he had done. Had it been right, after all? He hadn't set out to altruistically set the Ragalians on the right track. His only interest had been in selling them a hundred cruisers.
But maybe what Sleth Forander had said was true. Maybe there had come a point in the development of his people at which they were ready to make a shift. They could be ready to assume the risks they had fought against until now. Their admiration of Earth and its men and machines could be an expression of that readiness.
George didn't know, but he hoped and believed this was so. He wanted it to be so because of his friendship for Sleth Forander.
Hugh was all but speechless when George brought the Ragalian to the office again for personal confirmation of his intent to purchase the cruisers as they were.
"I guess I was right the first time," he murmured in dazed wonder. "I am getting too old for this kind of gamble. But then, with the position Wilkinson Spacecraft will be in, I won't have to gamble, ever again."
Mark Wilde had difficulty believing it, too. "You'd like to make us think you knew what -you were doing every step of the way!" he said. "But it was nothing but plain dumb luck. Quit while you're winning, boy. Don't ever try anything like that again!"
But Nat was thoughtful. "Imagine it," he said. "You've probably shifted the culture of an entire race—just to sell them an order of spaceships—" He shook his head in disbelief.
"Don't give me too much credit," said George. "It just didn't figure from an engineering standpoint. Control room built on the keel plate! Imagine that, if you can!"
IN NEXT MONTH'S ISSUE—
- a remarkable new novelet by Judith Merril—
- an exciting novelet of adventure in furthest space, by Michael Shaara—
- and stories by Roger Dee, Eric Frank Russell, Theodore Pratt, and others—
- written especially for you who read
