Part 28 (1/2)

”Except in the city. Omlu. That's the weak point and would be the point of attack.”

”Uh-uh. Cut off the decontaminators and in five hours it'll be as hot as the rest of the planet. Three, there'd be no interstellar supply line for the Stretts to cut. Four, the environment matches our new physiques a lot better than any normal planet could.”

”That's the one I didn't think about.”

”I think I'll take a quick peek at the Stretts--oh-oh; they've screened their whole planet. Well, we can do that, too, of course.”

”How are you going to select and reject personnel? It looks as though everybody wants to stay. Even the men whose main object in life is to go aground and get drunk. The Omans do altogether too good a job on them and there's no such thing as a hangover. I'm glad I'm not in your boots.”

”You may be in it up to the eyeb.a.l.l.s, Skipper, so don't chortle too soon.”

Hilton had already devoted much time to the problems of selection; and he thought of little else all the way back to Ardry. And for several days afterward he held conferences with small groups and conducted certain investigations.

Bud Carroll of Sociology and his a.s.sistant Sylvia Banister had been married for weeks. Hilton called them, together with Sawtelle and Bryant of Navy, into conference with the Big Eight.

”The more I study this thing the less I like it,” Hilton said. ”With a civilization having no government, no police, no laws, no medium of exchange ...”

”No _money_?” Bryant exclaimed. ”How's old Gordon going to pay for his uranexite, then?”

”He gets it free,” Hilton replied, flatly. ”When anyone can have anything he wants, merely by wanting it, what good is money? Now, remembering how long we're going to have to live, what we'll be up against, that the Masters failed, and so on, it is clear that the prime basic we have to select for is stability. We twelve have, by psychodynamic measurement, the highest stability ratings available.”

”Are you sure _I_ belong here?” Bryant asked.

”Yes. Here are three lists.” Hilton pa.s.sed papers around. ”The list labeled 'OK' names those I'm sure of--the ones we're converting now and their wives and whatever on Terra. List 'NG' names the ones I know we don't want. List 'X'--over thirty percent--are in-betweeners. We have to make a decision on the 'X' list. So--what I want to know is, who's going to play G.o.d. I'm not. Sandy, are you?”

”Good Heavens, no!” Sandra shuddered. ”But I'm afraid I know who will have to. I'm sorry, Alex, but it'll have to be you four--Psychology and Sociology.”

Six heads nodded and there was a flas.h.i.+ng interchange of thought among the four. Temple licked her lips and nodded, and Kincaid spoke.

”Yes, I'm afraid it's our baby. By leaning very heavily on Temple, we can do it. Remember, Jarve, what you said about the irresistible force?

We'll need it.”

”As I said once before, Mrs. Hilton, I'm very glad you're along,”

Hilton said. ”But just how sure are you that even you can stand up under the load?”

”Alone, I couldn't. But don't underestimate Mrs. Carroll and the Messrs.

Together, and with such a goal, I'm sure we can.”

Thus, after four-fifths of his own group and forty-one Navy men had been converted, Hilton called an evening meeting of all the converts. Larry, Tuly and Javvy were the only Omans present.

”You all knew, of course, that we were going to move to Fuel Bin sometime,” Hilton began. ”I can tell you now that we who are here are all there are going to be of us. We are all leaving for Fuel Bin immediately after this meeting. Everything of any importance, including all of your personal effects, has already been moved. All Omans except these three, and all Oman s.h.i.+ps except the _Orion_, have already gone.”

He paused to let the news sink in.

Thoughts flew everywhere. The irrepressible Stella Wing--_now_ Mrs.