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THE OTHER LIKENESS


    _There is a limit to how perfect a counterfeit can be--a limit that
    cannot be passed without an odd phenomenon setting in...._


BY JAMES H. SCHMITZ

ILLUSTRATED BY SCHELLING


When he felt the sudden sharp tingling on his skin which came from the
alarm device under his wrist watch, Dr. Halder Leorm turned unhurriedly
from the culture tray he was studying, walked past the laboratory
technician to the radiation room, entered it and closed the door behind
him. He slipped the instrument from his wrist, removed its back plate,
and held it up to his eye.

He was looking into the living room of his home, fifty miles away in
another section of Orado's great city of Draise. A few steps from the
entry, a man lay on his back on the carpeting, eyes shut, face deeply
flushed, apparently unconscious. Halder Leorm's mouth tightened. The man
on the carpet was Dr. Atteo, his new assistant, assigned to the
laboratory earlier in the week. Beyond Atteo, the entry from the
residence's delivery area and car port stood open.

Fingering the rim of the tiny scanner with practiced quickness, Halder
Leorm shifted the view to other sections of the house, finally to the
car port. An empty aircar stood in the port; there was no one in sight.

Halder sighed, replaced the instrument on his wrist, and glanced over at
a wall mirror. His face was pale but looked sufficiently composed.
Leaving the radiation room, he picked up his hat, said to the
technician, "Forgot to mention it, Reef, but I'll have to head over to
central laboratories again."

[Illustration]

Reef, a large, red-headed young man, glanced around in mild surprise.
"They've got a nerve, calling you across town every two days!" he
observed. "Whose problem are you supposed to solve now?"

"I wasn't informed. Apparently, something urgent has come up and they
want my opinion on it."

"Yeah, I bet!" Reef scratched his head, glanced along the rows of
culture trays. "Well ... nothing here at the moment I can't handle, even
if Atteo doesn't show up. Will you be back before evening?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Halder said. "You know how those conferences
tend to go."

"Uh-huh. Well, Dr. Leorm, if I don't see you before tomorrow, give my
love to your beautiful wife."

Halder smiled back at him from the door. "Will do, Reef!" He let the
door slide shut behind him, started towards the exit level of the huge
pharmaceutical plant. Reef had acted in a completely normal manner. If,
as seemed very probable, "Dr. Atteo" was a Federation agent engaged in
investigating Dr. Halder Leorm, Halder's co-workers evidently had not
been apprised of the fact. Still, Halder thought, he must warn Kilby
instantly. It was quite possible that an attempt to arrest him would be
made before he left the building.

He stepped into the first ComWeb booth on his route, and dialed Kilby's
business number. His wife had a desk job in one of the major fashion
stores in the residential section of Draise, and--which was fortunate
just now--a private office. Her face appeared almost immediately on the
screen before him, a young face, soft-looking, with large, gray eyes.
She smiled in pleased surprise. "'Lo, Halder!"

"'Lo, Kilby.... Did you forget?"

Kilby's smile became inquiring. "Forget what?"

"That we're lunching together at Hasmin's today."

Halder paused, watching the color drain quickly from Kilby's cheeks.

"Of course!" she whispered. "I did forget. Got tied up in ... and ...
I'll leave right now! All right?"

Halder smiled. She was past the first moment of shock and would be able
to handle herself. After all, they had made very precise preparations
against the day when they might discover that the Federation's
suspicions had turned, however tentatively, in their direction.

"That'll be fine," he said. "I'm calling from the lab and will leave at
once"--he paused almost imperceptibly--"if I'm not held up. Meet you at
Hasmin's, in any case, in around twenty minutes."

Kilby's eyes flickered for an instant. If Halder didn't make it away,
she was to carry out her own escape, as planned. That was the
understanding. She gave him a tremulous smile. "And I'm forgiven?"

"Of course." Halder smiled back.

