2
I stared at him, nonplussed. He'd spoken with evidence of utmost
candor, and the Chief of Interplanetary Security was not one to be
accused of a friendly josh, but--"You're kidding!" I said. "You must
be. Otherwise, why was I sent for?"
"Believe me, I wish I knew," he sighed. "You were chosen, from all
the inhabitants of this planet, and all the inhabitants of the Earth
Colonies, by the Brain."
"You mean that International Cybernetics picked me for a mission?
That's crazy, if you'll pardon me, sir."
Baxter shrugged, and his genial smile was a bit tightly stretched.
"When the current emergency arose and all our usual methods failed, we
had to submit the problem to the Brain."
"And," I said, beginning to be fascinated by his bewildered manner,
"what came out?"
He looked at me for a long moment, then picked up that brochure again,
and said, without referring to it, "Jery Delvin, five foot eleven
inches tall--"
"Yes, but read me the part where it says why I was picked," I said, a
little exasperated.
Baxter eyed me balefully, then skimmed the brochure through the air in
my direction. I caught it just short of the carpet.
"If you can find it, I'll read it!" he said, almost snarling.
I looked over the sheet, then turned it over and scanned the black
opposite side. "All it gives is my description, governmental status,
and address!"
"Uh-huh," Baxter grunted laconically. "It amuses you, does it?" The
smile was still on his lips, but there was a grimness in the glitter of
his narrowing eyes.
"Not really," I said hastily. "It baffles me, to be frank."
"If you're sitting there in that hopeful stance awaiting some sort of
explanation, you may as well relax," Baxter said shortly. "I have none
to make. IC had none to make. Damn it all to hell!" He brought a meaty
fist down on the desktop. "No one has an explanation! All we know is
that the Brain always picks the right man."
I let this sink in, then asked, "What made you ask for a man in
the first place, sir? I've always understood that your own staff
represented some of the finest minds--"
"Hold it, son. Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. We asked for no man.
We asked for a solution to an important problem. And your name was what
we got. You, son, are the solution."
Chief of Security or not, I was getting a little burned up at his
highhanded treatment of my emotions. "How nice!" I said icily. "Now if
I only knew the problem!"
Baxter blinked, then lost some of his scowl. "Yes, of course;" Baxter
murmured, lighting up a cigar. He blew a plume of blue smoke toward the
ceiling, then continued. "You've heard, of course, of the Space Scouts?"
I nodded. "Like the old-time Boy Scouts, only with rocket-names for
their various troops in place of the old animal names."
"And you recall the recent government-sponsored trip they had? To Mars
and back, with the broadly-smiling government picking up the enormous
tab?"