Astounding British Edition, Volume 8, No. 11 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

4 = “Se eg mines for uniing mistakes, it’s going to be an unpopular vocation. And, as long as the Lord Protector of the moment is afraid that Number Two, Number Three, and so on have ideas about grabbing his job— which they generally do—he’s going to keep his fieet as strong as possible and their fieets so weak they aren’t dangerous. The best way to do that is to grab techs. If most of a base’s ships are sitting around waiting repair, the commander won’t be able to do much about any ambitions he may happen to have, Add that to the ob- vious fact that our whole _ technology has been on a downward spiral for the last three hundred years and you have your answer.” Krogson nodded gloomy agreement. “Sometimes I feel as if we were all on a dead ship falling into a dying sun,” he said with rare candor. His voice suddenly altered. “But in the meantime we have our necks to save. Get going, Schninkle!” Schninkle bobbed and darted out of the office. CHAPTER III. Ir was exactly ten o’clock in the morning when Sergeant Dixon of the Imperial Space Marines snapped to attention before his commanding officer. “Sergeant Dixon reporting as pale: sir!” His voice cracked a bit in spite of his best efforts to control it. The colonel looked at him coldly. “Nice of you to drop in, Dixon,” he said. “Shall we go ahead with our little chat?” — Kurt nodded nervously. “I have here,” said the colonel shuffling a sheaf of papers, “a report of an un- authorized expedition made by you into Off Limits territory.” “Which one do you mean, sir?” asked Kurt without ‘thinking. “Then there has been more than one?” asked the colonel quietly. Kurt started to stammer. Colonel Harris silenced him with a ges- ture of his hand. “I’m talking about the country to the north, the tableland back of the Twin Peaks.” “It’s a beautiful place!” burst out Kurt enthusiastically. “It’s . . . it’s like Imperial Headquarters must be. Dozens of little streams full of fish, trees heavy with fruit, small game so slow and stupid that they can be knocked over with a club. Why, the battalion could live there without hardly '” lifting a finger! ASTOUNDING SCIENCE ‘FICTION “I've no doubt that they could,” said the colonel. “Think of it, sir!” continued the ser- geant. “No more plowing details, no more hunting details, no more nothing but taking it easy!” “You might add to your list of ‘no mores,’ no more tech schools,” said Colonel Harris. “I’m quite aware that the place is all you say it is, sergeant. As a result I’m placing all information that pertains to it in a “Top Secret’ category. That applies to what is inside your head as well!” “But, sir!” protested Kurt. “If you could only see the place—” “I have,’ broke in the colonel, “thirty years ago.” Kurt looked at him in amazement, “Then why are we still on the plateau?” ; “Because my commanding officer did just what I’ve done, classified the infor- mation “Top Secret.’ Then he gave me thirty days extra detail on the plows. After he took my stripes away that is.” Colonel Harris rose slowly to his feet. “Dixon,” softly, “it’s not every man who can be a noncommissioned officer in the Space Marines. Sometimes we guess wrong, When we do we do something about it!” There. was the hissing crackle of distant summer lightning in his voice and storm clouds ‘seemed to gather about his head. “Wipe those chevrons off!” he roared. Kurt looked at him in mute protest. “You heard me!” the colonel thundered. ““Yes-s-s, sir,” stuttered Kurt, reluctantly drawing his forearm across his forehead and wiping off the three triangles of white grease paint that marked him a sergeant in the Imperial Space Marines. Quivering with shame, he took a tight grip on his temper and choked back the angry protests that were trying to force their way past his lips. “Maybe,” suggested the colonel, “you’d like to make a complaint to the LG. He’s due in a few days and he might reverse my | decision, It has happened before, you know.” “No, sir,” said Kurt woodenly. “Why not?” demanded Harris. “When I was sent out as a scout for the hunting parties I was given direct orders not to range farther than twenty kilometers to the north. I went sixty.” Suddenly his forced composure broke. “I couldn’t help it, sir,” he said. “There was something behind those peaks that kept pulling me and pulling me and”—he threw up his hands— “vou know the rest.” Oo he said — CORMICLOCOKS.(EO) th