Beta Model (Matt Mason)

[Grognardsw]

[Grognardsw]

A Month Ago

Of course Professor Tigard claimed that the trouble was that the Protek was a beta version model. He would know, he invented it. He sprung the thing on me just before I took off on my scouting contact mission to Telus VI in the Betelgeuse sector.

“Here Mason, put this on.” Prof. Tigard pointed to a big square metal box of a contraption.

“What is it?” the Major asked.

“A new model, called the Protek.”

“What’s it for?”

“You’ll wear it on your mission. For protection.”

“Now look Tigard, I already have to carry enough equipment to give varicose veins to an elephant. Lingoscene, 22 pounds. I can’t do without it, or I can’t translate native languages. Concentrated food, water, sub-space radio, assorted tools, medical kit. Now how much does this thing weigh?”

“Seventy two pounds. It fits right on your back. Here I’ll snap the harness.” Tigard adjusted and tightened the straps. “Fits fine.”

“What does it do?” Mason asked.

“Protek is the perfect protection for initial contacts and planet exploration. There are pseudo-protein computer banks and an Asimov Gates force-sphere projector. Whenever the Protek senses danger, it – look I’ll show you.”

Prof. Tigard grabbed a nearby vibro-wrench. “I’ll take this and swing it such.” Tigard brought the tool down on Major Mason’s head, but a sudden beep sounded as the astronaut felt a jolt and found himself inside blackness. The wrench never hit him.

“Hey, where did everybody go? Who turned out the lights? Tigard, where am I? Get me out of here!”

“Calm down, give it a few minutes.” The field shut off.

“What happened?” asked Mason.

“The Protek went on. It encased you in the AG force field. When the danger is no longer present, it turned off. You can turn it off by this button on your chest.” Tigard pointed to a small panel of buttons on Mason’s chest. In the dark, he could feel by touch the ‘off’ button. "Absolutely nothing can harm you."

“Yeah but 73 pounds…” complained Mason.

“Well this is a beta model. I used every weight saving device possible, but unfortunately early models are always a little bulky.”

“All right all right, how do I take it off.”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Huh?”

“We’re not going to take chances of having valuable equipment discarded just because it might be a little uncomfortable. Mason, you’re going to an alien planet. It’s necessary that you be protected at all times.”

“Look, I’ve got enough sense to figure out when to wear this thing.”

“Suppose you find the natives singularly friendly and you want to take off this heavy and uncomfortable Protek. But suppose you misjudge their attitudes –"

“- Tigard I can take care of myself.”

“That’s what Atwood said before he left for Topus III. Never heard from him again. Mason, can you turn a knife thrust from the rear? Protek can. Do you have eyes in the back of your head? Protek does. We’re not going to risk $2 billion worth of equipment because you might be uncomfortable.”

“Suppose it blows a fuse, or pops a wire?”

“We’ve got triple everything and a power supply good for a decade. That's why its a little bulky. After this field test, the Protek will be standard equipment for all explorers.”

“Well alright. I’ll try to get use to it. But it feels like I’m carrying a 72 pound monkey on my back.”

Now



Mason carried the Protek for four weeks on the way to Telus VI. Now the planet loomed before him. He brought the ship in for a landing. (Pilot roll please - a 3d6 Int. check)

On the horizon, perhaps a half-mile away, Mason saw a primitive village.

[jemmus]

"After lugging this experimental gizmo for four weeks, I almost hope I do have a need for it on Telus VI," Mason thought. "Almost." He looked for a good place to land, near but not too near to the sighted village.

Pilot roll [3d6]=10

Sorry for the delay posting. The holiday weekend disrupted things.
Does Mason have some specific mission? Is it to make contact with inhabitants of the planet and report back about them?

[Grognardsw]

Major Matt Mason brought in the rocket for a smooth landing. He had affected mankind’s first landing on Telus VI.

