"Be happy, Veety!" "Be happy, Agent."

"Job transfer. Come with me and this other veety to that aircar over there."

The Agent slipped lithely into the single front seat of the vehicle, at the controls; the two Machiners Second got into the back seat. The aircar bulleted upward, screamed across City One to Suburb Ten, and dropped vertically downward to a high-G landing on the beautifully-kept grounds of a small plastic house.

"Out," the Agent said, and led the couple into a large, comfortably-furnished living room. "Stand there... hold hands... V T J R S Y X-job transfer. You're eighteen today, so you stop machinering and start running a family. Permanent a.s.signment. The Company knows that you two know each other and like each other. That liking will now become love. The Company knows all."

"The Company knows all," the two intoned in unison, solemnly.

"Press your right thumbs here... you are mated for life. This house is yours-permanently. Four rooms and bath to start. It's expandable; one additional room per child. Here are your family coupon books; throw your single-person ones into the disposer. This special mating coupon gives you free time from now until hour seventeen, when you go to the band concert at Sh.e.l.l Nineteen. Amuse yourselves, you two." The Agent smiled suddenly, a smile that made her hard young face human and beautiful. "Have fun-in the bedroom, perhaps? Be happy, both of you." The Company Agent executed a snappy about-face and strode toward the door.

"Be happy, Agent," the newlyweds said; and, as the door closed, went into each others arms.

They amused themselves and were very happy indeed. They were still very happy while, as hour seventeen neared, they walked, arms around each other, toward Bandsh.e.l.l Nineteen. A man of their own caste, an older man, fell into step beside them.

"I'm V T B L Q Q M," he introduced himself. "I found out a thing after bed-hour last night that everybody has got to know..."

"Shut up!" the young man barked. "We don't want to know one single d.a.m.n thing that we don't know already." "But listen!" the stranger whispered, intensely. "This is important! The most important thing that ever happened in the World! There's a meeting tonight-I'll pick you up-but I tell you this right now. There ain't any such thing as the Company. It's just those d.a.m.n snotty Agents and they're just as human as we are; they've been suckering us all our lives. If we had the gadgetry they've got we could knock them all off and take..."

"Shut up!" the girl screamed, and sprang away from him in horror. "You're a mal-you're unhappy-that means death!"

"Death, h.e.l.l!" came the whispered snarl. "I got the straight dope-the real p.o.o.p-last night and I'm still alive, ain't I? We're going to get some special insulation tonight and I'm going to grab one of those high nosed b.i.t.c.hes of Agents and choke her plumb to death after I...

The man stopped whispering and screamed in utterly unbearable agony. His every muscle writhed and twisted, convulsively and impossibly. After a few seconds his body slumped bonelessly to the pavement; limp, motionless, dead.

"How terrible," the girl remarked, in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone of voice. Then, with arms again around each other and as blissful as before, the two lovers stepped over the body and went on their interrupted way. Mals had no right whatever to live. Therefore the All-Wise, All-Powerful Company had put that mal to death. Everything was perfect, in this their perfect World.

And in one minute flat a ground-car, a light-truck type, came up beside the corpse and stopped. Two husky men, wearing the dark-gray-on-light-gray of Sanitationers Fourth, got out of it, picked the body up, and tossed it nonchalantly into the back of their truck.

Perce and Cecily Train 'ported the Explorer to a point in s.p.a.ce well outside Pluto's...o...b..t; well out of detector range of any of the strange warships englobing Earth. Aboardship this time, in addition to the regular complement of s.p.a.cemen and psiontists, were a couple of dozen graduates of the University, who were making the trip for advanced study.

"If any of us'd thought of it and if we'd stayed and if we'd had the techniques we've got now, we could've 'ported bombs aboard those jaspers and blown 'em clear out of the ether," Train said, while they were getting ready to go to work.

"One ifs enough, why use three?" Deston countered. "But I got a lot better idea than that one, especially since Bobby is just slightly allergic to killing people in job lots. We'll find out where they come from, 'port each one of 'em back to his own house, tuck him gently into his own bed and present all those nice subs.p.a.cers to Fleet Admiral Guerdon Dann, with the compliments of the University of Psionics-for a small consideration, of course."

