Astounding Science Fiction (British edition) — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

COMMENCEMENT NIGHT 83 Ted began at the beginning, with the confession that the island children had learned the crawl from himself. The graying director of Project Peace reacted about as Ted had imagined: With anger—controlled, but con- temptuous. Ted accepted the man’s bitter rebuke without reply. Lean and dignified in his robe and sandals, Dr. Finley paced over to a frosty carafe of water and poured himseif a drink. “And I gather, Jepson, from the condition of your clothes, that you’ve been topside just now.” “Yes, sir.” “Why? Why did you see fit to jeopardize the project again?” “I went up because the islanders have at least nine children among them capable of precognition. There’s a sight-sound record in my quarters proving they knew of the meteorite’s coming at least three minutes in advance. Shall I get it for you?” Finley looked away, sipped his water in silence for a time. ‘“‘Not now,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m inclined to believe you. Something of this sort happened years ago. I was in the View Room and saw a youngster run in panic from beneath a cliff two hours before it gave way and fell.” He put down the glass, lighted a slender cigar. “All right, Jepson. What did you expect to find topside? Something to vindicate yourself?” ““That’s hard to say, sir. I suppose I hoped to, but I was looking more for something that would answer a lot of questions. I knew it would be my last chance.” Finley’s tufted gray eyebrows pulled together quizzically. ‘I mean things like their language, sir. Their music. Their impossibly splendid ethics. The air of sophistica- tion and assurance to everything they do.” The explanation sounded lame and inadequate even to Ted. Grimly, he continued. “Call it curiosity, may- be, but I was going to have a look in those blind spots.” They eyed each other for long seconds, Finley drawing thin blue smoke from his cigar, and Ted begin- ning to itch beneath his wet clothing. The director finally spoke, his voice sarcastic. ‘“Find anything?” “I did. In sector twenty-seven, a grove of trees, there is a hidden trough of water. Large enough for the children to have learned to swim in.” Finley frowned, studied the fine ash at the tip of his cigar. ““You’re certain it wasn’t a natural formation?” ‘‘Quite. There was a stone dam.” ‘““Hm-m-m.” Finley rolled the cigar carefully between his fingers. “Any ideas about it?” “No, sir. Not yet.” It was petty of him, Ted knew to drag this out so. “Anything else?” **Ves.’’ “Well, dammit?” “At sector thirty-five, blind since °78. There’s a spaceship just inside the zone.” Ash fell from the director’s cigar onto the rattan carpeting. ‘“Ridicu- lous, Jepson. The U.N. hasn’t lost any craft. They’re either in Arizona, Aus- tralia, or trying to get past the Moon. And, besides, if one had fallen, Radar would have spotted it. What gave you—” “Excuse me, Dr. Finley, but this wasn’t any ship of ours. It was small, just about fit into this room. It floated six inches off the ground. The grass around it was trodden down, and something that might be a folding chair stood nearby. I say it’s a space- ship with some sort of gravity drive. It wasn’t built on this planet. And [ suggest you get some pictures of it quick.” Dr. Finley set about relighting his cigar as if nothing of importance had been said. From behind a cloud of Cconnicloooks.c© im