"Congratulations Matt," Mason heard Prof. Tigard in his ear. The embedded ear receiver and surgically impanted throat microphone in his throat would keep Mason in touch with Earth. The portable sub-space set was self-tuning, which was all to the good, since Mason knew next to nothing about narrowcasting on so tight a beam over so great a distance. "I stashed a bottle of medicinal scotch in storage compartment #3 for you to celebrate."

With the Protek on, Mason had to work at standing up using the hand holds that have been conveniently spaced above the control board. Now he appreciated the toll that no-weight extracts from a man’s muscles. He wished he had done his exercises more faithfully on the long trip out from earth.

Mason was a big, jaunty young man, over 6 feet tall, widely and solidly constructed. On Earth he had weighed 210 pounds and had moved with an athlete’s grace. But since leaving earth he had the added encumbrance of 73 pounds strapped immovably to his back.

Mason piled on the Lingoscene to his chest, a canteen of water on his left hip, package of concentrated food on the right hip, a pack of assorted tools on his stomach, med-kit on his right thigh, and pistol on his left thigh.

Mason's orders were to fraternize with the aborigines and establish a trade pact if possible. He found a handful of them standing outside the tail fin when the hull had cooled enough to get out. They were bipeds, bewhiskered, orange skinned with thick short tails. Their features were vaguely human, a nightmare human. And they were armed with stone axes and clubs.

Once they saw him they started talking fast.

"φɾօìղ քąɾէմɾìҽղէ քօɾէէìէօɾ ƒմʂçҽ ąʍҽէ էօɾէօɾ ʂҽʍքҽɾ Ӏąçìղìą էɾìʂէìզմҽ օɾçì քɾìʍìʂ քմɾմʂ ƒҽɾʍҽղէմʍ ҽմ քɾìʍìʂ ìղէҽɾժմʍ ղօղմʍʍվ!"

"քհąʂҽӀӀմʂ քɾօìղ էҽӀӀմʂ էօɾզմҽղէ ⱮօӀҽʂէìҽ? Ⱥմցմҽ ղìʂì ƒҽմցìąէ ʂҽղҽçէմʂ ʍօɾҍì ʝմʂէօ ղմղç Ӏąօɾҽҽէ ąէ Ӏìҍҽɾօ. ⱮąӀҽʂմąժą քӀąçҽɾąէ ʍҽէմʂ օɾçì ʂҽղҽçէմʂ Ӏąçìղìą Ӏąօɾҽҽէ. ʂҽʍքҽɾ Ӏҽօ çմʍ çօղցմҽ ҽմìʂʍօժ. ỼҽӀìէ ʍąէէìʂ ąɾçմ, քҽӀӀҽղէҽʂզմҽ Ƕąҍìէąղէ!"

[jemmus]

Mason evaluated the situation. The Telusians were armed with stone age weapons, and excited. His training and knowledge of Earth history told him that they could easily turn hostile at any moment. It would take just swing by a hothead for them all to start beating the strange, "sorcery"-using intruder down. In this situation, the training materials called for a peaceful but confident demeanor. "Because of your sudden appearance, your alien species physique, and your advanced technology, you may be regarded as demon. Or an angel or demigod. The pilot-emissary is strongly advised to ensure that it is the latter happens. Skill at bluffing is advised, as is a history at winning at poker, blackjack, backgammon, and other gambling games. Although alien cultures may be less technologically advanced, individuals may be quite as intelligent as humans. Or more so, or much more so. You are reminded that you didn't get this far in training by making erroneous assumptions. Opponent pilots, and own squadron mates, and pilot-emissaries who did so no longer fly."

Mason turns on the Lingoscene and addresses the Telusians. He starts with the standard opening and raises hand. Greetings, I come in peace. He watches for any reactions or any signs that they were understanding what he was saying. Then continues. I've come from a faraway planet called Earth. It's in that direction. He points to the sky, although he knows at this point the Earth would be in the direction of the underground. I represent the 3 billion people of Earth, who send their greetings and their good wishes to you and your families. They look like this, without the special suit and devices I wear. He produces a sheet of flexible plastic with images on it.