"Now you're chirping, birdie!" Barbara exclaimed. "You do get an idea once in a while, don't you? That one is really a dilly. Ready, everybody? Let's go."

They went... and they studied... and the more they studied the more baffled they became. The captains of the ships were, to a man, from Tellus. They were based on Teneriffe...

Deston shot the linked minds to the planet Teneriffe. The base was there-an immense one-but that was all it was. Just a base. There were no facilities to build much of anything; to say nothing of such an immense complex as would be necessary to produce any important part of that fleet.

Few of the captains had even wondered where the war-ships had been built. What difference did that make? That, or anything else pertaining to logistics or supply, was none of their business.

The Vice-Admirals and Admirals had wondered; but, since they had not been told, none of them had ever asked. Asking impertinent questions was a thing that simply was not done.

The Fleet Admiral did not know; neither did the Base Commander on Teneriffe. They got their orders via nondirectional subs.p.a.ce radio from the Company of the World= World," of course, meaning Earth. It wasn't only a company, really, it was a new government, still very QT and TS, that was going to take over Tellus and all the planets, they both supposed. They had the power to do it, so why not? To any hard-nosed man of war might is right, and if they wanted to play it cosy and call themselves The Company of the World that was all right, too.

And as for the lower echelons...

"My... G.o.d..." Cecily said slowly, aloud, into the dense silence that had lasted through a long fifteen minutes of stupefied investigation. "The Eternal, Omniscient, Omnipotent, Omnipresent Company created the World and the People on Company-Company Day, that is-January First of the Year One. No other World nor any other People-capitalized, please note, even in thought-ever were created or ever will be. Will some or one of you nice people please tell me what in all the infinite reaches of all the incandescent and viridescent h.e.l.ls of all total s.p.a.ce we have got ourselves into now?" "I'll never know, Curly." Deston, who had been holding his breath for a good two minutes, let it all out at once. "And the poor dumb meatheads believe that comet-gas with every cell of their minds... and take everything that's going on right in stride-it's all Company business and as such is naturally incomprehensible to the mind of man... 'My G.o.d!' is correct, Curly. Check."

But look! Look in here!" Barbara put in, excitedly. "Not the caste system-above it-Company Agents! Angels, suppose? Or something? None here with the Fleet; all back on the World. Those spotlight-jewels gorgeous! I'd love to wear one of those myself. Power packs, do you think?"

"Maybe," Jones said. "That's certainly something we'll have to look into. But what do we do now, Babe?"

"I know what I'm going to do-report to the boss in person-you people stay right here 'til I get back." Deston disappeared.

Maynard was alone, so Deston 'ported himself unceremoniously into the private office. "I don't want even Doris in on this until you let her in," he explained, then reported everything.

As he listened, Maynard's face turned gray.

"So you see, chief," Deston concluded, "it's an unholy mess. What was it you said? A planet... run for years in a way that would make the robber barons of old sick at the stomach.' You said it. You certainly said it. Have you got any idea as to who could be monster enough to pull a stunt like that?"

"More than an idea, son. This explains a lot of things I've wondered about, but I couldn't let my mind run wild enough. Two of 'em are why Plastics, one of the biggest of the big, never played ball, and how they got that way. It's Plastics, and Lord Byron Punsunby is head man."

That makes sense, so I'll do a flit..."

"Not yet... that's such a staggering thing... what year is it, of theirs?"

"Two hundred twenty six."

"Um... um... m. Call it nine generations. At their breeding rate, with a start of only a few hundred thousand, they'll have population. The first three or four generations would know something, but by falsification of records, history, and so on... and no press... brain-washing and hypnosis... it could be done. Definitely. So they've had at least five generations of... of..."

"Of serfs. A perfect serf set-up."

"Check. And one of their castes is of top-notch engineers who don't know anything else and put everything they've got into it. And castes of scientists and so on."

"That's right. As a 'troncist I'm here to testify that that locket is one beautiful job of work. Transmits everything except what the guy ate for breakfast, and maybe even that."

