Missing Link | Page 2

I want out of my first field assignment?"
"Listen, and find out." Stetson crossed to a tilt-locker behind the big
translite map, hauled out a white coverall uniform with gold insignia,
tossed it to Orne. "Get into these while I brief you on the map."
"But this is an R&R uni--" began Orne.
"Get that uniform on your ugly frame!"
"Yes, sir, Admiral Stetson, sir. Right away, sir. But I thought I was
through with old Rediscovery & Reeducation when you drafted me off
of Hamal into the I-A ... sir." He began changing from the I-A blue to
the R&R white. Almost as an afterthought, he said: "... Sir."
A wolfish grin cracked Stetson's big features. "I'm soooooo happy you
have the proper attitude of subservience toward authority."
Orne zipped up the coverall uniform. "Oh, yes, sir ... sir."
"O.K., Orne, pay attention." Stetson gestured at the map with its green
superimposed grid squares. "Here we are. Here's that city we flew over
on our way down. You'll head for it as soon as we drop you. The place
is big enough that if you hold a course roughly northeast you can't miss
it. We're--"
Again the call bell rang.
"What is it this time, Hal?" barked Stetson.
"They've changed to Plan H, Stet. New orders cut."
"Five days?"
"That's all they can give us. ComGO says he can't keep the information
out of High Commissioner Bullone's hands any longer than that."
"It's five days for sure then."

"Is this the usual R&R foul-up?" asked Orne.
Stetson nodded. "Thanks to Bullone and company! We're just one jump
ahead of catastrophe, but they still pump the bushwah into the Rah &
Rah boys back at dear old Uni-Galacta!"
"You're making light of my revered alma mater," said Orne. He struck
a pose. "We must reunite the lost planets with our centers of culture and
industry, and take up the glor-ious onward march of mankind that was
so bru-tally--"
"Can it!" snapped Stetson. "We both know we're going to rediscover
one planet too many some day. Rim War all over again. But this is a
different breed of fish. It's not, repeat, not a re-discovery."
Orne sobered. "Alien?"
"Yes. A-L-I-E-N! A never-before-contacted culture. That language you
were force fed on the way over, that's an alien language. It's not
complete ... all we have off the minis. And we excluded data on the
natives because we've been hoping to dump this project and nobody the
wiser."
"Holy mazoo!"
"Twenty-six days ago an I-A search ship came through here, had a
routine mini-sneaker look at the place. When he combed in his net of
sneakers to check the tapes and films, lo and behold, he had a little
stranger."
"One of theirs?"
"No. It was a mini off the Delphinus Rediscovery. The Delphinus has
been unreported for eighteen standard months!"
"Did it crack up here?"
"We don't know. If it did, we haven't been able to spot it. She was
supposed to be way off in the Balandine System by now. But we've

something else on our minds. It's the one item that makes me want to
blot out this place, and run home with my tail between my legs. We've
a--"
Again the call bell chimed.
"NOW WHAT?" roared Stetson into the speaker.
"I've got a mini over that mob, Stet. They're talking about us. It's a
definite raiding party."
"What armament?"
"Too gloomy in that jungle to be sure. The infra beam's out on this mini.
Looks like hard pellet rifles of some kind. Might even be off the
Delphinus."
"Can't you get closer?"
"Wouldn't do any good. No light down there, and they're moving up
fast."
"Keep an eye on them, but don't ignore the other sectors," said Stetson.
"You think I was born yesterday?" barked the voice from the grid. The
contact broke off with an angry sound.
* * * * *
"One thing I like about the I-A," said Stetson. "It collects such
even-tempered types." He looked at the white uniform on Orne, wiped
a hand across his mouth as though he'd tasted something dirty.
"Why am I wearing this thing?" asked Orne.
"Disguise."
"But there's no mustache!"

Stetson smiled without humor. "That's one of I-A's answers to those
fat-keistered politicians. We're setting up our own search system to find
the planets before they do. We've managed to put spies in key places at
R&R. Any touchy planets our spies report, we divert the files."
"Then what?"
"Then we look into them with bright boys like you--disguised as R&R
field men."
"Goody, goody. And what happens if R&R stumbles onto me while I'm
down there playing patty cake?"
"We disown you."
"But you said an I-A ship found this joint."
"It did. And then one of our spies in