       *       *       *       *       *

The guards at the check-out point were not men he knew, but Halder
walked through the ID-scanning band without incident, apparently without
arousing interest. Beyond, to the left, was a wide one-way portal to a
tube station. His aircar was in the executive parking area on the
building's roof, but the escape plan called for both of them to abandon
their private cars, which were more than likely to be traps, and use the
public transportation systems in starting out.

Halder entered the tube station, went to a rented locker, opened it and
took out two packages, one containing a complete change of clothing and
a mirror, the other half a dozen canned cultures of as many varieties
of microlife--highly specialized strains of life, of which the
pharmaceutical concern that employed Dr. Halder Leorm knew no more
than it did of the methods by which they had been developed.

Halder carried the packages into a ComWeb booth which he locked and
shielded for privacy. Then he opened both packages and quickly removed
his clothing. Opening the first of the cultures, he dipped one of the
needles into it and, watching himself in the mirror, made a carefully
measured injection in each side of his face. He laid the needle down and
opened the next container, aware of the enzyme reaction that had begun
to race through him.

Three minutes later, the mirror showed him a dark-skinned stranger with
high cheek bones, heavy jaw, thick nose, slightly slanted eyes, graying
hair. Halder disposed of the mirror, the clothes he had been wearing and
the remaining contents of the second package. Unchecked, the alien
organisms swarming in his blood stream now would have gone on to destroy
him in a variety of unpleasant ways. But with their work of disguise
completed, they were being checked.

He emerged presently from a tube exit in uptown Draise, on the terrace
of a hotel forty stories above the street level. He didn't look about
for Kilby, or rather the woman Kilby would turn into on her way here.
The plan called for him to arrive first, to make sure he hadn't been
traced, and then to see whether she was being followed.

She appeared five minutes later, a slightly stocky lady now, perhaps ten
years under Halder's present apparent age, dark-skinned as he was,
showing similar racial characteristics. She flashed her teeth at him as
she came up, sloe eyes flirting.

"Didn't keep you waiting, did I?" she asked.

Halder growled amiably, "What do you think? Let's grab a cab and get
going." Nobody had come out of the tube exit behind her.

Kilby nodded understandingly; she had remembered not to look back. She
was talking volubly about some imaginary adventure as they started down
the terrace stairs towards a line of aircabs, playing her part,
high-piled golden hairdo bobbing about. A greater contrast to the
slender, quiet, gray-eyed girl, brown hair falling softly to her
shoulders, with whom Halder had talked not more than twenty minutes ago
would have been difficult to devise. The disguises might have been good
enough, he thought, to permit them to remain undetected in Draise
itself.

But the plan didn't call for that. There were too many things at stake.

Kilby slipped into the cab ahead of him without a break in her chatter.

Her voice stopped abruptly as Halder closed the cab door behind him,
activating the vehicle's one-way vision shield. Kilby was leaning across
the front seat beside the driver, turning off the comm box. She
straightened, dropped down into the back seat beside Halder, biting her
lip. The driver's head sagged sideways as if he had fallen asleep; then
he slid slowly down on the seat and vanished from Halder's sight.

"Got him instantly, eh?" Halder asked, switching on the passenger
controls.

"Hm-m-m!" Kilby opened her purse, slipped the little gun which had been
in the palm of her left hand into it, reached out and gripped Halder's
hand for an instant. "You drive, Halder," she said. "I'm so nervous I
could scream! I'm scared cold! What happened?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Halder lifted the cab out from the terrace, swung it skywards. "We were
right in wondering about Dr. Atteo," he said. "Half an hour ago, he
attempted to go through our home in our absence. We'll have to assume
he's a Federation agent. The entry trap knocked him out, but the fat's
probably in the fire now. The Federation may not have been ready to make
an arrest yet, but after this there'll be no hesitation. We'll have to
move fast if we intend to keep ahead of Atteo's colleagues."

Kilby drew in an unsteady breath. "You warned Rane and Santin?"

