Anderson, Poul - Starways

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"'FIVE OF OUR WORLDS ARE MISSING!"

That was the essence of the report that shocked the galactic Nomads at their

annual meeting. For each of the five mighty star-ships reported vanished was a

world of its own-a man-made, self-sustaining city-state housing thousands of

people.

The Nomads themselves were an unplanned by product of man's conquest of the

stars. They were the gypsies of the distant future, the restless rovers of

outer space. But to Joachim of the Peregrine they represented a way of life

that was to be dearly defended.

So it fell to him to make his own world-ship the bait in a cosmic trap set to

catch the galaxy's unknown foemen!

STAR WAYS

POUL ANDERSON

ACE BOOKS, INC.

1120 Avenue of the Americas

New York 36, N.Y.

STAR WAYS

An Ace Book, by arrangement with Avalon Books.

To the MFS-

all of them

Printed in U.S.A.

CHAPTER I

Rendezvous

THERE IS A PLANET beyond the edge of the known, and its name is Rendezvous.

Few worlds are more lovely to the eyes of men. As the weary ships come in from

space and loneliness, they see a yellow star against the great cold

constellations; and nearing, they see its crowded glory swell to incandescence.

The planet grows as the ships strain closer; it becomes a sapphire shield banded

with clouds, blurred with rain and wind and mountain mists. The ships sweep

around the planet, mooring themselves to an orbit between the moons, and it is

not long before the boats spring from them and rush down out of the sky to land.

And then, for a little while, the planet comes alive with noise and movement as

human life spills free.

This might have been Earth, in some forgotten age before the glaciers went

south. Here, there is the broad green swell of land, reaching out to a remote

horizon. Far away, mountains begin; on the other side is the sea. The sky is

big here, lifting above the world to blue immensity.

But the difference is what haunts you. There are trees, but they are not the

oak and pine and elm-or palm, baobab, sequoia-of Earth, and the wind blows

through their leaves with an alien sound. The fruits of the trees are sweet,

pungent, luscious to eat, but always there is the hint of a taste men never knew

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Anderson, Poul - Starways

before. The birds are not yours; the animals

of plain and forest have- six legs and a greenish shimmer to their fur. At

night, the constellations bear the look of strangers, and there may be four

moons in the sky.

No, it is not Earth, and the knowledge becomes a hunger in you and will not let

you stay. But you have never seen Earth; and by now, the hunger has become so

much a part of you that you could not find a home there, either. For you are a

Nomad.

And only you have learned where to find this quiet place. To all others,

Rendezvous lies beyond the edge of the known.

CHAPTER 11

Secret War?

THERE WAS nobody else on the boat, They had all swarmed off to pitch their

booths and mingle with the rest, to frolic and fight and transact hard-headed

business. Peregrine Joachim Henry's footsteps echoed bellow between the bare

metal walls as be entered the airlock. The boat was a forty-meter column of

steely comfortlessness, standing among its fellows at the end of Nomad Valley.

The temporary village had mushroomed a good two kilometers from the boats.

Ordinarily, Joachim would have been down there, relaxed and genial; but he was a

captain, and the Captain's Council was meeting,. And this was no assembly to

miss, he thought. Not with the news be had to give them.

He took the gravity shaft, floating along the upward beam to the top bunkroom

where he had his box. Emerging,

he crossed the floor, opened the chest. Joachim decided that a shave was in

order, and ran the depilator quickly over his face.

He didn't usually bother with regalia-like all Nomads, be wore any outfit he

cared to, or went nude, on a voyage. Visits to planetary surfaces didn't

ordinarily require him to dress formally; but the uniform- was expected of him.

"We're a hidebound bunch, really," he reflected aloud as he glanced in the

mirror. It showed him a stocky man of medium height, dark-skinned, with

grizzled hair and squinted gray eyes in a mesh of crow's-feet. The face was

blunt and battered, crossed with deep Lines, but it wasn't old. He was in early

middle age-sixty-five years-but there was vitality in him.

