data/squality_alignment/data.json

[{"id":141,"annotations":[{"id":26,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = The women were in charge of the journey.\nContextualized = Women are in charge.\nSpan = Although women are in charge\nSupport = But women always know what's right, and a boy can only make faces and do what they say, same as the men have to do. Ship's crews are men; women are too busy with important things like government to run ships. Actually, there wouldn't be too much difference if women took over the Earth altogether. \"Now you be careful, Ferdinand,\" Sis called after me as she opened a book called Family Problems of the Frontier Woman. \n\nInfo Unit #2 = The crew of the ship is all men.\nContextualized = The crew of the ship is all men.\nSpan = the crew of the ship is all men.\nSupport = Ship's crews are men; women are too busy with important things like government to run ships. Picked the Eleanor Roosevelt because a couple of the boys in the crew are friends of mine and they were willing to help.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Ferdinand decides to explore the ship.\nContextualized = Ferdinand decides to explore the ship.\nSpan = Ferdinand decides to explore the ship\nSupport = Twenty minutes after we lifted from the Sahara Spaceport, I wriggled out of my acceleration hammock and started for the door of our cabin. I tore down the corridor. Gee, I thought excitedly, this is one big ship! Of course, every once in a while I would run across a big scene of stars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. Ahead and\nbehind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in out of sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth white doors—on and on and on. I'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, on the transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from the ceiling.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Ferdinand encounters a large red sign.\nContextualized = He encounters a large red sign.\nSpan = he encounters a large red sign\nSupport = Then I passed Deck Twelve and there was a big sign. \"Notice! Passengers not permitted past this point!\" A big sign in red. Then I saw the big red sign again.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = The big red sign forbid passengers from entering the deck.\nContextualized = It forbids passengers from entering the next deck.\nSpan = forbidding passengers from entering the next deck.\nSupport = Then I passed Deck Twelve and there was a big sign. \"Notice! Passengers not permitted past this point!\" \"Passengers not permitted—\"","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"oZkbsOMMqa","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T18:50:39.008766Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:53:23.173757Z","lead_time":883.739,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":141,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":51150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Ferdinand is a young man accompanying his sister Evelyn on a spaceliner called the Eleanor Roosevelt with 300 hundred other women. The final destination of the spaceship is Venus, where the women hope to find a husband.","reference":"Although women are in charge, the crew of the ship is all men. Ferdinand decides to explore the ship, and he encounters a large red sign forbidding passengers from entering the next deck.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>Venus Is a Man's World<br \/>BY WILLIAM TENN<br \/>Illustrated by GENE FAWCETTE<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>Actually, there wouldn't be too much difference if women took<br \/>over the Earth altogether. But not for some men and most boys!<br \/>I've always said that even if Sis is seven years older than me—and a<br \/>girl besides—she don't always know what's best. Put me on a spaceship<br \/>jam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselves<br \/>husbands in the one place they're still to be had—the planet<br \/>Venus—and you know I'll be in trouble.<br \/>Bad trouble. With the law, which is the worst a boy can get into.<br \/>Twenty minutes after we lifted from the Sahara Spaceport, I wriggled<br \/>out of my acceleration hammock and started for the door of our cabin.<br \/>\"Now you be careful, Ferdinand,\" Sis called after me as she opened a<br \/>book called<br \/>Family Problems of the Frontier Woman<br \/>. \"Remember you're<br \/>a nice boy. Don't make me ashamed of you.\"<br \/>I tore down the corridor. Most of the cabins had purple lights on in<br \/>front of the doors, showing that the girls were still inside their<br \/>hammocks. That meant only the ship's crew was up and about. Ship's<br \/>crews are men; women are too busy with important things like government<br \/>to run ships. I felt free all over—and happy. Now was my chance to<br \/>really see the<br \/>Eleanor Roosevelt<br \/>!<br \/>It was hard to believe I was traveling in space at last. Ahead and<br \/>behind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in out<br \/>of sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth white<br \/>doors—on and on and on.<br \/>Gee<br \/>, I thought excitedly, this is<br \/>one big<br \/>ship<br \/>!<br \/>Of course, every once in a while I would run across a big scene of<br \/>stars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. Nothing<br \/>that gave the feel of great empty space like I'd read about in<br \/>The Boy<br \/>Rocketeers<br \/>, no portholes, no visiplates, nothing.<br \/>So when I came to the crossway, I stopped for a second, then turned<br \/>left. To the right, see, there was Deck Four, then Deck Three, leading<br \/>inward past the engine fo'c'sle to the main jets and the grav helix<br \/>going<br \/>purr-purr-purrty-purr<br \/>in the comforting way big machinery has<br \/>when it's happy and oiled. But to the left, the crossway led all the<br \/>way to the outside level which ran just under the hull. There were<br \/>portholes on the hull.<br \/>I'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, on<br \/>the transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from the<br \/>ceiling. Sis had studied it too, but she was looking for places like<br \/>the dining salon and the library and Lifeboat 68 where we should go in<br \/>case of emergency. I looked for the<br \/>important<br \/>things.<br \/>As I trotted along the crossway, I sort of wished that Sis hadn't<br \/>decided to go after a husband on a luxury liner. On a cargo ship, now,<br \/>I'd be climbing from deck to deck on a ladder instead of having gravity<br \/>underfoot all the time just like I was home on the bottom of the Gulf<br \/>of Mexico. But women always know what's right, and a boy can only make<br \/>faces and do what they say, same as the men have to do.<br \/>Still, it was pretty exciting to press my nose against the slots in the<br \/>wall and see the sliding panels that could come charging out and block<br \/>the crossway into an airtight fit in case a meteor or something smashed<br \/>into the ship. And all along there were glass cases with spacesuits<br \/>standing in them, like those knights they used to have back in the<br \/>Middle Ages.<br \/>\"In the event of disaster affecting the oxygen content of<br \/>companionway,\" they had the words etched into the glass, \"break glass<br \/>with hammer upon wall, remove spacesuit and proceed to don it in the<br \/>following fashion.\"<br \/>I read the \"following fashion\" until I knew it by heart.<br \/>Boy<br \/>, I said<br \/>to myself,<br \/>I hope we have that kind of disaster. I'd sure like to get<br \/>into one of those! Bet it would be more fun than those diving suits<br \/>back in Undersea!<br \/>And all the time I was alone. That was the best part.<br \/>Then I passed Deck Twelve and there was a big sign. \"Notice! Passengers<br \/>not permitted past this point!\" A big sign in red.<br \/>I peeked around the corner. I knew it—the next deck was the hull. I<br \/>could see the portholes. Every twelve feet, they were, filled with the<br \/>velvet of space and the dancing of more stars than I'd ever dreamed<br \/>existed in the Universe.<br \/>There wasn't anyone on the deck, as far as I could see. And this<br \/>distance from the grav helix, the ship seemed mighty quiet and lonely.<br \/>If I just took one quick look....<br \/>But I thought of what Sis would say and I turned around obediently.<br \/>Then I saw the big red sign again. \"Passengers not permitted—\"<br \/>Well! Didn't I know from my civics class that only women could be Earth<br \/>Citizens these days? Sure, ever since the Male Desuffrage Act. And<br \/>didn't I know that you had to be a citizen of a planet in order to<br \/>get an interplanetary passport? Sis had explained it all to me in the<br \/>careful, patient way she always talks politics and things like that to<br \/>men.<br \/>\"Technically, Ferdinand, I'm the only passenger in our family. You<br \/>can't be one, because, not being a citizen, you can't acquire an Earth<br \/>Passport. However, you'll be going to Venus on the strength of this<br \/>clause—'Miss Evelyn Sparling and all dependent male members of family,<br \/>this number not to exceed the registered quota of sub-regulations<br \/>pertaining'—and so on. I want you to understand these matters, so that<br \/>you will grow into a man who takes an active interest in world affairs.<br \/>No matter what you hear, women really like and appreciate such men.\"<br \/>Of course, I never pay much attention to Sis when she says such dumb<br \/>things. I'm old enough, I guess, to know that it isn't what<br \/>Women<br \/>like and appreciate that counts when it comes to people getting<br \/>married. If it were, Sis and three hundred other pretty girls like her<br \/>wouldn't be on their way to Venus to hook husbands.<br \/>Still, if I wasn't a passenger, the sign didn't have anything to do<br \/>with me. I knew what Sis could say to<br \/>that<br \/>, but at least it was an<br \/>argument I could use if it ever came up. So I broke the law.<br \/>I was glad I did. The stars were exciting enough, but away off to<br \/>the left, about five times as big as I'd ever seen it, except in the<br \/>movies, was the Moon, a great blob of gray and white pockmarks holding<br \/>off the black of space. I was hoping to see the Earth, but I figured it<br \/>must be on the other side of the ship or behind us. I pressed my nose<br \/>against the port and saw the tiny flicker of a spaceliner taking off,<br \/>Marsbound. I wished I was on that one!<br \/>Then I noticed, a little farther down the companionway, a stretch of<br \/>blank wall where there should have been portholes. High up on the<br \/>wall in glowing red letters were the words, \"Lifeboat 47. Passengers:<br \/>Thirty-two. Crew: Eleven. Unauthorized personnel keep away!\"<br \/>Another one of those signs.<br \/>I crept up to the porthole nearest it and could just barely make out<br \/>the stern jets where it was plastered against the hull. Then I walked<br \/>under the sign and tried to figure the way you were supposed to get<br \/>into it. There was a very thin line going around in a big circle that I<br \/>knew must be the door. But I couldn't see any knobs or switches to open<br \/>it with. Not even a button you could press.<br \/>That meant it was a sonic lock like the kind we had on the outer keeps<br \/>back home in Undersea. But knock or voice? I tried the two knock<br \/>combinations I knew, and nothing happened. I only remembered one voice<br \/>key—might as well see if that's it, I figured.<br \/>\"Twenty, Twenty-three. Open Sesame.\"<br \/>For a second, I thought I'd hit it just right out of all the million<br \/>possible combinations—The door clicked inward toward a black hole, and<br \/>a hairy hand as broad as my shoulders shot out of the hole. It closed<br \/>around my throat and plucked me inside as if I'd been a baby sardine.<br \/>I bounced once on the hard lifeboat floor. Before I got my breath and<br \/>sat up, the door had been shut again. When the light came on, I found<br \/>myself staring up the muzzle of a highly polished blaster and into the<br \/>cold blue eyes of the biggest man I'd ever seen.<br \/>He was wearing a one-piece suit made of some scaly green stuff that<br \/>looked hard and soft at the same time.<br \/>His boots were made of it too, and so was the hood hanging down his<br \/>back.<br \/>And his face was brown. Not just ordinary tan, you understand, but the<br \/>deep, dark, burned-all-the-way-in brown I'd seen on the lifeguards<br \/>in New Orleans whenever we took a surface vacation—the kind of tan<br \/>that comes from day after broiling day under a really hot Sun. His<br \/>hair looked as if it had once been blond, but now there were just long<br \/>combed-out waves with a yellowish tinge that boiled all the way down<br \/>to his shoulders.<br \/>I hadn't seen hair like that on a man except maybe in history books;<br \/>every man I'd ever known had his hair cropped in the fashionable<br \/>soup-bowl style. I was staring at his hair, almost forgetting about the<br \/>blaster which I knew it was against the law for him to have at all,<br \/>when I suddenly got scared right through.<br \/>His eyes.<br \/>They didn't blink and there seemed to be no expression around them.<br \/>Just coldness. Maybe it was the kind of clothes he was wearing that did<br \/>it, but all of a sudden I was reminded of a crocodile I'd seen in a<br \/>surface zoo that had stared quietly at me for twenty minutes until it<br \/>opened two long tooth-studded jaws.<br \/>\"Green shatas!\" he said suddenly. \"Only a tadpole. I must be getting<br \/>jumpy enough to splash.\"<br \/>Then he shoved the blaster away in a holster made of the same scaly<br \/>leather, crossed his arms on his chest and began to study me. I grunted<br \/>to my feet, feeling a lot better. The coldness had gone out of his eyes.<br \/>I held out my hand the way Sis had taught me. \"My name is Ferdinand<br \/>Sparling. I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr.—Mr.—\"<br \/>\"Hope for your sake,\" he said to me, \"that you aren't what you<br \/>seem—tadpole brother to one of them husbandless anura.\"<br \/>\"<br \/>What?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"A 'nuran is a female looking to nest. Anura is a herd of same. Come<br \/>from Flatfolk ways.\"<br \/>\"Flatfolk are the Venusian natives, aren't they? Are you a Venusian?<br \/>What part of Venus do you come from? Why did you say you hope—\"<br \/>He chuckled and swung me up into one of the bunks that lined the<br \/>lifeboat. \"Questions you ask,\" he said in his soft voice. \"Venus is a<br \/>sharp enough place for a dryhorn, let alone a tadpole dryhorn with a<br \/>boss-minded sister.\"<br \/>\"I'm not a dryleg,\" I told him proudly. \"<br \/>We're<br \/>from Undersea.\"<br \/>\"<br \/>Dryhorn<br \/>, I said, not dryleg. And what's Undersea?\"<br \/>\"Well, in Undersea we called foreigners and newcomers drylegs. Just<br \/>like on Venus, I guess, you call them dryhorns.\" And then I told him<br \/>how Undersea had been built on the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, when<br \/>the mineral resources of the land began to give out and engineers<br \/>figured that a lot could still be reached from the sea bottoms.<br \/>He nodded. He'd heard about the sea-bottom mining cities that were<br \/>bubbling under protective domes in every one of the Earth's oceans just<br \/>about the same time settlements were springing up on the planets.<br \/>He looked impressed when I told him about Mom and Pop being one of the<br \/>first couples to get married in Undersea. He looked thoughtful when I<br \/>told him how Sis and I had been born there and spent half our childhood<br \/>listening to the pressure pumps. He raised his eyebrows and looked<br \/>disgusted when I told how Mom, as Undersea representative on the World<br \/>Council, had been one of the framers of the Male Desuffrage Act after<br \/>the Third Atomic War had resulted in the Maternal Revolution.<br \/>He almost squeezed my arm when I got to the time Mom and Pop were blown<br \/>up in a surfacing boat.<br \/>\"Well, after the funeral, there was a little money, so Sis decided we<br \/>might as well use it to migrate. There was no future for her on Earth,<br \/>she figured. You know, the three-out-of-four.\"<br \/>\"How's that?\"<br \/>\"The three-out-of-four. No more than three women out of every four on<br \/>Earth can expect to find husbands. Not enough men to go around. Way<br \/>back in the Twentieth Century, it began to be felt, Sis says, what with<br \/>the wars and all. Then the wars went on and a lot more men began to die<br \/>or get no good from the radioactivity. Then the best men went to the<br \/>planets, Sis says, until by now even if a woman can scrounge a personal<br \/>husband, he's not much to boast about.\"<br \/>The stranger nodded violently. \"Not on Earth, he isn't. Those busybody<br \/>anura make sure of that. What a place! Suffering gridniks, I had a<br \/>bellyful!\"<br \/>He told me about it. Women were scarce on Venus, and he hadn't been<br \/>able to find any who were willing to come out to his lonely little<br \/>islands; he had decided to go to Earth where there was supposed to be a<br \/>surplus. Naturally, having been born and brought up on a very primitive<br \/>planet, he didn't know \"it's a woman's world,\" like the older boys in<br \/>school used to say.<br \/>The moment he landed on Earth he was in trouble. He didn't know he had<br \/>to register at a government-operated hotel for transient males; he<br \/>threw a bartender through a thick plastic window for saying something<br \/>nasty about the length of his hair; and<br \/>imagine<br \/>!—he not only<br \/>resisted arrest, resulting in three hospitalized policemen, but he<br \/>sassed the judge in open court!<br \/>\"Told me a man wasn't supposed to say anything except through female<br \/>attorneys. Told<br \/>her<br \/>that where<br \/>I<br \/>came from, a man spoke his piece<br \/>when he'd a mind to, and his woman walked by his side.\"<br \/>\"What happened?\" I asked breathlessly.<br \/>\"Oh, Guilty of This and Contempt of That. That blown-up brinosaur took<br \/>my last munit for fines, then explained that she was remitting the<br \/>rest because I was a foreigner and uneducated.\" His eyes grew dark for<br \/>a moment. He chuckled again. \"But I wasn't going to serve all those<br \/>fancy little prison sentences. Forcible Citizenship Indoctrination,<br \/>they call it? Shook the dead-dry dust of the misbegotten, God forsaken<br \/>mother world from my feet forever. The women on it deserve their men.<br \/>My pockets were folded from the fines, and the paddlefeet were looking<br \/>for me so close I didn't dare radio for more munit. So I stowed away.\"<br \/>For a moment, I didn't understand him. When I did, I was almost ill.<br \/>\"Y-you mean,\" I choked, \"th-that you're b-breaking the law right now?<br \/>And I'm with you while you're doing it?\"<br \/>He leaned over the edge of the bunk and stared at me very seriously.<br \/>\"What breed of tadpole are they turning out these days? Besides, what<br \/>business do<br \/>you<br \/>have this close to the hull?\"<br \/>After a moment of sober reflection, I nodded. \"You're right. I've also<br \/>become a male outside the law. We're in this together.\"<br \/>He guffawed. Then he sat up and began cleaning his blaster. I found<br \/>myself drawn to the bright killer-tube with exactly the fascination Sis<br \/>insists such things have always had for men.<br \/>\"Ferdinand your label? That's not right for a sprouting tadpole. I'll<br \/>call you Ford. My name's Butt. Butt Lee Brown.\"<br \/>I liked the sound of Ford. \"Is Butt a nickname, too?\"<br \/>\"Yeah. Short for Alberta, but I haven't found a man who can draw a<br \/>blaster fast enough to call me that. You see, Pop came over in the<br \/>eighties—the big wave of immigrants when they evacuated Ontario. Named<br \/>all us boys after Canadian provinces. I was the youngest, so I got the<br \/>name they were saving for a girl.\"<br \/>\"You had a lot of brothers, Mr. Butt?\"<br \/>He grinned with a mighty set of teeth. \"Oh, a nestful. Of course, they<br \/>were all killed in the Blue Chicago Rising by the MacGregor boys—all<br \/>except me and Saskatchewan. Then Sas and me hunted the MacGregors down.<br \/>Took a heap of time; we didn't float Jock MacGregor's ugly face down<br \/>the Tuscany till both of us were pretty near grown up.\"<br \/>I walked up close to where I could see the tiny bright copper coils of<br \/>the blaster above the firing button. \"Have you killed a lot of men with<br \/>that, Mr. Butt?\"<br \/>\"Butt. Just plain Butt to you, Ford.\" He frowned and sighted at<br \/>the light globe. \"No more'n twelve—not counting five government<br \/>paddlefeet, of course. I'm a peaceable planter. Way I figure it,<br \/>violence never accomplishes much that's important. My brother Sas,<br \/>now—\"<br \/>He had just begun to work into a wonderful anecdote about his brother<br \/>when the dinner gong rang. Butt told me to scat. He said I was a<br \/>growing tadpole and needed my vitamins. And he mentioned, very<br \/>off-hand, that he wouldn't at all object if I brought him some fresh<br \/>fruit. It seemed there was nothing but processed foods in the lifeboat<br \/>and Butt was used to a farmer's diet.<br \/>Trouble was, he was a special kind of farmer. Ordinary fruit would have<br \/>been pretty easy to sneak into my pockets at meals. I even found a way<br \/>to handle the kelp and giant watercress Mr. Brown liked, but things<br \/>like seaweed salt and Venusian mud-grapes just had too strong a smell.<br \/>Twice, the mechanical hamper refused to accept my jacket for laundering<br \/>and I had to wash it myself. But I learned so many wonderful things<br \/>about Venus every time I visited that stowaway....<br \/>I learned three wild-wave songs of the Flatfolk and what it is that the<br \/>native Venusians hate so much; I learned how you tell the difference<br \/>between a lousy government paddlefoot from New Kalamazoo and the<br \/>slaptoe slinker who is the planter's friend. After a lot of begging,<br \/>Butt Lee Brown explained the workings of his blaster, explained it<br \/>so carefully that I could name every part and tell what it did from<br \/>the tiny round electrodes to the long spirals of transformer. But no<br \/>matter what, he would never let me hold it.<br \/>\"Sorry, Ford, old tad,\" he would drawl, spinning around and around in<br \/>the control swivel-chair at the nose of the lifeboat. \"But way I look<br \/>at it, a man who lets somebody else handle his blaster is like the<br \/>giant whose heart was in an egg that an enemy found. When you've grown<br \/>enough so's your pop feels you ought to have a weapon, why, then's the<br \/>time to learn it and you might's well learn fast. Before then, you're<br \/>plain too young to be even near it.\"<br \/>\"I don't have a father to give me one when I come of age. I don't even<br \/>have an older brother as head of my family like your brother Labrador.<br \/>All I have is Sis. And<br \/>she<br \/>—\"<br \/>\"She'll marry some fancy dryhorn who's never been farther South than<br \/>the Polar Coast. And she'll stay head of the family, if I know her<br \/>breed of green shata.<br \/>Bossy, opinionated.<br \/>By the way, Fordie,\" he<br \/>said, rising and stretching so the fish-leather bounced and rippled off<br \/>his biceps, \"that sister. She ever....\"<br \/>And he'd be off again, cross-examining me about Evelyn. I sat in the<br \/>swivel chair he'd vacated and tried to answer his questions. But there<br \/>was a lot of stuff I didn't know. Evelyn was a healthy girl, for<br \/>instance; how healthy, exactly, I had no way of finding out. Yes, I'd<br \/>tell him, my aunts on both sides of my family each had had more than<br \/>the average number of children. No, we'd never done any farming to<br \/>speak of, back in Undersea, but—yes, I'd guess Evelyn knew about as<br \/>much as any girl there when it came to diving equipment and pressure<br \/>pump regulation.<br \/>How would I know that stuff would lead to trouble for me?<br \/>Sis had insisted I come along to the geography lecture. Most of the<br \/>other girls who were going to Venus for husbands talked to each other<br \/>during the lecture, but not<br \/>my<br \/>sister! She hung on every word, took<br \/>notes even, and asked enough questions to make the perspiring purser<br \/>really work in those orientation periods.<br \/>\"I am very sorry, Miss Sparling,\" he said with pretty heavy sarcasm,<br \/>\"but I cannot remember any of the agricultural products of the Macro<br \/>Continent. Since the human population is well below one per thousand<br \/>square miles, it can readily be understood that the quantity of<br \/>tilled soil, land or sub-surface, is so small that—Wait, I remember<br \/>something. The Macro Continent exports a fruit though not exactly an<br \/>edible one. The wild<br \/>dunging<br \/>drug is harvested there by criminal<br \/>speculators. Contrary to belief on Earth, the traffic has been growing<br \/>in recent years. In fact—\"<br \/>\"Pardon me, sir,\" I broke in, \"but doesn't<br \/>dunging<br \/>come only from<br \/>Leif Erickson Island off the Moscow Peninsula of the Macro Continent?<br \/>You remember, purser—Wang Li's third exploration, where he proved the<br \/>island and the peninsula didn't meet for most of the year?\"<br \/>The purser nodded slowly. \"I forgot,\" he admitted. \"Sorry, ladies, but<br \/>the boy's right. Please make the correction in your notes.\"<br \/>But Sis was the only one who took notes, and she didn't take that one.<br \/>She stared at me for a moment, biting her lower lip thoughtfully, while<br \/>I got sicker and sicker. Then she shut her pad with the final gesture<br \/>of the right hand that Mom used to use just before challenging the<br \/>opposition to come right down on the Council floor and debate it out<br \/>with her.<br \/>\"Ferdinand,\" Sis said, \"let's go back to our cabin.\"<br \/>The moment she sat me down and walked slowly around me, I knew I was<br \/>in for it. \"I've been reading up on Venusian geography in the ship's<br \/>library,\" I told her in a hurry.<br \/>\"No doubt,\" she said drily. She shook her night-black hair out. \"But<br \/>you aren't going to tell me that you read about<br \/>dunging<br \/>in the ship's<br \/>library. The books there have been censored by a government agent of<br \/>Earth against the possibility that they might be read by susceptible<br \/>young male minds like yours. She would not have allowed—this Terran<br \/>Agent—\"<br \/>\"Paddlefoot,\" I sneered.<br \/>Sis sat down hard in our zoom-air chair. \"Now that's a term,\" she said<br \/>carefully, \"that is used only by Venusian riffraff.\"<br \/>\"They're not!\"<br \/>\"Not what?\"<br \/>\"Riffraff,\" I had to answer, knowing I was getting in deeper all the<br \/>time and not being able to help it. I mustn't give Mr. Brown away!<br \/>\"They're trappers and farmers, pioneers and explorers, who're building<br \/>Venus. And it takes a real man to build on a hot, hungry hell like<br \/>Venus.\"<br \/>\"Does it, now?\" she said, looking at me as if I were beginning to grow<br \/>a second pair of ears. \"Tell me more.\"<br \/>\"You can't have meek, law-abiding, women-ruled men when you start<br \/>civilization on a new planet. You've got to have men who aren't afraid<br \/>to make their own law if necessary—with their own guns. That's where<br \/>law begins; the books get written up later.\"<br \/>\"You're going to<br \/>tell<br \/>, Ferdinand, what evil, criminal male is<br \/>speaking through your mouth!\"<br \/>\"Nobody!\" I insisted. \"They're my own ideas!\"<br \/>\"They are remarkably well-organized for a young boy's ideas. A boy<br \/>who, I might add, has previously shown a ridiculous but nonetheless<br \/>entirely masculine boredom with political philosophy. I plan to have a<br \/>government career on that new planet you talk about, Ferdinand—after<br \/>I have found a good, steady husband, of course—and I don't look<br \/>forward to a masculinist radical in the family. Now, who has been<br \/>filling your head with all this nonsense?\"<br \/>I was sweating. Sis has that deadly bulldog approach when she feels<br \/>someone is lying. I pulled my pulpast handkerchief from my pocket to<br \/>wipe my face. Something rattled to the floor.<br \/>\"What is this picture of me doing in your pocket, Ferdinand?\"<br \/>A trap seemed to be hinging noisily into place. \"One of the passengers<br \/>wanted to see how you looked in a bathing suit.\"<br \/>\"The passengers on this ship are all female. I can't imagine any of<br \/>them that curious about my appearance. Ferdinand, it's a man who has<br \/>been giving you these anti-social ideas, isn't it? A war-mongering<br \/>masculinist like all the frustrated men who want to engage in<br \/>government and don't have the vaguest idea how to. Except, of course,<br \/>in their ancient, bloody ways. Ferdinand, who has been perverting that<br \/>sunny and carefree soul of yours?\"<br \/>\"Nobody!<br \/>Nobody!<br \/>\"<br \/>\"Ferdinand, there's no point in lying! I demand—\"<br \/>\"I told you, Sis. I told you! And don't call me Ferdinand. Call me<br \/>Ford.\"<br \/>\"Ford?<br \/>Ford?<br \/>Now, you listen to me, Ferdinand....\"<br \/>After that it was all over but the confession. That came in a few<br \/>moments. I couldn't fool Sis. She just knew me too well, I decided<br \/>miserably. Besides, she was a girl.