PATROL By Richard H. Nelson MacMartree knew that Man was omnipotent--Master of the Universe. But could he expect his patrol to fight and conquer an invisible enemy? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy October 1952 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] They made their camp high on the breast of the gently swelling hill. As the small planet turned toward the sunset, MacMartree stood a moment on the hillside, watching. Far out on the grass-covered plain their ship stood gleaming, a slender candle, touched by the flame of the sinking sun. Then, quickly, the far horizon caught the sun and pulled it under, and the gloom of night rushed in to drown the pale twilight. "Night comes so fast here," Abner said, at MacMartree's side. "Yes," MacMartree agreed, turning to him. "And day comes even faster. Time for sleep now, with morning only four hours away." "I can't get used to it," Abner said as they moved back into the camp area. "Sleeping and waking in four hour bits!" MacMartree laughed at that. "Abner, you're getting old. You can't adapt anymore." Abner laughed, too, and unrolled his sleep-kit for the night. MacMartree walked to the place where Phillips and Cole lay on the ground, talking casually and watching the stars. "Time to switch on the screen, Phillips," MacMartree reminded the younger man. Phillips nodded, sat up and reached for the control box that lay on the earth beside him. He closed the circuit, and the force-screen bloomed around them, glimmering softly like a thin veil of glowing fireflies. "Kind of useless, that, don't you think?" Cole asked. MacMartree sat down beside them. "It's one of the rules, and no patrol ever came to grief by following the rules." Phillips lay back on the turf. "No patrol ever came to grief at all, you mean. I'm bored to death." MacMartree smiled tolerantly. "I know. It's a quiet life." Abner came over and joined them, completing the party. "What're you three up to?" he wanted to know. MacMartree yawned. "They're trying to get me to argue with them, as an excuse for not sleeping." "Not a bad idea, either," Cole grinned. "You youngsters will be the death of me," MacMartree complained. "Don't you know an old man needs his sleep?" "Come on, Mac," Phillips teased. "Tell us why the patrols are necessary." * * * * * They all laughed then, and MacMartree grinned. "I know how it is with you young ones," he said. "You're tired of the dull and safe life back home and joined the Service, only to find it just as dull and safe as anything else." "Tell me," Phillips put in, "can't anything happen to us anymore?" "Yes," Cole said. "We can die of old age."