Halder nodded. "I sent the alert signal to their apartment ComWeb in the
capital. Under the circumstances, I didn't think a person-to-person call
would be advisable. They'll have time to pack and get out to the ranch
before we arrive. We'll give them the details then."

"Did you reset the trap switch at the house entry?"

Halder slowed the cab, turning it into one of the cross-city traffic
lines above Draise. "No," he said. "Knocking out a few more Federation
agents wouldn't give us any advantage. It'll be eight or nine hours
before Atteo will be able to talk; and, with any luck at all, we'll be
clear of the planet by that time."

The dark woman who was Kilby and a controlled devil's swarm of microlife
looked over at him and asked in Kilby's voice, "Halder, do you think we
should still go on trying to find the others now?"

"Of course. Why stop?"

Kilby hesitated, said, "It took you three months to find me. Four months
later, we located Rane Rellis ... and Santin, at almost the same time.
Since then we've drawn one blank after another. A year and a half gone,
and a year and a half left."

She paused, and Halder said nothing, knowing she was fighting to keep
her voice steady. After a few seconds, Kilby went on. "Almost twelve
hundred still to find, scattered over a thousand worlds. Most of them
probably in hiding, as we were. And with the Federation on our trail ...
even if we get away this time, what chance is there now of contacting
the whole group before time runs out?"

Halder said patiently, "It's not an impossibility. We've been forced to
spend most of the past year and a half gathering information, studying
the intricate functioning of this gigantic civilization--so many things
that our mentors on Kalechi either weren't aware of or chose not to tell
us. And we haven't done too badly, Kilby. We're prepared now to conduct
the search for the group in a methodical manner. Nineteen hours in
space, and we'll be on another world, under cover again, with new
identities. Why shouldn't we continue with the plan until ..."

Kilby interrupted without change of expression. "Until we hear some day
that billions of human beings are dying on the Federation's worlds?"

Halder kept his eyes fixed on the traffic pattern ahead. "It won't come
to that," he said.

"Won't it? How can you be sure?" Kilby asked tonelessly.

"Well," Halder asked, "what else can we do? You aren't suggesting that
we give ourselves up--"

"I've thought of it."

"And be picked apart mentally and physically in the Federation's
laboratories?" Halder shook his head. "In their eyes we'd be Kalechi's
creatures ... monsters. Even if we turn ourselves in, they'll think it's
some trick, that we'd realized we'd get caught anyway. We couldn't
expect much mercy. No, if everything fails, we'll see to it that the
Federation gets adequate warning. But not, if we can avoid it, at the
expense of our own lives." He glanced over at her, his eyes troubled.
"We've been over this before, Kilby."

"I know." Kilby bit her lip. "You're right, I suppose."

Halder let the cab glide out of the traffic lane, swung it around
towards the top of a tall building three miles to their left. "We'll be
at the club in a couple of minutes," he said. "If you're too disturbed,
it would be better if you stayed in the car. I'll pick up our
flighthiking outfits and we can take the cab on to the city limits
before we dismiss it."

Kilby shook her head. "We agreed we shouldn't change any details of the
escape plan unless it was absolutely necessary. I'll straighten out.
I've just let this situation shake me too much."

       *       *       *       *       *

They set the aircab to traffic-safe random cruise control before getting
out of it at their club. It lifted quietly into the air again as soon as
the door had closed, was out of sight beyond the building before they
reached the club entrance. The driver's records had indicated that his
shift would end in three hours. Until that time he would not be missed.
More hours would pass after the cab was located before the man returned
to consciousness. What he had to say then would make no difference.

In one of the club rooms, rented to a Mr. and Mrs. Anley, they changed
to shorts and flighthiking equipment, then took a tube to the outskirts
of Draise where vehicleless flight became possible. Forest parks
interspersed with small residential centers stretched away to the east.
They set their flight harnesses to Draise's power broadcast system,
moved up fifty feet and floated off into the woods, energizing drive and
direction units with the measured stroking motion which made
flighthiking one of the most relaxing and enjoyable of sports. And
one--so Halder had theorized--which would be considered an improbable
occupation for a couple attempting to escape from the Federation's
man-hunting systems.

