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Earthmen are still making too many blunders to join creatures that could cross the galaxy at the speed of light when we were learning how to chip flint." "But they didn't wipe us out!" James Connemorra looked out at the stars. "I wonder," he said. "I wonder " "What do you mean?" Mel said in a tight voice. "We have defects which are not quite like any they have encountered before.
The world itself may cease to exist." "You mean this dictatorial Council determines whether a world is fit to survive and actually wipes out those it decides against?" gasped Mel in horror. "They set themselves up as judges in the Universe?" "That's about the way they operate, to put it bluntly," said Connemorra.
"That time when I escaped from the Martian Princess rather than come aboard the black ship?" Connemorra nodded. "Yes." "I still don't understand. Why?" "It's an old story." Connemorra shrugged faintly. "A man learns too much about things he should know nothing of." "I have a right to know what happened to my wife. You know about her don't you?" Connemorra nodded. "What happened to her?
He paced the floor telling himself it was a stupid, neurotic apprehension that filled his mind, that the great Connemorra Lines could not be involved in any nefarious acts involving five thousand people or even one person. They couldn't afford such risk. He couldn't shake it. He was certain that, no matter what the cost, he was not going to board that black ship. He looked about the stateroom.
"I have been easy enough to find. I'm only a news reporter. Why have you been looking for me?" Connemorra sank into a deep chair on the opposite side of the room. "Can't you guess?" he said. "It has something to do with what happened before?" Mel asked. He backed warily against the opposite wall from Connemorra.
"What are you going to do?" Mel demanded. "What are you going to do with all of us?" "You know too much," said Connemorra, shrugging in mock helplessness. "What can I do with you?" "Explain what I don't understand about the things you say I know." "Explain to you?" The idea seemed to amuse Connemorra greatly, as if it had some utterly ridiculous aspect. "Yes, I might as well explain," he said.
Our records will show that a Jake Norton will be there on Earth. No one can ever prove that Mel Hastings ever came aboard." Mel let his breath out slowly. His fear suddenly swallowed caution. He took a crouching step forward. Then he stopped, frozen. James Connemorra tilted the small pistol resting in his lap. Mel did not know how it came to be there. He had not seen it a moment ago.
Mel felt his reason slipping. He knew he was shouting. "Then Alice the Alice that died was an android, she was not my wife! My Alice is still alive! You can take me to her " Connemorra nodded. "Alice is still alive, and well. No harm has come to her." "Take me to her!" Mel knew he was pleading, but in his anguish he had no pride. Connemorra seemed to ignore his plea.
What do they intend? Taking groups of Earthmen, deporting them to other worlds breaking them apart from each other forever ?" The coldness found its resting place in Mel's chest. He stared at James Connemorra. Then his eyes moved slowly over the walls of the room in the black ship and out to the stars. The black ship.
He remained motionless as recognition showered sudden frantic questions in his mind. There lay a ticket envelope marked Connemorra Lines. The envelope was empty when he looked inside, and there was no name on it. But it was worn. As if it might have been carried to Mars and back. In sudden frenzy he began examining each article and laying it in a careless pile on the floor.
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