<br \/>All the same, I wouldn't get Mr. Butt Lee Brown into trouble if I could<br \/>help it. I made Sis promise she wouldn't turn him in if I took her to<br \/>him. And the quick, nodding way she said she would made me feel just a<br \/>little better.<br \/>The door opened on the signal, \"Sesame.\" When Butt saw somebody was<br \/>with me, he jumped and the ten-inch blaster barrel grew out of his<br \/>fingers. Then he recognized Sis from the pictures.<br \/>He stepped to one side and, with the same sweeping gesture, holstered<br \/>his blaster and pushed his green hood off. It was Sis's turn to jump<br \/>when she saw the wild mass of hair rolling down his back.<br \/>\"An honor, Miss Sparling,\" he said in that rumbly voice. \"Please come<br \/>right in. There's a hurry-up draft.\"<br \/>So Sis went in and I followed right after her. Mr. Brown closed the<br \/>door. I tried to catch his eye so I could give him some kind of hint or<br \/>explanation, but he had taken a couple of his big strides and was in<br \/>the control section with Sis. She didn't give ground, though; I'll say<br \/>that for her. She only came to his chest, but she had her arms crossed<br \/>sternly.<br \/>\"First, Mr. Brown,\" she began, like talking to a cluck of a kid in<br \/>class, \"you realize that you are not only committing the political<br \/>crime of traveling without a visa, and the criminal one of stowing away<br \/>without paying your fare, but the moral delinquency of consuming stores<br \/>intended for the personnel of this ship solely in emergency?\"<br \/>He opened his mouth to its maximum width and raised an enormous hand.<br \/>Then he let the air out and dropped his arm.<br \/>\"I take it you either have no defense or care to make none,\" Sis added<br \/>caustically.<br \/>Butt laughed slowly and carefully as if he were going over each word.<br \/>\"Wonder if all the anura talk like that. And<br \/>you<br \/>want to foul up<br \/>Venus.\"<br \/>\"We haven't done so badly on Earth, after the mess you men made of<br \/>politics. It needed a revolution of the mothers before—\"<br \/>\"Needed nothing. Everyone wanted peace. Earth is a weary old world.\"<br \/>\"It's a world of strong moral fiber compared to yours, Mr. Alberta Lee<br \/>Brown.\" Hearing his rightful name made him move suddenly and tower over<br \/>her. Sis said with a certain amount of hurry and change of tone, \"What<br \/>do<br \/>you have to say about stowing away and using up lifeboat stores?\"<br \/>He cocked his head and considered a moment. \"Look,\" he said finally,<br \/>\"I have more than enough munit to pay for round trip tickets, but I<br \/>couldn't get a return visa because of that brinosaur judge and all<br \/>the charges she hung on me. Had to stow away. Picked the<br \/>Eleanor<br \/>Roosevelt<br \/>because a couple of the boys in the crew are friends of mine<br \/>and they were willing to help. But this lifeboat—don't you know that<br \/>every passenger ship carries four times as many lifeboats as it needs?<br \/>Not to mention the food I didn't eat because it stuck in my throat?\"<br \/>\"Yes,\" she said bitterly. \"You had this boy steal fresh fruit for you.<br \/>I suppose you didn't know that under space regulations that makes him<br \/>equally guilty?\"<br \/>\"No, Sis, he didn't,\" I was beginning to argue. \"All he wanted—\"<br \/>\"Sure I knew. Also know that if I'm picked up as a stowaway, I'll be<br \/>sent back to Earth to serve out those fancy little sentences.\"<br \/>\"Well, you're guilty of them, aren't you?\"<br \/>He waved his hands at her impatiently. \"I'm not talking law, female;<br \/>I'm talking sense. Listen! I'm in trouble because I went to Earth to<br \/>look for a wife. You're standing here right now because you're on your<br \/>way to Venus for a husband. So let's.\"<br \/>Sis actually staggered back. \"Let's? Let's<br \/>what<br \/>? Are—are you daring<br \/>to suggest that—that—\"<br \/>\"Now, Miss Sparling, no hoopla. I'm saying let's get married, and you<br \/>know it. You figured out from what the boy told you that I was chewing<br \/>on you for a wife. You're healthy and strong, got good heredity, you<br \/>know how to operate sub-surface machinery, you've lived underwater, and<br \/>your disposition's no worse than most of the anura I've seen. Prolific<br \/>stock, too.\"<br \/>I was so excited I just had to yell: \"Gee, Sis, say<br \/>yes<br \/>!\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.784961Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:53:23.222459Z","inner_id":141,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":140,"annotations":[{"id":25,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Ferdinand is a young man.\nContextualized = Ferdinand is a young man.\nSpan = Ferdinand is a young man\nSupport = They are remarkably well-organized for a young boy's ideas. The books there have been censored by a government agent of Earth against the possibility that they might be read by susceptible young male minds like yours. Before then, you're plain too young to be even near it.\" \"I don't have a father to give me one when I come of age. \n\nInfo Unit #2 = Evelyn is Ferdinand's sister.\nContextualized = Evelyn is his sister.\nSpan = his sister Evelyn\nSupport = By the way, Fordie,\" he said, rising and stretching so the fish-leather bounced and rippled off his biceps, \"that sister. She ever....\" And he'd be off again, cross-examining me about Evelyn. Miss Evelyn Sparling and all dependent male members of family, this number not to exceed the registered quota of sub-regulations pertaining'—and so on. Of course, I never pay much attention to Sis when she says such dumb things.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Ferdinand and Evelyn are on a spaceliner Eleanor Roosevelt.\nContextualized = They are on a spaceliner called the Eleanor Roosevelt.\nSpan = a spaceliner called the Eleanor Roosevelt\nSupport = Now was my chance to really see the Eleanor Roosevelt! It was hard to believe I was traveling in space at last.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = The spaceliner has 300 hundred other women.\nContextualized = Eleanor Roosevelt has 300 hundred other women. \nSpan = 300 hundred other women\nSupport = Put me on a spaceship jam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselves husbands in the one place they're still to be had—the planet Venus—and you know I'll be in trouble. If it were, Sis and three hundred other pretty girls like her wouldn't be on their way to Venus to hook husbands.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = The final destination of the spaceliner was Venus.\nContextualized = The final destination of the spaceship is Venus.\nSpan = The final destination of the spaceship is Venus\nSupport = Put me on a spaceship jam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselves husbands in the one place they're still to be had—the planet Venus—and you know I'll be in trouble. If it were, Sis and three hundred other pretty girls like her wouldn't be on their way to Venus to hook husbands.\n\nInfo Unit #6 = The women in the spaceliner were hoping to find a husband on Venus.\nContextualized = The women hope to find a husband there.\nSpan = where the women hope to find a husband.\nSupport = Put me on a spaceship jam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselves husbands in the one place they're still to be had—the planet Venus—and you know I'll be in trouble. If it were, Sis and three hundred other pretty girls like her wouldn't be on their way to Venus to hook husbands. As I trotted along the crossway, I sort of wished that Sis hadn't decided to go after a husband on a luxury liner. No more than three women out of every four on\nEarth can expect to find husbands. Then the best men went to the planets, Sis says, until by now even if a woman can scrounge a personal husband, he's not much to boast about. Most of the other girls who were going to Venus for husbands talked to each other during the lecture, but not my sister! You're standing here right now because you're on your way to Venus for a husband.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"1M455Eo46_","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T18:37:27.157446Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:50:36.774560Z","lead_time":1938.698,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":140,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":51150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? ","reference":"Ferdinand is a young man accompanying his sister Evelyn on a spaceliner called the Eleanor Roosevelt with 300 hundred other women. The final destination of the spaceship is Venus, where the women hope to find a husband.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>Venus Is a Man's World<br \/>BY WILLIAM TENN<br \/>Illustrated by GENE FAWCETTE<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>Actually, there wouldn't be too much difference if women took<br \/>over the Earth altogether. But not for some men and most boys!<br \/>I've always said that even if Sis is seven years older than me—and a<br \/>girl besides—she don't always know what's best. Put me on a spaceship<br \/>jam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselves<br \/>husbands in the one place they're still to be had—the planet<br \/>Venus—and you know I'll be in trouble.<br \/>Bad trouble. With the law, which is the worst a boy can get into.<br \/>Twenty minutes after we lifted from the Sahara Spaceport, I wriggled<br \/>out of my acceleration hammock and started for the door of our cabin.<br \/>\"Now you be careful, Ferdinand,\" Sis called after me as she opened a<br \/>book called<br \/>Family Problems of the Frontier Woman<br \/>. \"Remember you're<br \/>a nice boy. Don't make me ashamed of you.\"<br \/>I tore down the corridor. Most of the cabins had purple lights on in<br \/>front of the doors, showing that the girls were still inside their<br \/>hammocks. That meant only the ship's crew was up and about. Ship's<br \/>crews are men; women are too busy with important things like government<br \/>to run ships. I felt free all over—and happy. Now was my chance to<br \/>really see the<br \/>Eleanor Roosevelt<br \/>!<br \/>It was hard to believe I was traveling in space at last. Ahead and<br \/>behind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in out<br \/>of sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth white<br \/>doors—on and on and on.<br \/>Gee<br \/>, I thought excitedly, this is<br \/>one big<br \/>ship<br \/>!<br \/>Of course, every once in a while I would run across a big scene of<br \/>stars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. Nothing<br \/>that gave the feel of great empty space like I'd read about in<br \/>The Boy<br \/>Rocketeers<br \/>, no portholes, no visiplates, nothing.<br \/>So when I came to the crossway, I stopped for a second, then turned<br \/>left. To the right, see, there was Deck Four, then Deck Three, leading<br \/>inward past the engine fo'c'sle to the main jets and the grav helix<br \/>going<br \/>purr-purr-purrty-purr<br \/>in the comforting way big machinery has<br \/>when it's happy and oiled. But to the left, the crossway led all the<br \/>way to the outside level which ran just under the hull. There were<br \/>portholes on the hull.<br \/>I'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, on<br \/>the transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from the<br \/>ceiling. Sis had studied it too, but she was looking for places like<br \/>the dining salon and the library and Lifeboat 68 where we should go in<br \/>case of emergency. I looked for the<br \/>important<br \/>things.<br \/>As I trotted along the crossway, I sort of wished that Sis hadn't<br \/>decided to go after a husband on a luxury liner. On a cargo ship, now,<br \/>I'd be climbing from deck to deck on a ladder instead of having gravity<br \/>underfoot all the time just like I was home on the bottom of the Gulf<br \/>of Mexico. But women always know what's right, and a boy can only make<br \/>faces and do what they say, same as the men have to do.<br \/>Still, it was pretty exciting to press my nose against the slots in the<br \/>wall and see the sliding panels that could come charging out and block<br \/>the crossway into an airtight fit in case a meteor or something smashed<br \/>into the ship. And all along there were glass cases with spacesuits<br \/>standing in them, like those knights they used to have back in the<br \/>Middle Ages.<br \/>\"In the event of disaster affecting the oxygen content of<br \/>companionway,\" they had the words etched into the glass, \"break glass<br \/>with hammer upon wall, remove spacesuit and proceed to don it in the<br \/>following fashion.\"<br \/>I read the \"following fashion\" until I knew it by heart.<br \/>Boy<br \/>, I said<br \/>to myself,<br \/>I hope we have that kind of disaster. I'd sure like to get<br \/>into one of those! Bet it would be more fun than those diving suits<br \/>back in Undersea!<br \/>And all the time I was alone. That was the best part.<br \/>Then I passed Deck Twelve and there was a big sign. \"Notice! Passengers<br \/>not permitted past this point!\" A big sign in red.<br \/>I peeked around the corner. I knew it—the next deck was the hull. I<br \/>could see the portholes. Every twelve feet, they were, filled with the<br \/>velvet of space and the dancing of more stars than I'd ever dreamed<br \/>existed in the Universe.<br \/>There wasn't anyone on the deck, as far as I could see. And this<br \/>distance from the grav helix, the ship seemed mighty quiet and lonely.<br \/>If I just took one quick look....<br \/>But I thought of what Sis would say and I turned around obediently.<br \/>Then I saw the big red sign again. \"Passengers not permitted—\"<br \/>Well! Didn't I know from my civics class that only women could be Earth<br \/>Citizens these days? Sure, ever since the Male Desuffrage Act. And<br \/>didn't I know that you had to be a citizen of a planet in order to<br \/>get an interplanetary passport? Sis had explained it all to me in the<br \/>careful, patient way she always talks politics and things like that to<br \/>men.<br \/>\"Technically, Ferdinand, I'm the only passenger in our family. You<br \/>can't be one, because, not being a citizen, you can't acquire an Earth<br \/>Passport. However, you'll be going to Venus on the strength of this<br \/>clause—'Miss Evelyn Sparling and all dependent male members of family,<br \/>this number not to exceed the registered quota of sub-regulations<br \/>pertaining'—and so on. I want you to understand these matters, so that<br \/>you will grow into a man who takes an active interest in world affairs.<br \/>No matter what you hear, women really like and appreciate such men.\"<br \/>Of course, I never pay much attention to Sis when she says such dumb<br \/>things. I'm old enough, I guess, to know that it isn't what<br \/>Women<br \/>like and appreciate that counts when it comes to people getting<br \/>married. If it were, Sis and three hundred other pretty girls like her<br \/>wouldn't be on their way to Venus to hook husbands.<br \/>Still, if I wasn't a passenger, the sign didn't have anything to do<br \/>with me. I knew what Sis could say to<br \/>that<br \/>, but at least it was an<br \/>argument I could use if it ever came up. So I broke the law.<br \/>I was glad I did. The stars were exciting enough, but away off to<br \/>the left, about five times as big as I'd ever seen it, except in the<br \/>movies, was the Moon, a great blob of gray and white pockmarks holding<br \/>off the black of space. I was hoping to see the Earth, but I figured it<br \/>must be on the other side of the ship or behind us. I pressed my nose<br \/>against the port and saw the tiny flicker of a spaceliner taking off,<br \/>Marsbound. I wished I was on that one!<br \/>Then I noticed, a little farther down the companionway, a stretch of<br \/>blank wall where there should have been portholes. High up on the<br \/>wall in glowing red letters were the words, \"Lifeboat 47. Passengers:<br \/>Thirty-two. Crew: Eleven. Unauthorized personnel keep away!\"<br \/>Another one of those signs.<br \/>I crept up to the porthole nearest it and could just barely make out<br \/>the stern jets where it was plastered against the hull. Then I walked<br \/>under the sign and tried to figure the way you were supposed to get<br \/>into it. There was a very thin line going around in a big circle that I<br \/>knew must be the door. But I couldn't see any knobs or switches to open<br \/>it with. Not even a button you could press.<br \/>That meant it was a sonic lock like the kind we had on the outer keeps<br \/>back home in Undersea. But knock or voice? I tried the two knock<br \/>combinations I knew, and nothing happened. I only remembered one voice<br \/>key—might as well see if that's it, I figured.<br \/>\"Twenty, Twenty-three. Open Sesame.\"<br \/>For a second, I thought I'd hit it just right out of all the million<br \/>possible combinations—The door clicked inward toward a black hole, and<br \/>a hairy hand as broad as my shoulders shot out of the hole. It closed<br \/>around my throat and plucked me inside as if I'd been a baby sardine.<br \/>I bounced once on the hard lifeboat floor. Before I got my breath and<br \/>sat up, the door had been shut again. When the light came on, I found<br \/>myself staring up the muzzle of a highly polished blaster and into the<br \/>cold blue eyes of the biggest man I'd ever seen.<br \/>He was wearing a one-piece suit made of some scaly green stuff that<br \/>looked hard and soft at the same time.<br \/>His boots were made of it too, and so was the hood hanging down his<br \/>back.<br \/>And his face was brown. Not just ordinary tan, you understand, but the<br \/>deep, dark, burned-all-the-way-in brown I'd seen on the lifeguards<br \/>in New Orleans whenever we took a surface vacation—the kind of tan<br \/>that comes from day after broiling day under a really hot Sun. His<br \/>hair looked as if it had once been blond, but now there were just long<br \/>combed-out waves with a yellowish tinge that boiled all the way down<br \/>to his shoulders.<br \/>I hadn't seen hair like that on a man except maybe in history books;<br \/>every man I'd ever known had his hair cropped in the fashionable<br \/>soup-bowl style. I was staring at his hair, almost forgetting about the<br \/>blaster which I knew it was against the law for him to have at all,<br \/>when I suddenly got scared right through.<br \/>His eyes.<br \/>They didn't blink and there seemed to be no expression around them.<br \/>Just coldness. Maybe it was the kind of clothes he was wearing that did<br \/>it, but all of a sudden I was reminded of a crocodile I'd seen in a<br \/>surface zoo that had stared quietly at me for twenty minutes until it<br \/>opened two long tooth-studded jaws.<br \/>\"Green shatas!\" he said suddenly. \"Only a tadpole. I must be getting<br \/>jumpy enough to splash.\"<br \/>Then he shoved the blaster away in a holster made of the same scaly<br \/>leather, crossed his arms on his chest and began to study me. I grunted<br \/>to my feet, feeling a lot better. The coldness had gone out of his eyes.<br \/>I held out my hand the way Sis had taught me. \"My name is Ferdinand<br \/>Sparling. I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr.—Mr.—\"<br \/>\"Hope for your sake,\" he said to me, \"that you aren't what you<br \/>seem—tadpole brother to one of them husbandless anura.\"<br \/>\"<br \/>What?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"A 'nuran is a female looking to nest. Anura is a herd of same. Come<br \/>from Flatfolk ways.\"<br \/>\"Flatfolk are the Venusian natives, aren't they? Are you a Venusian?<br \/>What part of Venus do you come from? Why did you say you hope—\"<br \/>He chuckled and swung me up into one of the bunks that lined the<br \/>lifeboat. \"Questions you ask,\" he said in his soft voice. \"Venus is a<br \/>sharp enough place for a dryhorn, let alone a tadpole dryhorn with a<br \/>boss-minded sister.\"<br \/>\"I'm not a dryleg,\" I told him proudly. \"<br \/>We're<br \/>from Undersea.\"<br \/>\"<br \/>Dryhorn<br \/>, I said, not dryleg. And what's Undersea?\"<br \/>\"Well, in Undersea we called foreigners and newcomers drylegs. Just<br \/>like on Venus, I guess, you call them dryhorns.\" And then I told him<br \/>how Undersea had been built on the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, when<br \/>the mineral resources of the land began to give out and engineers<br \/>figured that a lot could still be reached from the sea bottoms.<br \/>He nodded. He'd heard about the sea-bottom mining cities that were<br \/>bubbling under protective domes in every one of the Earth's oceans just<br \/>about the same time settlements were springing up on the planets.<br \/>He looked impressed when I told him about Mom and Pop being one of the<br \/>first couples to get married in Undersea. He looked thoughtful when I<br \/>told him how Sis and I had been born there and spent half our childhood<br \/>listening to the pressure pumps. He raised his eyebrows and looked<br \/>disgusted when I told how Mom, as Undersea representative on the World<br \/>Council, had been one of the framers of the Male Desuffrage Act after<br \/>the Third Atomic War had resulted in the Maternal Revolution.<br \/>He almost squeezed my arm when I got to the time Mom and Pop were blown<br \/>up in a surfacing boat.<br \/>\"Well, after the funeral, there was a little money, so Sis decided we<br \/>might as well use it to migrate. There was no future for her on Earth,<br \/>she figured. You know, the three-out-of-four.\"<br \/>\"How's that?\"<br \/>\"The three-out-of-four. No more than three women out of every four on<br \/>Earth can expect to find husbands. Not enough men to go around. Way<br \/>back in the Twentieth Century, it began to be felt, Sis says, what with<br \/>the wars and all. Then the wars went on and a lot more men began to die<br \/>or get no good from the radioactivity. Then the best men went to the<br \/>planets, Sis says, until by now even if a woman can scrounge a personal<br \/>husband, he's not much to boast about.\"<br \/>The stranger nodded violently. \"Not on Earth, he isn't. Those busybody<br \/>anura make sure of that. What a place! Suffering gridniks, I had a<br \/>bellyful!\"<br \/>He told me about it. Women were scarce on Venus, and he hadn't been<br \/>able to find any who were willing to come out to his lonely little<br \/>islands; he had decided to go to Earth where there was supposed to be a<br \/>surplus. Naturally, having been born and brought up on a very primitive<br \/>planet, he didn't know \"it's a woman's world,\" like the older boys in<br \/>school used to say.<br \/>The moment he landed on Earth he was in trouble. He didn't know he had<br \/>to register at a government-operated hotel for transient males; he<br \/>threw a bartender through a thick plastic window for saying something<br \/>nasty about the length of his hair; and<br \/>imagine<br \/>!—he not only<br \/>resisted arrest, resulting in three hospitalized policemen, but he<br \/>sassed the judge in open court!<br \/>\"Told me a man wasn't supposed to say anything except through female<br \/>attorneys. Told<br \/>her<br \/>that where<br \/>I<br \/>came from, a man spoke his piece<br \/>when he'd a mind to, and his woman walked by his side.\"<br \/>\"What happened?\" I asked breathlessly.<br \/>\"Oh, Guilty of This and Contempt of That. That blown-up brinosaur took<br \/>my last munit for fines, then explained that she was remitting the<br \/>rest because I was a foreigner and uneducated.\" His eyes grew dark for<br \/>a moment. He chuckled again. \"But I wasn't going to serve all those<br \/>fancy little prison sentences. Forcible Citizenship Indoctrination,<br \/>they call it? Shook the dead-dry dust of the misbegotten, God forsaken<br \/>mother world from my feet forever. The women on it deserve their men.<br \/>My pockets were folded from the fines, and the paddlefeet were looking<br \/>for me so close I didn't dare radio for more munit. So I stowed away.\"<br \/>For a moment, I didn't understand him. When I did, I was almost ill.<br \/>\"Y-you mean,\" I choked, \"th-that you're b-breaking the law right now?<br \/>And I'm with you while you're doing it?\"<br \/>He leaned over the edge of the bunk and stared at me very seriously.<br \/>\"What breed of tadpole are they turning out these days? Besides, what<br \/>business do<br \/>you<br \/>have this close to the hull?\"<br \/>After a moment of sober reflection, I nodded. \"You're right. I've also<br \/>become a male outside the law. We're in this together.\"<br \/>He guffawed. Then he sat up and began cleaning his blaster. I found<br \/>myself drawn to the bright killer-tube with exactly the fascination Sis<br \/>insists such things have always had for men.<br \/>\"Ferdinand your label? That's not right for a sprouting tadpole. I'll<br \/>call you Ford. My name's Butt. Butt Lee Brown.\"<br \/>I liked the sound of Ford. \"Is Butt a nickname, too?\"<br \/>\"Yeah. Short for Alberta, but I haven't found a man who can draw a<br \/>blaster fast enough to call me that. You see, Pop came over in the<br \/>eighties—the big wave of immigrants when they evacuated Ontario. Named<br \/>all us boys after Canadian provinces. I was the youngest, so I got the<br \/>name they were saving for a girl.\"<br \/>\"You had a lot of brothers, Mr. Butt?\"<br \/>He grinned with a mighty set of teeth. \"Oh, a nestful. Of course, they<br \/>were all killed in the Blue Chicago Rising by the MacGregor boys—all<br \/>except me and Saskatchewan. Then Sas and me hunted the MacGregors down.<br \/>Took a heap of time; we didn't float Jock MacGregor's ugly face down<br \/>the Tuscany till both of us were pretty near grown up.\"<br \/>I walked up close to where I could see the tiny bright copper coils of<br \/>the blaster above the firing button. \"Have you killed a lot of men with<br \/>that, Mr. Butt?\"<br \/>\"Butt. Just plain Butt to you, Ford.\" He frowned and sighted at<br \/>the light globe. \"No more'n twelve—not counting five government<br \/>paddlefeet, of course. I'm a peaceable planter. Way I figure it,<br \/>violence never accomplishes much that's important. My brother Sas,<br \/>now—\"<br \/>He had just begun to work into a wonderful anecdote about his brother<br \/>when the dinner gong rang. Butt told me to scat. He said I was a<br \/>growing tadpole and needed my vitamins. And he mentioned, very<br \/>off-hand, that he wouldn't at all object if I brought him some fresh<br \/>fruit. It seemed there was nothing but processed foods in the lifeboat<br \/>and Butt was used to a farmer's diet.<br \/>Trouble was, he was a special kind of farmer. Ordinary fruit would have<br \/>been pretty easy to sneak into my pockets at meals. I even found a way<br \/>to handle the kelp and giant watercress Mr. Brown liked, but things<br \/>like seaweed salt and Venusian mud-grapes just had too strong a smell.<br \/>Twice, the mechanical hamper refused to accept my jacket for laundering<br \/>and I had to wash it myself. But I learned so many wonderful things<br \/>about Venus every time I visited that stowaway....<br \/>I learned three wild-wave songs of the Flatfolk and what it is that the<br \/>native Venusians hate so much; I learned how you tell the difference<br \/>between a lousy government paddlefoot from New Kalamazoo and the<br \/>slaptoe slinker who is the planter's friend. After a lot of begging,<br \/>Butt Lee Brown explained the workings of his blaster, explained it<br \/>so carefully that I could name every part and tell what it did from<br \/>the tiny round electrodes to the long spirals of transformer. But no<br \/>matter what, he would never let me hold it.<br \/>\"Sorry, Ford, old tad,\" he would drawl, spinning around and around in<br \/>the control swivel-chair at the nose of the lifeboat. \"But way I look<br \/>at it, a man who lets somebody else handle his blaster is like the<br \/>giant whose heart was in an egg that an enemy found. When you've grown<br \/>enough so's your pop feels you ought to have a weapon, why, then's the<br \/>time to learn it and you might's well learn fast. Before then, you're<br \/>plain too young to be even near it.\"<br \/>\"I don't have a father to give me one when I come of age. I don't even<br \/>have an older brother as head of my family like your brother Labrador.<br \/>All I have is Sis. And<br \/>she<br \/>—\"<br \/>\"She'll marry some fancy dryhorn who's never been farther South than<br \/>the Polar Coast. And she'll stay head of the family, if I know her<br \/>breed of green shata.<br \/>Bossy, opinionated.<br \/>By the way, Fordie,\" he<br \/>said, rising and stretching so the fish-leather bounced and rippled off<br \/>his biceps, \"that sister. She ever....\"<br \/>And he'd be off again, cross-examining me about Evelyn. I sat in the<br \/>swivel chair he'd vacated and tried to answer his questions. But there<br \/>was a lot of stuff I didn't know. Evelyn was a healthy girl, for<br \/>instance; how healthy, exactly, I had no way of finding out. Yes, I'd<br \/>tell him, my aunts on both sides of my family each had had more than<br \/>the average number of children. No, we'd never done any farming to<br \/>speak of, back in Undersea, but—yes, I'd guess Evelyn knew about as<br \/>much as any girl there when it came to diving equipment and pressure<br \/>pump regulation.