For an hour and a half, they held a steady course eastwards, following
the contours of the rolling forested ground, rarely emerging into the
open. Other groups of vehicleless fliers passed occasionally; as members
of a sporting fraternity, they exchanged waves and shouted greetings. At
last, a long, wild valley opened ahead, showing no trace of human
habitation; at its far end began open land, dotted with small tobacco
farms where automatic cultivators moved unhurriedly about. Kilby,
glancing back over her shoulder at Halder for a moment, swung around
towards one of the farms, gliding down close to the ground, Halder
twenty feet behind her. They settled down beside a hedge at the foot of
a slope covered with tobacco plants. A small gate in the hedge
immediately swung open.

"All clear here, folks!" a voice curiously similar to Halder's addressed
them from the gate speaker.

Rane Rellis, a lanky, red-headed man with a wide-boned face, was
striding down the slope towards them as they moved through the gate. "We
got your alert," he said, "but as it happens, we'd already realized that
something had gone wrong."

[Illustration]

Kilby gave him a startled glance. "Somebody has been checking on you,
too?"

"Not that ... at least as far as we know. Come on up to the shed.
Santin's already inside the mountain." As they started along the narrow
path between the rows of plants, Rellis went on, "The first responses
to our inquiries came in today. One of them looked very promising.
Santin flew her car to Draise immediately to inform you about it. She
scanned your home as usual before calling, discovered three strange men
waiting inside."

"When was this?" Halder interrupted.

[Illustration]

"A few minutes after one o'clock. Santin checked at once at your place
of work and Kilby's, learned you both were absent, deduced you were
still at large and probably on your way here. She called to tell me
about it. Your alert signal sounded almost before she'd finished
talking."

Halder glanced at Kilby. "We seem to have escaped arrest by something
like five minutes," he remarked dryly. "Were you able to bring the
records with you, Rane?"

"Yes, everything. If we get clear of Orado, we can pick up almost where
we left off." Rane Rellis swung the door of the cultivator shed open and
followed them in, closing and locking the door behind him. They crossed
quickly through the small building to an open wall portal at the far
end. Beyond the portal a large, brightly lit room was visible,
comfortably furnished, windowless. Between that room and the shed the
portal spanned a distance of seven miles, a vital point in the
organization of their escape route. If they were traced this far, the
trail would end--temporarily, at least--at the ranch.

They stepped over into the room, and Rane Rellis pulled down a switch.
Behind them the portal entry vanished. Back in the deserted ranch
building, its mechanisms were bursting into flames, would burn fiercely
for a few seconds and fuse to dead slag.

       *       *       *       *       *

Rane said tightly, "I feel a little better now ... just a little! The
Fed agents are good, but I haven't yet heard of detection devices that
could drive through five hundred yards of solid rock to spot us inside a
mountain." He paused as a tall girl with black hair, dark-brown eyes,
came in from an adjoining room. Santin Rellis was the only one of the
four who was not employing a biological disguise at the moment. In spite
of the differences in their appearance, she might have been taken for
Kilby's sister.

Halder told them what had occurred in Draise, concluded, "I'd believed
that suspicion was more likely to center first on one of you.
Particularly, of course, on Santin, working openly in Orado's
Identification Center."

Santin grinned. "And, less openly, copying out identity-patterns!" she
added. Her face sobered quickly again. "There's no indication of what
did attract attention to you?"

Halder shook his head. "I can only think it's the microbiological work
I've been doing. That, of course, would suggest that they already have
an inkling of Kalechi's three-year plan to destroy the Federation."

Rane added, "And that at least one of the group already has been
captured!"

"Probably."

