Mo-Sanshon!
couldn’t get anywhere near their headquarters. They’ve been there for centuries, aeons, before humanoid culture evolved on either world.”

“I know,” said Red. “How different and lonely their life must be—when you even compare it with ours. How envious and jealous they must be. And how they must hate us, buried as they are underground, hidden from the stars. Static, no individuality—that’s all lost in the colony. The State is all. And someday humanity may evolve into the same death trap. No wonder they want to destroy us. They can’t stand to see us keep on living, even partially free. It hurts.”

Ward nodded, surprised again at Red’s heterogeneous knowledge. “But, even assuming anthropomorphic attributes as they have somehow been able to do, they still are insects, with instinct rather than intelligence as we know it. They see the world, universe, their own culture with the same prejudice, egotism, and dogma. I doubt if they can even comprehend the physical facts of space, duration and distance, as we know it.”

“Therefore, they shouldn’t survive,” said Red with sudden savage coldness. “They can’t know this life, Doc, and they shouldn’t live. And neither should little guys like us if we can’t reach the stars. Here I am, born in an age of atomics and interplanetary travel—and I’m bored. I have to read science-fantasy from the escape literature of past centuries to keep from going psycho. Do ordinary proletarians like me get to go to Mars and Venus, or even Luna? Hell no! Have to have number one priority and who gets them? Big shots with plenty of suction, and platinum credits. Only a fraction of a percent of Earthmen have ever been outside the ionosphere. Wait’ll the revolution, Doc. There’ll be a spaceship on every roof landing, and two pressure suits in every closet!”

“Won’t have to worry if the Mo-Sanshon takes over,” said Ward as he spread some hair eradicator over his face and wiped it off with a towel. “Annihilation is a sure cure for ennui.”

“And preferable,” said Red softly. “I ought to know.”

“Almost blastoff time,” said Ward. “Let’s strap in.”

Red went to the door and adjusted the photo cell. “That’ll have to be turned back before it’ll function. Don’t open it unless you know who wants it—if it’s an officer, it won’t make any difference. Be alert, Doc. There are Mo-Sanshon on this ship!”

“Are you certain?” said Ward quickly. “How can you be?”


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