The kilt, with its red-black-and-green Peregrine tartan, was tight around his

waist. Had the, damn thing shrunk? No, he was afraid he bad expanded. Not

much, but Jere would have kidded him about it, and then let out the garment for

him.

Jere. It was fifteen years now since she had made the Long Trip. And the

children were grown and married. Well-He went on dressing. Over his light

shirt be slipped an elaborately embroidered vest, with the Joachim coat of arms

woven into the pattern. His sleeve bore the insignia of rank-captain-and

service-astrogation. Buskins went on the legs; pooch and bolstered gun at the

waist, and plumed bonnet on the close-cropped head. Because it was hereditary

and expected of him, be wore the massive gold necklace and its diamond-crusted

pendant. A purple and scarlet cloak flapped over his shoulders, gauntlets on

his hands.

Joachim crossed the bunkroom and went down the shaft, out the airlock, and down

the retractable gangway ladder again. A dim path wound up from the valley and

be took it, moving with a slightly rolling, bearlike gait. The sky was utterly

blue overhead; sunlight spilled on the wide green sweep of land; wind brought

him the faint crystal laughter of a bellbird. No doubt of it, man wasn't built

to sit in a

metal shell and hurry from star to star. It wasn't strange that so many had

dropped out of Nomad life. Who had that girl been-Sean's girl, from Nerthus-?

"Salute, Hal." said a voice behind him.

He turned. "Oh, Laurie. Haven't seen you for long."

Vagabond MacTeague Laurie, a walking rainbow in his uniform, fell into step

beside Joachim. "Just got in yesterday," he explained. "We're the last, I

suppose, and we carried word from the Wayfarer and the Pilgrim that they

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Anderson, Poul - Starways

couldn't make it this year. So this one reckons all the ships are accounted for

by now-anyway, Traveler Thorkild said he was calling the meeting for today."

"Must be. We spoke to the Vagrant out near Canopus, and they weren't coming.

Had some kind of deal on; I suppose a new planet with trading possibilities, and

they want to get there before anybody else does."

MacTeague whistled. "They're really going far afield. What were you doing out

that way?"

"Just looking around," said Joachim innocently. "Nothing wrong in that.

Canopus is still free territory; no ship has

a claim on it yet."

"Why go on a jump when you've got all the trade you could want right in your own

territory?"

"I suppose your crew agrees with you?"

"Well, most of them. We've got some, of course, that keep hollering for 'new

horizons,' but so far they've been voted down. But-hm." MacTeague's eyes

narrowed. "If you've been prowling around Canopus, Hal, then there's money out

there."

The Captains' Hall stood near the edge of a bluff. More than two centuries ago,

when the Nomads found Rendezvous and chose it for their meeting place, they had

raised the Hall. Two hundred years of rain, wind, and sunlight had fled; and

still the Hall was there. It might be standing when all the Nomads were gone

into darkness.

Man was a small and hurried thing; his spaceships spanned

the light-years, and his feverish death-driven energy made the skies of a

thousand worlds clangorous with his works, but the old immortal dark reached

farther than he could imagine.

The other captains were also arriving, a swirl of color and a rumble of voices.

There were only about thirty this rendezvous-four ships had reported they

wouldn't be coming, and then there were the missing ones. The captains were all

past their youth, some of them quite old.

Each Nomad ship was actually a clan-an exogamous group claiming a common

descent. There were, on the average, some fifteen hundred people of all ages

belonging to each vessel, with women marrying into their husbands' ships. The

captaincy was hereditary, each successor being elected from the men in that

family, if any were qualified.

But names cut across ships. There had only been sixteen families in the

Traveler I, which had started the whole Nomad culture, and adoption had not

added a great many more. Periodically, when the vessels grew overcrowded, the

younger people would get together and found a new one, with all the Nomads

helping to build them a ship. That was the way the fleet had expanded. But the

presidency of the Council was hereditary with the Captain of the Traveler, third

of that name in the three hundred years since the undying voyage began-and he

was always a Thorkild.