There was silence for a moment. Santin said evenly, "That isn't a
pleasant thought. Halder, everything we've learned recently at the
Identification Center indicates that Rane's theory is correct ... every
one of the twelve hundred members of the Kalechi group probably can be
analyzed down to the same three basic identity-patterns, reshuffled in
endless variation. The Federation wouldn't have to capture many of us
before discovering the fact. It will then start doing exactly what we're
trying to do--use it to identify the rest of the group."

Halder nodded. "I've thought of that."

"You still intend to use the Senla Starlight Cruisers to get out into
space?" Rane asked.

"Kilby and I will," Halder said. "But now, of course, you two had better
select one of the alternate escape routes."

"Why that?" Santin asked sharply.

Halder looked at her. "That's obvious, isn't it? There's a good chance
you're still completely in the clear."

"That's possible. But it isn't a good enough reason for splitting up.
We're a working team, and we should stay together, regardless of
circumstances. What do you say, Rane?"

Her husband said, "I agree with you." He smiled briefly at Halder.
"We'll be waiting for you on the north shore of Lake Senla ten minutes
before the Starlight Cruise lifts. Now, is there anything else to
discuss?"

"Not at the moment." Halder paused, dissatisfied, then went on. "All
right. We still don't know just what the Federation is capable of ...
one move might as easily be wrong as the other. We'll pick you up, as
arranged. Kilby and I are flighthiking on to Senla, so we might as well
start immediately."

They went into the second room of the underground hideout. Rane turned
to the exit portal's controls, asked, "Where shall I let you out?"

"We'll take the river exit," Halder said. "Six miles from here, nine
from the ranch ... that should be far enough. We'll be lost in an army
of vacationers from Draise and the capital thirty seconds after we
emerge."

       *       *       *       *       *

It was dusk when Halder and Kilby turned into the crowded shore walk of
the lake resort of Senla, moving unhurriedly towards a bungalow Halder
had bought under another name some months before. Halder's thoughts went
again over the details of the final stage of their escape from Orado.
Essentially, the plan was simple. An hour from now they would slide
their small star cruiser out of the bungalow's yacht stall, pick up Rane
and Santin on the far shore of the lake, then join the group of thirty
or so private yachts which left the resort area nightly for a two-hour
flight to a casino ship stationed off the planet. A group cruise was
unlikely to draw official scrutiny even tonight; and after reaching the
casino, they should be able to slip on unobserved into space.

There was, however, no way of knowing with certainty that the plan ...
or any other plan ... would work. It was only during the past few months
that the four of them had begun to understand in detail the extent to
which the vast, apparently loose complex of the Federation's worlds was
actually organized. How long they had been under observation, how much
the Federation suspected or knew about them--those questions were, at
the moment, unanswerable. So Halder walked on in alert silence, giving
his attention to anything which might be a first indication of danger in
the crowds surging quietly past them along Senla's shore promenade in
the summer evening. It was near the peak of the resort's season; a
sense of ease and relaxation came from the people he passed, their
voices seeming to blend into a single, low-pitched, friendly murmur.
Well, and in time, Halder told himself, if everything went well, he and
Kilby might be able to mingle undisguised, unafraid, with just such a
crowd. But tonight they were hunted.

He laid his hand lightly on Kilby's arm, said, "Let's rest on that bench
over there for a moment."

She smiled up at him, said, "All right," turned and led the way towards
an unoccupied bench set back among the trees above the walk. They sat
down, and Halder quickly slipped the watch off his wrist and removed the
scanner's cover plate. The bungalow was a few hundred yards away now, on
a side path which led down to the lake. It was showing no lights, but as
the scanner reached into it, invisible radiation flooded the dark rooms
and hallway, disclosing them to the instrument's inspection. For two or
three minutes, Halder studied the bungalow's interior carefully; then he
shifted the view to the grounds outside, finally to the yacht stall and
the little star cruiser. Twice Kilby touched him warningly as somebody
appeared about to approach the bench, and Halder put down his hand. But
the strangers went by without pausing.

At last, he replaced the instrument on his wrist. He had discovered no
signs of intrusion in the bungalow; and, at any rate, it was clear that
no one was waiting there now, either in the little house itself or in
the immediate vicinity. He stood up, and put out his hand to assist
Kilby to her feet.

