A shorter version of this work appeared in
ANALOG Science Fact--Science Fiction
All of the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER 62-7710 COPYRIGHT © 1963 BYDOUBLEDAY & COMPANY, INC. COPYRIGHT © 1962 BY THE CONDÉ NAST PUBLICATIONS,INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA FIRST EDITIONTranscriber's Note: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.For
mon cher ami
Frère Gascéa man whom I may truly call ... ... my brother
Like some great silver-pink fish, the ship sang on through the eternal night. There was no impression of swimming; the fish shape had neither fins nor a tail. It was as though it were hovering in wait for a member of some smaller species to swoop suddenly down from nowhere, so that it, in turn, could pounce and kill.But still it moved and sang.Only a being who was thoroughly familiar with the type could have told that this particular fish was dying.In shape, the ship was rather like a narrow flounder--long, tapered, and oval in cross-section--but it showednone of the exterior markings one might expect of either a living thing or a spaceship. With one exception, thesmooth silver-pink exterior was featureless.That one exception was a long, purplish-black, roughened discoloration that ran along one side for almost half of the ship's seventeen meters of length. It was the only external sign that the ship was dying.Inside the ship, the Nipe neither knew nor cared about the discoloration. Had he thought about it, he wouldhave deduced the presence of the burn, but it was by far the least of his worries.The ship sang, and the song was a song of death.The internal damage that had been done to the ship was far more serious than the burn on the surface of thehull. It was that internal damage which occupied the thoughts of the Nipe, for it could, quite possibly, killhim.He had, of course, no intention of dying. Not out here. Not so far, so very far, from his own people. Not outhere, where his death would be so very improper.
You Can Do ..., by Gordon Randall Garrett2