efficient and more easily correlated, the ability to change the past would become more difficult. Not true. The actual records of the past are not read by the average man; he is normally exposed only to biased, carefully selected excerpts from the past.

Granted, with a few thousand civilized and tens of thousands semi-civilized planets in the occupied galaxy, the correlation of data is difficult. But, nonetheless, errors of the magnitude of the one made in the history of Cardigan's Green shouldn't be committed.

The average man doesn't give two hoots in hell about historical truth; he would much rather have romantic legends and historic myths. The story of Cardigan's Green is a case in point.

Call this a debunking spree if you wish, but the facts can be found in the archives of the Interstellar Police and the Interstellar Health Commission; and the news recordings on several nearby planets uphold the story to a certain extent, although the beginnings of the distortion were already visible.

Time and space have a tendency to dilute truth, and it is the job of the honest historian to distill the essence from the mixture.

The story proper begins nearly a century ago, just before Leland Hale landed on Cardigan's Green, but in order to understand exactly what happened, it is necessary to go back even farther in time—a full three centuries. It was at that time that the race of Man first came to Cardigan's Green.

Exactly what happened is difficult to determine. It is likely that the captain of the ship that brought the colonists to the planet actually was named Cardigan, but there is no record of the man, nor, indeed, of the ship itself. At any rate, there was a ship, and it carried five hundred colonists, if the ship was representative of the colonial ships of the time. Evidently, they tore the ship down to make various other equipment they needed, which, of course, marooned them on the planet. But that was what they wanted, anyway; it is usual among colonists.

And then the Plague struck.

The colonists had no resistance whatever to the disease. Every one of them caught it, bar none. And ninety per cent of them died while the rest recovered. Fifty people, alone on a strange planet. And, as human beings always do, they went on living.

The next generation was on its way to adulthood when the Plague struck again. Seventy-five per cent 

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