"We'll go on," he said.

A few minutes later, they came along a narrow garden path to the
bungalow's dark side entrance. There was to be no indication tonight
that the bungalow had occupants. Halder unlocked the door quietly, and
after Kilby had slipped inside, he stepped in behind her and secured the
door.

For an instant, as they moved along the short, lightless passage to the
front rooms, a curious sensation touched Halder--a terrifying conviction
that some undefinable thing had just gone wrong. And with that, his
whole body was suddenly rigid, every muscle locking in mid-motion. He
felt momentum topple him slowly forwards; then he was no longer falling
but stopped, tilted off-balance at a grotesque angle, suspended in a web
of forces he could not feel. Not the slightest sound had come from
Kilby, invisible in the blackness ahead of him.

Halder threw all his will and strength into the effort to force motion
back into his body. Instead, a wave of cold numbness washed slowly up
through him. It welled into his brain, and for a time all thought and
sensation ended.

       *       *       *       *       *

His first new awareness was a feeling of being asleep and not knowing
how to wake up. There was no disturbance associated with it. All about
was darkness, complete and quiet.

With curious deliberation, Halder's senses now began bringing other
things to his attention. He was seated, half reclining, in a deep and
comfortable chair, his back against it. He seemed unable to move. His
arms were secured in some manner to the chair's armrests; but, beyond
that, he also found it impossible to lift his body forwards or, he
discovered next, to turn his head in any direction. He was breathing
normally, and he could open and shut his eyes and glance about in
unchanging darkness. But that was all.

Still with a dreamlike lack of concern, Halder began to ask himself what
had happened; and in that instant, with a rush of hot terror, his memory
opened out. They had been trapped ... some undetectable trick of
Federation science had waited for them in the bungalow at Lake Senla. He
had been taken somewhere else.

What had they done with Kilby?

Immediately, almost as if in answer to his question, the darkness seemed
to lighten. But the process was gradual; seconds passed before Halder
gained the impression of a very large room of indefinite proportions.
Twenty feet away was the rim of a black, circular depression in the
flooring. At first, his chair seemed the only piece of furnishing here;
then, as the area continued to brighten, Halder became aware of several
objects at some distance on his right.

For an instant, he strained violently to turn his head towards them.
That was still impossible, but the objects were there, near the edge of
his vision. Again the great room grew lighter, and for seconds Halder
could distinguish three armchairs like his own, spaced perhaps twenty
feet apart along the rim of the central pit. Each chair had an occupant;
in the nearest was Kilby, restored to her natural appearance,
motionless, pale face turned forwards, eyes open. Suddenly the light
vanished.

Halder sat shocked, realizing he had tried to speak to Kilby and that no
sound had come from his throat. Neither speech nor motion was allowed
them here. But he didn't doubt that Kilby was awake, or that Santin and
Rane Rellis were in the farther chairs, though he hadn't seen either of
them clearly. Their captors had given them a brief glimpse of one
another, perhaps to let them know all had been caught. Then, as the
light disappeared, Halder's glance had shifted for an instant to his
right hand lying on the armrest--long enough to see that the dark tinge
was gone from his skin, as it was from Kilby's, that he, too, had been
deprived of the organisms which disguised him.

And that, his studies in Draise had showed clearly, was something the
Federation's science would be a century away from knowing how to do
unless it learned about Kalechi's deadly skills.

Once more, it was almost as if the thought were being given an answer.
In the darkness of the room a bright image appeared, three-dimensional,
not quite a sphere in form, tiger-striped in orange and black, balanced
on a broad, bifurcated swimming tail. Stalked eyes protruded from the
top of the sphere; their slit pupils seemed to be staring directly at
Halder. Down both sides ran a row of ropy arms.

