Produced by Greg Weeks, Bethanne M. Simms, Jason Isbell, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the | | U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ THE COSMIC COMPUTER by H BEAM PIPER "There are incredible things still undiscovered; most of the important installations were built in duplicate as a precaution against space attack. I know where all of them are. "But I could find nothing, not one single word, about any giant strategic planning computer called Merlin!" Nevertheless the leading men of the planet didn't believe him. They couldn't, for the search for Merlin had become their abiding obsession. Merlin meant everything to them: power, pleasures, and profits unlimited. Conn had known they'd never believe him, and so he had a trick or two up his space-trained sleeve that might outwit even their fabled Cosmic Computer ... if they dared accept his challenge. _H. BEAM PIPER_ is rather enigmatic where his personal statistics are concerned. It may be stated that he lives in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, that he is an expert on the history and use of hand weapons, that he has been writing and selling science-fiction for many years to the leading magazines, and that he is highly rated among readers for his skill and imagination. He has had several novels published, including mysteries and juveniles. His previous appearances in Ace Books include two novels written in collaboration with John J. McGuire: CRISIS IN 2140 (D-227) and A PLANET FOR TEXANS (D-299), and a longer entirely self-authored novel SPACE VIKING (F-225). THE COSMIC COMPUTER (Original Title: Junkyard Planet) H. BEAM PIPER ACE BOOKS, INC. 1120 Avenue of the Americas New York, N.Y. 10036 THE COSMIC COMPUTER (JUNKYARD PLANET) Copyright, 1963, by H. Beam Piper An Ace Book, by arrangement with G. P. Putnam's Sons All Rights Reserved Printed in U.S.A. I Thirty minutes to Litchfield. Conn Maxwell, at the armor-glass front of the observation deck, watched the landscape rush out of the horizon and vanish beneath the ship, ten thousand feet down. He thought he knew how an hourglass must feel with the sand slowly draining out. It had been six months to Litchfield when the _Mizar_ lifted out of La Plata Spaceport and he watched Terra dwindle away. It had been two months to Litchfield when he boarded the _City of Asgard_ at the port of the same name on Odin. It had been two hours to Litchfield when the _Countess Dorothy_ rose from the airship dock at Storisende. He had had all that time, and now it was gone, and he was still unprepared for what he must face at home.