He points to the two human figures and lets the Telusians ponder the diagrams with clues about the Earth's location for a two, three seconds. Inside this craft, I have gifts from the people of Earth. The gifts from the 3 billion people of Earth will make you wondrously wealthy. But you should not enter the craft, ever. Because its air would be toxic to you and cause immediate death. I'll take it away undamaged, with its container of air still sealed, and return again the same way.

He checks to see how is bluff is working. "Damn manual, written by foreheads in D.C. who have never think about things a lot but never set foot on Telus VI." He expects his head to be bashed in any moment, or to go down under a rain of blunt blows. "I hope this Protek works as intended. Cause I sure can't fight with this refrigerator on my back."

He says to the excited Telusians, Please, could you repeat what you just said? I wasn't prepared. But now I can understand and speak in this fine, difficult for foreigners, and beautiful language. He checks the indicator lights on the 22-lb Lingoscene he's also carrying. "You better be working, bub."

Sorry, it seems that after an amount of long text US's dialog function stops working. Sorry also for the big revision.

[Grognardsw]

The natives were gathering around the ship as Major Mason exited. As he tuned the Lingoscene, Mason thought for a moment that the Telusians sounded disparaging in their native language.

They formed a semi-circle around him, weapons at the ready. Cries of astonishment came from the Telusians as Mason spoke. The Lingoscene barked out the harsh consonants of the Telusian language. They shrank back amid a flurry of confusing dialog the Lingoscene could barely keep up with.

"How strange, unbelievable!"

"Shockingly improper you know."

"Did it say gifts?"

"Quite a dodgy fellow by the looks of him."

"Three billion of them! My goodness."

"How can he come from dirt in the sky?"

"He has brought toxic poison into our fields!"

They didn't seem to believe him. Spears were poised. Two Telusians, larger than the others and wearing colorful headdresses, held hatchets in readiness.

"I dare say, a manifestation of some supernatural quality, hey Weston old chap?" said one.

"Without a doubt, old man!" replied Weston.

The Lingoscene's instantaneous semantic translation spoke with a British accent and idioms. Mason's Lingoscene was made by Downton Laboratories just outside London, and naturally they had the word tapes recorded by BBC announcers. It took some getting use to to hear outlandish aliens, like some walking vegetables from the Gardenia system, talking like the Home Office.

"Well it does talk! Terrible accent, but what can you expect, eh? Foreigners you know."

"I say - I definately sense an evil."

"Oh come now, we're ghost doctors. If there's an evil, we'd both sense it."

"Well, let's ask, shall we?

"Let's."

"I say, are you evil?"

[jemmus]

Sorry, I revised my post while you posting. No harm no foul, looks like. I think we can move forward with no hitches.

[Grognardsw]

I realized that after I posted, so mine is expanded some, so review again

[jemmus]

The experience of seeing Telusians brandishing stone age weapons and hearing them speaking like English club gentleman was a little confusing to the senses. "Why can't this thing speak American," Mason thought. "They probably paid a billion smackers for it, and the Brits didn't even bother to modify the lingo." He's tempted to speak in his native West Texas accent, just to spite the machine. But he's an engineer and moreover a pilot. He knows not to push the technology one is relying on unless one has to. In fact, better to treat it exactly the way its engineers expected it to be treated. In this case, with British English. I do apologize for the accent, gentlemen. He looks at the various members of the meeting party, but doesn't spot any gender variations. But to be safe, And any ladies. It's our first go at speaking your fine language. And of course I'm not evil, old chaps. An evil person wouldn't come on a mission to establish rapport between our peoples, now would he?

He doesn't much like the looks of the Telusians in feathers. He hopes both the Lingoscene and Tigard's burdensome device work as intended.

Mason said that he had some presents for the Telusians. Since he's on a trade mission, I figured he's have something to offer them. If so, what are the items? Or should I just RP it?