<br \/>How would I know that stuff would lead to trouble for me?<br \/>Sis had insisted I come along to the geography lecture. Most of the<br \/>other girls who were going to Venus for husbands talked to each other<br \/>during the lecture, but not<br \/>my<br \/>sister! She hung on every word, took<br \/>notes even, and asked enough questions to make the perspiring purser<br \/>really work in those orientation periods.<br \/>\"I am very sorry, Miss Sparling,\" he said with pretty heavy sarcasm,<br \/>\"but I cannot remember any of the agricultural products of the Macro<br \/>Continent. Since the human population is well below one per thousand<br \/>square miles, it can readily be understood that the quantity of<br \/>tilled soil, land or sub-surface, is so small that—Wait, I remember<br \/>something. The Macro Continent exports a fruit though not exactly an<br \/>edible one. The wild<br \/>dunging<br \/>drug is harvested there by criminal<br \/>speculators. Contrary to belief on Earth, the traffic has been growing<br \/>in recent years. In fact—\"<br \/>\"Pardon me, sir,\" I broke in, \"but doesn't<br \/>dunging<br \/>come only from<br \/>Leif Erickson Island off the Moscow Peninsula of the Macro Continent?<br \/>You remember, purser—Wang Li's third exploration, where he proved the<br \/>island and the peninsula didn't meet for most of the year?\"<br \/>The purser nodded slowly. \"I forgot,\" he admitted. \"Sorry, ladies, but<br \/>the boy's right. Please make the correction in your notes.\"<br \/>But Sis was the only one who took notes, and she didn't take that one.<br \/>She stared at me for a moment, biting her lower lip thoughtfully, while<br \/>I got sicker and sicker. Then she shut her pad with the final gesture<br \/>of the right hand that Mom used to use just before challenging the<br \/>opposition to come right down on the Council floor and debate it out<br \/>with her.<br \/>\"Ferdinand,\" Sis said, \"let's go back to our cabin.\"<br \/>The moment she sat me down and walked slowly around me, I knew I was<br \/>in for it. \"I've been reading up on Venusian geography in the ship's<br \/>library,\" I told her in a hurry.<br \/>\"No doubt,\" she said drily. She shook her night-black hair out. \"But<br \/>you aren't going to tell me that you read about<br \/>dunging<br \/>in the ship's<br \/>library. The books there have been censored by a government agent of<br \/>Earth against the possibility that they might be read by susceptible<br \/>young male minds like yours. She would not have allowed—this Terran<br \/>Agent—\"<br \/>\"Paddlefoot,\" I sneered.<br \/>Sis sat down hard in our zoom-air chair. \"Now that's a term,\" she said<br \/>carefully, \"that is used only by Venusian riffraff.\"<br \/>\"They're not!\"<br \/>\"Not what?\"<br \/>\"Riffraff,\" I had to answer, knowing I was getting in deeper all the<br \/>time and not being able to help it. I mustn't give Mr. Brown away!<br \/>\"They're trappers and farmers, pioneers and explorers, who're building<br \/>Venus. And it takes a real man to build on a hot, hungry hell like<br \/>Venus.\"<br \/>\"Does it, now?\" she said, looking at me as if I were beginning to grow<br \/>a second pair of ears. \"Tell me more.\"<br \/>\"You can't have meek, law-abiding, women-ruled men when you start<br \/>civilization on a new planet. You've got to have men who aren't afraid<br \/>to make their own law if necessary—with their own guns. That's where<br \/>law begins; the books get written up later.\"<br \/>\"You're going to<br \/>tell<br \/>, Ferdinand, what evil, criminal male is<br \/>speaking through your mouth!\"<br \/>\"Nobody!\" I insisted. \"They're my own ideas!\"<br \/>\"They are remarkably well-organized for a young boy's ideas. A boy<br \/>who, I might add, has previously shown a ridiculous but nonetheless<br \/>entirely masculine boredom with political philosophy. I plan to have a<br \/>government career on that new planet you talk about, Ferdinand—after<br \/>I have found a good, steady husband, of course—and I don't look<br \/>forward to a masculinist radical in the family. Now, who has been<br \/>filling your head with all this nonsense?\"<br \/>I was sweating. Sis has that deadly bulldog approach when she feels<br \/>someone is lying. I pulled my pulpast handkerchief from my pocket to<br \/>wipe my face. Something rattled to the floor.<br \/>\"What is this picture of me doing in your pocket, Ferdinand?\"<br \/>A trap seemed to be hinging noisily into place. \"One of the passengers<br \/>wanted to see how you looked in a bathing suit.\"<br \/>\"The passengers on this ship are all female. I can't imagine any of<br \/>them that curious about my appearance. Ferdinand, it's a man who has<br \/>been giving you these anti-social ideas, isn't it? A war-mongering<br \/>masculinist like all the frustrated men who want to engage in<br \/>government and don't have the vaguest idea how to. Except, of course,<br \/>in their ancient, bloody ways. Ferdinand, who has been perverting that<br \/>sunny and carefree soul of yours?\"<br \/>\"Nobody!<br \/>Nobody!<br \/>\"<br \/>\"Ferdinand, there's no point in lying! I demand—\"<br \/>\"I told you, Sis. I told you! And don't call me Ferdinand. Call me<br \/>Ford.\"<br \/>\"Ford?<br \/>Ford?<br \/>Now, you listen to me, Ferdinand....\"<br \/>After that it was all over but the confession. That came in a few<br \/>moments. I couldn't fool Sis. She just knew me too well, I decided<br \/>miserably. Besides, she was a girl.<br \/>All the same, I wouldn't get Mr. Butt Lee Brown into trouble if I could<br \/>help it. I made Sis promise she wouldn't turn him in if I took her to<br \/>him. And the quick, nodding way she said she would made me feel just a<br \/>little better.<br \/>The door opened on the signal, \"Sesame.\" When Butt saw somebody was<br \/>with me, he jumped and the ten-inch blaster barrel grew out of his<br \/>fingers. Then he recognized Sis from the pictures.<br \/>He stepped to one side and, with the same sweeping gesture, holstered<br \/>his blaster and pushed his green hood off. It was Sis's turn to jump<br \/>when she saw the wild mass of hair rolling down his back.<br \/>\"An honor, Miss Sparling,\" he said in that rumbly voice. \"Please come<br \/>right in. There's a hurry-up draft.\"<br \/>So Sis went in and I followed right after her. Mr. Brown closed the<br \/>door. I tried to catch his eye so I could give him some kind of hint or<br \/>explanation, but he had taken a couple of his big strides and was in<br \/>the control section with Sis. She didn't give ground, though; I'll say<br \/>that for her. She only came to his chest, but she had her arms crossed<br \/>sternly.<br \/>\"First, Mr. Brown,\" she began, like talking to a cluck of a kid in<br \/>class, \"you realize that you are not only committing the political<br \/>crime of traveling without a visa, and the criminal one of stowing away<br \/>without paying your fare, but the moral delinquency of consuming stores<br \/>intended for the personnel of this ship solely in emergency?\"<br \/>He opened his mouth to its maximum width and raised an enormous hand.<br \/>Then he let the air out and dropped his arm.<br \/>\"I take it you either have no defense or care to make none,\" Sis added<br \/>caustically.<br \/>Butt laughed slowly and carefully as if he were going over each word.<br \/>\"Wonder if all the anura talk like that. And<br \/>you<br \/>want to foul up<br \/>Venus.\"<br \/>\"We haven't done so badly on Earth, after the mess you men made of<br \/>politics. It needed a revolution of the mothers before—\"<br \/>\"Needed nothing. Everyone wanted peace. Earth is a weary old world.\"<br \/>\"It's a world of strong moral fiber compared to yours, Mr. Alberta Lee<br \/>Brown.\" Hearing his rightful name made him move suddenly and tower over<br \/>her. Sis said with a certain amount of hurry and change of tone, \"What<br \/>do<br \/>you have to say about stowing away and using up lifeboat stores?\"<br \/>He cocked his head and considered a moment. \"Look,\" he said finally,<br \/>\"I have more than enough munit to pay for round trip tickets, but I<br \/>couldn't get a return visa because of that brinosaur judge and all<br \/>the charges she hung on me. Had to stow away. Picked the<br \/>Eleanor<br \/>Roosevelt<br \/>because a couple of the boys in the crew are friends of mine<br \/>and they were willing to help. But this lifeboat—don't you know that<br \/>every passenger ship carries four times as many lifeboats as it needs?<br \/>Not to mention the food I didn't eat because it stuck in my throat?\"<br \/>\"Yes,\" she said bitterly. \"You had this boy steal fresh fruit for you.<br \/>I suppose you didn't know that under space regulations that makes him<br \/>equally guilty?\"<br \/>\"No, Sis, he didn't,\" I was beginning to argue. \"All he wanted—\"<br \/>\"Sure I knew. Also know that if I'm picked up as a stowaway, I'll be<br \/>sent back to Earth to serve out those fancy little sentences.\"<br \/>\"Well, you're guilty of them, aren't you?\"<br \/>He waved his hands at her impatiently. \"I'm not talking law, female;<br \/>I'm talking sense. Listen! I'm in trouble because I went to Earth to<br \/>look for a wife. You're standing here right now because you're on your<br \/>way to Venus for a husband. So let's.\"<br \/>Sis actually staggered back. \"Let's? Let's<br \/>what<br \/>? Are—are you daring<br \/>to suggest that—that—\"<br \/>\"Now, Miss Sparling, no hoopla. I'm saying let's get married, and you<br \/>know it. You figured out from what the boy told you that I was chewing<br \/>on you for a wife. You're healthy and strong, got good heredity, you<br \/>know how to operate sub-surface machinery, you've lived underwater, and<br \/>your disposition's no worse than most of the anura I've seen. Prolific<br \/>stock, too.\"<br \/>I was so excited I just had to yell: \"Gee, Sis, say<br \/>yes<br \/>!\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.784834Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:50:36.826168Z","inner_id":140,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":139,"annotations":[{"id":9,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = The man introduces himself as an agent of the Inter-Dimensional Monitor Service.\nContextualized = The man introduces himself as an agent of the Inter-Dimensional Monitor Service.\nSpan = The man introduces himself as an agent of the Inter-Dimensional Monitor Service.\nSupport = I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"\n","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"qwIIN39DbP","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T21:36:52.147310Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:49:26.410803Z","lead_time":118.725,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":139,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":52855,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel. Snithian refuses to hire Dan, but Kelly, head of security, hires him in secret. That night, Dan guards from within the vault, keeping himself occupied with sleep and food, when a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air. Two men emerge, named Manny and Fiorello, and Dan hesitantly confronts them. While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room, under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts. Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off and manages to take control of the carrier and escape. Not knowing how to control it, Dan finds himself passing through many rooms and settings, until the carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper. There, Dan meets Blote, a strange, giant-like creature, who asks him what happened to Manny and Fiorello. Blote, the apparent head of the art schemes, requests that Dan join the team to replace them. Dan refuses, and asks about the carrier, referring to it as a time machine; Blote is perplexed, unaware of the concept of a time machine, and demands that Dan find one in exchange for a reward, and for avoiding trouble for trespassing. Dan, unsure of where to retrieve a time machine, bluffs and manages to take Blote back to Snithian's, where he abandons him. Suddenly, Dan hears a siren, and the carrier travels to a park. The carrier becomes frosted over as a man emerges to confront him.","reference":"The man introduces himself as an agent of the Inter-Dimensional Monitor Service.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE STAR-SENT KNAVES<br \/>BY KEITH LAUMER<br \/>Illustrated by Gaughan<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>When the Great Galactic Union first encounters<br \/>Earth ... is this what is going to happen?<br \/>I<br \/>Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,<br \/>with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered<br \/>in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's<br \/>travel-stained six foot one.<br \/>\"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward<br \/>the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something<br \/>that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding<br \/>safeguarding my paintings.\"<br \/>\"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great<br \/>help to you.\"<br \/>\"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored<br \/>into Dan like hot pokers.<br \/>\"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards<br \/>here—the papers are full of it—\"<br \/>\"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,<br \/>I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"<br \/>\"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left<br \/>unguarded.\"<br \/>\"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.<br \/>\"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.<br \/>\"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day<br \/>and night—\"<br \/>\"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.<br \/>\"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.<br \/>\"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the<br \/>vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"<br \/>\"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.<br \/>\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"<br \/>\"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a<br \/>man in that vault.\"<br \/>\"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've<br \/>made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more<br \/>nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked<br \/>away, his cloak flapping at his knees.<br \/>\"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an<br \/>art lover.\"<br \/>\"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He<br \/>turned in at an office and closed the door.<br \/>\"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If<br \/>those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.<br \/>Just how cheap would you work?\"<br \/>\"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he<br \/>added.<br \/>Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If<br \/>you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"<br \/>Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low<br \/>ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a<br \/>white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk,<br \/>an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates,<br \/>plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's<br \/>order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami,<br \/>liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a<br \/>well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.<br \/>It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off<br \/>without a hitch.<br \/>Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing<br \/>from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was<br \/>obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large<br \/>canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks<br \/>undamaged.<br \/>Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone<br \/>who hadn't entered in the usual way.<br \/>Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The<br \/>Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With<br \/>such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the<br \/>vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they<br \/>operated.<br \/>He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of<br \/>the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he<br \/>slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air<br \/>cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered<br \/>at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a<br \/>magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly<br \/>seemed worth all the effort....<br \/>He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow<br \/>of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the<br \/>night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him<br \/>a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped<br \/>his way to the bunk.<br \/>So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up,<br \/>he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off<br \/>there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever<br \/>his discovery might mean to him.<br \/>But he was ready. Let them come.<br \/>Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly<br \/>from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded<br \/>shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.<br \/>The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an<br \/>out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures<br \/>were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs.<br \/>They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.<br \/>A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage<br \/>moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped,<br \/>crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage<br \/>settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly<br \/>switches....<br \/>The glow died.<br \/>Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth<br \/>was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it<br \/>was here—<br \/>Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had<br \/>prepared for the occasion:<br \/>Greeting, visitors from the Future....<br \/>Hopelessly corny. What about:<br \/>Welcome to the Twentieth Century....<br \/>No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to<br \/>Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now<br \/>looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with<br \/>a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves<br \/>looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and<br \/>balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed<br \/>Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the<br \/>table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at<br \/>the stacked shelves.<br \/>\"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.<br \/>\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"<br \/>\"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd<br \/>best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"<br \/>\"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"<br \/>The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.<br \/>\"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"<br \/>Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.<br \/>\"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"<br \/>\"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"<br \/>Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still<br \/>prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play<br \/>of rich browns!\"<br \/>\"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was<br \/>popular with the sparrows.\"<br \/>\"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"<br \/>\"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting<br \/>in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting<br \/>clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"<br \/>\"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"<br \/>\"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\"<br \/>Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow,<br \/>Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"<br \/>\"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty<br \/>tough guys when aroused.\"<br \/>\"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"<br \/>\"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the<br \/>gent's room—\"<br \/>\"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"<br \/>\"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a<br \/>fast fade.\"<br \/>\"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you<br \/>fellows.\"<br \/>\"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you<br \/>crook!\"<br \/>Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.<br \/>It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.<br \/>\"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to<br \/>Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"<br \/>\"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more<br \/>than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"<br \/>\"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are<br \/>arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward<br \/>the cage.<br \/>\"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to<br \/>us.\"<br \/>\"Can't be helped.\"<br \/>\"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.<br \/>\"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have<br \/>the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did<br \/>you?\"<br \/>\"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"<br \/>Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He<br \/>aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in<br \/>the time machine.\"<br \/>\"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.<br \/>\"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"<br \/>\"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"<br \/>\"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into<br \/>the cage beside Fiorello.<br \/>\"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"<br \/>The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him.<br \/>The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the<br \/>far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted<br \/>aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back<br \/>into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.<br \/>\"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his<br \/>companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his<br \/>heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A<br \/>cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan<br \/>grabbed a lever at random and pulled.<br \/>Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral<br \/>Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan<br \/>swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an<br \/>elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.<br \/>Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky<br \/>business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing<br \/>in among brick and mortar particles....<br \/>But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the<br \/>way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way.<br \/>The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled<br \/>back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft<br \/>of the past decade on him.<br \/>It couldn't be<br \/>too<br \/>hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the<br \/>controls....<br \/>Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently,<br \/>in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted<br \/>his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage.<br \/>Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook<br \/>waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly<br \/>from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a<br \/>second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.<br \/>Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an<br \/>inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so<br \/>much as a minute into the past or future.<br \/>He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\"<br \/>and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned<br \/>black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type<br \/>knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of<br \/>something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it<br \/>worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the<br \/>usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here<br \/>somewhere....<br \/>Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.<br \/>A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In<br \/>another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed<br \/>a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls.<br \/>He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through<br \/>the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever<br \/>back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a<br \/>four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—<br \/>The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not<br \/>over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue<br \/>light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon,<br \/>and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis<br \/>racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and<br \/>the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple,<br \/>and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.<br \/>Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another;<br \/>he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the<br \/>zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward<br \/>the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....<br \/>Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering<br \/>twenty feet above a clipped lawn.<br \/>He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the<br \/>cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped<br \/>out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face<br \/>up—<br \/>Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a<br \/>plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter<br \/>filled with glowing blue plants—<br \/>The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she<br \/>took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square<br \/>sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside,<br \/>seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—<br \/>With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the<br \/>cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with<br \/>an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the<br \/>controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed<br \/>on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town,<br \/>approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up<br \/>fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—<br \/>He covered his ears, braced himself—<br \/>With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the<br \/>cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop.<br \/>Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud<br \/>click!<br \/>and the glow faded.<br \/>With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at<br \/>a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through<br \/>elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted<br \/>plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far<br \/>side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.<br \/>II<br \/>Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a<br \/>hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from<br \/>points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded<br \/>and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three<br \/>peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just<br \/>above the brown eyes.<br \/>\"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.<br \/>\"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"<br \/>\"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"<br \/>\"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands<br \/>closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.<br \/>\"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A<br \/>pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an<br \/>amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.<br \/>\"How ... what...?\"<br \/>\"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a<br \/>critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage<br \/>big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you<br \/>happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"<br \/>\"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I<br \/>went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.<br \/>\"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's<br \/>anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at<br \/>present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes,<br \/>accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out<br \/>the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed<br \/>giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face<br \/>similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted<br \/>around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire<br \/>into a black sky.