Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition, December 1955 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

IN CLOUDS OF GLORY 21 “All right,’ Demaris said. He turned to Sath. “Think there’s anything we need to know from him right now?” Sath shook his head negatively. ““Not immediately. I suggest we save him for later. We’ve got lots of work to do.” Demaris gestured to a couple of armed guards. “Put him away where he'll keep.” He looked the Geneiian in the eyes. “I'll be talking to you jater.”’ The man lifted his eyes off the floor, agreeing wordlessly. Rising, he went ‘with his guards. 4 Demaris plunged into the work of shaping the battered organization for the final, crippling blow. He entertained no thoughts of not completing his job. Mr. Sullivan would not be handed the weapon of a broken contract to wield when Demaris returned to New York and his revenge. Only gods and television audiences see the pattern of human events. What he did in his office touched on the histories of four races, but, for Demaris, the movement of men and armed forces translated itself into the shifting of reports from IN to HOLD to OUT, and the roar of rockets became the rattle and ping of bookkeeping machines. For two days, he and Sath reassigned, regrouped, deployed, redeployed, canceled, substituted, implemented, and supplied. Only the games-like transposition of figures from one table of organization to another furnished its own synthetic excitement. Demaris wondered, in a few brief snatches of stolen relaxation, whether he hated Mr. Sullivan most for double-crossing him or for placing him in a - position where the outcome of the battle became a foregone conclusion, now that his personal opponent was prematurely taken. From a strategist, he had descended to a clerk. It was war, but it was not magnificent. Well, at least it was over at the end of the second day. Between them, he and Sath had shaped Marak’s intelligence service into the means for com- pletely hamstringing Genis, now that her own expert was gone. Certainly, her own expert. As much as he was Marak’s own. Demaris felt his mouth curl sardonically. Sath dropped the last order into his OUT box, pushed his bench away from his desk, and stretched. Demaris rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. “It’s done,”’ Sath said with relieved finality. “‘Ail over.” Demaris growled agreement with his Second’s mood. Blinking, he peered around at the office. Half the subordinate staff was asleep on cots pushed into dimmer corners. The other shift half-slumped over its desks. No one had left the office since the Geneiid’s capture. Given enough breathing Space, Genis might have been able to throw out a desperate task-force to intercept the Marakian fleet, which had set out for Farla the moment the Geneiian saboteurs lost direction and purpose. “Call up the Overchief and let him know, will you?’ Demaris said to Sath. He felt washed-out. The job was done, and soon he’d be back on Earth. And this time, after he got through with Mr. Sullivan—provided he could dig him out of this sanctum—there might not even be any more Agency jobs. 4 | comiclhooks.conn