Astounding British Edition, Volume 8, No. 11 — page 45: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BLOOD BANK while in the tolerant sanctuary of the Wan- derer. The Tragorian staff kept stealing fur- tive glances at these out-system females, and the Cophian wondered about their covetous- ness. “Why do you keep watching the strange women, E Pok?” he asked the interpreter a few minutes later. The small man sighed. “Evidently you have not seen Tragorian women.” Roki had seen a few heavily draped figures on the street outside, clinging tightly to the arms of men, but there hadn’t been much to look at. Still, Pok’s hint was enough to give him an idea. : “You don’t mean Tragor III is one of those places where evolution has pushed the sexes further apart?” “T do,” Pok said sadly. “The feminine 1.Q. is seldom higher than sixty, the height is seldom higher than your jacket pocket, and the weight is usually greater than your own. As one traveler put it: ‘short, dumpy, and dumb’. Hence, the Purdah.” “Because you don’t like looking at “Not at all. Theirs is our standard of beauty. The purdah is because they are frequently too stupid to remember which man is their husband.” “Sorry I asked.” “Not at all,” said Pok, whose tongue was being loosened by the yeasty brew. “It is our tragedy. We can bear it.” “Well, you’ve got it better than some planets. On Jevah, for instance, the men evolved into sluggish spidery little fellows, and the women are big husky brawlers.” “Ah yes. But Sol is the most peculiar of all, is it not?” said Pok. “How do you mean?” Roki carefully controlled his voice and tried to look bored. “Why. the Vamir, of course.” Because of the fact that Pok’s eyes failed te move toward any particular part of the room, Roki concluded that there were no Solarians in the place, “Shall we visit the Court of Kings now, E Pok?” he suggested. The small man was obviously not anxious to go. He murmured about ugly brutes, lingered over his drink, and gazed wistfully at a big dusky Sanbe woman. “Do you suppose she would notice me if I spoke to her?” the small interpreter asked. “Probably. So would her five husbands. Let’s go.” Tie sighed mournfully and came with im. 43 The Court of Kings catered to a peculiar clientele indeed; but not a one, so far as Roki could see, was completely inhuman. There seemed to be at least one common denominator to all intelligent life: it was bipedal and bimanual. Four legs was the most practical number for any animal on any planet, and it seemed that nature had nothing else to work with. When she de- cided to give intelligence to a species, she taught him to stand on his hind legs, freeing his forefeet to become tools of his intellect. And she usually taught him by making him use his hands to climb. As a Cophian bio- logist had said, “Life first tries to climb a tree to get to the stars. When it fails, it comes down and invents the high-C drive.” Again, Roki looked around for some- thing that might be a Solarian. He saw several familiar species, some horned, some tailed, scaled, or heavily furred. Some stumbled and drooped as if Tragorian gravity weighted them down. Others bounced about as if floating free in space. One small creature, the native of a planet with an eight-hour rotational period, curled up on the table and fell asleep. Roki guessed that ninety per cent of the cus- tomers were of human ancestry, for at one time during the history of the galaxy, Man had sprung forth like a sudden blossom to inherit most of space. Some said they came from Sol III, but there was no positive evidence. As if echoing his thoughts, Pok suddenly gtunted. “I will never believe we are des- cended from those surly creatures.” Roki looked up quickly, wondering if the small interpreter was telepathic. But Pok ‘was sneering toward the doorway. The Cophian followed his tipsy gaze and saw a man enter. The man was distinguished only by his height and by the fact that he ap- peared more human, in the classical sense, than most of the other customers. He wore a uniform—maroon jacket and gray trousers —and it matched the ones Roki had seen from a distance at the spaceport. So this was a Solarian. He stared hard, trying to take in much at once. The man wore a short beard, but there seemed to be something peculiar about the jaw. It was —predatory, perhaps. The skull was mas- sive, but plump and rounded like a baby’s, and covered with sparse yellow fur. The eyes were quick and sharp, and seemed almost to leap about the room. He was at least seven feet tall, and there was a ConniclooolxS: (C@)