and on what

tape he had seen the creatures, and made a mental note to pay more attention

to the educational tapes in future. He leaned forward as Gregson's voice came

over the speakers.

"Goodwin, " snapped Gregson coldly. "15-3479. Charge of criminal waste. Who

accuses?"

"I do, sir. " An older man, also a gardener, shuffled forward, a large plastic

bag in his hands. "My name is Johnson, sir. 14-4562. I'm head gardener of

sector four. I caught young Goodwin here throwing the plant trimmings into the

inorganic waste disposal chute. I wouldn't have believed it of him if I hadn't

seen it with my own eyes. I'd always liked him and I never guessed that he was

like that. " The old man sniffed. "I've always thought of him like my own son.

I... "

"Keep to the point, " snapped Gregson impatiently. "What happened?"

"I was telling you, sir. We always put all the plant trimmings into the

organic waste chute for reclamation. Goodwin here threw them into the wrong

chute. If I hadn't seen what he did they'd have been incinerated and we'd have

lost everything but the water content. " He glanced at Carter, the other

occupant of the room. "I reported to the officer, sir, and made my charge. "

"I arrested the accused and brought them both here, " said Carter

unnecessarily. Gregson nodded.

"Defense?"

"I didn't do it!" The youth licked his lips with nervous defiance as he stared

from Gregson to his accuser. Gregson glanced towards the officer.

"Proof?"

"Here, sir. " Carter took the bag from Johnson, stepped forward, and emptied

it on the desk. About half a kilogram of brown-edged leaves and dry stalks

made a little heap of vegetation on the smooth surface. He stepped back as

Gregson looked down at it.

"You found all this?"

"I did. "

"In the inorganic waste chute?"

"Yes. "

"I see. " Gregson leaned back in his chair, the tip of one finger idly

stirring the heap of leaves. He didn't speak and, aside from the faint rustle

of the leaves and the soft, almost imperceptible vibration of the metal walls

and floor, so soft and familiar as to be unnoticed, silence filled the

courtroom.

"Waste, " said Kennedy disgustedly. "Gregson should send him straight to the

converter. "

"You think that he's guilty?" Jay narrowed his eyes as he stared at the pale,

sweating face of the accused. Kennedy shrugged.

"What... " He broke off as sound came over the speakers.

"I didn't do it, " insisted Goodwin desperately. "I swear that I didn't do it.

"How do you account for this vital material being found in the wrong chute?"

Gregson's voice was very soft and Jay suddenly remembered what he was reminded

of. Not a tiger, but a cat-and the gardener was a mouse. He smiled in quiet

pride at his retentive memory. Not bad considering that he had never seen

either of the animals except as pictures on a screen. He wanted to tell

Kennedy but Goodwin was speaking again so he listened instead.

"I can't account for it, sir. Unless... "

"Unless what?"

"Johnson's getting to be an old man, sir, " blurted Goodwin. "He's afraid that

I'll take over his job and he's trying to get rid of me. "

"I wouldn't throw vegetation in the inorganic chute, " said Johnson hastily.

"I know how valuable the material is too well for that. I've been a gardener

all my life, sir, and I just couldn't do it. " He shook his head in apparent

despair. "It's these youngsters-they just don't stop to think, and if they

aren't stopped they'll ruin us with their constant waste. "

"This is a serious charge, " said Gregson heavily; he didn't seem to have

heard the counter accusation and defense. "You know that waste, aside from

mutiny, is the most heinous crime there is. Both are punishable by death. " He

paused. "Is there anything you wish to say before I pass sentence?"

"I didn't do it, " repeated Goodwin desperately. "I'm innocent of the charge.

"Why doesn't Gregson test him?" said Jay disgustedly. "Two minutes on the lie

detector would clear up the whole thing. " He frowned at Johnson. "I wouldn't

mind betting that the old man's got something to do with this. Look at him,

he's as guilty as hell. "

"Better not let Gregson hear you say that, " warned Kennedy. "He knows what

he's doing. "

"Maybe, but I... " Jay broke off as the communications man called over to him.