<br \/>\"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted,<br \/>caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up<br \/>to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily<br \/>at work studying the ceiling.<br \/>\"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary<br \/>racial prejudices.\"<br \/>\"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"<br \/>\"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call<br \/>it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my<br \/>native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"<br \/>\"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He<br \/>sidled toward the door.<br \/>\"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can<br \/>offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk,<br \/>Pepsi—\"<br \/>\"No, thanks.\"<br \/>\"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer<br \/>swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with<br \/>a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be<br \/>of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious<br \/>blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most<br \/>opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the<br \/>picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How<br \/>does that grab you?\"<br \/>\"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"<br \/>\"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some<br \/>confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"<br \/>\"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came<br \/>here in. You want me—\"<br \/>\"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"<br \/>\"Huh?\"<br \/>\"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the<br \/>implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk.<br \/>The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a<br \/>time machine?\"<br \/>\"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"<br \/>The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused<br \/>up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea<br \/>you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back,<br \/>the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been<br \/>spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"<br \/>\"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"<br \/>\"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time<br \/>machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at<br \/>this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as<br \/>Endsville.\"<br \/>\"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he<br \/>could reach the machine and try a getaway—<br \/>\"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said,<br \/>following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch<br \/>yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm<br \/>afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best<br \/>introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth<br \/>Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop<br \/>new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire<br \/>Secondary Quadrant.\"<br \/>\"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That<br \/>has<br \/>to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just<br \/>materialize out of thin air like that.\"<br \/>\"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You<br \/>shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel,<br \/>that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll<br \/>make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good<br \/>condition for me. And in return—\"<br \/>\"<br \/>I'm<br \/>supposed to supply<br \/>you<br \/>with a time machine?\"<br \/>Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out,<br \/>Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal<br \/>entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some<br \/>embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr.<br \/>Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would<br \/>deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\"<br \/>The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the<br \/>desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.<br \/>\"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me<br \/>got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up<br \/>with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I<br \/>should say. What about it, Dan?\"<br \/>\"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"<br \/>\"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.<br \/>\"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.<br \/>Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.<br \/>\"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local<br \/>branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"<br \/>\"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"<br \/>\"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"<br \/>\"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He<br \/>took the directory, studied it.<br \/>\"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice<br \/>it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a<br \/>large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel<br \/>cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in<br \/>the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan.<br \/>Get a wiggle on.\"<br \/>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a<br \/>point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.<br \/>Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct<br \/>me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you<br \/>said.\"<br \/>\"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that<br \/>way.\"<br \/>Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.<br \/>Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan<br \/>looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.<br \/>\"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped<br \/>smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.<br \/>\"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to<br \/>get us to the right place.\"<br \/>\"Very well, Dan.\"<br \/>Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly<br \/>seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage<br \/>grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.<br \/>The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying<br \/>landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely<br \/>visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers<br \/>along both sides of the passage at once.<br \/>\"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines<br \/>employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"<br \/>\"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where<br \/>they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered<br \/>left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous<br \/>figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed<br \/>wrong—<br \/>The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.<br \/>Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete<br \/>walls, the barred door and—<br \/>\"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.<br \/>\"Grab him!\" someone yelled.<br \/>Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt<br \/>to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a<br \/>lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures<br \/>as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.<br \/>III<br \/>Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the<br \/>clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no<br \/>telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide<br \/>the carrier, then—<br \/>A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.<br \/>Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.<br \/>The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of<br \/>mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous<br \/>landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the<br \/>deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.<br \/>If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked<br \/>the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.<br \/>The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought<br \/>the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few<br \/>inches and cut the switch.<br \/>As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.<br \/>Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise<br \/>was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians<br \/>in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why<br \/>hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no<br \/>sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a<br \/>secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,<br \/>reached for the controls—<br \/>There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials<br \/>before him frosted over. There was a loud<br \/>pop!<br \/>like a flashbulb<br \/>exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle<br \/>which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded<br \/>to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a<br \/>tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.<br \/>Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,<br \/>the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly<br \/>red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat<br \/>pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set<br \/>yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in<br \/>a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.<br \/>\"<br \/>Alors, monsieur<br \/>,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in<br \/>a quick bow. \"<br \/>Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"<br \/>\"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.<br \/>Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class<br \/>five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"<br \/>Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to<br \/>stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"<br \/>\"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.<br \/>\"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"Inter-what?\"<br \/>\"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our<br \/>language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"<br \/>\"What do you want with me?\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.784707Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:49:26.448312Z","inner_id":139,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":138,"annotations":[{"id":8,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dan hears a siren.\nContextualized = Dan hears a siren.\nSpan = Suddenly, Dan hears a siren\nSupport = A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume. The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of mechanical trouble. Dan covered his ears against the deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once. As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Dan and the carrier travel to a park.\nContextualized = The carrier travels to a park.\nSpan = the carrier travels to a park\nSupport = Dan slowed, brought the carrier in to the corner of a wide park.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = The carrier got frosted.\nContextualized = he carrier becomes frosted over.\nSpan = The carrier becomes frosted over\nSupport = There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials before him frosted over.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = A man emerged to confront Dan in the park.\nContextualized = A man emerges to confront him.\nSpan = a man emerges to confront him\nSupport = In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"PqdsRNdbS-","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T21:35:44.704234Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:44:47.611424Z","lead_time":323.686,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":138,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":52855,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel. Snithian refuses to hire Dan, but Kelly, head of security, hires him in secret. That night, Dan guards from within the vault, keeping himself occupied with sleep and food, when a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air. Two men emerge, named Manny and Fiorello, and Dan hesitantly confronts them. While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room, under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts. Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off and manages to take control of the carrier and escape. Not knowing how to control it, Dan finds himself passing through many rooms and settings, until the carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper. There, Dan meets Blote, a strange, giant-like creature, who asks him what happened to Manny and Fiorello. Blote, the apparent head of the art schemes, requests that Dan join the team to replace them. Dan refuses, and asks about the carrier, referring to it as a time machine; Blote is perplexed, unaware of the concept of a time machine, and demands that Dan find one in exchange for a reward, and for avoiding trouble for trespassing. Dan, unsure of where to retrieve a time machine, bluffs and manages to take Blote back to Snithian's, where he abandons him.","reference":"Suddenly, Dan hears a siren, and the carrier travels to a park. The carrier becomes frosted over as a man emerges to confront him.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE STAR-SENT KNAVES<br \/>BY KEITH LAUMER<br \/>Illustrated by Gaughan<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>When the Great Galactic Union first encounters<br \/>Earth ... is this what is going to happen?<br \/>I<br \/>Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,<br \/>with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered<br \/>in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's<br \/>travel-stained six foot one.<br \/>\"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward<br \/>the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something<br \/>that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding<br \/>safeguarding my paintings.\"<br \/>\"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great<br \/>help to you.\"<br \/>\"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored<br \/>into Dan like hot pokers.<br \/>\"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards<br \/>here—the papers are full of it—\"<br \/>\"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,<br \/>I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"<br \/>\"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left<br \/>unguarded.\"<br \/>\"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.<br \/>\"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.<br \/>\"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day<br \/>and night—\"<br \/>\"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.<br \/>\"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.<br \/>\"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the<br \/>vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"<br \/>\"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.<br \/>\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"<br \/>\"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a<br \/>man in that vault.\"<br \/>\"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've<br \/>made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more<br \/>nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked<br \/>away, his cloak flapping at his knees.<br \/>\"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an<br \/>art lover.\"<br \/>\"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He<br \/>turned in at an office and closed the door.<br \/>\"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If<br \/>those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.<br \/>Just how cheap would you work?\"<br \/>\"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he<br \/>added.<br \/>Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If<br \/>you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"<br \/>Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low<br \/>ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a<br \/>white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk,<br \/>an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates,<br \/>plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's<br \/>order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami,<br \/>liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a<br \/>well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.<br \/>It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off<br \/>without a hitch.<br \/>Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing<br \/>from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was<br \/>obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large<br \/>canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks<br \/>undamaged.<br \/>Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone<br \/>who hadn't entered in the usual way.<br \/>Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The<br \/>Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With<br \/>such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the<br \/>vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they<br \/>operated.<br \/>He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of<br \/>the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he<br \/>slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air<br \/>cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered<br \/>at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a<br \/>magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly<br \/>seemed worth all the effort....<br \/>He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow<br \/>of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the<br \/>night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him<br \/>a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped<br \/>his way to the bunk.<br \/>So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up,<br \/>he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off<br \/>there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever<br \/>his discovery might mean to him.<br \/>But he was ready. Let them come.<br \/>Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly<br \/>from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded<br \/>shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.<br \/>The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an<br \/>out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures<br \/>were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs.<br \/>They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.<br \/>A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage<br \/>moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped,<br \/>crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage<br \/>settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly<br \/>switches....<br \/>The glow died.<br \/>Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth<br \/>was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it<br \/>was here—<br \/>Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had<br \/>prepared for the occasion:<br \/>Greeting, visitors from the Future....<br \/>Hopelessly corny. What about:<br \/>Welcome to the Twentieth Century....<br \/>No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to<br \/>Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now<br \/>looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with<br \/>a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves<br \/>looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and<br \/>balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed<br \/>Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the<br \/>table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at<br \/>the stacked shelves.<br \/>\"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.<br \/>\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"<br \/>\"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd<br \/>best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"<br \/>\"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"<br \/>The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.<br \/>\"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"<br \/>Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.<br \/>\"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"<br \/>\"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"<br \/>Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still<br \/>prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play<br \/>of rich browns!\"<br \/>\"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was<br \/>popular with the sparrows.\"<br \/>\"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"<br \/>\"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting<br \/>in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting<br \/>clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"<br \/>\"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"<br \/>\"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\"<br \/>Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow,<br \/>Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"<br \/>\"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty<br \/>tough guys when aroused.\"<br \/>\"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"<br \/>\"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the<br \/>gent's room—\"<br \/>\"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"<br \/>\"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a<br \/>fast fade.\"<br \/>\"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you<br \/>fellows.\"<br \/>\"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you<br \/>crook!\"<br \/>Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.<br \/>It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.<br \/>\"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to<br \/>Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"<br \/>\"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more<br \/>than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"<br \/>\"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are<br \/>arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward<br \/>the cage.<br \/>\"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to<br \/>us.\"<br \/>\"Can't be helped.\"<br \/>\"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.<br \/>\"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have<br \/>the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did<br \/>you?\"<br \/>\"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"<br \/>Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He<br \/>aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in<br \/>the time machine.\"<br \/>\"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.<br \/>\"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"<br \/>\"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"<br \/>\"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into<br \/>the cage beside Fiorello.<br \/>\"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"<br \/>The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him.<br \/>The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the<br \/>far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted<br \/>aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back<br \/>into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.<br \/>\"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his<br \/>companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his<br \/>heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A<br \/>cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan<br \/>grabbed a lever at random and pulled.<br \/>Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral<br \/>Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan<br \/>swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an<br \/>elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.<br \/>Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky<br \/>business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing<br \/>in among brick and mortar particles....<br \/>But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the<br \/>way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way.<br \/>The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled<br \/>back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft<br \/>of the past decade on him.<br \/>It couldn't be<br \/>too<br \/>hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the<br \/>controls....<br \/>Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently,<br \/>in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted<br \/>his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage.<br \/>Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook<br \/>waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly<br \/>from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a<br \/>second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.<br \/>Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an<br \/>inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so<br \/>much as a minute into the past or future.<br \/>He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\"<br \/>and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned<br \/>black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type<br \/>knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of<br \/>something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it<br \/>worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the<br \/>usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here<br \/>somewhere....<br \/>Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.<br \/>A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In<br \/>another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed<br \/>a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls.<br \/>He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through<br \/>the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever<br \/>back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a<br \/>four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—<br \/>The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not<br \/>over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue<br \/>light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon,<br \/>and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis<br \/>racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and<br \/>the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple,<br \/>and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.<br \/>Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another;<br \/>he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the<br \/>zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward<br \/>the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....<br \/>Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering<br \/>twenty feet above a clipped lawn.<br \/>He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the<br \/>cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped<br \/>out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face<br \/>up—<br \/>Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a<br \/>plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter<br \/>filled with glowing blue plants—<br \/>The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she<br \/>took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square<br \/>sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside,<br \/>seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—<br \/>With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the<br \/>cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with<br \/>an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the<br \/>controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed<br \/>on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town,<br \/>approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up<br \/>fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—<br \/>He covered his ears, braced himself—<br \/>With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the<br \/>cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop.<br \/>Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud<br \/>click!<br \/>and the glow faded.<br \/>With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at<br \/>a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through<br \/>elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted<br \/>plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far<br \/>side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.<br \/>II<br \/>Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a<br \/>hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from<br \/>points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded<br \/>and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three<br \/>peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just<br \/>above the brown eyes.