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travesty of socialism, a sort of scientific fanaticism. Most of those men and women believe in nothingness of the individual. They believe that love is really only breeding.”

Tony shook his head unbelievingly. “Why didn’t they wipe us out, then?”

“Your ray-projectors were good protection. They may find a means of making them powerless. They are manifestly ahead of us here in studying the civilization of the Other People—they use their ships already.”

“I mean, the first time. Why didn’t they annihilate us that first night? It would have been easy. A bomb or two—”

“I have wondered. There must have been a reason—for they are wholly ruthless. And I can find only one explanation: They wish to found a new state—to be alone on the planet—to make it theirs. To found a state takes people; and for people, one needs women. The more the better—the quicker. They will not strike until they can be selective in their killing—so they wipe out all who may oppose them, but preserve all whom they may convert—especially the women.”

“Good God!” Tony stood up. “You mean to tell me you think there is a gang of men or people on Bronson Beta planning that?”

“I am positive.”

“It’s—it’s crazy!”

Kyto shook his head. “Conquest was like that, only two thousand years ago—a short time. And there is no more world. Is there anything that can be said to be crazy now—anything we cannot expect?”

“Then why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Kyto fumbled the paper. “I wanted to be sure. This made me sure.”

“It’s the worst evidence I ever saw. The thing’s fantastic!”

“I have warned you as best I can.” He bowed his head, and walked away.

Oddly enough, this scene with Kyto had brought back to Tony some of the strength that had ebbed from him. The thought that his new information would be a good excuse to break in on Hendron and Ransdell and Eve occurred to him, but he thrust it aside without effort.

He walked into the group of people who had finished their midday meal. He touched several on the shoulder. “Duquesne, I want to talk to you privately. Von Beitz! Williamson!”

Fifteen minutes later he had explained his command to a dozen picked men.

“I’ll have to tell Ransdell and Hendron later,” Tony said. “First, we’ll double the guard. Second, we’ll put out some sentries—far enough out to give a warning of approaching planes. Third, we’ll run off a blast on our projectors to make sure they are in order.”

Von Beitz scowled. “I can’t believe it. Germans? Maybe—some Germans, Heitbrat, for example. But wouldn’t it be better if we said nothing to the women? They might get hysterical.”

“These women don’t get hysterical,” Tony answered succinctly.

He had scarcely finished his instructions when a message was brought to him to report at Hendron’s house.

He went in. Eve was in the living room—the room that had been headquarters for the camp since the building of the house. She was sitting at her father’s desk, and Ransdell stood at a little distance from her. Dodson was there. The faces of all three were serious.

“Hendron has collapsed,” Dodson said to Tony. “Whether he will recover or not, I cannot say.”

Tony shook his head sadly.

Eve spoke. “The camp must have a leader.”

“Yes,” Tony answered.

“Election might be unsatisfactory,” she continued. “And it would take time.”

“Yes.”

“Father appointed no second-in-command. Whoever is in charge while he is ill must remain here. You and Eliot James alone can fly our single plane. We’ll need it constantly now. A radio must be taken down to the other camp at once, for example.”

Tony looked at her with as little sign of emotion as he could show. This was a new Eve to him—a stern, impartial Eve. Grief and need had combined to make her so. “The static we’ve been having makes a radio useless,” he said.

“That static occurs only at night,” she answered. “Sundown to sunup.”


Tags: Philip Wylie When Worlds Collide Science Fiction