[Grognardsw]

You can role-play the gifts.

"We're the village ghost doctors you see, it's our job to ferret out evil, so to speak."

"It's our cup of toodle, so to speak."

The two "ghost doctors," backed by a few dozen other Telusian villagers, listened to Major Mason's words through the Lingoscene.

"Hmm, there you go Reginald, it says it's not evil," said the shorter one called Weston.

"Of course it is," said Reginald, the taller ghost doctor. "Just look at it."

"He says he's not evil."

"What makes you think it's a he?"

Weston rolled his wild eyes. "Appearances prove nothing, as we know from the time the good spirit Ahut M'Kandi appeared in the form of a -- "

" -- Please my dear chap, no lectures," responded Reginald. "I'm as well aware of religious precedence as you are. All of us know the parables of Lalland. The point is, can we take a chance?"

"And how would we know?" asked Weston.

"If it doesn't, who does?"

The two of them stood there lashing their orange tails accusing each other of heresy. And on it went. Mason found his legs beginning to tire under the weight of all his equipment. The Lingoscene finally couldn't handle the shrill theological discussion and cut out before an overlaod blew a circuilt. Mason's status seemed to depend upon two or three disputed points (mainly the penetrability of evil), none of which the ghost doctors wanted to talk about, since to talk about evil was in itself dangerous.

Eventually they must have decided something because Weston, the short one carrying the stone axe, turned to Mason and said: "Stranger, we decided not to kill you - not yet, anyway. We'll go to the village to purify ourselves and we will feast. Then we will initiate you into the club."

[jemmus]

"Sheesh, I'm glad that finally ended," Mason thought. "That was like having to get through a church sermon, while standing with 22 lbs on your chest and 70 on your back. But these Telusians are more philosophical than you'd guess from those stone age head bashers." It seems that the Lingoscene managed to recover. Thank you, gentlemen. Very sporting of you to offer your hospitality. Lead on, old chappies. We wondered if Telusian food would be edible for a human. He didn't ask that it not be disgusting or unpalatable. He'd eaten plenty of things like that on this job. He only asked that it not be toxic. He wondered what "initiated" entailed and "the club" meant.

[Grognardsw]

"You see, no evil thing can join the ghost doctor club," explained Reginald. "It just isn't done you know. In this manner, we will detect your true nature."

"Clever, heh?" added Watson.

"If you are evil, we'll destroy you. Have to. It's our job, you know."

On the way to the village, the Telusians chatted amiably with Mason about crops, droughts and famines.

"What are these gifts you claim to have brought?"

Mason chugged along under his heavy equipment. If he could pass the test and become a "ghost doctor," maybe he would have the opportunity to gather anthropological data, establish trade, and pave the way for future development of Telus VI.

The village consisted of three dozen huts arranged in rough concentric circles around a large grassy area littered with shrines to various gods and devils, as well as a large fire pit. Beyond the village were farming fields. Beside each mud-and-thatch hut was a small vegetable garden, and sometimes a pen for the Telusian version of cattle. There were small green-furred animals roaming between the huts, which the Telusians treated as pets.

In the central area was a great bonfire where a feast had been laid out by the village women. Mason and the Telusians sat around the fire; Weston and Reginald were to each side of the astronaut. The village women danced a welcoming dance for him. They made a pretty sight if one like orange-skinned, wild looking women. Their tails swung gracefully in unison. Then a village dignitary named Occip came over to him, bearing a full bowl.

"Stranger, you are from a distant land and your ways are not our ways," announced Occip, holding the bowl aloft. "Yet let us be brothers! Partake of this food to seal the bond between us, and in the name of all sanctity!"

The bowl of goo was handed to Mason. It looked unappetizing to say the least, poisonous to say the most.

"Go head, old boy," whispered Weston. "It's purified ceremonial food. Sanctified with seven sprinklings of strychnine according to ritual."

