The conversation, at this intensely interesting point, was cut short by
the arrival of the Colonel. He alighted from the native Hop-Hop--waved
cheerily to its driver, and began coming up. The bottle and glasses
vanished, and Kosalowsky began to read aloud from a book especially
reserved for these occasions. The men maintained looks of studious
interest as the officer went through. He went up the ladder to his own
quarters, there to write in his growing volume, THE COMING OCCUPATION
AND GOVERNMENT OF ENGRAHAM. They listened until his door clicked.
The conversation was resumed in more subdued tones.
"Do you think," said Pane shakily, "They still _could_?"
"Not a question of it," Blunt said. "These pictures prove it. It's what
you might call a lost art. Once upon a time, as with all the fortunate
parts of the galaxy, this art was known to the Engrahamites. Through
some terrific foul-up, they lost it. Probably a combination of the
science of incubation, and the reign of some ghastly square, like Queen
Victoria. Thus were the girls of Engraham deprived of the pleasures of
love."
"The men, too," said Willy. All glared at him reproachfully. To care
about the happiness of the Engrahamite men was thought not quite
patriotic.
"Gradually," Blunt went on, "they must have begun to lose interest.
Probably there was some taboo. In the end they probably all thought, oh,
to hell with it, and began serving on committees."
A long sigh went up.
"It is for us," Blunt said softly, treasuring each word, "to restore
these unhappy maidens to their original human rights.
"But it isn't going to be easy," Blunt went on. His voice dropped even
lower. "Think what would happen if it went sour. Those Doctors would get
wind of it. We'd be stuck in the Ship for the rest of the Exploration."
There was a sober pause. Finally Banks cleared his throat and said,
"Well, how do you think it should be handled, Blunt?"
"Well, every beachhead needs an invasion," Blunt said, casually holding
out his glass. O'Connors leapt to fill it. "One guy has got to lay the
groundwork. Let him enlighten one quail. Explain things to her." He took
a long, leisurely drink, and sighed. "This quail will rush around
telling the others. Pretty soon there'll be so many hanging around the
ship that--"
There was a general rush for cooling beverages.
"Right," someone said, when the faculty of speech was recovered.
"And necessarily," said Blunt, "this has to be the guy with the most
savvy. The one who knows the score. The one most likely to succeed.
Check?"
All knew what this was leading up to. Martin said unhappily, "Check,
Blunt, You're our boy."
----
Blunt was scheduled to stand guard the next day, but Willy Lanham, eager
to assist the cause, volunteered to take over for him. The hours seemed
to creep by. His air was swaggering and cool when he returned, and all
gathered round with eager curiosity--all but Lanham, who had not
recovered from standing guard.
Blunt sauntered to the bar, accepted a drink, sipped it, lighted a
cigarette, and took a long, pensive drag. Finally he said reminiscently,
"What a doll!"