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By Root 374 0

styles, postage stamps. A letter from faraway . . . From Jane? Nice of her to write after all these years. One from Caribbea. That would be from Susanna. And a parcel, a little, cubical parcel. The address typed, with oddly Gothic lettering. And the stamp in the likeness of a gold coin, and it probably was embossed gold leaf at that . . .

Surgeon Commander Passifern was demanding attention. "This is interesting," he declaimed. "This is really interesting. You remember how we were called in to El Dorado so that I could help their top doctor, Lord Tarlton of Dunwich, with his problem. I worked with him and his people—they've some brilliant men there, too—quite closely. 'Diet,' I said to him. 'Diet, Tarlton, that's the answer. Cut out fancy, mucked-up food of yours, get back to the simple life. Don't over-eat. Don't drink.' "

"Physician, heal thyself . . ." muttered Cooper.

Passifern ignored this, "And it worked. This—" he waved the sheet of expensive looking paper—"is a letter from Lord Tarlton. In it he thanks me—well, us, actually, but he's just being polite to the ship—for our help. Since we left there have been no fewer than four hundred and twenty-five births."

"Did he . . ." began Grimes, "did he say who the mothers were?"

"Hardly, young Grimes. Not in a short note."

"At least," put in Cooper, "we know that none of us were the fathers."

Grimes left the wardroom then. He found himself resenting the turn that the conversation had taken. He went to his cabin, shut the door behind him, then sat down on his bunk. He found the little tab on the seal of the parcel, pulled it sharply. The wrapping fell away.

Inside it was a solidograph. From its depths smiled a blonde woman, Marlene, a more mature Marlene, a matronly Marlene, looking down at the infant in her arms.

Grimes had been amused more than once by the gushing female friends of young mothers with their fatuous remarks: "Oh, he's got his mother's eyes," or "He's got his Uncle Fred's nose," or "He's got his Auntie Kate's mouth . . ."

But there was, he admitted now, something in it. This child, indubitably, had his father's ears.

Suddenly he felt very sorry that he would never make that billion credits.

THE END

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To Prime the Pump

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27