“While the Watchers from the Galactic Federation patiently await the verdict—freedom or quarantine for Earth—they review man’s reaction to three past crises.
“In The Martyr we have a portrait of a civilization on the brink of immortality through the discovery of a rejuvenation process.The story moves beautifully . . .
“In Psi High high Psis have become social pariahs, stigmatized and controlled until an enemy alien telepath arrives. Don’t anticipate—this one has a real Hitchcockian twist.
“Finally Mirror, Mirror shows humanity engaged in an unusual war with an elusive enemy. The solution lies in reflection, and in a very human weakness.
“Intelligent postulates; skillful story-telling which challenges, entertains.”
— Kirkus Review
About the Author
ALAN E. NOURSE is a doctor who is successfully combining his vocation, medicine, with his avocation, writing. He is generally recognized as one of the outstanding writers of science-fiction today, and his sound medical background stands him in good stead for the many technical and scientific details which lend authenticity to his stories.
Dr. Nourse lives in North Bend, Washington, with his wife and young son and daughter.
Ace Books have published his novels: The Invaders Are Coming (D-366), Rocket To Limbo (D-385), and Scavengers In Space (D-541).
An Ace Book, by arrangement with David McKay Co., Inc.
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Don Ivan Punchatz
Printed in U.S.A.
Dedication
For Jim, Doreen and Cynthia
Prologue
For fourteen days, by Earth reckoning, the outpost ship of the Watchers patiently continued in its orbit, circling the great planet called Jupiter like a silent shadow, waiting for some sign of Kadar’s return.
The ship had come silently from halfway across the Galaxy, responding to a prearranged call signal. Now it was here, an undetected visitor to this remote solar province with its dwarf yellow star and its ten obscure planets. It was not the first time an outpost ship had come here, although visits had been relatively infrequent in the time since life had first appeared on the third planet of this star. Many in the Confederation—especially those with short memories—had opposed surveillance of such a backwater region at all, but the Watchers as usual had prevailed. They knew from long experience that it was not the remoteness of a new-appearing race that mattered, but its intelligence and its potential to build—or to destroy—the Confederation in the future. Once a people had broken free from the star that spawned them, remoteness was no longer a consideration. But the nature of the people was something else.
Now, as the outpost ship swung in its orbit, no ray of sunlight reflected from its surface. No radar signal bounced back to reveal even a shadow. The physical substance of the ship and the two Watchers aboard it were such that no radiant energy could be reflected; indeed, if an Earth ship were to come Into collision course with the Watchers it would pass right through and beyond them without so much as a hint that a “collision” had occurred. It was necessary, under the Covenant, that the Watchers remain undetected, and the Covenant had not been violated in all the tens of thousands of years that these ships had been regular visitors to this solar system. When contact had been made with these developing Earthmen, its true nature had always been concealed, just as the Covenant demanded.
And now the Watchers were waiting for the end of one such contact.
Of the two aboard the craft, only the younger was impatient. “Why so long?” he asked with increasing urgency. “He called for the rendezvous himself. Why does he keep us waiting? What could have gone wrong?”
The Old One sighed. Service with a Young One fresh from the academy was always more trial than joy. The eager textbook knowledge of the Covenant and its surveillance procedures were fine, but there was no experience to modulate all this frantic energy, and above all, no patience. “Nothing has gone wrong,” the Old One said. “Kadar will come, but he dare not just disappear from their midst for no reason. It must be done in the proper way, and that takes tune.”
“But so much time!” the Young One said. “Fourteen of their days, and no end in sight.”
“And this is so much time? After watching these stubborn people for millennia?” The Old One smiled. “Of course you’re eager to be gone; so am I. But consider Kadar’s problem scientifically.”
The Young One caught the gentle note of reproach. “Very well, sir. If you will instruct me.”
“Just consider: his departure would have to appear consistent with the way Earth people take leave of things—a ‘death’, so to speak—but it must also appear quite unremarkable. And in particular, nothing even to hint of foul play. Their people at the Hoffman Medical Center are not fools. And then with his ‘death’ accomplished, there would be still further delay. For all their advancement, Earth people still cling to certain long-revered rituals. Funerals, for instance.”
The Old One turned back to the space scanner as his young apprentice thought about this. Finally the Young One said, “Of course, I know they have come a long way, these Earthmen, but there are still many things I do not see. Why now, after all this time, are we ending our surveillance?”
“Because the time has come to withdraw,” the Old One said.
“How do we know? Has the Confederation already reached a decision?”
“Not yet. But it will, as soon as we return.”
“How can they, when we know so little about these creatures?”
“We know more about them than you think,” the Old One said. “It isn’t the quantity of data that makes the difference, it’s the quality. And basically, a decision for or against quarantine and possible imprisonment hangs upon one question: will these people one day become peaceful and productive partners in the Galactic Confederation, or will they become a malignancy in our midst that must then, too late, be confronted and expunged? There was one such malignant race, if you recall your history. They had many qualities in common with these Earthmen in their early days, and it took a million years of warfare to stop them. The Confederation cannot allow another such race the freedom to expand.”
“And you think a decision can be reached so soon?” the Young One asked. “Oh, I know that all the known intelligent races have followed certain patterns. Always they have been aggressive. Always they have been curious. Always they have fought their own wars, and always they have learned to control mass-energy conversion. But how can the future be predicted from these things early enough to do any good?”
“It can’t,” the Old One replied. “But those parts of the pattern don’t matter in the long run. You’ve ignored the three factors that do matter, the three things we had to know about these Earthmen before a decision could even be possible. How they deal with nuclear energy Is none of our concern. How they—or any race—deal with three other key universal problems is very much our concern, and a valid basis for predicting what the future holds.”