Wanderer, Gypsy, Hobo, Voyageur, Bedouin, Swagman, Trekker, Explorer,

Troubedour, Adventurer, Sundowner, A,fi(.Yrant-joachim watched the captains go

in, and wondered at the back of his mind what the next ship would do for a name.

There was a tradition which forbade using a name not taken from some human

language.

When everyone else had entered, Joachim mounted the porch himself and walked

into the Hall. It was a big and goodly place, its pillars and paneling carved

with intricate care, hung with tapestries and polished metal reliefs. Whatever

you could say against the Nomads, you had to admit they were good at

handicrafts.

Joachim sank into his chair at the table, Crossed his legs, and fumbled for his

pipe. By the time he had lit up and was emitting cheerful blue clouds, Traveler

Thorkild Helmuth was calling the meeting to order. Thorkild was a tall, gaunt,

and stern-faced man, white of hair and beard, stiffly erect

in his carved darkwood seat.

"In the name of Cosmos, rendezvous," he began formally, Joachim didn ' t pay

much attention to the ritual that followed,

"All ships except five are now present or accounted for," concluded Thorkild,

"and therefore I call this meeting to discuss facts, determine policy, and make

proposals to lay before the voters. Has anyone a matter to present?"

There was, as usual, quite a bit, none of it very important, The Romany wanted a

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Anderson, Poul - Starways

territory extending fifty light-years about Thossa to be recognized as her

own-no other Nomad ship to trade, exploit, build, organize, or otherwise make

use of said region without permission of the assignee, This was on grounds of

the Romany's having done most of the explore ation thereabouts. After some

discussion, that was granted,

The Adventurer wished to report that the Shan of Baijaz. Kaui on Davenigo,

otherwise known as Ettalume IV, had laid a new tax on traders. The planet being

known to the Coordination Service, it wasn't possible for Nomads to overthrow

the Shan by violence, but with some help it might be possible to subvert his

government and get a friendlier prince. Was anyone interested? Well, the

Bedouin might be; they could talk it over later

The Stroller had had more direct difficulties with the Cordys. It seemed the

ship had been selling guns to a race who weren't supposed to be ready for such

technology, and Coordination Service bad found out about it. All Nomads had

better watch their step for a while.

The Fiddlefoot was going to Spica, where she intended to barter for Solarian

products, and wanted to know if anyone cared to buy a share in her enterprise.

Goods hauled clear from Sol were expensive.

It went on-proposal, debate, argument, report, ultimate decision. Joachim

yawned aid scratched himself. His chance came

finally, and lie flicked a finger upward. "Captain Peregrine Joachim,"

acknowledged Thorkild. "Do you speak for your ship?"

"For myself and a few others," said Joachim, "but my ship will follow me in

this. I've got a report to make."

"Proceed."

Then eyes turned on him, down the length of the Council table.

Joachim began recharging Ms pipe. "This one has been sort of curious for the

last few years," he said, "and he's been keeping his eyes open. You might think

I was a Cordy, the way I've been reconstructing the crime. And I think it is a

crime, or maybe a war. A quiet but very thorough war." He paused calculatingly

to light his tobacco. "In the past ten years or so, we've lost five ships.

They never reported back to anyone. What does that mean? It could happen once

or twice by sheer accident, but you know bow careful we are I-I-I dealing with

the unknown. Five ships is just too many to lose. Especially when we lose them

all in the same region."

"Now hold on, Captain Peregrine," said Thorkild. "That isn't so. Those ships

disappeared in the direction of Sagittari -but that includes a hell of a lot of

space. Their courses wouldn't have come within many parsecs of each other."

"No-o-o. Maybe not. Still, the Union covers even more territory than this

volume of space where our people vanished."

"Are you implying- No, that's ridiculous. Many other ships have been through

that region without coming to barm, and they report that it's completely

uncivilized. Such planets as we touched at have been thoroughly backward. Not

a mechanical culture-on even one of them."