"Yes?"

"Call from sector three. That's your sector, isn't it, Jay?"

"That's right. " Jay rose to his feet and crossed over to the operator.

"What's wrong?"

"An accident. Man dead on level nineteen, segment three, cubicle four

twenty-seven. Call came from a man named Edwards-he said that he'd wait for

you by the booth. Clear it up, will you. "

Jay nodded and, leaving Kennedy still staring at the courtroom, walked out

into the Ship.

Jay had never seen an anthill, nor had he ever seen a bee hive, but if he had,

then the Ship would have reminded him of both. A huge metal egg, it was

honeycombed with concentric levels of cubicles: workshops, recreation rooms,

hydroponic farms and yeast culture vats for the production of food; kitchens

and mess halls for its preparation and serving. Everything essential to life

was contained within the titanic hull, from toys for the new-born to gardens

to freshen the air, and the whole incredible mass spun on its central axis

creating an artificial gravity by centrifugal force, a gravity which increased

rapidly towards the outer hull and vanished in the central areas.

Men had built it, not on Earth for that would have been impossible, but in

space, fashioning it from prefabricated parts hauled by powerful rockets from

the planet or brought from the new base at Tycho on the Moon. A mountain of

metal had been used in its construction and, when they had finished the shell,

they had fitted it with engines powerful enough to illuminate a world, stocked

it with seeds and plants, food and fuel, animals and cultures, so that one day

the colonists would be able to set up a new Earth beneath an alien sun.

They had planned well, the builders of the Ship. Fired by the discovery of

planets circling Pollux, a star only thirty-two light years away, they had

determined to smash the barrier between them and interstellar flight. Speed

alone couldn't do it. There was still no way to overcome the Einsteinian

equations which set the speed of light as the maximum velocity possible, and

at the same time showed that it would take infinite power to reach that

velocity. Speed couldn't do it, but time could, and so they had aimed the ship

towards Pollux, given it a speed one-tenth that of light, and hoped that the

descendants of the original colonists would be able to do what they were

unable to do themselves.

But three hundred years is a long time.

First the name of the ship had been discarded from common usage and it had

become known only as the Ship. The sense of motion had soon died also, and to

the inhabitants of the Ship, the metal cubicles had become their entire

universe, static, unchanging, unalterable. They lived and died within the

close confines of their metal prison and, with the slow passage of time, even

the aim and purpose of their journey became vague and slightly unreal.

But the builders had planned well.

Edwards was fourteenth generation; Jay could tell that without looking at the

identification disc on his left wrist. There was a certain stockiness about

him, a calm solidity only to be met in the older people. He stepped forward

from the booth as he recognized Jay's black shorts and led the officer along a

passage.

"He's in here, " he paused by a door. "I haven't told anyone yet. I called in

as soon as I saw what had happened. "

"Were you friends?" Jay didn't enter the room immediately; the passage was

deserted and it was as good a place as any for preliminary investigation. "Did

you know him well?"

"Well enough. He worked in yeast and we almost grew up together. " Edwards

shook his head. "I can't understand it. Hans was always a careful sort of man,

not the type to mess around with something he knew nothing about. I just can't

imagine what made him do it. "

"Do what?"

"You'll see. " Edwards glanced down the long passage narrowing into the

distance, both ends curving a little as it followed the circular pattern of

the rooms. A young couple came towards them, arm in arm, their heads together,

lost in a world of their own. "Maybe we'd better go inside, " he suggested.

"This passage usually carries a lot of traffic and we don't want a crowd."

Jay nodded and led the way into the room.

The only two things about the dead man that were recognizable were his yellow

shorts and his identification disc. The shorts told Jay that he had worked in

the yeast plant; the disc that he was fourteenth generation, his name had been

Hans Jenson, and that he had absolutely no right to have done what he

apparently had. All electrical gear came under electronics and no one else had

the right to remove a masking plate and touch what was behind it. Hans, for

some reason, had done just that and had been seared by high voltage current as

a result.