"To Central Intelligence... each checked as frequently as desired... or even recorded... G.o.d, what a system!" Maynard shook his head. "And those Company Agents. Special castes, too. Charged, of course. Insulated boots. Magic no end. They could even live in a charged environment."

"Could be. I told you, it's a mell of a hess."

"One more thing. You've never thought of the real problem here, apparently. How can we-how can anybody-rehabilitate any race that has been driven that far off coa.r.s.e?"

Deston's jaw dropped. "Huh? Wow! It's a little soon, though isn't it, to have to think about that?"

"I'll have to think about it, I'm afraid, whether I want to or not... but that's more in my department than yours, I suppose... well, I'll let you go now. Thanks for reporting. Good luck."

"Leek, chief. 'Bye," and Deston 'ported himself back into the main lounge of the Explorer.

Since the Plastics Building was one of the largest office buildings on Earth, it was very easy to find; and it was even easier to find the blatantly magnificent private office of "Lord" Byron Punsunby, the president of Plastics Incorporated. Deston got into his mind and put it through the wringer. Punsunby knew a great deal that was new. He knew all about the business end-by what devious routes the goods were smuggled into the markets of Earth, how and through what underground channels they were sold, how incredibly vast the hidden holdings of Plastics were, and how all this skullduggery had been performed-but even he did not know the general direction from Sol of Plastics' ultra-secret planet, The World, which had never been given a name.

It was and had always been Company policy that no Tellurian should know The World's coordinates. Only two living men were to know them; the Comptroller General of the World, who came to Earth to report to Punsunby after the close of business of each of The World's calendar quarters; and the captain-who was also the only navigating officer-of the one ship that ever made the direct run from The World to Earth and back. There were only two records of those figures in existence; one in each of the personal safe-deposit boxes of those two men.

Deston kept on reading. Yes, there were a few unscheduled vists; more than he liked of late... he didn't like to use subs.p.a.ce radio, it could be tapped... changing conditions... trouble...

AM That was what Deston wanted. There hadn't been enough generations yet to wipe out all the genes of throwbacks to the independent, intractable type. Conditioning might not hold; it was possible that some of them were even smart enough to pose as tractable, although the electronicists swore that their instruments were far too sensitive and comprehensive for that. Whatever the cause, in any case of real trouble checking the lockets even once every day wasn't enough. Occasionally Punsunby himself had to go to The World to order whatever steps might have to be taken to be sure of the elimination of all mals before too much harm was done.

Deston pulled back and set his jaw. "Now ain' t that a d.a.m.n something!" he gritted. "Well, the regular quarterly visit is only twelve clays away-and maybe there'll be an emergency-I hope!-so we'll sit here and keep Lord Byron under surveillance every minute. I know you girls don't like this kind of Peeping Tomming, so you'll be excused. Perce?"

"Sure." "Here?" "Okay by me."

"That's three. Talk to some of the graduates, will you, Perce, so we won't have to maker the shifts too long? I'll take the first shift, starting now."

Chapter 18 HUNCHERS.

COMPANY AGENT A C B A A B A was a busy girl. She mated a dozen more couples that afternoon, then shot her aircar out to Suburb Fourteen, which was under construction. It was a beautiful layout, the girl thought, as she brought her car to a halt and looked the suburb over from a height of ten thousand feet. Rolling, heavily-wooded hills, a nice lake sparkling in the sunshine, and two winding streams. Lovely landscaping and curving, contoured drives. Over sixteen hundred of its two thousand homes should be done now-but were they? There wasn't a single house on Thirtieth Drive yet!

Frowning, she took a map of the suburb out of a compartment and scanned it. Then she compared it carefully with the terrain below. There was no one at work there this afternoon, of course, but she knew the call-code of the foreman of the project, so she punched it forthwith.

Her screen brightened, showing the head and shoulders of a man, who put both hands flat on his head and said, "Be happy, Agent."

"Be happy, Kubey! You're 'way, 'way behind sked on Sub Fourteen. How come?"