"Uh-huh." Joachim nodded. "Isn't that an odd fact? In so big a chunk of space,

there should be some race which has at least gotten as far as steam engines."

"Well, we've touched on-hm." Thorkild stroked his

beard.

Romany Ortega Pedro, who had a photographic memory, spoke up. "The volume

within which those ships disappeared is, let us say, twenty or thirty million

cubic light-years. It contains perhaps four million suns, of which virtually

all are bound to have planets. It's an unpromising region precisely because it

is so backward, and few ships have gone there. To my knowledge, Nomads have

stopped at less than a thousand stars in that volume. Now really, Joachim, do

you

consider that a fair sample?"

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Anderson, Poul - Starways

'No. I just mention it as a little-indication, shall we say? I repeat, this

one denies that five ships in ten years could have been lost because of unknown

diseases, treacherous natives, trepidation vortices, or the like. Their

captains weren't that stupid.

"I've talked with Nomads who've been there, and also with outsiders-explorers,

traders, scouts looking for colony sites, anyone. Or any thing, since I also

got hold of some otherlings"-he meant nonhuman spacemen-"who bad passed through

or stopped by. I even talked my way into the Corcly office on Nerthus, and got

a look at their Galactic

Survey records.

"Space is too big. Even this little splinter of the Galaxy that man has

traversed is larger than we can think-and we've spent our lives in the void.

It's thirty thousand lightyears to Galactic center. There are some hundred

billion suns in the Galaxyl Man will never be able to think con-

cretely in such terms. It just can't be done.

"So a lot of information lies around in the shape of isolated facts, and nobody

coordinates it and sees what the facts mean. Even the Service can't do it-they

have troubles enough running the U@on without worrying about the frontiers and

the beyond-frontiers. When I started investi-

gating, I found I was the first being who'd even thought of this."

"And what," asked Thorkild quietly, "have you found out?"

"Not too much, but it's damned indicative. There have been otherling ships

which vanished in that region, too. But Coordination and Survey never bad any

trouble. If something had happened to one of their vessels, they'd have

spyboats out there so fast they'd meet themselves coming back. You see what it

means? Somebody knows a lot about our civilization-enougb to know who it's safe

to molest.

"Then there are any number of E-planets-which is what you'd expect-and not too

many of them seem to have natives-which is what you wouldn't expect. They-well,

there are at least a dozen whicl-i remind you of Rendezvous, beautiful green

worlds with not a building or a road in sight."

"Maybe they're shy, like the ones on this planet," said Vagabond MacTeague.

"We'd been here for fifty years before we knew there were natives. And a

similar case bappened on Nerthus, you remember."

"The Nerthusians have an unusual sort of culture," said Romany Ortega

thoughtfully. "No, most likely those worlds you speak of are really

uninhabited."

"All right," said Joachim. "There's more to tell. In a few cases, there were

E-planets with what we'd considered a normal culture: houses, farming, and so

on. Contact was made rather easily in all those instances, and in general the

natives seemed not unfamiliar with the sight of spaceships. But when I checked

the reports against each other, I found that none of those planets bad been

visited before by anyone from our civilization."

"Now bold on," began Thorkild. "You aren't suggesting-"

"There's more yet." Joachim interrupted. "Unfortunately, few scientifically

minded expeditions have been in thethe X region, so I couldn't get an accurate

description of

flora and fauna. However, a couple of those I talked to had been struck by what

seemed remarkably similar plants and trees on some of these supposedly

uninhabited E-planets. Galactic Survey had some helpful information there. They

had noted more than similarity-tbey had found identity of a good dozen plant

species on six uninhabited worlds. Explain that awayl"

"How did Survey explain it?" asked Fiddlefoot Ko-arna.

"They didn't. Too much else to do. Their robotfile bad integrated a reasonable

probability that the similarity was due to transplantation, maybe accidental, by

a Tiunran expedition."