Jay dropped to one knee, studying but not touching, his eyes thoughtful as he

stared at the evidence. Edwards coughed and shifted his feet.

"What do you make of it?"

"It looks like an accident, " said Jay carefully. "He tampered with the

connections and got burned for his trouble. " He looked around the room, a

normal two-bunk, four-locker sleeping unit. "Did you share?"

"Yes. "

"Where were you when it happened?"

"Down in the recreation room. Hans and I were watching some tapes when he was

called away by some young fellow. I waited for him; then, when he didn't turn

up, I guessed that he might have gone to bed. I walked in and found him like

this. "

"I see. How long did you wait before following him out of the recreation

room?"

"I waited until the end of the tape, about fifteen minutes. "

Edwards hesitated. "I don't believe that this was an accident. "

"What?"

"I said that this was no accident, " repeated Edwards stubbornly. "I knew Hans

too well to ever believe that he would do anything like this. Why should he?

He worked in yeast-he wouldn't want to tamper with the electrical gear. And if

he did, he knew enough about high current never to have touched anything. "

"So you think he committed suicide?"

"No. I think that he was murdered. "

Jay sighed and, leaning against the wall, stared at Edwards. Against his

shoulder he could feel the slight, never-ending vibration of the Ship: the

impact of thousands of feet, the vibrations of voices and music, the

susurration of engines and the countless sounds of everyday life, all caught

and carried by the eternal metal, all mingling and traveling until damped out

by fresher, newer sounds. A philosopher had once called that vibration the

life-sound of the Ship; while it could be heard all was well, without it

nothing could be right. Jay didn't know about that; all he knew was that he

had grown up with the sound, eaten with it, slept with it, lived with it until

he was no more consciously aware of it than he was of his own skin.

"So you think that he was murdered, " he said slowly. "What makes you think

that?"

"Simple. Hans would never have removed that plate. And even if he had, he

would never have touched a live connection. Hans wasn't a fool. "

"He was an old man, " reminded Jay. Old men sometimes do senseless things. "

"Hans wasn't that old. I'll admit he was fourteenth generation, but so what?

I'm fifteenth and yet I'm only a couple of years younger than he was. Hans was

one of the fittest and most sensible people I've ever known. " Edwards jerked

his head in irritation. "Don't talk to me about age. I know better. "

And that, thought Jay grimly, was just the trouble. Generations could be

separated by no more than forty years, because every twenty-year period saw an

official change in generation number. Hans could have been forty years older

than Edwards, but he could also have been one, and Edwards was suspicious.

"Have you anything else, aside from your own knowledge of the dead man, on

which to base your statement that he was murdered?" Jay straightened away from

the wall as he spoke and stepped toward the burned thing on the floor. Edwards

hesitated.

"I'm not sure, " he said slowly. "What are you getting at?"

"Had he any enemies?"

"Not that I know of. Hans wasn't one to go in for dueling, never had, and he

was popular enough in the yeast plant. There's one thing though. "

"Yes?"

"That man I told you about, the youngster who called him away from the

recreation room. I know the people in this sector pretty well, and I'd swear

to it that he was a stranger and yet... " Edwards broke off, frowning. "I have

the feeling that I know him. "

"Would you be able to recognize him again?"

"Yes, but that isn't what I was going to say. I told you that I waited for a

while in the recreation room and then I came up here to bed?"

"You did. "

"Well, as I was walking along the corridor I thought I saw a man leave this

room. "

"Are you positive about that?" said Jay sharply. "You're certain that it was

this room?"

"No, " admitted Edwards. "I can't be. You know how it is-they all look alike,

and it could have been from the one next to this, or even from one two doors

away. I can't swear to it, but I can swear to the fact that the man I saw was

the same one who called Hans away from the recreation room. "

"And you think that he murdered your friend?"

