Indirection | Page 9

at
Jaeger.
"Can you imagine," he added, "a primitive race with the power to
detect a galactic by his thoughts? And can you imagine that power
developing until that detection is possible at interstellar ranges, with
members of that race being able to pick up faint impressions from
received thoughts--distorted impressions? And can you imagine that
same race, ignorant of the humanic equations, devoid of a stable ethic,
superstitious, distrustful and fearful of advanced entities? They would
be undetectable by normal telepathic means, you know. And suppose
they were disposed to destroy what they could not understand." He
frowned.
Jaeger looked back at him, his eyes becoming wide. Suddenly, his gaze

defocused and he looked aside, to stare unseeingly at the floor.
"Something's got to be done, sir," he said reluctantly.
Kweiros nodded. "Something's got to be done," he agreed. "Of course,
there's another side to the picture. If this race develops and learns,
they'll be just as valuable to the galaxy as they would otherwise be
dangerous." He looked toward the door.
"And our boy out there is one of the few who can help in this situation.
He's going to have to work out counter stories--amusing stories--about
all those magical creatures his people tell about. He's going to have to
hint at the possibilities of close co-ordination and co-operation between
members of his own species. And he's going to have to suggest the
possibility of friendly co-operation between his species and others." He
drew a deep breath.
"And he's going to have to do all this without taking any risk of
exposing the existence of other, more advanced species in the galaxy."
He brushed a hand across his head, then pressed the back of his neck,
kneading the skin.
"These stories of his, he'll have to publish. He'll have to get them
circulated all over his planet, if he can. Possibly we can give him some
indirect help, but he's going to have to carry a good share of the load.
"He knows his own people as we could never hope to. And he'll have to
be thoroughly educated, so he can say what he wants to. And he'll have
to be fully aware of the humanic equations and all their connotations. If
he's to have any direct help, he'll have to choose his helpers from
among his own people, and he'll have to choose carefully." Kweiros
thrust at his temple with the heel of a hand, then shook his head
violently.
"Somehow, he's going to have to accentuate any legends he may be
able to find which present a favorable light on co-ordination and
co-operation, and he'll have to invent more. And all those other
legends--the ones which treat of superstition and destructive force--will

have to be reduced to the realm of the storybook, submerged under a
layer of amused condemnation, and kept there. All these things, that
youngster is going to have to do.
"It's your job to help teach him."
* * * * *
Forell watched his friend closely as the critic laid aside the last page.
Andorra sat for a moment, his head cocked in thought. Then, he picked
up the last page and looked at it again. Finally, he laid the sheet aside.
He looked at his friend with a wry smile, then picked up his wineglass,
looking at it quizzically.
"Do you always give your own name to one of your characters?"
Forell's grip tightened on the small object in his hand.
"Oh, sure," he said. "Gives me a better identification. If I can get into
the story, it's easier to draw the reader in." He forced a casual smile.
"I'll change that name later, of course."
"I see what you mean." Andorra sipped from his glass.
"You know," he added, "a couple of hours ago, I was almost ready to
get excited about the idea of a cosmos full of super beings. And I even
might have dreamed up something like this myself--and more than half
believed it." He shook his head.
"But when a fantasist like yourself comes up with it, and makes it look
so nicely possible, the idea almost looks foolish. After all, Elwar, if you
actually were the guy in that little sketch of yours, you'd hardly be
asking me to read it, now would you?" He looked down at the papers,
then raised his head again, frowning.
"'He'll have to choose his helpers from among his own people,'" he
quoted. "'All these things, that youngster is going to have to do.'" He
sipped again from his glass, keeping a searching gaze on his friend.

"And on the other hand, if your story here should be true, you just
might be asking me to read it, for one reason or another." He raised his
glass, examining the bright liquid