Once a Greech

know!"

  "Too little and, at the same time, too much," the doctor declaimed,dissociating himself professionally from the case. "Too much and toolittle. Eat, drink, be merry, iniquitous Earthmen, for you diedyesterday!"

  "Oh, shut up," Iversen said automatically, and dispatched a message toHarkaway with the information that the thor'glitch appeared to bemetamorphosing again and that his presence was requested in thecaptain's cabin.

  The rest of the officers accompanied Harkaway, all of them with the airof attending a funeral rather than a rebirth, Iversen noted nervously.They weren't armed, though, so Bridey couldn't be turning into anythingdangerous.

  * * * * *

  Now it came to pass that the thor'glitch's mid-section, having swelledto unbearable proportions, began to quiver. Suddenly, the skin splitlengthwise and dropped cleanly to either side, like a banana peel.

  Iversen pressed forward to see what fresh life-form the bulging cavityhad held. The other officers all stood in a somber row without moving,for all along, Iversen realized, they had known what to expect, what wasto come. And they had not told him. But then, he knew, it was his ownfault; he had refused to be told.

  Now, looking down at the new life-form, he saw for himself what it was.Lying languidly in the thor'glitch skin was a slender youth of a pallorwhich seemed excessive even for a member of a green-skinned race. He hadlarge limpid eyes and a smile of ineffable sweetness.

  "By Nopus Secundus," Iversen groaned. "I'm sunk."

  "Naturally the ultimate incarnation for a life-form would be humanoid,"Harkaway said with deep reproach. "What else?"

  "I'm surprised you didn't figure that out for yourself, sir," the firstofficer added. "Even if you did refuse to read Harkaway's book, it seemsobvious."

  "Does it?" Smullyan challenged. "Does it, indeed? Is Man the highestform of life in an irrational cosmos? Then all causes are lost ones!...So many worlds," he muttered in more subdued tones, "so much to do, solittle done, such things to be!"

  "The Flimbotzik were telling Harkaway about their _own_ life cycle,"Iversen whispered as revelation bathed him in its murky light. "Thehuman embryo undergoes a series of changes _inside_ the womb. It's justthat the Flimbotzik fetus develops _outside_ the womb."

  "Handily bypassing the earliest and most unpleasant stages of humanity,"Smullyan sighed. "Oh, idyllic planet, where one need never be achild--where one need never see a child!"

  "Then they were trying to explain their biology to you quite clearly andcoherently, you lunkhead," Iversen roared at Harkaway, "and you took itfor a religious doctrine!"

  "Yes, sir," Harkaway said weakly. "I--I kind of figured that out myselfin these last few weeks of intensive soul-searching. I--I'm sorry, sir.All I can say is that it was an honest mistake."

  "Why, they weren't necessarily pet-lovers at all. Those animals they hadwith them were.... By Nair al Zaurak!" The captain's voice rose to ashriek as the whole enormity of the situation finally dawned upon him."You went and kidnaped one of the children!"

  "That's a serious charge, kidnaping," the first officer said withmelancholy pleasure. "And you, as head of this expedition, Captain, areresponsible. Ironic, isn't it?"

  "Told you all this spelled doom and disaster," the doctor observedcheerfully.

  Just then, the young humanoid sat up--with considerable effort, Iversenwas disturbed to notice. But perhaps that was one of the consequences ofbeing born. A new-born infant was weak; why not a new-born adult, then?

  "Why doom?" the humanoid asked in a high, clear voice. "Why disaster?"

  "You--you speak Terran?" the captain stammered.

  Bridey gave his sad, sweet smile. "I was reared amongst you. You are mypeople. Why should I not speak your tongue?"

  "But we're not your people," Iversen blurted, thinking perhaps the youthdid not remember back to his greechi days. "We're an entirely differentspecies--"

  "Our souls vibrate in unison and that is the vital essence. But do notbe afraid, shipmates; the Flimbotzik do not regard the abduction of atransitory corporeal shelter as a matter of any great moment. Moreover,what took place could not rightly be termed abduction, for I came withyou of my own volition--and the Flimbotzik recognize individualresponsibility from the very first moment of the psyche's drawing breathin any material casing."

