they please, and if the people don't likeit, the Grdznth just go right ahead anyway."
Pete pulled at his lip. "Any violence?"
Tommy gave him a long look. "So far we've kept it out of the papers, butthere have been some incidents. Didn't hurt the Grdznth a bit--they havepersonal protective force fields around them, a little point they didn'tbother to tell us about. Anybody who tries anything fancy gets thrownlike a bolt of lightning hit him. Rumors are getting wild--people sayingthey can't be killed, that they're just moving in to stay."
Pete nodded slowly. "Are they?"
"I wish I knew. I mean, for sure. The psych-docs say no. The Grdznthagreed to leave at a specified time, and something in their culturalbackground makes them stick strictly to their agreements. But that'sjust what the psych-docs think, and they've been known to be wrong."
"And the appointed time?"
Tommy spread his hands helplessly. "If we knew, you'd still be in L.A.Roughly six months and four days, plus or minus a month for the timedifferential. That's strictly tentative, according to the math boys.It's a parallel universe, one of several thousand already explored,according to the Grdznth scientists working with Charlie Karns. Most ofthe parallels are analogous, and we happen to be analogous to theGrdznth, a point we've omitted from our PR-blasts. They have aneight-planet system around a hot sun, and it's going to get lots hotterany day now."
Pete's eyes widened. "Nova?"
"Apparently. Nobody knows how they predicted it, but they did. Spottedit coming several years ago, so they've been romping through parallelafter parallel trying to find one they can migrate to. They found one,sort of a desperation choice. It's cold and arid and full of impassablemountain chains. With an uphill fight they can make it support afraction of their population."
Tommy shook his head helplessly. "They picked a very sensible system forgetting a good strong Grdznth population on the new parallel as fast aspossible. The males were picked for brains, education, ability andadaptability; the females were chosen largely according to how pregnantthey were."
Pete grinned. "Grdznth in utero. There's something poetic about it."
"Just one hitch," said Tommy. "The girls can't gestate in that climate,at least not until they've been there long enough to get their glandsadjusted. Seems we have just the right climate here for gestatingGrdznth, even better than at home. So they came begging for permissionto stop here, on the way through, to rest and parturiate."
"So Earth becomes a glorified incubator." Pete got to his feetthoughtfully. "This is all very touching," he said, "but it just doesn'twash. If the Grdznth are so unpopular with the masses, why did we letthem in here in the first place?" He looked narrowly at Tommy. "To bevery blunt, what's the parking fee?"
"Plenty," said Tommy heavily. "That's the trouble, you see. The fee isso high, Earth just can't afford to lose it. Charlie Karns'll tell youwhy."
* * * * *
Charlie Karns from Math Section was an intense skeleton of a man with along jaw and a long white coat drooping over his shoulders like ashroud. In his arms he clutched a small black box.
"It's the parallel universe business, of course," he said to Pete, withTommy beaming over his shoulder. "The Grdznth can cross through. They'vebeen able to do it for a long time. According to our figuring, this mustinvolve complete control of mass, space and dimension, all three. Andtime comes into one of the three--we aren't sure which."
The mathematician set the black box on the desk top and released thelid. Like a jack-in-the-box, two small white plastic spheres popped outand began chasing each other about in the air six inches above the box.Presently a third sphere rose up from the box and joined the fun.
Pete watched it with his jaw sagging until his head began to spin. "Nowires?"
"_Strictly_ no wires," said Charlie glumly. "No nothing." He closed thebox with a click. "This is one of their children's toys, andtheoretically, it can't work. Among other things, it takes null-gravityto operate."
Pete sat down, rubbing his chin. "Yes," he said. "I'm beginning to see.They're teaching you this?"
Tommy said, "They're trying to. He's been working for weeks with theirtop mathematicians, him and a dozen others. How many computers have youburned out, Charlie?"
"Four. There's a differential factor, and we can't spot it. They havethe equations, all right. It's a matter of translating them intoconstants that make sense. But we haven't cracked the differential."
"And if you do, then what?"
Charlie took a deep breath. "We'll have inter-dimensional control, apractical, utilizable transmatter. We'll have null-gravity, which meansthe greatest advance in power utilization since fire was discovered. Itmight give us the opening to a concept of time travel that makes somekind of sense. And power! If there's an energy differential of anymagnitude--" He shook his head sadly.
"We'll also know the time-differential," said Tommy hopefully, "and howlong the Grdznth gestation period will be."
"It's a fair exchange," said Charlie. "We keep them until the girls havetheir babies. They teach us the ABC's of space, mass and dimension."
Pete nodded. "That is, if you can make the people put up with them foranother six months or so."
Tommy sighed. "In a word--yes. So far we've gotten nowhere at a thousandmiles an hour."
* * * * *
"I can't do it!" the cosmetician wailed, hurling himself down on a chairand burying his face in his hands. "I've failed. Failed!"
The Grdznth sitting on the stool looked regretfully from the cosmeticianto the Public Relations men. "I say--I _am_ sorry...." His coarse voicetrailed off as he peeled a long strip of cake makeup off his satinygreen face.
Pete Greenwood stared at the cosmetician sobbing in the chair. "What'seating _him_?"
"Professional pride," said Tommy. "He can take twenty years off the faceof any woman in Hollywood. But he's not getting to first base withGorgeous over there. This is only one thing we've tried," he added asthey moved on down the corridor. "You should see the field reports.We've tried selling the advances Earth will have, the wealth, the power.No dice. The man on the street reads our PR-blasts, and then looks up tosee one of the nasty things staring over his shoulder at the newspaper."
"So you can't make them beautiful," said Pete. "Can't you make themcute?"
"With those teeth? Those eyes? Ugh."
"How about the 'jolly company' approach?"
"Tried it. There's nothing jolly about them. They pop out of nowhere,anywhere. In church, in bedrooms, in rush-hour traffic through LincolnTunnel--look!"
Pete peered out the window at the traffic jam below. Cars were snarledup for blocks on either side of the intersection. A squad of trafficcops were converging angrily on the center of the mess, where a streamof green reptilian figures seemed to be popping out of the street andlumbering through the jammed autos like General Sherman tanks.
"Ulcers," said Tommy. "City traffic isn't enough of a mess as it is. Andthey don't _do_ anything about it. They apologize profusely, but theykeep coming through." The two started on for the office. "Things aregetting to the breaking point. The people are wearing thin from sheerannoyance--to say nothing of the nightmares the kids are having, and thetrouble with women fainting."
The signal light on Tommy's desk was flashing scarlet. He dropped into achair with a sigh and flipped a switch. "Okay, what is it now?"
"Just another senator," said a furious male voice. "Mr. Heinz, myarthritis is beginning to win this fight. Are you going to see me now,or aren't you?"
"Yes, yes, come right in!" Tommy turned white. "Senator Stokes," hemuttered. "I'd completely forgotten--"
The senator didn't seem to like being forgotten. He walked into theoffice, looked disdainfully at the PR-men, and sank to the edge of achair, leaning on his umbrella.
"You have just lost your job," he said to Tommy, with an icy edge to hisvoice. "You may not have heard about it yet, but you can take my wordfor it. I personally will be
delighted to make the necessaryarrangements, but I doubt if I'll need to. There are at least a hundredsenators in Washington who are ready to press for your dismissal, Mr.Heinz--and there's been some off-the-record talk about a lynching.Nothing official, of course."
"Senator--"
"Senator be hanged! We want