contribution of the Matriarch herself.
“I an here essentially to answer the young man’s question,” he said. “There
is work that we can dowork for a whole people, for a whole world. One
Ertak-drive ship is no longer enough; we want hundreds ven thousands if
that is possible. We are transforming The Project into a mass crash program
for the survival of the race. We are going to build, man and launch a
fleet.”
Nobody spoke. There was no comment anyone could have made which would not
have been ridiculously inadequate to the grandeur of the goal.
At long last Ertak cleared his throat and looked around the red room as if
seeking waverers. He found none.
“All right, Lieutenant Ailiss O’Kung,” be said, “start weeding.”
It was necessary, of course, but it would have been far better for
everyone, now and later, if the necessity had not arisen at all. That
apparently had been Ailiss O’Kung’s fault-but she had made her recommenda-
tion in good faith, and had to be allowed one mistake; if you shot everyone
for the first such, you would never have a next generation. Besides, the
mistake was Ertak’s as well-after all, he had allowed himself to
56 fames Blish
be persuaded, and had turned the recommendation into practice.
Jurg Wester was weeded.
He sought Jorn out at the anteroom of the armorer’s shop, where Jorn was
worriedly awaiting a prognosis on his spacesuit’s homing compass, on Jurg’s
last day at the base. Jorn would far rather have avoided the confrontation,
both for obvious reasons and because his training had so intensified that