<br \/>\"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.<br \/>\"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"<br \/>\"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"<br \/>\"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands<br \/>closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.<br \/>\"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A<br \/>pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an<br \/>amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.<br \/>\"How ... what...?\"<br \/>\"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a<br \/>critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage<br \/>big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you<br \/>happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"<br \/>\"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I<br \/>went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.<br \/>\"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's<br \/>anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at<br \/>present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes,<br \/>accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out<br \/>the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed<br \/>giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face<br \/>similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted<br \/>around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire<br \/>into a black sky.<br \/>\"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted,<br \/>caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up<br \/>to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily<br \/>at work studying the ceiling.<br \/>\"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary<br \/>racial prejudices.\"<br \/>\"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"<br \/>\"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call<br \/>it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my<br \/>native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"<br \/>\"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He<br \/>sidled toward the door.<br \/>\"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can<br \/>offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk,<br \/>Pepsi—\"<br \/>\"No, thanks.\"<br \/>\"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer<br \/>swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with<br \/>a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be<br \/>of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious<br \/>blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most<br \/>opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the<br \/>picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How<br \/>does that grab you?\"<br \/>\"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"<br \/>\"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some<br \/>confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"<br \/>\"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came<br \/>here in. You want me—\"<br \/>\"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"<br \/>\"Huh?\"<br \/>\"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the<br \/>implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk.<br \/>The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a<br \/>time machine?\"<br \/>\"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"<br \/>The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused<br \/>up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea<br \/>you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back,<br \/>the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been<br \/>spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"<br \/>\"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"<br \/>\"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time<br \/>machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at<br \/>this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as<br \/>Endsville.\"<br \/>\"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he<br \/>could reach the machine and try a getaway—<br \/>\"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said,<br \/>following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch<br \/>yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm<br \/>afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best<br \/>introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth<br \/>Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop<br \/>new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire<br \/>Secondary Quadrant.\"<br \/>\"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That<br \/>has<br \/>to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just<br \/>materialize out of thin air like that.\"<br \/>\"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You<br \/>shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel,<br \/>that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll<br \/>make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good<br \/>condition for me. And in return—\"<br \/>\"<br \/>I'm<br \/>supposed to supply<br \/>you<br \/>with a time machine?\"<br \/>Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out,<br \/>Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal<br \/>entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some<br \/>embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr.<br \/>Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would<br \/>deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\"<br \/>The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the<br \/>desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.<br \/>\"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me<br \/>got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up<br \/>with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I<br \/>should say. What about it, Dan?\"<br \/>\"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"<br \/>\"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.<br \/>\"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.<br \/>Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.<br \/>\"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local<br \/>branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"<br \/>\"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"<br \/>\"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"<br \/>\"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He<br \/>took the directory, studied it.<br \/>\"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice<br \/>it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a<br \/>large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel<br \/>cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in<br \/>the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan.<br \/>Get a wiggle on.\"<br \/>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a<br \/>point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.<br \/>Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct<br \/>me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you<br \/>said.\"<br \/>\"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that<br \/>way.\"<br \/>Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.<br \/>Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan<br \/>looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.<br \/>\"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped<br \/>smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.<br \/>\"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to<br \/>get us to the right place.\"<br \/>\"Very well, Dan.\"<br \/>Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly<br \/>seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage<br \/>grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.<br \/>The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying<br \/>landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely<br \/>visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers<br \/>along both sides of the passage at once.<br \/>\"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines<br \/>employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"<br \/>\"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where<br \/>they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered<br \/>left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous<br \/>figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed<br \/>wrong—<br \/>The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.<br \/>Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete<br \/>walls, the barred door and—<br \/>\"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.<br \/>\"Grab him!\" someone yelled.<br \/>Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt<br \/>to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a<br \/>lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures<br \/>as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.<br \/>III<br \/>Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the<br \/>clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no<br \/>telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide<br \/>the carrier, then—<br \/>A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.<br \/>Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.<br \/>The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of<br \/>mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous<br \/>landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the<br \/>deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.<br \/>If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked<br \/>the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.<br \/>The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought<br \/>the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few<br \/>inches and cut the switch.<br \/>As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.<br \/>Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise<br \/>was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians<br \/>in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why<br \/>hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no<br \/>sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a<br \/>secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,<br \/>reached for the controls—<br \/>There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials<br \/>before him frosted over. There was a loud<br \/>pop!<br \/>like a flashbulb<br \/>exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle<br \/>which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded<br \/>to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a<br \/>tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.<br \/>Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,<br \/>the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly<br \/>red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat<br \/>pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set<br \/>yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in<br \/>a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.<br \/>\"<br \/>Alors, monsieur<br \/>,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in<br \/>a quick bow. \"<br \/>Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"<br \/>\"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.<br \/>Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class<br \/>five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"<br \/>Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to<br \/>stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"<br \/>\"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.<br \/>\"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"Inter-what?\"<br \/>\"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our<br \/>language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"<br \/>\"What do you want with me?\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.784572Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:44:47.663847Z","inner_id":138,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":137,"annotations":[{"id":7,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dan refuses Blote's offer to join their team and asks about the time machine.\nContextualized = Dan refuses, and asks about the carrier, referring to it as a time machine.\nSpan = Dan refuses, and asks about the carrier, referring to it as a time machine;\nSupport = \"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Blote is confused and unaware about the concept of a time machine.\nContextualized = Blote is perplexed, unaware of the concept of a time machine.\nSpan =  Blote is perplexed, unaware of the concept of a time machine\nSupport = \"Clue me, Dan. What's a time machine?\" \"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\" I had no idea you were capable of that sort of thing.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Blote demands that Dan supplies him with a time machine in exchange for a reward.\nContextualized = He demands that Dan find one in exchange for a reward.\nSpan = demands that Dan find one in exchange for a reward,\nSupport = I'm supposed to supply you with a time machine? You supply the machine, and I fix you up with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. You'll secure a small time machine in good condition for me.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Dan does not know where to retrieve a time machine.\nContextualized = Dan, unsure of where to retrieve a time machine.\nSpan = Dan, unsure of where to retrieve a time machine\nSupport = \"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Dan bluffs finding a time machine.\nContextualized = Dan bluffs.\nSpan = bluffs\nSupport = \"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"\n\nInfo Unit #6 = Dan takes Blote back to Snithian's.\nContextualized = He manages to take Blote back to Snithian's.\nSpan = manages to take Blote back to Snithian's\nSupport = Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in.\n\nInfo Unit #7 = Dan manages to escape Blote.\nContextualized = He abandons him at Snithian's.\nSpan = where he abandons him.\nSupport = He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.\n","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"GoaxnUsd-F","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T21:22:16.457745Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:43:38.997651Z","lead_time":1761.6200000000001,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":137,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":52855,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel. Snithian refuses to hire Dan, but Kelly, head of security, hires him in secret. That night, Dan guards from within the vault, keeping himself occupied with sleep and food, when a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air. Two men emerge, named Manny and Fiorello, and Dan hesitantly confronts them. While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room, under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts. Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off and manages to take control of the carrier and escape. Not knowing how to control it, Dan finds himself passing through many rooms and settings, until the carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper. There, Dan meets Blote, a strange, giant-like creature, who asks him what happened to Manny and Fiorello. Blote, the apparent head of the art schemes, requests that Dan join the team to replace them.","reference":"Dan refuses, and asks about the carrier, referring to it as a time machine; Blote is perplexed, unaware of the concept of a time machine, and demands that Dan find one in exchange for a reward, and for avoiding trouble for trespassing. Dan, unsure of where to retrieve a time machine, bluffs and manages to take Blote back to Snithian's, where he abandons him.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE STAR-SENT KNAVES<br \/>BY KEITH LAUMER<br \/>Illustrated by Gaughan<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>When the Great Galactic Union first encounters<br \/>Earth ... is this what is going to happen?<br \/>I<br \/>Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,<br \/>with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered<br \/>in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's<br \/>travel-stained six foot one.<br \/>\"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward<br \/>the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something<br \/>that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding<br \/>safeguarding my paintings.\"<br \/>\"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great<br \/>help to you.\"<br \/>\"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored<br \/>into Dan like hot pokers.<br \/>\"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards<br \/>here—the papers are full of it—\"<br \/>\"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,<br \/>I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"<br \/>\"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left<br \/>unguarded.\"<br \/>\"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.<br \/>\"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.<br \/>\"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day<br \/>and night—\"<br \/>\"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.<br \/>\"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.<br \/>\"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the<br \/>vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"<br \/>\"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.<br \/>\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"<br \/>\"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a<br \/>man in that vault.\"<br \/>\"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've<br \/>made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more<br \/>nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked<br \/>away, his cloak flapping at his knees.<br \/>\"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an<br \/>art lover.\"<br \/>\"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He<br \/>turned in at an office and closed the door.<br \/>\"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If<br \/>those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.<br \/>Just how cheap would you work?\"<br \/>\"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he<br \/>added.<br \/>Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If<br \/>you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"<br \/>Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low<br \/>ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a<br \/>white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk,<br \/>an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates,<br \/>plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's<br \/>order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami,<br \/>liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a<br \/>well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.<br \/>It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off<br \/>without a hitch.<br \/>Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing<br \/>from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was<br \/>obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large<br \/>canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks<br \/>undamaged.<br \/>Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone<br \/>who hadn't entered in the usual way.<br \/>Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The<br \/>Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With<br \/>such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the<br \/>vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they<br \/>operated.<br \/>He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of<br \/>the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he<br \/>slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air<br \/>cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered<br \/>at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a<br \/>magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly<br \/>seemed worth all the effort....<br \/>He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow<br \/>of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the<br \/>night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him<br \/>a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped<br \/>his way to the bunk.<br \/>So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up,<br \/>he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off<br \/>there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever<br \/>his discovery might mean to him.<br \/>But he was ready. Let them come.<br \/>Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly<br \/>from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded<br \/>shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.<br \/>The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an<br \/>out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures<br \/>were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs.<br \/>They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.<br \/>A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage<br \/>moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped,<br \/>crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage<br \/>settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly<br \/>switches....<br \/>The glow died.<br \/>Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth<br \/>was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it<br \/>was here—<br \/>Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had<br \/>prepared for the occasion:<br \/>Greeting, visitors from the Future....<br \/>Hopelessly corny. What about:<br \/>Welcome to the Twentieth Century....<br \/>No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to<br \/>Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now<br \/>looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with<br \/>a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves<br \/>looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and<br \/>balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed<br \/>Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the<br \/>table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at<br \/>the stacked shelves.<br \/>\"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.<br \/>\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"<br \/>\"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd<br \/>best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"<br \/>\"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"<br \/>The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.<br \/>\"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"<br \/>Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.<br \/>\"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"<br \/>\"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"<br \/>Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still<br \/>prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play<br \/>of rich browns!\"<br \/>\"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was<br \/>popular with the sparrows.\"<br \/>\"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"<br \/>\"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting<br \/>in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting<br \/>clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"<br \/>\"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"<br \/>\"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\"<br \/>Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow,<br \/>Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"<br \/>\"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty<br \/>tough guys when aroused.\"<br \/>\"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"<br \/>\"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the<br \/>gent's room—\"<br \/>\"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"<br \/>\"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a<br \/>fast fade.\"<br \/>\"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you<br \/>fellows.\"<br \/>\"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you<br \/>crook!\"<br \/>Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.<br \/>It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.<br \/>\"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to<br \/>Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"<br \/>\"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more<br \/>than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"<br \/>\"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are<br \/>arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward<br \/>the cage.<br \/>\"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to<br \/>us.\"<br \/>\"Can't be helped.\"<br \/>\"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.<br \/>\"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have<br \/>the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did<br \/>you?\"<br \/>\"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"<br \/>Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He<br \/>aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in<br \/>the time machine.\"<br \/>\"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.<br \/>\"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"<br \/>\"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"<br \/>\"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into<br \/>the cage beside Fiorello.<br \/>\"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"<br \/>The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him.<br \/>The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the<br \/>far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted<br \/>aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back<br \/>into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.<br \/>\"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his<br \/>companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his<br \/>heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A<br \/>cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan<br \/>grabbed a lever at random and pulled.<br \/>Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral<br \/>Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan<br \/>swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an<br \/>elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.<br \/>Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky<br \/>business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing<br \/>in among brick and mortar particles....<br \/>But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the<br \/>way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way.<br \/>The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled<br \/>back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft<br \/>of the past decade on him.<br \/>It couldn't be<br \/>too<br \/>hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the<br \/>controls....<br \/>Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently,<br \/>in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted<br \/>his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage.<br \/>Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook<br \/>waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly<br \/>from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a<br \/>second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.<br \/>Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an<br \/>inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so<br \/>much as a minute into the past or future.<br \/>He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\"<br \/>and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned<br \/>black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type<br \/>knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of<br \/>something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it<br \/>worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the<br \/>usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here<br \/>somewhere....<br \/>Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.<br \/>A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In<br \/>another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed<br \/>a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls.<br \/>He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through<br \/>the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever<br \/>back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a<br \/>four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—<br \/>The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not<br \/>over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue<br \/>light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon,<br \/>and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis<br \/>racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and<br \/>the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple,<br \/>and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.