They shoved through the hate-filled crowds
of Terra, looking for a little pleasure, a
little entertainment. For tomorrow Ensign
Grey and his blue-furred space-mate, Canopus 43C,
would go off to war—if tomorrow ever came.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories September 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The unfriendly street stretched ahead of them, pouring bitter waves ofhostility through their nervous systems. They had ridden the bus fromthe space-port into town, and now they stood on the pavement soakingup the profusion of sensations which permeated the atmosphere of thebrawly town.
Joe, his iridescent fur registering a pale blue of distaste and hisantennae quivering in a controlled agitation, kept a warm tentaclecurled firmly in the hand of Jed Grey. Since his native name wasa soundless, telepathic abstraction, the records of the SolarianFleet labeled him Canopus 647-B-43C. To Ensign Jed Grey, his Terranteam-mate, he was Joe.
The blue of Grey's Space Fleet uniform matched, for the moment, theevanescent hue of Joe's pelt, as, in a curious manner, the patterncreated by Joe's thoughts matched that of Grey.
The sky had created a raucous sunset, challenging the lurid glitter ofthe neon signs which lined the main street of Selby, Texas. The lightreflected garishly from the multicolored and multishaped uniforms whichswarmed about the thoroughfare.
Terrans, scaly-headed Arcturians, spined Sirians, the dark and stockyinhabitants of a strange planet which circled a star whose name toTerran astronomers was only a number in the star catalogue—all ofthese walked in small groups along the length of the street, seeking aspot where they could relax for the evening and forget where they hadbeen or where they were going.
Jed Grey asked Joe, "Where are the rest of your boys?"
Joe allowed his perceptual sense to range through the town, hissensitive antennae erect and rigid. Through the murky welter ofconflicting thought patterns he sought the familiar, gentle sensationcreated by the furred Canopans.
"It's hard to find them," he transmitted to Grey. "I know they must bein town somewhere. They came on the bus before ours. But there are toomany Terrans about and it is bad...."
Jed Grey knew precisely how bad it was. Habitually en rapport with hisCanopan partner, he sensed in every nerve the hostile atmosphere of thestreet, tearing at the hard shell of defense which he had learned toerect.
The Arcturians, habitually suspicious of strange planetary types, weresufficiently unpleasant in their thought patterns. However, it was fromthe native earthmen, whose blue uniforms vastly outnumbered all others,that the bulk of the torment arose.
Grey could sense it even though he avoided observing their faces. Hecould feel the alcoholic thoughts of the mechanic across the street:"An earthman holding hands with a snake! Damned snake man!"
It was now months since Grey had learned what that meant. The pain withwhich he had learned that was by now gone. He did not think that Joe'stentacles looked like snakes, and he cared nothing for the opinions ofthe others. Yet it was difficult to keep out of his mind the intrudingthoughts of the Fleetmen who glared at him with disgust on their faces.
"I have found the others," Joe thought to Grey. "They are in a smallbar at the other end of town called the Purple Claw. It seems to be aninteresting place."
There was no need for Joe to ask, "Shall we go there?" For there wasno place else to go. This was a repetition of the problem which alw