[jemmus]

Mason knew enough about anthropology to guess that passing the test to become a ghost doctor could involve an ordeal at best, death at worst. But all in a day's worker for an astronaut emissary. It was written in the job description. "Pilots spacecraft to assigned planets. Makes planetfall and establishes contact with native life forms. Undergoes welcoming/initiation tests/ordeals that may result in death. Establishes opportunities for further interaction, commerce, or trade."

Occip, what splendid dancing! And what a simply marvelous welcome! Old boy, that dish looks and smells simply delectable! Pray tell, what is it called? And how does the chef de cuisine prepare it, if I may ask. I so regret that I'm not able to partake of it. You see, old chap, strychnine is highly poisonous us humans. You see, what happens is one has hallucinations and stomach cramps, and then one dies. Very regrettable. Because I was so looking forward to savoring the dish so generously offered by my gracious hosts. Perhaps I can instead have food from my own planet that I've brought along, so that we may still dine together? What do you say, old sport?

Without waiting for an answer, he retrieves astronaut food from one of his suit's pockets. A tube of beef stew, a tube of Caesar salad, a packet of freeze-dried ice cream, and a packet of Tang orange drink powder. If I may have a dish, I shall adorn it with a portion of this cuisine from my home, to add to the feast. I'm afraid it's quite humble fare, but it's come from hundreds of thousands of miles away, and my ship doesn't have kitchen, much less a proper chef. And I'm be cautious of sampling it, old boys. It's full of salt and sugar, which might be as toxic to your systems as strychnine is to mine. He squeezes and sprinkles the astronaut food onto the dinnerware that's provided.

Again, without waiting for an answer, But first, the presents! From another pocket on his suit he takes out a roll of Kennedy half dollars. These, my friends, are sculpted coins from my planet. They're made from a silver, which is a rare and precious metal there. One the one side is the image of great man, a leader of the people.
On the other side is an image of an animal of our planet. The real animals don't carry arrows and plants in their claws, or shields with stripes and stars on their chests, or orbs on sticks above their heads. These things are all symbolic. The ghost doctors would understand, wouldn't you, old chappies? ​

Again, he doesn't wait. He hands the roll of half dollars to Occip with a bow, and hopes there are enough to go around. But that's for them to work out, they'll figure it out. Whatever the Telusian way of doing that is. Economics 101. He hadn't planned it that way, but seeing how they do that could be valuable to the trade component of the mission. “Mason, you're smarter than you think,” he thinks.

[Grognardsw]

"What food you ask?" said Occip. "Why this is the very holy Satrine dish, the seeds of which were planted by the seventh son of a seventh son under the seventh equinox sun, and harvested under a seventh-cycle full moon by virgin hands, and purified by each ghost doctor in the seven villages!"

"He refuses! How pagan!" exclaimed Reginald.

"An ominous sign," portended Occip.

"Now let us not crawl to conclusions," countered Weston.

The alarmed villagers talked amongst themselves. They seemed to begrudgingly accept Major Mason's dining on his own food. The astronaut's gift of coins shifted the focus away from eating.

"A 'coin' you say? What does it do?" The Telusians were smelling, licking, and biting the coins. Mason deduced they did not use currency and their level of civilization was likely at the barter stage.

"Shall we get on it with it then?" said Reginald. "You claim not to be evil, that you do not like or support evil? Very well, in that case, you'll have no objection to receiving the sacred and very holy object, that Klantu brought down from the abode of the Small Gods, the brandishing of which confers good upon a man?"

[jemmus]

"Good old Weston," Mason thought. "That was looking a little hairy. I suppose if worse came to worse, I could have tried the food and genuinely gotten seriously sick. That might convince them." The Satrine dish does sound extremely special and holy, old boys. Such wondrous and auspicious preparations are required for the making of it! I only wish that my species's body could partake of it. The strychnine is the little problem, you see.