<br \/>Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another;<br \/>he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the<br \/>zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward<br \/>the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....<br \/>Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering<br \/>twenty feet above a clipped lawn.<br \/>He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the<br \/>cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped<br \/>out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face<br \/>up—<br \/>Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a<br \/>plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter<br \/>filled with glowing blue plants—<br \/>The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she<br \/>took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square<br \/>sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside,<br \/>seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—<br \/>With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the<br \/>cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with<br \/>an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the<br \/>controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed<br \/>on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town,<br \/>approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up<br \/>fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—<br \/>He covered his ears, braced himself—<br \/>With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the<br \/>cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop.<br \/>Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud<br \/>click!<br \/>and the glow faded.<br \/>With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at<br \/>a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through<br \/>elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted<br \/>plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far<br \/>side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.<br \/>II<br \/>Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a<br \/>hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from<br \/>points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded<br \/>and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three<br \/>peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just<br \/>above the brown eyes.<br \/>\"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.<br \/>\"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"<br \/>\"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"<br \/>\"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands<br \/>closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.<br \/>\"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A<br \/>pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an<br \/>amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.<br \/>\"How ... what...?\"<br \/>\"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a<br \/>critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage<br \/>big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you<br \/>happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"<br \/>\"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I<br \/>went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.<br \/>\"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's<br \/>anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at<br \/>present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes,<br \/>accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out<br \/>the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed<br \/>giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face<br \/>similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted<br \/>around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire<br \/>into a black sky.<br \/>\"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted,<br \/>caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up<br \/>to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily<br \/>at work studying the ceiling.<br \/>\"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary<br \/>racial prejudices.\"<br \/>\"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"<br \/>\"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call<br \/>it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my<br \/>native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"<br \/>\"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He<br \/>sidled toward the door.<br \/>\"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can<br \/>offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk,<br \/>Pepsi—\"<br \/>\"No, thanks.\"<br \/>\"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer<br \/>swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with<br \/>a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be<br \/>of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious<br \/>blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most<br \/>opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the<br \/>picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How<br \/>does that grab you?\"<br \/>\"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"<br \/>\"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some<br \/>confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"<br \/>\"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came<br \/>here in. You want me—\"<br \/>\"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"<br \/>\"Huh?\"<br \/>\"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the<br \/>implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk.<br \/>The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a<br \/>time machine?\"<br \/>\"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"<br \/>The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused<br \/>up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea<br \/>you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back,<br \/>the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been<br \/>spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"<br \/>\"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"<br \/>\"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time<br \/>machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at<br \/>this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as<br \/>Endsville.\"<br \/>\"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he<br \/>could reach the machine and try a getaway—<br \/>\"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said,<br \/>following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch<br \/>yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm<br \/>afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best<br \/>introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth<br \/>Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop<br \/>new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire<br \/>Secondary Quadrant.\"<br \/>\"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That<br \/>has<br \/>to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just<br \/>materialize out of thin air like that.\"<br \/>\"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You<br \/>shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel,<br \/>that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll<br \/>make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good<br \/>condition for me. And in return—\"<br \/>\"<br \/>I'm<br \/>supposed to supply<br \/>you<br \/>with a time machine?\"<br \/>Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out,<br \/>Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal<br \/>entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some<br \/>embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr.<br \/>Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would<br \/>deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\"<br \/>The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the<br \/>desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.<br \/>\"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me<br \/>got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up<br \/>with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I<br \/>should say. What about it, Dan?\"<br \/>\"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"<br \/>\"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.<br \/>\"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.<br \/>Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.<br \/>\"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local<br \/>branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"<br \/>\"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"<br \/>\"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"<br \/>\"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He<br \/>took the directory, studied it.<br \/>\"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice<br \/>it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a<br \/>large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel<br \/>cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in<br \/>the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan.<br \/>Get a wiggle on.\"<br \/>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a<br \/>point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.<br \/>Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct<br \/>me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you<br \/>said.\"<br \/>\"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that<br \/>way.\"<br \/>Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.<br \/>Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan<br \/>looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.<br \/>\"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped<br \/>smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.<br \/>\"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to<br \/>get us to the right place.\"<br \/>\"Very well, Dan.\"<br \/>Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly<br \/>seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage<br \/>grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.<br \/>The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying<br \/>landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely<br \/>visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers<br \/>along both sides of the passage at once.<br \/>\"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines<br \/>employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"<br \/>\"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where<br \/>they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered<br \/>left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous<br \/>figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed<br \/>wrong—<br \/>The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.<br \/>Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete<br \/>walls, the barred door and—<br \/>\"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.<br \/>\"Grab him!\" someone yelled.<br \/>Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt<br \/>to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a<br \/>lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures<br \/>as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.<br \/>III<br \/>Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the<br \/>clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no<br \/>telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide<br \/>the carrier, then—<br \/>A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.<br \/>Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.<br \/>The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of<br \/>mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous<br \/>landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the<br \/>deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.<br \/>If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked<br \/>the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.<br \/>The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought<br \/>the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few<br \/>inches and cut the switch.<br \/>As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.<br \/>Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise<br \/>was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians<br \/>in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why<br \/>hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no<br \/>sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a<br \/>secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,<br \/>reached for the controls—<br \/>There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials<br \/>before him frosted over. There was a loud<br \/>pop!<br \/>like a flashbulb<br \/>exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle<br \/>which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded<br \/>to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a<br \/>tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.<br \/>Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,<br \/>the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly<br \/>red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat<br \/>pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set<br \/>yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in<br \/>a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.<br \/>\"<br \/>Alors, monsieur<br \/>,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in<br \/>a quick bow. \"<br \/>Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"<br \/>\"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.<br \/>Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class<br \/>five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"<br \/>Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to<br \/>stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"<br \/>\"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.<br \/>\"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"Inter-what?\"<br \/>\"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our<br \/>language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"<br \/>\"What do you want with me?\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.784437Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:43:39.038189Z","inner_id":137,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":136,"annotations":[{"id":6,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dan meets a strange giant-like creature named Blote.\nContextualized = There, Dan meets Blote, a strange, giant-like creature.\nSpan = There, Dan meets Blote, a strange, giant-like creature\nSupport = Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just above the brown eyes. The many-fingered hands closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. His eyes, accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Blote asks Dan about what happened to Manny and Fiorello.\nContextualized = Blote asks him what happened to Manny and Fiorello.\nSpan = who asks him what happened to Manny and Fiorello\nSupport = \"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Blote requests Dan to replace Manny and Fiorello.\nContextualized = He requests that Dan join the team to replace them.\nSpan = requests that Dan join the team to replace them.\nSupport = What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Blote is the head of the art schemes.\nContextualized = Blote, the apparent head of the art schemes.\nSpan = Blote, the apparent head of the art schemes\nSupport = I'm Blote, Trader Fourth Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. And to think I've been spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art! My job is to develop new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire Secondary Quadrant.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"ZfY8ykXj0C","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T21:11:17.925350Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:37:24.800886Z","lead_time":649.558,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":136,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":52855,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel. Snithian refuses to hire Dan, but Kelly, head of security, hires him in secret. That night, Dan guards from within the vault, keeping himself occupied with sleep and food, when a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air. Two men emerge, named Manny and Fiorello, and Dan hesitantly confronts them. While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room, under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts. Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off and manages to take control of the carrier and escape. Not knowing how to control it, Dan finds himself passing through many rooms and settings, until the carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper.","reference":"There, Dan meets Blote, a strange, giant-like creature, who asks him what happened to Manny and Fiorello. Blote, the apparent head of the art schemes, requests that Dan join the team to replace them.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE STAR-SENT KNAVES<br \/>BY KEITH LAUMER<br \/>Illustrated by Gaughan<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>When the Great Galactic Union first encounters<br \/>Earth ... is this what is going to happen?<br \/>I<br \/>Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,<br \/>with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered<br \/>in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's<br \/>travel-stained six foot one.<br \/>\"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward<br \/>the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something<br \/>that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding<br \/>safeguarding my paintings.\"<br \/>\"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great<br \/>help to you.\"<br \/>\"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored<br \/>into Dan like hot pokers.<br \/>\"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards<br \/>here—the papers are full of it—\"<br \/>\"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,<br \/>I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"<br \/>\"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left<br \/>unguarded.\"<br \/>\"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.<br \/>\"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.<br \/>\"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day<br \/>and night—\"<br \/>\"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.<br \/>\"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.<br \/>\"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the<br \/>vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"<br \/>\"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.<br \/>\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"<br \/>\"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a<br \/>man in that vault.\"<br \/>\"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've<br \/>made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more<br \/>nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked<br \/>away, his cloak flapping at his knees.<br \/>\"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an<br \/>art lover.\"<br \/>\"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He<br \/>turned in at an office and closed the door.<br \/>\"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If<br \/>those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.<br \/>Just how cheap would you work?\"<br \/>\"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he<br \/>added.<br \/>Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If<br \/>you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"<br \/>Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low<br \/>ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a<br \/>white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk,<br \/>an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates,<br \/>plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's<br \/>order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami,<br \/>liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a<br \/>well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.<br \/>It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off<br \/>without a hitch.<br \/>Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing<br \/>from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was<br \/>obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large<br \/>canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks<br \/>undamaged.<br \/>Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone<br \/>who hadn't entered in the usual way.<br \/>Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The<br \/>Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With<br \/>such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the<br \/>vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they<br \/>operated.<br \/>He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of<br \/>the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he<br \/>slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air<br \/>cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered<br \/>at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a<br \/>magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly<br \/>seemed worth all the effort....<br \/>He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow<br \/>of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the<br \/>night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him<br \/>a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped<br \/>his way to the bunk.<br \/>So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up,<br \/>he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off<br \/>there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever<br \/>his discovery might mean to him.<br \/>But he was ready. Let them come.<br \/>Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly<br \/>from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded<br \/>shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.<br \/>The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an<br \/>out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures<br \/>were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs.<br \/>They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.<br \/>A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage<br \/>moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped,<br \/>crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage<br \/>settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly<br \/>switches....<br \/>The glow died.<br \/>Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth<br \/>was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it<br \/>was here—<br \/>Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had<br \/>prepared for the occasion:<br \/>Greeting, visitors from the Future....<br \/>Hopelessly corny. What about:<br \/>Welcome to the Twentieth Century....<br \/>No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to<br \/>Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now<br \/>looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with<br \/>a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves<br \/>looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and<br \/>balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed<br \/>Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the<br \/>table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at<br \/>the stacked shelves.<br \/>\"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.<br \/>\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"<br \/>\"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd<br \/>best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"<br \/>\"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"<br \/>The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.<br \/>\"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"<br \/>Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.<br \/>\"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"<br \/>\"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"<br \/>Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still<br \/>prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play<br \/>of rich browns!\"<br \/>\"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was<br \/>popular with the sparrows.\"<br \/>\"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"<br \/>\"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting<br \/>in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting<br \/>clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"<br \/>\"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"<br \/>\"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\"<br \/>Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow,<br \/>Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"<br \/>\"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty<br \/>tough guys when aroused.\"<br \/>\"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"<br \/>\"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the<br \/>gent's room—\"<br \/>\"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"<br \/>\"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a<br \/>fast fade.\"<br \/>\"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you<br \/>fellows.\"<br \/>\"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you<br \/>crook!\"<br \/>Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.<br \/>It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.<br \/>\"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to<br \/>Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"<br \/>\"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more<br \/>than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"<br \/>\"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are<br \/>arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward<br \/>the cage.<br \/>\"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to<br \/>us.\"<br \/>\"Can't be helped.\"<br \/>\"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.<br \/>\"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have<br \/>the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did<br \/>you?\"<br \/>\"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"<br \/>Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He<br \/>aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in<br \/>the time machine.\"<br \/>\"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.<br \/>\"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"<br \/>\"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"<br \/>\"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into<br \/>the cage beside Fiorello.<br \/>\"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"<br \/>The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him.<br \/>The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the<br \/>far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted<br \/>aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back<br \/>into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.<br \/>\"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his<br \/>companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his<br \/>heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A<br \/>cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan<br \/>grabbed a lever at random and pulled.<br \/>Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral<br \/>Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan<br \/>swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an<br \/>elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.<br \/>Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky<br \/>business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing<br \/>in among brick and mortar particles....<br \/>But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the<br \/>way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way.<br \/>The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled<br \/>back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft<br \/>of the past decade on him.<br \/>It couldn't be<br \/>too<br \/>hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the<br \/>controls....<br \/>Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently,<br \/>in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted<br \/>his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage.<br \/>Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook<br \/>waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly<br \/>from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a<br \/>second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.<br \/>Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an<br \/>inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so<br \/>much as a minute into the past or future.