Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition, December 1955 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

14 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION Demaris groped for the meaning of the idiomatic phrase, which, like most such, had been tossed off casually. “Par-don,” he said, “Would you please speak more slowly?” “I say—'If I do say so myself.’ “Oh, yes. Of course. Everything seems to be all right.”’ “That’s quite an accent,’ the dakta apologized, obviously not having caught Demaris’ statement. _ Demaris strained for clarity. “I say—‘Everything seems O.K.’ ”’ “Oh! Oh, yes, sure. We really piled it on—much more thorough than usual. A matter of costuming to lend reality to an actor who might not have learned his part too well.” Demaris shook his head with annoyance at his own incomprehension. He sorted out the dakta’s syllables in his mind, trying to extract their meaning. “Would you like me to repeat?’’ the dakta volunteered. Demaris shook his head in disgust. There was really no point in this clumsy communication. The monster had superimposed a Marakian per- sonality where an Earthman had been, and there was not much that Earth- men and Marakians had to say to each other. ‘Never mind,”’ ‘he said, enunciating as clearly as possible. 99 “We do or die for the Agency— As much of the first as we can— Heroes who, mashed to glue, Spent their saved-up back pay, Are strange to the mem’ry of man.” IV The trip out to Marak in the Agency ship took about a week, T.S.T. In that time Demaris recuperated completely, until, by the time the ship ducked down on Marak’s nightside, he was at his physical peak. He grinned with delight at the steel-hard claws which sprang out from his fingertips at will. He paced his cabin relentlessly, a constant growl of satisfaction rumbling up his throat as he felt his supple tendons coiling and uncoiling in fluid motion. Yet, the bitterness was still there. Paradoxically, it was sprung from the same source as his satisfaction. If Earthmen could take one of their own kind and turn him into a duplicate of any other bipedal, bilaterally sym- metrical being—if they had learned so much, and mastered biology to such a point—why did Earthmen have to wear disguises at all? Why did Earth’s fighting men have to fight for every race but their own, and why was Earth itself so helpless? No, not helpless—spineless. Some day. Some day, maybe, things would be different: The growl in Demaris’ alien throat became a caged cough of rancor. The ship dropped him in a sparse area, flitting down ae lea leapine bgek to. Soe