       *       *       *       *       *

Simultaneously with the appearance of this projection, a man's voice
began to speak, not loudly but distinctly. Dreamlike again, the voice
seemed to have no specific source, as if it were coming from every
direction at once; and a numbing conviction arose in Halder that their
minds were being destroyed in this room, that a methodical dissecting
process had begun which would continue move by move and hour by hour
until the Federation's scientists were satisfied that no further scraps
of information could be drained from the prisoners. The investigation
might be completely impersonal; but the fact that they were being
ignored here as sentient beings, were not permitted to argue their case
or offer an explanation, seemed more chilling than deliberate brutality.
And yet, Halder told himself, he couldn't really blame anyone for the
situation they were in. The Kalechi group represented an urgent and
terrible threat. The Federation could not afford to make any mistakes in
dealing with it.

"This image," the voice was saying, "represents a Great Satog, the
oxygen-breathing, water-dwelling native of the world of Kalechi. There
are numerous type-variations of the species. Shown here is the dominant
form. It is highly intelligent; approximately a third of a Satog's body
space is occupied by its brain.

"Kalechi's civilization is based on an understanding of biological
processes and the means of their manipulation which is well in advance
of our own. This specialized interest appears to have developed from the
Satogs' genetic instability, a factor which they have learned to control
and to use to their advantage. At present, they have established
themselves on at least a dozen other worlds, existing on each in a
modified form which is completely adapted to the new environment.

"Our occasional contacts with Kalechi and its colonies during the past
two centuries have been superficially friendly, but it appears now that
the Great Satogs have regarded our technological and numerical
superiority with alarm and have cast about for a method to destroy the
Federation without risk to themselves. A weapon was on hand--their great
skill and experience in altering genetic patterns in established life
forms to produce desired changes. They devised the plan of distributing
Kalechi agents secretly throughout the Federation. These were to develop
and store specific strains of primitive organisms which, at an indicated
later date, would sweep our major worlds simultaneously with an
unparalleled storm of plagues.

"The most audacious part of the Kalechi scheme follows. Ninety-two years
ago, a Federation survey ship disappeared in that sector of the galaxy.
Aboard it was a man named Ohl Cantrall, an outstanding scientist of the
period. We know now that this ship was captured by the Great Satogs, and
that Cantrall, his staff, and his crew, were subjected to extensive
experimentation by them, and eventually were killed.

"The experimentation had been designed to provide Kalechi's
master-biologists with models towards which to work. They proposed to
utilize the high mutability of their species to develop a Satog type
that would be the exact physical counterpart of a human being and could
live undetected on our worlds for the several years required to prepare
for the attack. They were amazingly successful. Each group of cells in
the long series which began moving towards an approximation of the human
pattern was developed only far enough to initiate the greatest favorable
shift possible at that point in its genetic structure. Cell generations
may have followed each other within hours in this manner, for over six
decades.

"The goal of the experiment, the last generation issued in Kalechi's
laboratories, were Satog copies of embryonic human beings. This stage
was comprised of approximately twelve hundred individuals who were now
permitted to mature and were schooled individually in complete isolation
by Satog teachers. They were indoctrinated with their purpose in
life ... the destruction of our populations ... and trained fully in
the manner of accomplishing it.

"Eventually, each was shipped to a Federation world. Cover identities as
obscure Federation citizens with backgrounds and records had been
prepared. The final instructions given these agents were simple. They
were to do nothing to draw attention to themselves, make no attempt to
contact one another. They were to create their stocks of lethal
organisms, provide methods of distribution and, on a selected day, three
Federation years away, release the floods of death."

       *       *       *       *       *

The voice paused briefly, went on. "It is a sobering reflection that
this plan--an attack by a comparatively minor race with one specialized
skill on the greatest human civilization in history--might very well
have been appallingly successful. But the Great Satogs failed, in part
because of the very perfection of their work.

"From the human beings on board Ohl Cantrall's captured survey ship the
Satog scientists selected Cantrall himself and two female technicians on
his staff as the models to be followed in developing Kalechi's
pseudohumanity. In the twelve hundred members of the group sent to the
Federation ninety years later, these three identity-patterns are
recognizable. They appear in varying degrees of combination, but an
occasional individual will show only one or the other of the three
patterns involved.