"What else can I think?" Edwards made a point of not looking down at the

charred heap on the floor. "He called Hans out; I saw him leave this room, or

at least I thought that I did. When I arrived here, Hans was dead. If that man

had been here with Hans, then why didn't he report the accident-if it was an

accident? And why should Hans suddenly leave me, come to this room, take off

the masking plate and touch a live connection?" Edwards shook his head. "None

of it makes sense. "

"Of course it doesn't, " said Jay. "Why should anyone want to kill your

friend? The thing is unreasonable. What happened was an accident. We may never

know just why Hans wanted to take off the plate, but we can be certain that he

never intended to touch the connection. In a way it serves him right, for

tampering with things outside his department. "

Jay knelt beside the corpse again, then looked up at the sound of a knock on

the door. "Who is it?"

"Conservation squad. "

"Let them in. " Jay rose as two men, both wearing the olive shorts of

conservation, entered the room. An electronics man followed them, his bright

blue making a dash of color as he stooped over the displayed connections. He

grunted as he probed at the wiring, refastened the masking plate, and nodded

as he left the room. He didn't look at the dead man. The two olive clad men

unfolded a large plastic bag, and, with the ease of long practice, slipped it

over what was left of Hans Jenson, slung it over their shoulders, and headed

towards the door.

"Where are they taking him?" Edwards looked towards Jay as the door closed

behind the grim two and their shapeless burden. Jay shrugged.

"To the converters; you know that. "

"Why there? Aren't you going to perform an autopsy?"

"Why should we?" Jay took a deep breath as he stared at the stubborn

expression on the older man's face. "Cause of death is plain: electrocution by

accident. And that is my official finding. "

"It was murder, " insisted Edwards. "I tell you I knew Hans too well ever to

believe that his death was an accident. "

"What proof have you that it was anything but an accident?" demanded Jay. "You

say that you saw a man, you don't know who he is, and you think that he came

from this room. You know as well as I do that he could have come from any one

of a dozen rooms. You say that you'd recognize him again, and yet you can't be

sure that you know him or not. What sort of evidence is that, Edwards? I hate

to remind you of this, but you're no longer a young man and it's quite

possible that you could have made a mistake. "

"I'm making no mistake, " said Edwards. "This whole thing looks like a put-up

job to me. "

"Are you accusing me of collusion with a murderer?" Jay kept his voice low but

there was something in the way he looked at the yeast worker which caused

Edwards to flush and bite his lips. "Well? Are you?"

"No, of course not. "

"Then you agree with me that Jenson's death was an unfortunate accident?" Jay

stared hard at the man. "It's obvious, isn't it, when you come to think about

it?"

"No. " Edwards shook his head, his eyes refusing to meet those of the officer.

"I can't believe that. I knew Hans too well-he would never do a thing like

that. "

"You're being stubborn, Edwards, " snapped Jay impatiently. "I say that it was

an accident and that should be good enough. I know how an old man can forget

what he's doing, make a stupid mistake, do something to cause his own death.

Why don't you leave it at that?"

"I can't. " Edwards looked directly into the blue eyes staring at him. "Don't

ask me why, but I just can't. Hans was my friend! Maybe you wouldn't

understand what that means, but I'm not going to ever think that he was fool

enough to kill himself. " He clenched his hands. "I'm going to find that

youngster who called him out, the man I'd swear I saw leaving this room. And

when I find him, then perhaps we'll learn the truth as to what happened here.

"I see. " Jay stared at the man, almost pitying him for his obvious sincerity.

Then, remembering his duty, he sighed and gripped Edwards by the arm. "I'm

sorry, but you'll have to come with me. "

"Why?" Edwards tried to pull away, then halted, his face whitening from the

pain in his arm. "I've done nothing wrong. Where are you taking me?"

"To headquarters. " Jay released the nerve pressure and led the man towards

the door. "You're a little too certain that Jenson was murdered for my liking.

The only way you could be so sure was to have killed him yourself. "

"That's nonsense!" Edwards tried to pull away again, then winced as Jay

increased the pressure against the nerve. "You can't believe that. Hans was my

friend-I'd never even think of killing him. "

"Maybe, but I think we'd better let Psycho decide. "

Jay didn't look at his prisoner as they walked through the whispering

corridors.