He continues right along, ready to segue into a different subject. The metal of the coins is invaluable to our people, he said. It can be used to make decorative jewelry, eating utensils, or flatware. All kinds of beautiful things. In the 'coin' form, it can be traded to someone for something he has that you'd like to have. He might ask for one, two, three, or even a thousand coins. It would depend on how valuable what he has is.

Considering the deadly Satrine, he has his concerns about this "Klantru" and these "Small Gods." Ahem. And may inquire more into the nature of the Klantru, gentlemen?And the abode of the Small Gods. I and my people do so much want to learn more about your culture and its refinements. He wished he'd paid more attention to the two ghost doctors' discussion of the definition of "evil." He wasn't sure whether he fit into the local definition of it or not.

[Grognardsw]

Just then Mason's implanted ear radio beeped and the astronaut heard Professor Tigard. "How's it going Mason?"

The Telusians nodded in understanding at Major Mason's explanation of coins and their usage.

"Klantu, not Klantru," corrected Occip. "Klantu is Nature personified, don't you know, the benevolant One who granted life to us all. The abode of the Small Gods is the place where their spirits dwell. Pass our rituals and you will be granted the joyous wisdom of our spiritual culture."

Meanwhile Reginald unwrapped a 5' long spear. It was made of black wood, its head of shaped volcanic glass, its length intricately although primitively carved.

"Oh stranger from the skies, accept from us this spear of sanctity!" said Reginal, holding it aloft to the sky horizontally with both hands. "Klantu gave this lance to Trin, our first father, and bestowed upon it a magical nature and caused it to be a vessel of the spirits of the good. Evil cannot abide the presence of this spear! Take, then, our blessing with it."

Reginald lowered his hands and proffered the spear to Mason.

The Protek snapped into action, the black force sphere materializing with a jolt around Mason. When its finely tuned sensors received a danger cue, the Asimov-Gates force field surrounded the operator. As Prof. Tigard explained it, the field rendered Mason invulnerable.

Mason was in darkness within the silent sphere.

[jemmus]

Mason turns off the Lingoscene and speaks in his native Oklahoma drawl. Tigard, your Protek ton of bricks has activated itself in the midst of a ceremonial occasion with the Telusians. Per standard procedures, I'll give a quick briefing. For in case I go MIA. Which I would guess the probability of is, at this point... around 79.98 o-niner. I should have had that medicinal scotch you packed. He briskly and efficiently relates a report of the facts of the events on Telus so far.

I will now invoke Section 212(i) Urgent but Not (yet) Emergency procedures. In case you aren't familiar, Tigard, that means: A series of enumerated questions from the field will follow, without interruption or comment from the base office. To be followed by enumerated, succinct, and no b.s. responses from the base office. Question 1: Would Protek know that that spear was a danger? They were just trying to hand it to me. Is it booby trapped or rigged to be harmful? Question 2: I can't see a thing? What do the Telusians see inside the Asimov/Gates field? I should have asks that before going through pre-flight. Take the back. You boys should have told me. Question 3: What can people/Telusians hear from inside an Asimov/Gates field? Are the hearing me talk to you like an Oklahoma demon? Who should have known/conveyed that information before launch and planetfall? As above, Question 2. Question 4: What is the battery life of this Protek? How long to I have? I guess I've got the option of "running" back to the ship with a hot sheets motel mini-fridge on my back and jam-packed suitcase to Aruba on my chest. The fear of the "poison human atmosphere" could make them hesitate and discuss for a while. The Telusians aren't savages, they're good at discussing things before acting. Anyway, AI could probably pilot, save, and return the spacecraft. You might have a frozen astronaut corpse and a few live Telusians to deal with. But a Phase 1 would be over. Prepped for a Phase 1b, over even a Phase 2. Over, and awaiting responses. All the way to 4, Tigard.

For some reason, he thinks of Weston. He hopes the old boy isn't one of the Telusians who boards the ship and goes and gets stranded on Earth forever.

[Grognardsw]

Prof. Tigard replied to Major Mason's report...