"Ohl Cantrall was regarded as a great man in his time, and his
identification pattern is on record. That was the detail which first
revealed the plot. When three duplicates of that particular
pattern--and a considerable number of approximate duplicates--turned up
simultaneously in identification banks at widely separated points in the
Federation, it aroused more than scientific curiosity. Our security
system has learned to look with suspicion on apparent miracles. The
unsuspecting 'Cantralls' were located and apprehended at once; the
threat to the Federation was disclosed; and an intensive though
unpublicized search for the scattered group of Kalechi agents began
immediately...."

The voice paused again.

The Satog image above the pit vanished. A clear light sprang up in the
big room. Simultaneously, Halder felt the nightmare immobility draining
from him and the sensation of dreamlike unreality fade from his mind. He
turned to the right, found Kilby's eyes already on him, saw the Rellis
couple sitting beyond her ... Rane, no longer disguised, looking like a
mirror image of Halder.

They were still fastened to their chairs. Halder's gaze shifted back
quickly to the center of the room. Where the pit had been, the flooring
was now level, carrying a massive, polished table. Behind the table sat
a heavily built, white-haired man with a strong face, harsh mouth, in
the formal black and gold robes of a Councilman of the Federation.

"I am Councilman Mavig." The voice was the one that had spoken in the
dark; it came now from the man at the table. "I am in charge of the
operation against the Kalechi agents, and it is my duty to inform them,
after their arrest and examination, of the disposition that must be made
of them."

He hesitated, twisting his mouth thoughtfully, almost as if unwilling to
continue. "You four have been thoroughly examined," he stated at last.
"Most of the work has been done while you were still unconscious. A
final check of your emotional reactions was being made throughout the
stress situation just ended, in which you listened to a replay of a
report on the Kalechi matter. That part is now concluded."

Mavig paused, scowled, cleared his throat. "I find," he went on, "that
some aspects of this affair still strain my credulity! More than half of
your group have been captured by now; the remainder are at large but
under observation. The danger is past. The activities of the Great
Satogs of Kalechi will receive our very close scrutiny for generations
to come. They shall be given no opportunity to repeat such a trick;
nor--after they have been made aware of the measures we are preparing
against them--will they feel the slightest inclination to try it.

"Now, as to yourselves. After we had tracked down the first dozen or so
of you, a startling pattern began to emerge. You were not following
Kalechi's careful instructions. In one way and another--in often very
ingenious ways--you were attempting primarily to establish contact with
one another. When captured and examined while unconscious by the
various interrogation instruments of our psychologists you told us your
reasons for doing this."

Councilman Mavig shook his head. "The interrogation machines are
supposed to be infallible," he remarked. "Possibly they are. But I am
not a psychologist, and for a long time I refused to accept the reports
they returned. But still ..."

He sighed. "Well, as to what is to happen with you. You will be sent to
join the previously arrested members of your group, and will remain with
them until the last of you is in our hands, has been examined, and ..."

Mavig paused again.

"You see, we can accuse you of no crime!" he said irritably. "As
individuals and as a group, your intention from the beginning has been
to prevent the crime against the Federation from being committed. The
Great Satogs simply did too good a job. You have been given the most
searching physical examinations possible. They show uniformly that your
genetic pattern is stable, and that in no detail can it be distinguished
from a wholly human one of high order.

"You appreciate, I imagine, where that leaves the Federation! When
imitation is carried to the point of identity ..." Federation Councilman
Mavig shook his head once more, concluded, "It is utterly absurd, in
direct contradiction to everything we have understood to date! You've
regarded yourselves as human beings, and believed that your place was
among us. And we can only agree."




Transcriber's Note:

    This etext was produced from _Analog Science Fact & Fiction_ July
    1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
    typographical errors have been corrected without note.