CHAPTER TWO

KENNEDY WAS in the outer office when they arrived. He looked up from the desk,

grinned at Jay, then narrowed his eyes at the sigh of Edwards.

"Who's this?"

"A prisoner, " said Jay shortly. "Book and hold him for interrogation. Murder

suspect. " He didn't look at the yeast worker. "Where's Gregson?"

"Inside. " Kennedy jerked his thumb towards the inner office. "Merrill's with

him, though, and I think they want to be alone. " He glared at Edwards. "Show

me your iden. "

Silently Edwards held out his left wrist so that Kennedy could copy his name

and number. He stared directly ahead, not showing the least nervousness, and

Jay wished that he hadn't had to bring him in. He waited impatiently until

Kennedy had booked the details and ordered the man taken to a cell.

"Tell Gregson that I want to see him. "

"Take your time, " said the officer easily. "I told you that he was busy. " He

lounged back in his chair, "Say, you should have waited to see the end of that

waste case. The boy got sent to the converter, that was obvious, but Gregson

sure pulled a fast one on the old man. " He chuckled. "He had him tested by

Psycho and found out that he'd been lying his head off. "

"What happened?"

"Converter, of course. What else could happen?"

"And the boy?"

"I told you, the same. '' Kennedy chuckled again. "I told you that Gregson

knew what he was doing. He's saved someone a job later on. "

"I don't get it, " said Jay. "If the boy was innocent, then why eliminate him?

I can understand the other one-he was an old man and due anyway. But why the

boy?"

"Why ask me?" Kennedy shrugged. "Maybe he was due, too, and it was the easy

way out. " He looked up as the inner door opened and a man came into the outer

office. "Here's Merrill. I guess you can go in now. "

Merrill grinned at Jay as he came towards him and rested a hand familiarly on

his shoulder.

"Hi, Jay, how's things?"

"Not so good. " Jay didn't like the smooth, lithe, cat-like man with the pale,

almost albino eyes and the too-thin mouth. There was something feral about

him, a secret gloating and an almost frightening ruthlessness. Jay had often

thought that of them all, Merrill was the only one who really liked his job,

that he would have done it without the extra privileges and private rooms

which all officers had as a matter of right. He shrugged off the other's hand.

"Going somewhere, Jay?"

"To see Gregson. I'd like you to come with me. "

"Me?" Merrill smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. When he smiled like

that he reminded Jay more than ever of a tiger-or was it a weasel? From what

he remembered, Jay thought that Merrill combined the worse qualities of both.

"Yes. "

"Is it important, Jay?" "I'm off duty right now and I've an important date

down in sector five. " He smiled again at Jay's expression. "That's right.

With a friend of yours. Susan is getting to be a big girl now. "

"Leave Susan alone, " snapped Jay. "She's still got a year to go before

reaching marriageable status. " He looked pointedly at Merrill's unmarked

shorts. "And you don't intend getting married. "

"So what?" Merrill shrugged. "We can have fun, can't we? Or are you trying to

keep her for yourself?"

"Talk like that, you'll get in trouble with Genetics, " warned Jay. "You've no

business getting too friendly with her anyway; sector five is my unofficial

sector, not yours. "

"It's my official one, " reminded Merrill, "and I like Susan. I like her a

lot. "

"I can't blame you for that, " said Jay tightly, "but leave her alone. There

are plenty of women out of marriageable status available if you want that sort

of thing. Run around with the over twenty-fives if you have to, but leave the

youngsters alone. " He didn't attempt to disguise his disgust. Respect for the

marriage code was indoctrinated into all Ship personnel, and casual

relationships with girls of marriageable status or younger were firmly

discouraged. You married to have children-or else. After the marriageable

status, at twenty-five, you were free to do as you liked, but before that it

was strictly hands off. Even through his instinctive anger he knew that

Merrill was deliberately goading him. If the man ever tried to go against the

code, he would be eliminated, and Jay vaguely hoped that if such a thing ever

happened he would be the one to get the job.