"Tiunra? I don't think I've beard-"

"Probably you wouldn't have. They're the natives of an M-planet on the other

side of Vega. Strange cultiire-tlicy bad space travel a good five hundred years

before man left Sol, but they never were interested in colonization. Even

today, I understand they don't hive much to do with the

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Anderson, Poul - Starways

Union. They're just uninterested.

"Anyway, I took the trouble to write to Tiuiira. Sent the letter off on Nerthus

a good two years ,igo, I asked whoever was in charge of their survey records

about the X region, What bad they found out? What had been done by

them, or to them, out here?

"I got my answer six months ago, when we stopped back at Nerthus. Very polite;

thev'd even written in human Bqsic. Yes, their ships had gone through the X

region about four centuries ago. But thev hadn't noticed the things I

mentioned, and were sure they hadn't done anv transplanting, accidentally or

otherwise. And they had lost four ships.

"All right." Joachim leaned back, sprawling his logs under the table, and blew a

series of smole rings. "There you have it, lads. Make what you will of it."

Silence, then. The wind blowing in tbrou-h the open door stirred the

tapestries. A light metal plaque rang like a tiny gong.

Finally Ortega spokee, as if with an effort; "What about the Tiunrans? Didn't

they do anything about their missing ships?"

"No, except leave this part of space alone," said Joachim. "And they haven't

informed Coordination?"

'Not as far as I know. But then, Coordination never asked them."

Tborkild looked bleak. "This is a serious matter."

"Now there's an understatement," drawled Joachim.

"You haven't absolutely proved your case."

"Maybe not. But it sure ought to be looked into."

"Very well, then. Let's accept your guess. The X region, perhaps the entire

Great Cross, is under the rule of a secretive and hostile civilization

technologically equal to ours-or superior, for all we know. I still can't

imagine how you'd conceal the kind of technology involved. just consider the

neutrino emission of a large atomic power plant, for instance. You can find

your way across many lightyears to a planet where they're using atomic energy,

just by the help of a neutrino detector. Well, maybe they have some kind of

screen." Thorkild tapped the table with a lean forefinger. "So, they don't like

us and they've spied us out a bit. What does that imply?"

"Conquest-they figure to invade the Union?" asked MacTeague.

Trekker Petroff said, "They may just want to be left alone."

"What could they hope to gain by war?" protested Ortega.

"I'm not guessing about motives," said Joachim. "Those creatures aren't human.

I say we'd better assume they're hostile."

"All right," said Thorkild. "You've given most thought to this business. What

follows?"

"Why, look at the map," said Joachim mildly. "The Union, both as a cultural and

a semipolitical unit, is expanding inward toward Galactic center, Sagittari.

The X empire lies

squarely across the Union's path. X, however peaceful, may feel that

countermeasures are called for.

"And where are tve? On the Sagittari-ward frontier of the Union, and spreading

into the unmapped regions beyond. Right smack between tl-le Union and X. The

Coordination Service of the Union doesn't like Nomads, and X has already shown

what he thinks of us. We're the barbarians-right between the upper and nether

millstones!"

Another pause. Death they could face, but extinction of their entire tribe was

a ntimbin,, concept; and the whole Nomad history had been one long flight from

cultural absorption.

Thirty-odd ships, with some fifty thousand humans-

w,hat can be done?

Joachim answered the unspoken cry with a few slow

words:

"I've been thinking about this for some little while, friends, and have some

sort of an answer. The first requirement of any operation is intelligence, and

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Anderson, Poul - Starways

we don't even know if X

is a menace.

"Here's what this one proposes. Let's just keep the matter quiet for the time

being. Naturally, no ship will enter the Great Cross, but other-wise we can go

on as usual. But I'll make a scout of the Peregrine, and we'll spy out

the unknowns."

"Eh?" Tborkild blinked at him.

"Sure. I'll tell most of my crew, at first, that it's an exploratory venture.

We'll snoop around as we ordinarily do, and I'll direct the snooping the way I

tbink'll be most useful. We can fight if we must, and once we go into

hyperdrive we can't be followed or shot at."

"Well, that sounds-very good," said Thorkild.

