“To save time and effort. The product Medury devoted much of both to the evaluation of a sufficiently productive, esthetically satisfying, and mathematically correct construction. It would not be logical to waste time and labor in seeking a variant or an alternate, especially since Medury’s work showed, almost conclusively, that his was in fact the most symmetrical construction possible. Now symmetry, to us, is what you might, perhaps, call a ruling passion in one of your own races.” “Symmetry? The first twelve vortices were symmetrical, of course, but from there on—nothing.” “Ah—that is due to the differences between our thinkings; particularly in our mathematical and philosophical thinkings. The circle, the sphere, the square, the cube—all such elementary forms—are common to both but the likenesses are few. The differences are many; so many that it will require several thousands of your Galactic Standard years for certain of my fellows and me to tabulate them and to make whatever may be possible of reconciliation.” “Well . . . thanks. One more question . . . maybe I shouldn’t ask it, but . . . this that we have laid out is a wide-reaching and extremely important program. Are you sure that you are able to speak for all the Cahuitans who will be affected?” “I am sure. Since we are a logical race we all think alike—logically. On the other hand, your race does not seem to me at the moment to be at all a logical one. Can you speak for it?” “In this matter I can; and you, in my mind, will know that I can,” and in this case Cloud could indeed speak for the Patrol. Philip Strong, after one glance in Cloud’s mind, would issue the necessary orders himself and would explain later—to anyone capable of accepting the true explanation. “Very well. We will destroy the empty incubators at once, and will go ahead with the rest of the project whenever you are ready.” The Cahuitan broke contact and vanished. In the ship, Cloud got up. So did Joan. Without exchanging a word or a thought they went hungrily into each other’s arms. After a time, and still keeping one arm around his Joan, Cloud reached out and punched a button on his intercom. “Captain Ross?” “Ross speaking.” “Cloud. Mission accomplished. Return to Tellus, please, at full touring blast.” “Very well, sir.” And “Storm” Cloud, Vortex Blaster, was out of a job. ----- ^{A} The reader will please understand that I am doing the best I can with words we all know. E.E.S. TRANSCRIBER NOTES Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed. Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.