"Forget it!" Merrill smiled again, this time without humor. "I was only

kidding. "

"Were you?" Jay shook his head. "Funny, I must be totally devoid of a sense of

humor. Somehow I don't find immorality the slightest bit amusing. He stepped

toward the inner office. "Well? Are you coming?"

"Must I?" Merrill hesitated, his pale eyes watchful. "What do you want me in

there for?"

"Come in and find out, " snapped Jay, opening the door and stepping into the

inner office.

As usual, Gregson was alone. He sat at his desk radiating a subtle power, and

impression of dominance, of restrained ruthlessness and machine-like

efficiency. He didn't speak as Jay entered, but his black eyes were thoughtful

as he saw Merrill, and he looked at Jay, waiting for him to speak.

"I've got a man outside, " Jay said curtly. "Edwards, a yeast worker. I had to

bring him in. "

"Why?"

"He suspects too much. " Jay looked at Merrill. "You did a lousy job, " he

said bitterly. "Why don't you use your imagination a little more and your

mouth a little less. "

"What!" Merrill seemed to recoil into himself and his pale eyes glittered with

anger. "I'll call you out for that. Damn you, West, you can't talk that way

and get away with it. Name the time!"

"There'll be no dueling between officers, " said Gregson coldly. "Any further

such talk and I'll have you both in front of Psycho. " He looked at Jay.

"Report. "

"I was called to a case on level nineteen, room 427, sector three. " He stared

at Merrill. "Your sector. "

"Keep to the point, " snapped Gregson. "Well?"

"A man, Hans Jenson, had apparently died from accidental touching of

electrical circuits. " Jay shrugged. "That, in itself, was bad enough. A yeast

worker messing around with electronics-the thing is incredible! But Merrill's

blundering made it even worse. "

"Did it?" said Merrill tightly. "How?"

"You were seen. Edwards, the man I brought in, swears that he would know you

again. "

"That isn't true!" Merrill turned to Gregson. "I did a neat, quick job, and

West can't say otherwise. I-"

"Be silent!" Gregson didn't raise his voice but the officer choked and bit off

what he was going to say. The chief nodded to Jay. "Start from the beginning.

"I found Jenson crouched over a removed masking plate. He was charred almost

to a crisp; death, of course, was instantaneous. He shared a four-unit room

with Edwards, his friend, and they seemed to have been pretty close. Edwards

refuses to believe that the death was accidental. He stated that it was

murder. I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted that Jenson just

wouldn't have done what he was supposed to have done. Frankly, I don't blame

him. The thing was so amateur that it leaves little doubt. If I hadn't known

better, I would never have believed that it was Merrill's work. "

"I see. " Gregson stared at Merrill. "Well?"

"I did the best I could, " said Merrill sullenly. "Jenson was awkward. I'd

tried to call him out a couple of times before, but he avoided dueling. I

couldn't get him alone and it was only because I told him that someone was

waiting for him that he agreed to come with me at all. "

"Why?" snapped Gregson sharply. "Did he suspect you?"

"I don't think so. He couldn't have, or he never would have allowed himself to

be alone with me. " Merrill gulped as he saw Gregson's expression. "It's easy

enough for West to talk but he didn't have to do the job. I tell you the man

was suspicious, not of me, but of things in general. A lot of these old timers

are-they seem to sense that something's going to happen to them. "

"Stop excusing yourself, " said Gregson coldly. "What happened?"

"I managed to get him to take me to his room. I had to work fast-I guessed

that his friend would be looking for him soon-so I knocked him out, tore off

the masking plate, and let his hand fall on a live connection. Even at that I

had little time. I saw someone coming down the corridor as I left the room. "

"That was Edwards, " said Jay grimly. "I told you that he had seen you. "

"Well, what of it?" said Merrill defiantly. "He can't prove anything."