<br \/>He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\"<br \/>and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned<br \/>black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type<br \/>knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of<br \/>something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it<br \/>worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the<br \/>usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here<br \/>somewhere....<br \/>Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.<br \/>A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In<br \/>another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed<br \/>a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls.<br \/>He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through<br \/>the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever<br \/>back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a<br \/>four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—<br \/>The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not<br \/>over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue<br \/>light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon,<br \/>and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis<br \/>racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and<br \/>the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple,<br \/>and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.<br \/>Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another;<br \/>he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the<br \/>zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward<br \/>the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....<br \/>Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering<br \/>twenty feet above a clipped lawn.<br \/>He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the<br \/>cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped<br \/>out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face<br \/>up—<br \/>Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a<br \/>plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter<br \/>filled with glowing blue plants—<br \/>The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she<br \/>took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square<br \/>sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside,<br \/>seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—<br \/>With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the<br \/>cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with<br \/>an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the<br \/>controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed<br \/>on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town,<br \/>approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up<br \/>fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—<br \/>He covered his ears, braced himself—<br \/>With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the<br \/>cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop.<br \/>Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud<br \/>click!<br \/>and the glow faded.<br \/>With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at<br \/>a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through<br \/>elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted<br \/>plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far<br \/>side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.<br \/>II<br \/>Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a<br \/>hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from<br \/>points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded<br \/>and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three<br \/>peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just<br \/>above the brown eyes.<br \/>\"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.<br \/>\"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"<br \/>\"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"<br \/>\"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands<br \/>closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.<br \/>\"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A<br \/>pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an<br \/>amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.<br \/>\"How ... what...?\"<br \/>\"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a<br \/>critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage<br \/>big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you<br \/>happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"<br \/>\"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I<br \/>went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.<br \/>\"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's<br \/>anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at<br \/>present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes,<br \/>accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out<br \/>the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed<br \/>giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face<br \/>similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted<br \/>around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire<br \/>into a black sky.<br \/>\"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted,<br \/>caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up<br \/>to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily<br \/>at work studying the ceiling.<br \/>\"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary<br \/>racial prejudices.\"<br \/>\"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"<br \/>\"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call<br \/>it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my<br \/>native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"<br \/>\"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He<br \/>sidled toward the door.<br \/>\"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can<br \/>offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk,<br \/>Pepsi—\"<br \/>\"No, thanks.\"<br \/>\"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer<br \/>swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with<br \/>a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be<br \/>of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious<br \/>blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most<br \/>opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the<br \/>picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How<br \/>does that grab you?\"<br \/>\"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"<br \/>\"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some<br \/>confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"<br \/>\"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came<br \/>here in. You want me—\"<br \/>\"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"<br \/>\"Huh?\"<br \/>\"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the<br \/>implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk.<br \/>The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a<br \/>time machine?\"<br \/>\"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"<br \/>The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused<br \/>up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea<br \/>you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back,<br \/>the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been<br \/>spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"<br \/>\"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"<br \/>\"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time<br \/>machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at<br \/>this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as<br \/>Endsville.\"<br \/>\"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he<br \/>could reach the machine and try a getaway—<br \/>\"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said,<br \/>following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch<br \/>yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm<br \/>afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best<br \/>introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth<br \/>Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop<br \/>new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire<br \/>Secondary Quadrant.\"<br \/>\"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That<br \/>has<br \/>to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just<br \/>materialize out of thin air like that.\"<br \/>\"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You<br \/>shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel,<br \/>that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll<br \/>make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good<br \/>condition for me. And in return—\"<br \/>\"<br \/>I'm<br \/>supposed to supply<br \/>you<br \/>with a time machine?\"<br \/>Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out,<br \/>Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal<br \/>entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some<br \/>embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr.<br \/>Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would<br \/>deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\"<br \/>The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the<br \/>desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.<br \/>\"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me<br \/>got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up<br \/>with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I<br \/>should say. What about it, Dan?\"<br \/>\"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"<br \/>\"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.<br \/>\"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.<br \/>Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.<br \/>\"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local<br \/>branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"<br \/>\"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"<br \/>\"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"<br \/>\"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He<br \/>took the directory, studied it.<br \/>\"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice<br \/>it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a<br \/>large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel<br \/>cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in<br \/>the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan.<br \/>Get a wiggle on.\"<br \/>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a<br \/>point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.<br \/>Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct<br \/>me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you<br \/>said.\"<br \/>\"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that<br \/>way.\"<br \/>Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.<br \/>Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan<br \/>looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.<br \/>\"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped<br \/>smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.<br \/>\"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to<br \/>get us to the right place.\"<br \/>\"Very well, Dan.\"<br \/>Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly<br \/>seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage<br \/>grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.<br \/>The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying<br \/>landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely<br \/>visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers<br \/>along both sides of the passage at once.<br \/>\"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines<br \/>employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"<br \/>\"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where<br \/>they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered<br \/>left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous<br \/>figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed<br \/>wrong—<br \/>The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.<br \/>Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete<br \/>walls, the barred door and—<br \/>\"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.<br \/>\"Grab him!\" someone yelled.<br \/>Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt<br \/>to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a<br \/>lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures<br \/>as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.<br \/>III<br \/>Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the<br \/>clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no<br \/>telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide<br \/>the carrier, then—<br \/>A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.<br \/>Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.<br \/>The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of<br \/>mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous<br \/>landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the<br \/>deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.<br \/>If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked<br \/>the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.<br \/>The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought<br \/>the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few<br \/>inches and cut the switch.<br \/>As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.<br \/>Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise<br \/>was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians<br \/>in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why<br \/>hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no<br \/>sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a<br \/>secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,<br \/>reached for the controls—<br \/>There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials<br \/>before him frosted over. There was a loud<br \/>pop!<br \/>like a flashbulb<br \/>exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle<br \/>which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded<br \/>to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a<br \/>tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.<br \/>Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,<br \/>the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly<br \/>red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat<br \/>pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set<br \/>yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in<br \/>a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.<br \/>\"<br \/>Alors, monsieur<br \/>,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in<br \/>a quick bow. \"<br \/>Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"<br \/>\"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.<br \/>Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class<br \/>five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"<br \/>Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to<br \/>stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"<br \/>\"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.<br \/>\"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"Inter-what?\"<br \/>\"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our<br \/>language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"<br \/>\"What do you want with me?\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.784289Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:37:24.852950Z","inner_id":136,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":135,"annotations":[{"id":5,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off.\nContextualized = Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off.\nSpan = Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off\nSupport = Dan wrestled with him. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. \"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his companion.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Danny manages to take control of the carrier.\nContextualized = He manages to take control of the carrier.\nSpan = manages to take control of the carrier\nSupport = Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. Dan grabbed a lever at random and pulled. The time machine was his to command. He'd take it slowly, figure out the controls.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Dan manages to escape the vault.\nContextualized = He manages to escape.\nSpan = and escape\nSupport = The cage sank like an elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Dan does not know how to control the carrier.\nContextualized = He does not know how to control it.\nSpan = Not knowing how to control it,\nSupport = There should be one labeled \"Forward\" and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned black.  In another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls. Dan grabbed a lever at random and pulled.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Dan passes through several rooms and settings.\nContextualized = Dan passes through several rooms and settings.\nSpan = Dan finds himself passing through many rooms and settings\nSupport = Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table— The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. He was hovering twenty feet above a clipped lawn.\n\nInfo Unit #6 = Dan and the carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper.\nContextualized = The carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper.\nSpan = until the carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper.\nSupport = A tall office building reared up fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it. With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through elaborate venetian blinds.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"z_Tl6w7djJ","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T21:00:53.568680Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:29:57.399090Z","lead_time":792.562,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":135,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":52855,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel. Snithian refuses to hire Dan, but Kelly, head of security, hires him in secret. That night, Dan guards from within the vault, keeping himself occupied with sleep and food, when a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air. Two men emerge, named Manny and Fiorello, and Dan hesitantly confronts them. While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room, under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts.","reference":"Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off and manages to take control of the carrier and escape. Not knowing how to control it, Dan finds himself passing through many rooms and settings, until the carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE STAR-SENT KNAVES<br \/>BY KEITH LAUMER<br \/>Illustrated by Gaughan<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>When the Great Galactic Union first encounters<br \/>Earth ... is this what is going to happen?<br \/>I<br \/>Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,<br \/>with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered<br \/>in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's<br \/>travel-stained six foot one.<br \/>\"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward<br \/>the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something<br \/>that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding<br \/>safeguarding my paintings.\"<br \/>\"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great<br \/>help to you.\"<br \/>\"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored<br \/>into Dan like hot pokers.<br \/>\"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards<br \/>here—the papers are full of it—\"<br \/>\"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,<br \/>I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"<br \/>\"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left<br \/>unguarded.\"<br \/>\"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.<br \/>\"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.<br \/>\"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day<br \/>and night—\"<br \/>\"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.<br \/>\"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.<br \/>\"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the<br \/>vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"<br \/>\"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.<br \/>\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"<br \/>\"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a<br \/>man in that vault.\"<br \/>\"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've<br \/>made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more<br \/>nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked<br \/>away, his cloak flapping at his knees.<br \/>\"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an<br \/>art lover.\"<br \/>\"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He<br \/>turned in at an office and closed the door.<br \/>\"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If<br \/>those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.<br \/>Just how cheap would you work?\"<br \/>\"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he<br \/>added.<br \/>Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If<br \/>you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"<br \/>Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low<br \/>ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a<br \/>white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk,<br \/>an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates,<br \/>plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's<br \/>order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami,<br \/>liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a<br \/>well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.<br \/>It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off<br \/>without a hitch.<br \/>Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing<br \/>from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was<br \/>obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large<br \/>canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks<br \/>undamaged.<br \/>Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone<br \/>who hadn't entered in the usual way.<br \/>Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The<br \/>Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With<br \/>such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the<br \/>vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they<br \/>operated.<br \/>He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of<br \/>the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he<br \/>slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air<br \/>cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered<br \/>at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a<br \/>magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly<br \/>seemed worth all the effort....<br \/>He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow<br \/>of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the<br \/>night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him<br \/>a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped<br \/>his way to the bunk.<br \/>So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up,<br \/>he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off<br \/>there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever<br \/>his discovery might mean to him.<br \/>But he was ready. Let them come.<br \/>Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly<br \/>from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded<br \/>shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.<br \/>The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an<br \/>out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures<br \/>were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs.<br \/>They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.<br \/>A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage<br \/>moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped,<br \/>crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage<br \/>settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly<br \/>switches....<br \/>The glow died.<br \/>Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth<br \/>was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it<br \/>was here—<br \/>Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had<br \/>prepared for the occasion:<br \/>Greeting, visitors from the Future....<br \/>Hopelessly corny. What about:<br \/>Welcome to the Twentieth Century....<br \/>No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to<br \/>Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now<br \/>looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with<br \/>a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves<br \/>looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and<br \/>balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed<br \/>Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the<br \/>table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at<br \/>the stacked shelves.<br \/>\"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.<br \/>\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"<br \/>\"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd<br \/>best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"<br \/>\"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"<br \/>The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.<br \/>\"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"<br \/>Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.<br \/>\"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"<br \/>\"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"<br \/>Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still<br \/>prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play<br \/>of rich browns!\"<br \/>\"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was<br \/>popular with the sparrows.\"<br \/>\"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"<br \/>\"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting<br \/>in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting<br \/>clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"<br \/>\"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"<br \/>\"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\"<br \/>Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow,<br \/>Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"<br \/>\"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty<br \/>tough guys when aroused.\"<br \/>\"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"<br \/>\"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the<br \/>gent's room—\"<br \/>\"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"<br \/>\"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a<br \/>fast fade.\"<br \/>\"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you<br \/>fellows.\"<br \/>\"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you<br \/>crook!\"<br \/>Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.<br \/>It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.<br \/>\"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to<br \/>Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"<br \/>\"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more<br \/>than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"<br \/>\"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are<br \/>arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward<br \/>the cage.<br \/>\"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to<br \/>us.\"<br \/>\"Can't be helped.\"<br \/>\"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.<br \/>\"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have<br \/>the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did<br \/>you?\"<br \/>\"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"<br \/>Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He<br \/>aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in<br \/>the time machine.\"<br \/>\"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.<br \/>\"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"<br \/>\"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"<br \/>\"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into<br \/>the cage beside Fiorello.<br \/>\"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"<br \/>The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him.<br \/>The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the<br \/>far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted<br \/>aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back<br \/>into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.<br \/>\"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his<br \/>companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his<br \/>heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A<br \/>cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan<br \/>grabbed a lever at random and pulled.