III_The Star-Sent Knaves

Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the

clear, he would have to decide on his next move--fast. There was no

telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide

the carrier, then--

A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.

Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.

The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of

mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous

landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the

deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.

If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked

the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.

The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought

the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few

inches and cut the switch.

As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.

Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise

was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians

in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why

hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no

sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a

secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,

reached for the controls--

There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials

before him frosted over. There was a loud _pop!_ like a flashbulb

exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle

which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded

to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a

tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.

Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,

the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly

red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat

pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set

yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in

a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.

"_Alors, monsieur_," the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in

a quick bow. "_Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?_"

"No compree," Dan choked out "Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay...."

"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.

Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class

five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service."

"That siren," Dan said. "Was that you?"

Dzhackoon nodded. "For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to

stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable."

"What outfit did you say you were with?" Dan asked.

"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service."

"Inter-what?"

"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our

language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary."

"What do you want with me?"

* * * * *

Dzhackoon smiling reprovingly. "You know the penalty for operation of

an unauthorized reversed-phase vehicle in Interdicted territory. I'm

afraid you'll have to come along with me to Headquarters."

"Wait a minute! You mean you're arresting me?"

"That's a harsh term, but I suppose it amounts to that."

"Look here, uh--Dzhackoon. I just wandered in off the street. I don't

know anything about Interdicts and reversed-whozis vehicles. Just let

me out of here."

Dzhackoon shook his head. "I'm afraid you'll have to tell it to the

Inspector." He smiled amiably, gestured toward the shimmering rectangle

through which he had arrived. From the edge, it was completely

invisible. It looked, Dan thought, like a hole snipped in reality. He

glanced at Dzhackoon. If he stepped in fast and threw a left to the

head and followed up with a right to the short ribs--

"I'm armed, of course," the Agent said apologetically.

"Okay," Dan sighed. "But I'm going under protest."

"Don't be nervous," Dzhackoon said cheerfully. "Just step through

quickly."

Dan edged up to the glimmering surface. He gritted his teeth, closed

his eyes and took a step. There was a momentary sensation of searing

heat....

His eyes flew open. He was in a long, narrow room with walls finished

in bright green tile. Hot yellow light flooded down from the high

ceiling. Along the wall, a series of cubicles were arranged. Tall,

white-uniformed creatures moved briskly about. Nearby stood a group of

short, immensely burly individuals in yellow. Lounging against the wall

at the far end of the room, Dan glimpsed a round-shouldered figure in

red, with great bushes of hair fringing a bright blue face. An arm even

longer than Dzhackoon's wielded a toothpick on a row of great white

fangs.

"This way," Dzhackoon said. Dan followed him to a cubicle, curious eyes

following him. A creature indistinguishable from the Field Agent except

for a twist of red braid on each wrist looked up from a desk.

"I've picked up that reversed-phase violator, Ghunt," Dzhackoon said.

"Anglic Sector, Locus C 922A4."

Ghunt rose. "Let me see; Anglic Sector.... Oh, yes." He extended

a hand. Dan took it gingerly; it was a strange hand--hot, dry and

coarse-skinned, like a dog's paw. He pumped it twice and let it go.

"Wonderfully expressive," Ghunt said. "Empty hand, no weapon. The

implied savagery...." He eyed Dan curiously.

"Remarkable. I've studied your branch, of course, but I've never had

the pleasure of actually seeing one of you chaps before. That skin;

amazing. Ah ... may I look at your hands?"

Dan extended a hand. The other took it in bony fingers, studied it,

turned it over, examined the nails. Stepping closer, he peered at Dan's

eyes and hair.

"Would you mind opening your mouth, please?" Dan complied. Ghunt

clucked, eyeing the teeth. He walked around Dan, murmuring his

wonderment.

"Uh ... pardon my asking," Dan said, "but are you what--uh--people are

going to look like in the future?"

"Eh?" The round yellowish eyes blinked; the wide mouth curved in a

grin. "I doubt that very much, old chap." He chuckled. "Can't undo half

a million years of divergent evolution, you know."