"Prove anything!" Gregson half-rose from his chair, his eyes hard with cold

fury. "You fool! Haven't you eliminated enough people to learn by now that

suspicion of what we are doing is the very thing we must avoid? If this man,

this Edwards, is suspicious, then he doesn't need proof! His suspicions are

dangerous enough. He will talk, compare notes with others, spread rumors and,

before we know it, the whole Ship will guess what is going on. " He sank back

into the chair. "You say that you brought him in, West?"

"Yes. Kennedy booked him and put him into a cell. Suspicion of murder. " Jay

shrugged. "He's innocent, of course, but what else could I do?"

"Nothing. At least you acted as though you had brains and intelligence. I wish

that I could say the same about someone else. "

"If you mean me, Gregson, then why don't you say so?" Merrill stepped forward,

his pale eyes and thin lips betraying his anger. "I killed Jenson, didn't I?

What more do you want?"

"You eliminated Jenson, " corrected Gregson coldly. "And I expect a little

more than a bungled, amateur job from any of my officers, including you. "

"Bungled?"

"Yes. West is right in what he says. No yeast worker would dare to tamper with

electrical installations; that was your first mistake. The other was in

allowing yourself to be seen in a compromising position. You have committed

the stupidest mistake of all-you have a witness to what you did. "

"That was bad luck. "

"No, there is no such thing as luck in what we have to do. Either you can do

your job as it should be done, or you are unfit to hold your position. "

Gregson leaned a little forward, his voice falling to a feral purr. "You know

what that means, I take it?"

Merrill did. Jay did. Everyone connected with psych-police did: the officers,

the Psycho operator, the rarely seen, almost unknown hierarchy of the Ship.

They knew it if no one else did, and it was that knowledge which had to be

kept from the people.

Unfit Personnel, Disposal Of: para 1927 of the Ship's Code. Unfit meaning any

and everyone who was not wholly capable of doing their job: the ill; the

diseased; the barren; the unfertile; the neurotic; those that ate too much,

who had slow reflexes, who were physically below par, who were mentally

unstable. The unnecessary, the unessential, the old. Especially the old.

For someone had to make room for the new generations.

"I... " Merrill swallowed, sweat glistening on his naked torso. "You wouldn't

eliminate me."

"Why not?" Gregson curved the corners of his mouth in a humorless smile.

"Never make that mistake, Merrill. I'll admit that it isn't easy to select

replacements, men who can be trusted to hold the knowledge you have, to turn

themselves into merciless eliminators for the common good. But we can do it.

We found you and we could find someone to replace you. " Again he gave a thin

mockery of a smile. "We will have to eventually, so why not now?"

"You... " Merrill seemed to shake himself and suddenly he was calm. "All right

then. So you're going to kill me. " He bared his teeth and flexed his hands.

"Let me see you try. "

"You'd fight, of course, " said Gregson calmly, "but even with your advantage

you still couldn't win. " He looked at Jay. "Would you care to take the

assignment?"

"Now?"

"No, not now. Not while he is on his guard and expecting an attack. Later,

when he has almost forgotten his danger, when he is asleep, perhaps, or

watching an educational tape. Could you do it then?"

"Yes. "

"You see?" Gregson looked at Merrill, something like contempt showing in his

eyes. "You have a strong survival instinct-you need it to be what you are-but

we'd get you in the end. No man can stay alert forever, and you'd never be

quite sure when it was safe to relax. You have to sleep, you know. Even if you

hid out in No-Weight, you'd still have to sleep sometimes. And where would you

eat? You'd have to eat, you know, Merrill. And you could never be wholly

certain that your food hadn't been tampered with, could you?" He relaxed and

smiled at the discomforted officer. "If Psycho decided that you were unfit and

had to be eliminated, then we could do it. You wouldn't be the first officer

to meet with an unfortunate 'accident' and you wouldn't be the last. We all

get our turn. "

"Do we?" Merrill shrugged and stared at Jay. "Well? Do you want to try now, or

wait until later?"