Question 1: Would Protek know that that spear was a danger? They were just trying to hand it to me. Is it booby trapped or rigged to be harmful?

"The Protek's highly refined computers possess 'danger-matic' sensors. The spear was judged a danger. Who knows, they could have turned it about to stab you! Can't go risking $2 billion in equipment and training. And you, of course."

Question 2: I can't see a thing? What do the Telusians see inside the Asimov/Gates field? I should have asks that before going through pre-flight. Take the back. You boys should have told me.

"That's right, you can't see a thing because the force field keeps out light, sound, radiations, everything. On their side the Telusians see an opaque black sphere; they can't see or hear through it. If anyone was next to you, the displacement may have thrown them back. You'll recall you can dismiss the force field by the chest unit button, which you can feel your way to. Unless, of course, danger is still present then it will not shut off."

Question 3: What can people/Telusians hear from inside an Asimov/Gates field? Are the hearing me talk to you like an Oklahoma demon? Who should have known/conveyed that information before launch and planetfall?

"The Telusians can't see or hear you. We conveyed all this information in the briefing document. So many of you astronauts don't read the documentation!"

Question 4: What is the battery life of this Protek? How long to I have?

"The power pack will last a decade."

I guess I've got the option of "running" back to the ship with a hot sheets motel mini-fridge on my back and jam-packed suitcase to Aruba on my chest.

"While the Protek is on, you can't move as the field is stationary. We're hoping to make it mobile in the next version, but this one is a beta model."

The Telusians aren't savages, they're good at discussing things before acting.

"They sound like savages to me, but I'm sure you can educate them to the benefits of cultural and trade relations with Earth. Don't worry about getting hurt. You're compelety safe with Protek!"

Mason stood within silent darkness, with an odd feeling of rubbery walls pressing close on all sides. The particular effect from the inside of the force field. The astronaut felt his positional sense off. Another effect he'll report to Prof. Tigard. After a minute Mason felt along his chest and located the force field release button.

[jemmus]

"Some beta model," Mason thinks. "It locks you in an immobile clam shell and make you deaf and blind. Then when you open up the shell, whatever was trying to kill you is probably still there waiting." When the Protek deactivates, he says to the Telusians, Sorry about that, chaps. A have a machine that activates whenever something is a danger to me. I'm afraid it has detected the sacred and illustrious Klantu is a hazard to my body. Perhaps there's another way to prove that I'm a good sort and not evil. For example, "Do unto others as you would have them to unto you." That's the philosophy I live by. Just to make sure that the Lingoscene didn't have trouble with the "untos," he said. I treat others the way I would want them to treat me. You know, with courtesy, kindness, generosity, respect, compassion, empathy, wit, camaraderie, bonhomie, urbanity, sportsmanship, etc. As he's talking he's glancing around the room to try to gauge the Telusians' reactions.

[Grognardsw]

As the Protek shut off, the Asimov-Gates force field disappeared and Major Mason saw and heard a great hub-bub. The Telusians had backed away and were up in arms, tails whacking the ground, yelling at Mason and each other.

Reginald, caught in the force field's range, had been flung back twenty feet and was slowly picking himself up.

"Begin the purification dirge!" lamented Reginald. "We are in the presence of evil!"

"You cannot accept the sacred spear?!" Weston exclaimed, a sound of disappointment in his voice.

Mason explained the situation.

The ghost doctors talked among themselves too rapidly for the lingoscene to interpret it. It caught only the words "evil," "destroy," and "purification."

After the conference, Reginald and Weston came over to Mason.

"Some of the others feel that you should be killed at once, before you bring some great unhappiness upon the village," said Weston. "I told them, however, that you cannot be blamed for the many taboos that restrict you. We will pray for you through the night. And perhaps, hopefully, in the morning, the initiation will be possible."

Mason was shown to a hut and the Telusians left him alone. There was an ominous hush over the village; from his doorway, Mason could see little groups of natives talking earnestly and glancing covertly in his direction.

The sun was setting.