"I know, Agent, but there wasn't a thing I could do about it. Five of my best people went mal on me last week and the replacements they sent me were absolute gristle-heads. All five of 'em fouled up their machines so bad I had to get a whole crew of...

"That's enough. Be happy, Kubey!" "Be happy, Agent."

She snapped the set off and gnawed at her lower lip. An Agent didn't yap at d.a.m.n stupid dumb jerks of People-it wouldn't do any good to, anyway, they didn't know anything -A B F A D A A was the lout who'd let this job get all fouled up-she'd do her yapping high enough up so it might do some good. She punched b.u.t.tons viciously and a blue-jeweled, billiard-ball-bald man grinned at her.

"Keep your tights on, Acey," the Blue advised her, before she could say a word. "The World is not coming to an end."

"But what the h.e.l.l's with it, Sub Fourteen being so d.a.m.n far minus on sked?" she demanded. "Keep on fouling off and I'm going to have to start installing on it before it's finished!"

"So what? There'll be all the finished houses you'll need, long before you'll need 'em, so..."

" 'So what?' " she almost screamed. "Because it never happened before with anybody else and because it's absolutely contra-Regs, that's what! And you know it as well as I do! It's your business to keep ahead of me, and by..."

. Shut up!" The man's grin had disappeared; his face was stern and cold. "I know my business as well as you know yours, Acey."

"Well, then, why... Oh! But Abie, if you're having as much mal trouble as that, why didn't you tell me?" "You just said why not. It's Abie business, not Acey, so just keep your tights on. And keep all this under your headband if you don't want to get hopped bow-legged." He cut cam; and after a moment of lip-biting indecision, she did the same.

Then, shrugging her shapely shoulders, she set course for Suburb One and the immense apartment house in which she and eight-hundred-odd other AC's lived. She landed on the roof, parked her little speedster in its stall, and walked a hundred yards or so to a canopied, but unguarded hole with a stainless-steel pipe emerging from it. She slid unconcernedly down the slide-pole's three-hundred-foot length to the thirty fourth floor, where the general offices were. She walked seventy yards along a main corridor, turned left into a narrower one, went fifty yards along that, and turned left again into a large room half full of desks. Some twenty girls, of about her own age and size-and with pretty much her own spectacular shape-and as many young men, were already there. Some were at desks, working; some were at scanners, studying; some were sitting or standing by couples or in groups, talking or playing games; some singles were reading. All wore the headlight-like green jewels. The girls all wore the same uniform she did; the men all wore yellow whipcord battle-jackets, black whipcord breeches, and high-laced red-leather boots.

"Hi, Bee-ay!" one of the men called. (Since everyone in the house was an Acey, other letters of each symbol were used infra-house). "You jump a mean knight; come on over and play me some chess."

"Not enough time on the chron, Apey, I've got to red-tape it for a good hour yet," and she strode purposefully to her desk.

She had hardly seated herself, however, when a big, good-looking, fair-haired young fellow came over and perched hip-wise on the corner of her desk.

"Hi, beautiful," he said, swinging one big boot in a small arc. "What do you know for real sure that's new?" "Hi, Crip-mental, that is-nothing at all. Should I?" "Hope. Everything is perfect in this our perfect World." He squared his shoulders as though he had made a momentous decision and glanced quickly around. No one was within earshot; no one was paying any attention to their customary fete-d-fete.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out two soft, almost transparent pouches. He bent over, pulled his locket out from under his jacket, said, "Well, beautiful, I'll see you after," slipped one of the pouches over his locket, tightened its drawstring, and put the now insulated locket back where it had been. Then, handing her the other pouch, he indicated silently that she was to do the same.

The girl's eyes widened and her face went suddenly stiff, but she pouched her locket and replaced it under her sweater, between her boldly outstanding b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "So we're both mals," she said, quietly. "Mals of the worst type-hunchers. I've been afraid you were, too... and you, too, for me, I suppose... well, there goes the last secret between us-I hope? Except I mean of course..."

