and his pals are human. See?"
"I know!" said Patrolman Willis with an edge to his voice. "Last month acouple of delinks set a ground-truck running downhill, and jumped offit, and--"
"True," said Sergeant Madden. He rumbled for a moment. "A soldier livesin a bigger world he tries to matter in. He's protectin' that world andbeing admired for it. In old, old days his world was maybe a day's marchacross. Later it got to be continents. They tried to make it planets,but it didn't work. But there've got to be enemies to protect a worldagainst, or a soldier isn't important. He's got no glamour. Y'see?"
"Yes, sir," said Willis.
"Then there's us cops," said Sergeant Madden wryly. "Mostly we join upfor the glamour. We think it's important to be a cop. But presently wefind we ain't admired. Then there's no more glamour--but we're stillimportant. A cop matters because he protects people against other peoplethat want to do things to 'em. Against characters that want to getimportant by hurtin' 'em. Being a cop means you matter against all thedelinks and crooks an' fools and murderers who'd pull down civilizationin a minute if they could, just so they could be important because theydid it. But there's no glamour! We're not admired! We just do our job.And if I sound sentimental, I mean it."
"Yes, sir," said Willis.
"There's a big picture in the big hall in Police Headquarters on ValdezIII," said the sergeant. "It's the story of the cops from the early dayswhen they wore helmets, and the days when they rode bicycles, and whenthey drove ground-cars. There's not only cops, but civilians, in everyone of the panels, Willis. And if you look careful, you'll see thatthere's one civilian in every panel that's thumbin' his nose at a cop."
"I've noticed," said Willis.
"Remember it," said Sergeant Madden. "It bears on what we've got to doto handle these Huks. Soldiers couldn't do what we've got to. They'dfight, to be admired. We can't. It'd spoil our job. We've got topersuade 'em to behave themselves."
Then he frowned, as if he were dissatisfied with what he'd said. Heshook his head and made an impatient gesture.
"No good," he said vexedly. "You can't say it. Hm-m-m ... I'll nap awhile until the _Aldeb_ gets here."
He settled back to doze.
Patrolman Willis regarded him with an odd expression. They were agroundon Sirene VIII, on which no human ship had ever landed before them, andthey had stirred up a hornet's nest on Sirene IV, which had orbitaleighty-gee rocket missiles in orbit around it with bust bomb heads andall the other advantages of civilization. The _Aldeb_ was on the waywith a fifteen-man crew. And seventeen men, altogether, must pitthemselves against an embattled planet with all its population ready andperhaps eager for war. Their errand was to secure the release of humanprisoners and the surrender of a seized spaceship from a proud anddesperate race.
It did not look promising. Sergeant Madden did not look like the kind ofgenius who could carry it through. Dozing, with his chin tilted forwardon his chest, he looked hopelessly commonplace.
* * * * *
The skipper of the _Aldeb_ came over to the squad ship, because SergeantMadden loathed spacesuits and there was no air on Sirene VIII. PatrolmanWillis watched as the skipper came wading through the lacy, breast-highgas-frost. It seemed a pity for such infinitely delicate and beautifulobjects to be broken and crushed.
The sergeant unlocked the lock-door and spoke into a microphone when heheard the skipper stamping on the steel lock-flooring.
"Brush yourself off," commanded the sergeant, "and sweep the stuffoutside. Part of its methane and there's some ammonia in thosecrystals."
There was a suitable pause. The outer door closed. The lock filled withair, and gas-crystal fragments turned to reeking vapor as they warmed.The skipper bled them out and refilled the lock. Then he came inside. Heopened his face plate.
"Well?"
"There's Huks here," Sergeant Madden told him, "their hair in a braidand all set to go. They popped off a marker I stuck out for them toshoot at in thirty-four seconds by the clock. Bright boys, these Huks!They don't wait to ask questions. When they see something, they shoot atit."
The skipper tilted back his helmet and said beseechingly:
"Scratch my head, will you?"
