“Remember your history, Diane. Think what happened in Earth’s past when there were sovereign states working at
unintegrated cross-purposes.”
“You needn’t strain the obvious,” she said, annoyed.
“Sorry. I’m just trying to tie in the general background. It’s fantastically complex, and the problem is getting worse. It’s a case of transportation outstripping communication. We’ve got to bring all the components of our civilization together. You need only recall what happened on Earth back around the Second Dark Ages. Nowadays it could happen between whole stellar systems”
She was still for a moment, throwing away one cigarette and lighting another. “Sure,” she said, then. “That’s what the Union was organzed to prevent. That’s what Cordy work consists of.’
“We’ve found different types and emphases of intelligence in the Galaxy,” he flung at her, “but they can all be given a rating on the same general scale. Ever wondered why there is no species whose average intelligence is appreciably higher than man’s?”
“Well, aren’t all the planets abouit the same age?”
“Not that close. A million or ten million years should make a real difference to organic life. No, Diane, it’s a matter of natural limits. The nervous system, especially the brain, can only become so complex, then tile whole thing gets too big to control itself.”
“I think I see what you’re driving at,,” she said. “There are natural limits to the capacities of computing machines, too.”
“Uh-buh. Also ‘Lo systems made up of many machines together. Diane, we couldn’t coordinate as many planets as are included in our civilization range today. And that range is still expanding.”
She nodded. Her face was serious, and there was a foreboding in the eyes that met his. “You’re right but what does this have to do with your new mission?”
“The overworked -integrators are— years behind in correlating information,” he said. “A time can screw to monstrous proportions before they learn of it. And we, the flesh-aiid-blood Cordys, are no better off. We perform our missions, but we can’t oversee everything. The integrator has only gotten around to considering some reports of disappearing ships, botanical anomalies on supposedly uninbabited planets, and the Nomad clans. The probability indicates something tremendous.”
“What is that?” she breathed.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “The machine suggested that the Nomads might be up to something. I’m going to
find out.”
“Why do you Cordy’s have it in for the poor Nomads so
much?”
“They’re the worst disruptive factor our civilization has,” he said grimly. “They go everywhere and do anything, with no thought of the consequences. To Earth, the Nomads are romantic wanderers; to me, they’re a pain.
“I doubt that they’re behind this business. I suspect something much more significant.” He took out a cigarette and put it to his lips. “But the Nomads will make a handy
place to start.”