‘Well, what about them?’
‘Nothing much. They’re just here, that’s all. Some of them have hair on the upper lip, and very silly it looks, too. Otherwise, they look like any of a dozen or so other breeds of Humanoids.’
It was at this point that the door flew open and little Wri Forase ran in. He was from Deneb’s single planet, and the short, gray fuzz that covered his head and face bristled with agitation, while his large purple eyes gleamed excitedly.
‘Say,’ he twittered breathlessly, ‘have you seen the Earthmen?’
Sefan sighed. ‘Isn’t anyone ever going to change the subject? Tubal was just telling me about them.’
‘He was?’ Forase seemed disappointed. ‘But – but did he tell you these were that abnormal race they made such a fuss over when the Solarian System entered the Federation?’
‘They looked all right to me,’ said Tubal.
‘I’m not talking about them from the physical standpoint,’ said the Denebian disgustedly. ‘It’s the mental aspect of the• case. Psychology! That’s the stuff!’ Forase was going to be a psychologist some day.
‘Oh, that! Well, what’s wrong with them?’
‘Their mob psychology as a race is all wrong,’ babbled Forase. ‘Instead of becoming less emotional with numbers, as is the case with every other type of Humanoid known, they become more emotional! In groups, these Earthmen riot, panic, go crazy. The more there are, the worse it is. So help me, we even invented a new mathematical notation to handle the problem. Look!’
He had his pocket-pad and stylus out in one rapid motion; but Tubal’s hand clamped down upon them before the stylus so much as made a mark.
Tubal said, ‘Whoa! I’ve got a walloping lulu of an idea.’
‘Imagine!’ murmured Sefan.
Tubal ignored him. He smiled again, and his hand rubbed thoughtfully over his bald dome.
‘Listen,’ he said, with sudden briskness. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
Albert Williams, late of Earth, stirred in his sleep and became conscious of a prodding finger exploring the space between his second and third ribs. He opened his eyes, swiveled his head, stared stupidly; then gasped, shot upright, and reached for the light switch.
‘Don’t move,’ said the shadowy figure beside his bed. There was a muted click, and the Earthman found himself centered in the pearly beam of a pocket flash.
He blinked and said, ‘Who the blasted devil are you?’
‘You are going to get out of bed,’ replied the apparition stolidly. ‘Dress, and come with me.’
Williams grinned savagely. ‘Try and make me.’
There was no answer, but the flash beam shifted slightly and fell upon the shadow’s other hand. It held a ‘neuronic whip,’ that pleasant little weapon that paralyzes the vocal cords and twists nerves into so many knots of agony. Williams swallowed hard, and got out of bed.
He dressed in silence, and then said:
‘All right, what do I do now?’
The gleaming ‘whip’ gestured, and the Earthman moved toward the door.
‘Just walk ahead,’ said the unknown.
Williams moved out of the room, along the silent corridor, and down eight stories without daring to iook back. Out upon the campus he stopped, and felt metal probe the small of his back.
‘Do you know where Obel Hall is?’
Williams, nodding, began walking. He walked past Obel Hall, turned right at University Avenue, and after half a mile stepped off the roads and past the trees. A spaceship hulked dimly in the darkness, with ports closely curtained and only a dim light showing where the airlock opened a crack.
‘Get in!’ He was shoved up a flight of stairs and into a small room. He blinked, looked al;Jout him and counted aloud.
‘ – seven, eight, nine, and I make ten. They’ve got us all, I guess.’
‘It’s no guess,’ growled Eric Chamberlain sourly. ‘It’s a certainty.’ He was rubbing his hand. ‘I’ve been here an hour.’
‘What’s wrong with the mitt?’ asked Williams.
‘I sprained it on the jaw of the rat that brought me here. He’s as tough as a spaceship’s hull.’
Williams seated himself cross-legged upon the floor and rested his head against the wall.
‘Has anyone any idea as to what this is all about?’
‘Kidnaping!’ said little Joey Sweeney. His teeth were chattering.
‘What the devil for?’ snorted Chamberlain. ‘If any of us are millionaires, I hadn’t heard of it. I know I’m not!’
Williams said, ‘Look, let’s not go off the deep end. Kidnaping or anything of that sort is out. These people can’t be criminals. It stands to reason that a civilization that has developed psychology to the extent this Galactic Federation has, would be able to wipe out crime without raising a sweat.’
‘Pirates,’ grunted Lawrence Marsh. ‘I don’t think so, but it’s just a suggestion.’
‘Nuts!’ said Williams. ‘Piracy is a frontier phenomenon. This region of space has been civilized for tens of millennia.’