He managed a grin. "Of course. As far as I know, sweetheart. What held me up was-well, I may get flamed for this, and I didn't want you to be, too... but you've been flirting with the flamers and if you go there's nothing left for me. That's the way you look at it, too, isn't it?"

"Of course, darling. I wouldn't live an hour, after. You came out because you noticed I was going off the beam?" "How could I help but notice? But I wonder-is your hunch the same as mine? Something so wild-so utterly utter-that there are no words for it? That goes, some way or other, clear up to the Company itself?"

"That sounds like the same pattern, so I guess it's the same hunch. Something 'way out; beyond all understanding, sense or reason. I can't get even a clue to it. But these...?" She indicated the lockets. "Coms? Up to the Three-A's, maybe? And you blocked 'em? I'd never have thought of anything like that-but of course girl Sciencers First don't really..."

"I don't know that they're corns; I was afraid to do any testing. But I knew something was riding you and I had to do something. But all I blocked was audio-if anybody is on us they're getting everything else and the well-known fact that we're in love will account for tension and so on-I think. I suppose you've heard the gossip that twelve Aceys from this house went absento -probably mal and probably flamed?"

"I've heard-and with that and this horrible hunch I've been jittering like a witch. It got so bad that I yapped at a Blue this afternoon-Old Baldy A B F A D A A himself."

"Almighty Company fend you!" he gasped. "You are asking for a flame!"

"Not in that, Beedy. No fear of him howling. He can't howl. He's so far minus sked on Sub Fourteen that I'm going to have to go contra-Regs..." She explained the housing situation... so I could kick him right in the face and he couldn't even kick me back because I'm strictly on sked. He said he'd bop me bow-legged if I leaked about it, but that was all."

The man whistled softly through his teeth. "That much mal trouble?" He thought for a moment, then threw off his dark mood. "Retrieve the insulator and slip it to me when I get back."

He moved quietly away, then came back with appropriate noise. He resumed his former position, put both pouches into his pocket, and said, "I just had a cogent and gravid idea, my proud and haughty beauty. How about us taking five and going down stairs and tilting us a couple of flagons?"

"I'd love to, my courteous and sprightly knave, but I've simply got to get this red tape out first. An hour, say?"

"An hour's a date, you beautiful thing, you." He took his leg off the desk and straightened up. "I've got somered-taping of my own to do. So, as Old Baldy would say, keep your..."

Beedy! Is that nice?" She laughed up at him; two deep dimples appeared. "Besides, as you very well know, I always do!"

In an hour the paper-work was done. (While People all got half a shift off on Compday, Company Agents got theirs on any day other than Compday). Bee-ay and Beedy tilted their flagons, ate supper together, and went to their rooms. Not only to separate rooms, but to separate wings of the immense building.

She, however, did not sleep at all well; and when she went to work Sonday morning she was still keyed up and tense-for no real reason whatever.

The job went along strictly as usual until, at hour sixteen plus fifty, she had just finished installing her last pair of newmates of the day and was getting into her aircar to go home. While she was getting into the front seat a pair of heavily-insulated arms went around her and a strong gloved hand went over her mouth. She bit and fought, but the glove was bite-proof and the man was big and fast and immensely strong. He dragged her out of the driver's seat and into the back, where he let her struggle; holding her only tightly enough to prevent her escape. In the meantime a smaller man, also dressed in a full-coverage suit that looked like asbestos but wasn't, cut three wires of the aircar's power supply and got into the front seat. The car shot straight up out of sight of the ground, darted northward, and came to ground on the flat top of a high, bare-rock mesa.

"Are you going to behave yourself?" the big man asked.

She nodded behind the glove and he released her completely.

"What the h.e.l.l goes on?" she demanded, sitting up properly and putting her hair to rights with her fingers. "You'll get the flame for this."

"I think not," he said, quietly. "You're not frightened, I'm very glad to see."

Frightened? Me? Of any person or People ever born? High Company beyond!"

"Good girl. We've made a few poor picks, but you and your friend A C B D will make out."

"Beedy? You've got him, too? Where are you taking us, I if I may ask?" The last phrase was pure sneer.

"You may not ask," was the calm reply.