"Of course," smiled the Peregrine, "we can't be hampered in our work. I'll want

a formal action-in-council authorizing me or my crew to break, bend, or even

obey any law of the Nomads, the Union, or anybody else that may seem

convenient.'

'Hmmm-1 think I see where this could lead," said MacTeague.

"Also," said Joachim blandly, "the Peregrine will be in a primitive region-and

hostile where it's not primitive-and won't have the normal chance to turn an

honest credit. We'll want a-say a twenty percent share in all profits made

between now and next rendezvous."

"Twenty percent!" choked Ortega.

"Sure. We're risking our whole ship, aren't we?"

CHAPTER III

I l a l o a

PEREGRINE THORKILD SEAN could not forget the girl who had stayed behind on

Nerthus. She had gone alone into the city, Stellamont, and had not come back.

After a while, he had taken a flier and gone the twelve hundred kilometers to

her fatber's home. There was no hope-she couldn't endure the Nomad life.

Two years can be a long time, and memories blur. Thorldld Sean walked through

the Nomad camp under the heaven of Rendezvous and knew how far away Nerthus was.

Darkness had come to the valley-iiot the still shadow of Nerthus, which was

almost another Earth, but the living, shining night of Rendezvous. Fires burned

high, and the camp was one babel. The trading had gone on till it was done.

The Captains' Council had met, and its proposals had been voted on by the men of

the ships-now the time of rendezvous was ready to culminate in the Mutiny. Un-

married women were not allowed to attend that three-day saturnalia-the Nomads

were strict with their maidens-but for everyone else it would be a colorful

memory to take skyward.

Except for me, thought Sean.

He passed a bonfire, crossing the restless circle of its light-a tall slender

young man, fair-skinned, brown-haired, blue-eyed, his face thin and mobile, his

movements angular

and loose-jointed.

Somebody bafled him, but be ignored it and went on his way. Not tonight, not

tonight. Presently the camp was bebind him. He found the trail he was looking

for and followed it steeply upward out of the dale. The night of

Rendezvous closed in on him.

This was not Earth, nor was it Nerthus, or any other planet where men had built

their homes. He could walk free here, and no hdden menace of germ or mold or

poisoned tooth waited for him; yet somehow Sean felt that he had never been on

so foreign a world.

Three moons were up, One was a far white shield, cold in the velvet sky; the

second a glowing amber crescent, and the third almost full and hurtling between

the stars so that he could see it moving. Three shadows followed him over the

long, whispering grass, and one of them moved by itself. The light was so

bright that the shadows were not black; they were a dusky blue on the

moon-frosted ground.

Overhead were the stars, constellations unknown to the home of humanity. The

Milky Way was still there, a bridge of light, and he could see the cold

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Anderson, Poul - Starways

brilliance of Spica and Canopus, but most of heaven was strange.

The hills into which he went stirred with moonlight and shadow. Forest lifted

on one side of his path, high feathery leaved trees overgrown with blossoming

vines. On the other side there was grass and bush and lonely copse. Now and

then be saw one of the six-leged animals of Rendezvous. None of them were

afraid; it was as if they knew be wasn't going to shoot at them.

Light moved here and there. The glowing insects bobbed on frail wings over the

phosphorescent glow of lamp-flowers. Sean let the sounds of the night flow into

him. The memory of his wife drowned as if in rippling water, and the new

eagerness within him was a quiet, steady burning.

She stood where she had told him to come, leaning against a tree and watching

him stride across the hills. His footsteps grew swifter until he was running.

The Nomads had looked for an Earthlike planet-E-planet -outside of the ordinary

space lanes, a meeting place which no others would be likely to find. They had

not explored much beyond the site chosen for their gatherings, but even so it

had been a shock, fifty years later, when they learned that Rendezvous had

natives after all, The laws on the Union were of small concern, but aborigines

could mean trouble.

These dwellers bad been a gentle sort, though, remarkably humanoid but

possessing a culture unlike any ever created by man. They bad sought out the

newcomers, had learned the Nomad dialect with ease, and bad asked many

questions. But they had not told much concerning themselves; nor were the

Nomads especially interested, once it became clear that these beings had nothing

to trade.