When Patrolman Willis reached out his hand, the skipper revolved hishead under it until the itchy place was scratched. Most men itchinstantly they are unable to scratch. The skipper's space gloves weresprouting whiskers of moisture-frost now.
"Thanks," he said gratefully. "What are you going to do, sergeant?"
"Open communication with 'em," said the sergeant, heavily.
The skipper waited. Opening communication with someone who shoots ondetector-contact may be difficult.
"I figure," rumbled the sergeant, "they're a lot like delinks. A cop canfigure how they think, but they can't figure how a cop thinks."
"Such as?" asked the skipper.
"They can't understand anybody not tryin' to be important," saidSergeant Madden. "It baffles 'em."
"What's that got to do with the people on the _Cerberus_?" demanded theskipper. "It's our job to get them and the _Cerberus_ back on the way toport!"
"I know!" conceded Sergeant Madden, "and the girl my son Timmy's goingto marry is one of them. But I don't think we'll have much trouble. Haveyou got any multipoly plastic on the _Aldeb_?"
The skipper nodded, blankly. Multipoly plastic is a substance asanomalous as its name. It is a multiple polymer of something-or-otherwhich stretches very accommodatingly to a surprising expanse, and thensuddenly stops stretching. When it stops, it has a high and obstinatetensile strength. All ships carry it for temporary repairs, because itwill seal off anything. A one-mill thickness will hold fifteen poundspressure. Ships have been known to come down for landing with bubbles ofmultipoly glistening out of holes in their hulls. A salvage ship,especially, would carry an ample supply. A minor convenience in its useis the fact that a detonator-cap set off at any part of it starts a waveof disintegration which is too slow to be an explosion and cleans up themess made in its application.
"Naturally I've got it," said the skipper. "What do you want with it?"
Sergeant Madden told him. Painfully. Painstakingly.
"The tough part," said the skipper, "is making 'em go out an ejectortube. But I've got fourteen good men. Give me two hours for the firstbatch. We'll make up the second while you're placing them."
Sergeant Madden nodded.
The skipper went into the lock and closed the door behind him. After amoment Patrolman Willis saw him wading through the incredibly delicateand fragile gas-ice crystals. Then the _Aldeb_'s lock swallowed him.
* * * * *
The odd thing about the Huk business was the minute scale of the thingsthat happened, compared to the background in which they took place. Thesquad ship, for example, lifted off Sirene VIII for the second time.She'd been out once and come back for the second batch of multipolyobjects. Sirene VIII was not a giant planet, by any means, but it was arespectable six thousand miles in diameter. The squad ship's sixty feetof length was a mote so minute by comparison that no comparison waspossible.
She headed in toward the sun. She winked out of existence intooverdrive. She headed toward Sirene IV, in quadrature, where missilerockets floated in orbit awaiting the coming of any enemy. The distanceto be traveled was roughly one and a half light-hours--some twelveastronomical units of ninety-three million miles each.
The squad ship covered that distance in a negligible length of time. Itpopped into normality about two hundred thousand miles out from the Hukhome-world. It seemed insolently to remain there. In a matter of secondsit appeared at another place--a hundred fifty thousand miles out, butoff to one side. It seemed arrogantly to remain there, too--in a secondplace at the same time. Then it appeared, with the arbitrary effect aship does give when coming out of overdrive, at a third place a hundredseventy-five thousand miles from the planet. At a fourth place barelyeighty thousand miles short of collision with the Huk world.
At a fifthplace. A sixth. Each time it appeared, it seemed to remain in plain,challenging, insolent view, without ceasing to exist at the spots whereit had appeared previously. In much less than a minute, the seeming of asizable squadron of small human ships had popped out of emptiness andlay off the Huk home world at distances ranging from eighty thousandmiles to three times as much.
Suddenly, light flashed intolerably in emptiness. It was in contact withone of the seeming squad ships, which ceased to be. But immediately twomore ships