Masters of Space | Page 6

heavy."
"I think you're slightly nuts there. But do you really believe that the
Board was playing Cupid?"

"Not trying, but doing. Cold-bloodedly and efficiently. Yes."
"But it wouldn't work! We aren't going to get lost!"
"We won't need to. Propinquity will do the work."
"Phooie. You and me, for instance?" She stopped, put both hands on
her hips, and glared. "Why, I wouldn't marry you if you ..."
"I'll tell the cockeyed world you won't!" Hilton broke in. "Me marry a
damned female Ph.D.? Uh-uh. Mine will be a cuddly little brunette that
thinks a slipstick is some kind of lipstick and that an isotope's
something good to eat."
"One like that copy of Murchison's Dark Lady that you keep under the
glass on your desk?" she sneered.
"Exactly...." He started to continue the battle, then shut himself off.
"But listen, Sandy, why should we get into a fight because we don't
want to marry each other? You're doing a swell job. I admire you
tremendously for it and I like to work with you."
"You've got a point there, Jarve, at that, and I'm one of the few who
know what kind of a job you're doing, so I'll relax." She flashed him a
gamin grin and they went on into the control room.
It was too late in the day then to do any more exploring; but the next
morning, early, the Perseus lined out for the city of the humanoids.
* * * * *
Tula turned toward her fellows. Her eyes filled with a happily
triumphant light and her thought a lilting song. "I have been telling you
from the first touch that it was the Masters. It is the Masters! The
Masters are returning to us Omans and their own home world!"
* * * * *
"Captain Sawtelle," Hilton said, "Please land in the cradle below."

"Land!" Sawtelle stormed. "On a planet like that? Not by ..." He broke
off and stared; for now, on that cradle, there flamed out in screaming
red the Perseus' own Navy-coded landing symbols!
"Your protest is recorded," Hilton said. "Now, sir, land."
Fuming, Sawtelle landed. Sandra looked pointedly at Hilton. "First
contact is my dish, you know."
"Not that I like it, but it is." He turned to a burly youth with
sun-bleached, crew-cut hair, "Still safe, Frank?"
"Still abnormally low. Surprising no end, since all the rest of the planet
is hotter than the middle tail-race of hell."
"Okay, Sandy. Who will you want besides the top linguists?"
"Psych--both Alex and Temple. And Teddy Blake. They're over there.
Tell them, will you, while I buzz Teddy?"
"Will do," and Hilton stepped over to the two psychologists and told
them. Then, "I hope I'm not leading with my chin, Temple, but is that
your real first name or a professional?"
"It's real; it really is. My parents were romantics: dad says they
considered both 'Golden' and 'Silver'!"
Not at all obviously, he studied her: the almost translucent,
unblemished perfection of her lightly-tanned, old-ivory skin; the clear,
calm, deep blueness of her eyes; the long, thick mane of hair exactly
the color of a field of dead-ripe wheat.
"You know, I like it," he said then. "It fits you."
"I'm glad you said that, Doctor...."
"Not that, Temple. I'm not going to 'Doctor' you."
"I'll call you 'boss', then, like Stella does. Anyway, that lets me tell you

that I like it myself. I really think that it did something for me."
"Something did something for you, that's for sure. I'm mighty glad
you're aboard, and I hope ... here they come. Hi, Hark! Hi, Stella!"
"Hi, Jarve," said Chief Linguist Harkins, and:
"Hi, boss--what's holding us up?" asked his assistant, Stella Wing. She
was about five feet four. Her eyes were a tawny brown; her hair a
flamboyant auburn mop. Perhaps it owed a little of its spectacular
refulgence to chemistry, Hilton thought, but not too much. "Let us
away! Let the lions roar and let the welkin ring!"
"Who's been feeding you so much red meat, little squirt?" Hilton
laughed and turned away, meeting Sandra in the corridor. "Okay, chick,
take 'em away. We'll cover you. Luck, girl."
And in the control room, to Sawtelle, "Needle-beam cover, please; set
for minimum aperture and lethal blast. But no firing, Captain Sawtelle,
until I give the order."
* * * * *
The Perseus was surrounded by hundreds of natives. They were all
adult, all naked and about equally divided as to sex. They were friendly;
most enthusiastically so.
"Jarve!" Sandra squealed. "They're telepathic. Very strongly so! I never
imagined--I never felt anything like it!"
"Any rough stuff?" Hilton demanded.
"Oh, no. Just the opposite. They love us ... in a way that's simply
indescribable. I don't like this telepathy business