* * * * *

"You mean you're from the past?" Dan croaked.

"The past? I'm afraid I don't follow you."

"You don't mean--we're all going to die out and monkeys are going to

take over?" Dan blurted.

"Monkeys? Let me see. I've heard of them. Some sort of small

primate, like a miniature Anthropos. You have them at home, do you?

Fascinating!" He shook his head regretfully. "I certainly wish

regulations allowed me to pay your sector a visit."

"But you _are_ time travelers," Dan insisted.

"Time travelers?" Ghunt laughed aloud.

"An exploded theory," Dzhackoon said. "Superstition."

"Then how did you get to the park from here?"

"A simple focused portal. Merely a matter of elementary stressed-field

mechanics."

"That doesn't tell me much," Dan said. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"Explanations are in order, of course," Ghunt said. "Have a chair. Now,

if I remember correctly, in your locus, there are only a few species of

Anthropos extant--"

"Just the one," Dzhackoon put in. "These fellows look fragile, but oh,

brother!"

"Oh, yes; I recall. This was the locus where the hairless variant

systematically hunted down other varieties." He clucked at Dan

reprovingly. "Don't you find it lonely?"

"Of course, there are a couple of rather curious retarded forms there,"

Dzhackoon said. "Actual living fossils; sub-intellectual Anthropos.

There's one called the gorilla, and the chimpanzee, the orangutan, the

gibbon--and, of course, a whole spectrum of the miniature forms."

"I suppose that when the ferocious mutation established its supremacy,

the others retreated to the less competitive ecological niches and

expanded at that level," Ghunt mused. "Pity. I assume the gorilla and

the others are degenerate forms?"

"Possibly."

"Excuse me," Dan said. "But about that explanation...."

"Oh, sorry. Well, to begin with Dzhackoon and I

are--ah--Australopithecines, I believe your term is. We're one of

the many varieties of Anthropos native to normal loci. The workers

in yellow, whom you may have noticed, are akin to your extinct

Neanderthals. Then there are the Pekin derivatives--the blue-faced

chaps--and the Rhodesians----"

"What are these loci you keep talking about? And how can cave men still

be alive?"

Ghunt's eyes wandered past Dan. He jumped to his feet. "Ah, good day,

Inspector!" Dan turned. A grizzled Australopithecine with a tangle of

red braid at collar and wrists stared at him glumly.

"Harrumph!" the Inspector said. "Albinism and alopecia. Not catching, I

hope?"

"A genetic deficiency, excellency," Dzhackoon said. "This is a Homo

Sapiens, a naturally bald form from a rather curious locus."

"Sapiens? Sapiens? Now, that seems to ring a bell." The olster

blinked at Dan. "You're not--" He waggled fingers in instinctive

digital-mnemonic stimulus. Abruptly he stiffened. "Why, this is one

of those fratricidal deviants!" He backed off. "He should be under

restraint, Ghunt! Constable! Get a strong-arm squad in here! This

creature is dangerous!"

* * * * *

"Inspector. I'm sure--" Ghunt started.

"That's an order!" the Inspector barked. He switched to an

incomprehensible language, bellowed more commands. Several of the

thickset Neanderthal types appeared, moving in to seize Dan's arms. He

looked around at chinless, wide-mouthed brown faces with incongruous

blue eyes and lank blond hair.

"What's this all about?" he demanded. "I want a lawyer!"

"Never mind that!" the Inspector shouted. "I know how to deal with

miscreants of your stripe!" He stared distastefully at Dan. "Hairless!

Putty-colored! Revolting! Planning more mayhem, are you? Preparing to

branch out into the civilized loci to wipe out all competitive life, is

that it?"

"I brought him here, Inspector," Dzhackoon put in. "It was a routine

traffic violation."

"I'll decide what's routine here! Now, Sapiens! What fiendish scheme

have you up your sleeve, eh?"

"Daniel Slane, civilian, social security number 456-7329-988," Dan said.

"Eh?"

"Name, rank and serial number," Dan explained. "I'm not answering any