Jay hesitated, wondering just what was in Gregson's mind. The threat was an

empty one, he knew that: no victim was ever warned that he was due for

elimination; to do so would be to destroy the very secrecy they had sworn to

maintain. Merrill was safe, and, knowing the man as he did, Jay knew that he

knew it. There were other, deeper reasons for this byplay, and Jay had an

uneasy feeling that he knew what they were.

It was never easy to eliminate an officer. For one thing, each man knew his

fellow operators, and for another, each had been trained to the ultimate in

unarmed combat. Working as they did and being what they were, a sense of

comradeship was inevitable. Any group of men sharing a common secret, armed

with the knowledge of hidden power, had to have an affinity towards each

other; there could always come a time when one man on an assignment would

spare his ex-fellow officer.

Unless he had a personal hate against his victim.

Merrill hated Jay, now more than ever, and Jay knew it. He also disliked

Merrill and would cheerfully accept the assignment of eliminating him. Was

Gregson's entire purpose to forge himself a weapon, one against the other? Jay

didn't know but, looking at the hard eyes and ruthless features of the chief,

he felt that he had made a pretty shrewd guess. He looked at Merrill.

"I can't answer that until I receive an assignment card, " he said coldly.

"Don't you think this foolishness has gone far enough?"

"Has it?" Merrill looked at Gregson. "Well?"

"West is right, " said Gregson calmly. "I only wanted to show you how futile

it is for you to get delusions of grandeur -and how easy it is to prick the

bubble. You were careless, Merrill. It is the first time, I admit, but the

question now is what are we going to do about it?" He looked at Jay. "Any

suggestions?"

"We can confront Merrill with Edwards. If the man recognizes him, we can put

Merrill to the test and prove his guilt. Edwards will be satisfied with

'justice' and Merrill can go to the converters. " Jay smiled at Merrill's

instinctive gesture.

"That is one way, " agreed Gregson quietly. "We would lose an officer for the

sake of a principle, but it might be worth it to kill incipient rumours. Is

that your only suggestion?"

"No. The obvious way out of the difficulty is to eliminate Edwards. That was

why I brought him in under arrest. No matter what happens now the man will

talk, if for no other reason than to prove himself smarter than the officer

who investigated the case. Me. " Jay shrugged at Gregson's expression.

"Edwards is an old man, almost forty. He has no friends now that Jenson is

dead. He will hardly be missed and soon forgotten. He would be due for

elimination soon anyway, so we aren't really going against the code. I can

mention to one or two people in the yeast plant where he worked that Edwards

killed his friend in a fit of temporary insanity and has been taken away for

treatment. They will believe me-no reason for them to do otherwise-and we will

have been saved a job for later on. "

"Good, " said Gregson, and Jay knew that he was applauding the prospect of a

'job' saved rather than anything else. Too many accidents would lead to an

ingrained distrust and suspicion of the psych-police, the very thing which

they wanted to avoid. Such suspicion would make further eliminations even more

difficult and, in time, would lead to open revolt and the dread specter of

mutiny.

"Shall I tell Kennedy to send Edwards to the converters' then?" Jay didn't

look at Merrill as he spoke and felt annoyed with himself for feeling a sense

of shame. Gregson nodded.

"Do that. I'll report to Psycho that he has been eliminated and have his card

expelled. " He rose and jerked his head in dismissal. "You've done a good job,

West. Merrill, you're off duty I believe. Get out of here and count yourself

lucky. But remember this, there won't be a second time. Any more bungling and

I'll be looking for a replacement officer. Now get out!"

They didn't speak as they left and Jay was glad of it. He could almost feel

the radiated hatred from the pale-eyed man and found difficulty in controlling

his own dislike. Silently he watched Merrill stride arrogantly from the

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TheSpace-BornByE.C.TubbCASTOFCHARACTERSTHESPACE-BORNJAYWESTHewasonthehornsofadilemma-andtheyweredangerouslysharp.SUSANCURTWAYShewantedchildren,butshelovedaman-andshecouldn'thaveboth.GEORGECURTWAYHeknewenoughtokillhim-butknewtoolittletosavehimself.GREGSONThepriceofhislifewasthedeathofanother.MERRILLH...

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