The natives had courteously presented the Nomads with the area they already

held, asking only that they not be molested elsewhere, and this the humans had

readily voted into law. Since then, an occasional native had shown up at the

assemblies, to watch for a while and disappear again -nothing else, for a good

hundred and fifty years.

Blind, thought Sean. We're blind as man has always been. There was a time when

he imagined he was the only intelligent life in the universe-and he hasn't

changed much.

The thought died in the wonder that stood before him. He stopped, and the noise

of his heart was loud in his ears. "Ilaloa."

She stood looking at him, not moving or spealdng. The loveliness of her caught

at his throat.

She could have been human-almost-had she not been so unhumanly fair. The

Lorinyans were what man might be in a million years of upward evolution. Their

bodies were slim and full of a liquid grace, marble-wbite;; the bair on their

beads was like silk, floating about the shoulders and down the back, the color

of blued silver. He had first seen Ilaloa when the Peregrine came to Rendezvous

and he had wandered off to be alone.

"I came, Ilaloa," he said, feeling the clumsiness of words. She remained quiet,

and he sighed and sat down at her f eet.

He didn't have to talk to her. With men, be was a lonely being, forever locked

into the night of his own skull, crying to his kindred and never knowing them or

feeling their nearness. Language was a bridge and a barrier alike, and Sean

knew that men talk because they are afraid to be silent. But with Ilaloa he

could know quiet; there was under-

standing and no loneliness.

Let the native females be! It was Nomad law which needed little enforcement on

other planets-who was attracted by something that looked like a caricature of

man? But no spear had thudded into his flesh when he met this being who was not

less but more than a woman; and there had, after all, been nothing to disgrace

them.

Ilaloa sat down beside him. He looked at her face-the smooth, lovely planes and

curves of it, arched brows over huge violet eyes, small tilted nose, delicate

mouth.

"When do you leave?" she asked. Her voice was low,

richly varied.

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"In three days," he answered. "Let's not talk about it."

"But we should," she said gravely. "Where will you go?"

"Out." He waved his hand at the thronging stars. "From sun to sun, I don't know

where. It will be into new territory this time, I hear."

"To there?" She pointed at the Great Cross.

'Why-yes. Toward Sagittari. How did you know?"

She smiled. "We hear talk, even in the forest. Will you come back, Sean?"

"If I live. But it won't be for at least two years-a little more in your

reckoning. Maybe four years, or six, I don't know." He tried to grin. "By

then, Ilaloa, you will be-whatever your people do, and have clffldren of your

own."

"Have you none, Sean?"

It was the most natural thing in the universe to tell her of what bad happened.

She nodded seriously and laid her fingers across his.

"How lonely you must be." There was no sentimentality in her voice; it was

almost mattter-of-fact. But she understood.

"I get along," be said. With a sudden rising of bitterness: "But I don't want

to speak of going away. That will happen all too soon."

"if you do not want to leave," she said, "then stay."

He shook his head heavily. "No. It's impossible. I couldn't stay, even on a

planet of my own kind. For three- hundred years the Nomads have been living

between the stars. Those who couldn't endure it dropped out, and those from the

planets who fitted into our kind of life were taken in. Don't you see, it's

more even than habit and culture by now. We've been bred for this."

"I know," she said. "I only wanted to make it clear in your own mind."

"I'm going to miss you," he told her. His words stumbled over each other. "I

don't dare think how much I'll miss you, Ilaloa."

"You have only known me for some few days." "It seems longer-or shorter-I don't

know. Never mind. Forget it. I've no right to say some things."

"Maybe you do," she answered.

He turned around, looking at her, and the night was wild with the sudden clamor

of his heart.

CHAPTERIV

Trevelyan Micah

'YOU WILL GO to the Sagittarian frontier of the Stellar

Union," the machine had said. "The planet Carsten's Star

111, otherwise called Nerthus, is recommended as a starting

point. Thereafter-"

The directive had been general and left the agent almost complete discretion.

