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He was quite tall, very slender, the sort of man who even in late middle age keeps himself in condition. Although his features had thickened, he was still a very handsome fellow. He fixed his gray-blue eyes upon me. He said, "Where's Hightee?" I said, "Oh, she went back this noon to Voltar." "Oh, blast," he said, "I hoped to catch her. You must be the young man I heard she had in tow." "The Honorable Monte Pe
But there is still time, dear reader, there is still time. The sacred Invasion Timetable can yet be restored and executed. However, as Shafter is reminding me, I have not told you all. When I got back to Voltar I was, of course, busy for a very long time writing the story you have read. Honestly, I have never worked so hard in all my life. I blackmailed Hound-he drinks-into telling people I was studying to take examination for a position, without saying which relative had won and, as Lady Corsa and her brother had gone back to Modon, I was not bothered. Oh, how I sweated. And then the fabulous day came when I thought that I had finished, only to be told by Shafter I had my wires loose. "All right," I said impatiently, "all right. But Shafter, I don't have any more material here. It's all written up!" He sighed. He said, "Young Monte, have you ever realized how boring it has been for me puttering around here while you inked your fingers up? Every car you have is tuned. And you know what?" I said, "What?" "I think you're writing fairy tales." "Oh, Shafter, have you turned against me, too?" "I wouldn't do that, young Monte. But I could keep you from making an awful mistake." He went to the door of the old air-tourer he had picked up for a song (I should be more accurate: it wasn't one of my odes, for nobody will take them; it was with my unspent allowance built up.while I was writing) and he opened the creaky door and pushed a panel button. He said, "Look." I looked. He had turned on a map. It was the Western Ocean. "I don't see anything," I said, mystified. "That's what I'm showing you," Shafter said. "You could be making an awful mistake. Look carefully. NOTHING!" Believe me, it was an awful shock when I understood and verified what he was saying. Not only was there no Relax Island, THERE WAS NO ISLAND AT ALL! "Good Heavens!" I cried. "The cover-up even extends to corrupting a Voltar planetary chart!" "I knew you'd see it my way," said Shafter. "I'll ask Hound to pack us a lunch and we're on our way!" We flew over there at once. Two thousand miles. The old air-tourer wasn't fast-it could only make three hundred-but it had lots of instruments and screens. The overcast was very high and gray, the ocean was very ominous and green. At four in the afternoon we were on the exact coordinates. "Be careful not to run into the mountaintop," I said. "I've forgotten how high it is." "Well, you won't find out from the pilot book. There's no such island listed. But I've got a system. I've drawn a grid and we will just fly back and forth, going lower and lower, and scout this whole area of ocean." "Don't run into the mountainside!" I said. "I won't," replied Shafter. "For I'm quite certain there's nothing there. Besides, I'm flying with all screens live. Sit back and have another sweetbun. This is going to take time." We combed and combed, lower and lower, splitting through the tendrils of mist and patches of sun. Now and then we glimpsed the ocean below. The waves began to look more and more prominent. We were finally so low, I even saw a batfish being chased by a whole school of toothers. It made me nervous, particularly since Shafter had chosen that moment to lift an interior cowl and shove in another fuel bar: I hoped we had enough of them. The sun abruptly blinded me. It was shining under the mist, horizontally. SUNSET! And then a weird thought hit me. "Say, Shafter, have you had a flash from Planetary Defense?" "No," he said, skimming the waves. "Well, for Heavens' sakes, make sure your traffic cha