  Bridey talked so much like Harkaway's book that Iversen was almostrelieved when, a few hours later, the alien died. Of course the captainwas worried about possible repercussions from the governments of bothTerra and Flimbot, in spite of Bridey's assurances.

  And he could not help but feel a pang when the young humanoid expired inhis arms, murmuring, "Do not grieve for me, soul-mates. In the midst oflife, there is life...."

  "Funny," Smullyan said, with one of his disconcerting returns to aprofessional manner, "all the other forms seemed perfectly healthy. Whydid this one go like that? Almost as if he _wanted_ to die."

  "He was too good for this ship, that's what," the radio operator said,glaring at the captain. "Too fine and brave and--and noble."

  "Yes," Harkaway agreed. "What truly sensitive soul could exist in astultifying atmosphere like this?"

  All the officers glared at the captain. He glared back with right goodwill. "How come you gentlemen are still with us?" he inquired. "Onewould have thought you would have perished of pure sensibility longsince, then."

  "It's not nice to talk that way," the chief petty officer burst out,"not with him lying there not yet cold.... Ah," he heaved a long sigh,"we'll never see his like again."

  "Ay, that we won't," agreed the crew, huddled in the corridor outsidethe captain's cabin.

  Iversen sincerely hoped not, but he forbore to speak.

  * * * * *

  Since Bridey had reached the ultimate point in his life cycle, it seemedcertain that he was not going to change into anything else and so he wasgiven a spaceman's burial. Feeling like a put-upon fool, Captain Iversenread a short prayer as Bridey's slight body was consigned to the vastemptiness of space.

  Then the airlock clanged shut behind the last mortal remains of theill-fated extraterrestrial and that was the end of it.

  But the funereal atmosphere did not diminish as the ship forged ontoward Earth. Gloomy days passed, one after the other, during which noone spoke, save to issue or dispute an order. Looking at himself one dayin the mirror on his cabin wall, the captain realized that he wasgetting old. Perhaps he ought to retire instead of still dreaming of anew command and a new crew.

  And then one day, as he sat in his cabin reading the Spaceman's Credo,the lights on the _Herringbone_ went out, all at once, while theconstant hum of the motors died down slowly, leaving a strange,uncomfortable silence. Iversen found himself suspended weightless in thedark, for the gravity, of course, had gone off with the power. What, hewondered, had come to pass? He often found himself thinking in suchterms these days.

  Hoarse cries issued from the passageway outside; then he heard a squeakas his cabin door opened and persons unknown floated inside, breathingheavily.

  "The power has failed, sir!" gasped the first officer's voice.

  "That has not escaped my notice," Iversen said icily. Were not even hislast moments to be free from persecution?

  "It's all that maniac Smullyan's fault. He stored his _mk'oog_ in thefuel tanks. After emptying them out first, that is. We're out of fuel."

  The captain put a finger in his book to mark his place, which was, heknew with a kind of supernal detachment, rather foolish, because therewas no prospect of there ever being lights to read by again.

  "Put him in irons, if you can find him," he ordered. "And tell the mento prepare themselves gracefully for a lingering death."

  Iversen could hear a faint creak as the first officer drew himself toattention in the darkness. "The men of the _Herringbone_, sir," he said,stiffly, "are always prepared for calamity."

  "Ay, that we are," agreed various voices.

  So they were all there, were they? Wel
l, it was too much to expect thatthey would leave him in death any more than they had in life.

  "It is well," Iversen said. "It is well," he repeated, unable to thinkof anything more fitting.

  Suddenly the lights went on again and the ship gave a leap. From hissprawling position on the floor, amid his recumbent officers, Iversencould hear the hum of motors galvanized into life.

  "But if the fuel tanks are empty," he asked of no one in particular,"where did the power come