Theoretically, he was free to refuse. But if he had been the sort to do that,

Trevelyan Micah would not have been a field agent of the Stellar Union

Coordination Service in the first place.

The psychology of it was complex. The Cordy agents were in no sense

swashbucklers, and they knew the fear of death often enough to realize that

there was nothing glamorous about it. They believed their work to be valuable,

but were not especially altruistic. Perhaps one could say that they loved the

work.

His aircar went on soundless gravity beams over the western half of North

Side 9

Anderson, Poul - Starways

America. The land was big and green

below him, forest and rivers and grass waving out to the edge of the world.

Scattered homes reflected sunlight, upward, isolated houses and small village

groupings. Though, in a way, all Earth was a city by now, be thought. When

transportation and communication make any spot on the planet practically next

door, and the whole is a socioeconomic unity, that world is a city-with half a

billion people in

it!

The sky was full of aircraft, gleaming ovoids against the high blue. Trevelyan

let his autopilot steer him through

the fourth-level traffic and sat back smoking a thoughtful cigarette. There was

a lot of movement on and over Earth these days. Few were ever really still; you

couldn't be, if you had a job in Africa and a-probably temporary -dwelling in

South America, and were planning a holiday at Arctic Resort with your Australian

and Chinese friends. Even the interstellar colonists, deliberately primitive

though they were, tended to scatter themselves across their planets.

There had been no economic reason for the outward surge of man when the

hyperdrive was invented; the emigration was a mute revolt of people for whom

civilization no longer bad any need. They wanted to be of use, wanted something

greater than themselves to which they could devote their fives-if it were only

providing a living for themselves and their children. Cybernetic society had

taken that away from them. If you weren't in the upper ten percent)t-a

scientist, or an artist of more than second-rate talent-there was nothing you

could do which a machine couldn't do better.

So they moved out. It bad not happened overnight, nor had it fully happened

yet. But the balance had shifted, both socially and genetically. And a planet,

the bulk of whose population was creative, necessarily controlled the

intangibles that in the long run would shape all society. There was scientific

research; there was the education that directs men's thoughts, and the art that

colors them. There was above all an understanding of the whole huge turbulent

process.

Trevelyan's thoughts ended as the autopilot buzzed a signal. He was approaching

the Rocky Mountains now, and Diane's home was near.

It was a small unit perched almost on the Continental Divide. Around it, the

mountains rose white and colossal, and overhead the sky was pale with cold.

When Trevelyan stepped out, the chill struck like a knife through his thin

garments. He ran to the door, which scanned him as he

neared and opened for him, and shivered once he was

inside.

"Diane!" he exclaimed. "You choose the damnedest places to live. Last year it

was the Amazon Basin. . . . When are you moving to Mars?"

"When I want to multiplex it," she said. "Hullo, Micah."

Her casual voice was belied by the kiss she gave him. She was a small woman,

with something young and wistful about

her.

"New project?"

"Yes. Coming along pretty well, too. I'll show you." She touched keys on the

multiplex and the tape began its playback. Trevelyan sat down to absorb the

flow of stimulicolor patterns, music, traces of scent and associated taste. It

was abstract, but it called up before him the mountains and

all mountains which had ever been.

"It's good," he said. "I felt as if I were ten kilometers

up on the edge of a glacier."

"You're too literal," she answered, stroking his hair. "This is supposed to be

a generalized impression. I'd like to work in some genuine cold, but that's too

distracting. I have to settle for things like ice-blue color and treble notes."

"And you say you never learned the cybernetic theory

of art?"

Side 10

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摘要：

Anderson, Poul - Starways"'FIVE OF OUR WORLDS ARE MISSING!"That was the essence of the report that shocked the galactic Nomads at their annual meeting. For each of the five mighty star-ships reported vanished was a world of its own-a man-made, self-sustaining city-state housing thousands of people....

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Anderson, Poul - Starways

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