<br \/>Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral<br \/>Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan<br \/>swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an<br \/>elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.<br \/>Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky<br \/>business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing<br \/>in among brick and mortar particles....<br \/>But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the<br \/>way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way.<br \/>The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled<br \/>back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft<br \/>of the past decade on him.<br \/>It couldn't be<br \/>too<br \/>hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the<br \/>controls....<br \/>Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently,<br \/>in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted<br \/>his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage.<br \/>Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook<br \/>waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly<br \/>from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a<br \/>second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.<br \/>Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an<br \/>inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so<br \/>much as a minute into the past or future.<br \/>He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\"<br \/>and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned<br \/>black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type<br \/>knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of<br \/>something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it<br \/>worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the<br \/>usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here<br \/>somewhere....<br \/>Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.<br \/>A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In<br \/>another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed<br \/>a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls.<br \/>He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through<br \/>the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever<br \/>back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a<br \/>four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—<br \/>The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not<br \/>over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue<br \/>light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon,<br \/>and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis<br \/>racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and<br \/>the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple,<br \/>and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.<br \/>Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another;<br \/>he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the<br \/>zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward<br \/>the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....<br \/>Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering<br \/>twenty feet above a clipped lawn.<br \/>He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the<br \/>cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped<br \/>out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face<br \/>up—<br \/>Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a<br \/>plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter<br \/>filled with glowing blue plants—<br \/>The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she<br \/>took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square<br \/>sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside,<br \/>seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—<br \/>With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the<br \/>cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with<br \/>an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the<br \/>controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed<br \/>on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town,<br \/>approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up<br \/>fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—<br \/>He covered his ears, braced himself—<br \/>With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the<br \/>cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop.<br \/>Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud<br \/>click!<br \/>and the glow faded.<br \/>With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at<br \/>a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through<br \/>elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted<br \/>plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far<br \/>side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.<br \/>II<br \/>Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a<br \/>hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from<br \/>points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded<br \/>and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three<br \/>peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just<br \/>above the brown eyes.<br \/>\"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.<br \/>\"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"<br \/>\"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"<br \/>\"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands<br \/>closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.<br \/>\"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A<br \/>pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an<br \/>amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.<br \/>\"How ... what...?\"<br \/>\"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a<br \/>critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage<br \/>big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you<br \/>happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"<br \/>\"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I<br \/>went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.<br \/>\"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's<br \/>anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at<br \/>present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes,<br \/>accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out<br \/>the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed<br \/>giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face<br \/>similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted<br \/>around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire<br \/>into a black sky.<br \/>\"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted,<br \/>caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up<br \/>to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily<br \/>at work studying the ceiling.<br \/>\"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary<br \/>racial prejudices.\"<br \/>\"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"<br \/>\"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call<br \/>it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my<br \/>native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"<br \/>\"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He<br \/>sidled toward the door.<br \/>\"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can<br \/>offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk,<br \/>Pepsi—\"<br \/>\"No, thanks.\"<br \/>\"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer<br \/>swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with<br \/>a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be<br \/>of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious<br \/>blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most<br \/>opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the<br \/>picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How<br \/>does that grab you?\"<br \/>\"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"<br \/>\"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some<br \/>confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"<br \/>\"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came<br \/>here in. You want me—\"<br \/>\"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"<br \/>\"Huh?\"<br \/>\"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the<br \/>implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk.<br \/>The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a<br \/>time machine?\"<br \/>\"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"<br \/>The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused<br \/>up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea<br \/>you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back,<br \/>the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been<br \/>spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"<br \/>\"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"<br \/>\"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time<br \/>machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at<br \/>this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as<br \/>Endsville.\"<br \/>\"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he<br \/>could reach the machine and try a getaway—<br \/>\"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said,<br \/>following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch<br \/>yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm<br \/>afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best<br \/>introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth<br \/>Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop<br \/>new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire<br \/>Secondary Quadrant.\"<br \/>\"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That<br \/>has<br \/>to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just<br \/>materialize out of thin air like that.\"<br \/>\"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You<br \/>shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel,<br \/>that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll<br \/>make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good<br \/>condition for me. And in return—\"<br \/>\"<br \/>I'm<br \/>supposed to supply<br \/>you<br \/>with a time machine?\"<br \/>Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out,<br \/>Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal<br \/>entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some<br \/>embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr.<br \/>Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would<br \/>deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\"<br \/>The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the<br \/>desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.<br \/>\"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me<br \/>got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up<br \/>with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I<br \/>should say. What about it, Dan?\"<br \/>\"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"<br \/>\"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.<br \/>\"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.<br \/>Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.<br \/>\"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local<br \/>branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"<br \/>\"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"<br \/>\"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"<br \/>\"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He<br \/>took the directory, studied it.<br \/>\"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice<br \/>it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a<br \/>large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel<br \/>cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in<br \/>the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan.<br \/>Get a wiggle on.\"<br \/>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a<br \/>point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.<br \/>Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct<br \/>me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you<br \/>said.\"<br \/>\"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that<br \/>way.\"<br \/>Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.<br \/>Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan<br \/>looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.<br \/>\"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped<br \/>smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.<br \/>\"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to<br \/>get us to the right place.\"<br \/>\"Very well, Dan.\"<br \/>Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly<br \/>seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage<br \/>grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.<br \/>The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying<br \/>landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely<br \/>visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers<br \/>along both sides of the passage at once.<br \/>\"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines<br \/>employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"<br \/>\"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where<br \/>they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered<br \/>left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous<br \/>figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed<br \/>wrong—<br \/>The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.<br \/>Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete<br \/>walls, the barred door and—<br \/>\"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.<br \/>\"Grab him!\" someone yelled.<br \/>Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt<br \/>to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a<br \/>lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures<br \/>as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.<br \/>III<br \/>Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the<br \/>clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no<br \/>telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide<br \/>the carrier, then—<br \/>A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.<br \/>Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.<br \/>The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of<br \/>mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous<br \/>landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the<br \/>deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.<br \/>If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked<br \/>the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.<br \/>The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought<br \/>the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few<br \/>inches and cut the switch.<br \/>As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.<br \/>Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise<br \/>was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians<br \/>in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why<br \/>hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no<br \/>sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a<br \/>secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,<br \/>reached for the controls—<br \/>There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials<br \/>before him frosted over. There was a loud<br \/>pop!<br \/>like a flashbulb<br \/>exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle<br \/>which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded<br \/>to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a<br \/>tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.<br \/>Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,<br \/>the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly<br \/>red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat<br \/>pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set<br \/>yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in<br \/>a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.<br \/>\"<br \/>Alors, monsieur<br \/>,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in<br \/>a quick bow. \"<br \/>Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"<br \/>\"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.<br \/>Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class<br \/>five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"<br \/>Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to<br \/>stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"<br \/>\"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.<br \/>\"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"Inter-what?\"<br \/>\"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our<br \/>language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"<br \/>\"What do you want with me?\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.784156Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:29:57.447137Z","inner_id":135,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":134,"annotations":[{"id":4,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Two men emerged in the vault named Manny and Fiorello.\nContextualized = Two men emerged in the vault named Manny and Fiorello.\nSpan = Two men emerge, named Manny and Fiorello\nSupport = Two figures were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs. Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Dan hesitantly confronts Manny and Fiorello.\nContextualized = Dan hesitantly confronts them.\nSpan = Dan hesitantly confronts them\nSupport = The painting clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\" \"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you fellows.\" \"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\" \"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Kelly's voice booms from a hidden speaker in the room while Dan is speaking to thieves.\nContextualized = While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room.\nSpan = While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room\nSupport = \"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you crook!\" The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Kelly thinks Dan had been in on the thefts.\nContextualized = He is under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts.\nSpan = under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts.\nSupport =  \"I knew it! Slane, you crook!\"","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"OtQSRFegRv","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T20:17:00.475313Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:28:30.158611Z","lead_time":4171.115000000001,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":134,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":52855,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel. Snithian refuses to hire Dan, but Kelly, head of security, hires him in secret. That night, Dan guards from within the vault, keeping himself occupied with sleep and food, when a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air.","reference":"Two men emerge, named Manny and Fiorello, and Dan hesitantly confronts them. While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room, under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE STAR-SENT KNAVES<br \/>BY KEITH LAUMER<br \/>Illustrated by Gaughan<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>When the Great Galactic Union first encounters<br \/>Earth ... is this what is going to happen?<br \/>I<br \/>Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,<br \/>with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered<br \/>in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's<br \/>travel-stained six foot one.<br \/>\"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward<br \/>the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something<br \/>that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding<br \/>safeguarding my paintings.\"<br \/>\"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great<br \/>help to you.\"<br \/>\"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored<br \/>into Dan like hot pokers.<br \/>\"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards<br \/>here—the papers are full of it—\"<br \/>\"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,<br \/>I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"<br \/>\"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left<br \/>unguarded.\"<br \/>\"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.<br \/>\"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.<br \/>\"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day<br \/>and night—\"<br \/>\"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.<br \/>\"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.<br \/>\"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the<br \/>vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"<br \/>\"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.<br \/>\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"<br \/>\"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a<br \/>man in that vault.\"<br \/>\"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've<br \/>made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more<br \/>nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked<br \/>away, his cloak flapping at his knees.<br \/>\"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an<br \/>art lover.\"<br \/>\"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He<br \/>turned in at an office and closed the door.<br \/>\"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If<br \/>those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.<br \/>Just how cheap would you work?\"<br \/>\"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he<br \/>added.<br \/>Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If<br \/>you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"<br \/>Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low<br \/>ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a<br \/>white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk,<br \/>an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates,<br \/>plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's<br \/>order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami,<br \/>liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a<br \/>well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.<br \/>It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off<br \/>without a hitch.<br \/>Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing<br \/>from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was<br \/>obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large<br \/>canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks<br \/>undamaged.<br \/>Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone<br \/>who hadn't entered in the usual way.<br \/>Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The<br \/>Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With<br \/>such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the<br \/>vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they<br \/>operated.<br \/>He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of<br \/>the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he<br \/>slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air<br \/>cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered<br \/>at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a<br \/>magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly<br \/>seemed worth all the effort....<br \/>He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow<br \/>of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the<br \/>night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him<br \/>a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped<br \/>his way to the bunk.<br \/>So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up,<br \/>he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off<br \/>there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever<br \/>his discovery might mean to him.<br \/>But he was ready. Let them come.<br \/>Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly<br \/>from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded<br \/>shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.<br \/>The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an<br \/>out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures<br \/>were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs.<br \/>They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.<br \/>A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage<br \/>moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped,<br \/>crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage<br \/>settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly<br \/>switches....<br \/>The glow died.<br \/>Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth<br \/>was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it<br \/>was here—<br \/>Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had<br \/>prepared for the occasion:<br \/>Greeting, visitors from the Future....<br \/>Hopelessly corny. What about:<br \/>Welcome to the Twentieth Century....<br \/>No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to<br \/>Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now<br \/>looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with<br \/>a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves<br \/>looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and<br \/>balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed<br \/>Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the<br \/>table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at<br \/>the stacked shelves.<br \/>\"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.<br \/>\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"<br \/>\"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd<br \/>best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"<br \/>\"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"<br \/>The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.<br \/>\"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"<br \/>Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.<br \/>\"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"<br \/>\"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"<br \/>Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still<br \/>prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play<br \/>of rich browns!\"<br \/>\"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was<br \/>popular with the sparrows.\"<br \/>\"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"<br \/>\"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting<br \/>in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting<br \/>clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"<br \/>\"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"<br \/>\"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\"<br \/>Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow,<br \/>Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"<br \/>\"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty<br \/>tough guys when aroused.\"<br \/>\"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"<br \/>\"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the<br \/>gent's room—\"<br \/>\"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"<br \/>\"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a<br \/>fast fade.\"<br \/>\"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you<br \/>fellows.\"<br \/>\"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you<br \/>crook!\"<br \/>Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.<br \/>It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.<br \/>\"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to<br \/>Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"<br \/>\"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more<br \/>than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"<br \/>\"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are<br \/>arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward<br \/>the cage.<br \/>\"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to<br \/>us.\"<br \/>\"Can't be helped.\"<br \/>\"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.<br \/>\"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have<br \/>the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did<br \/>you?\"<br \/>\"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"<br \/>Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He<br \/>aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in<br \/>the time machine.\"<br \/>\"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.<br \/>\"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"<br \/>\"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"<br \/>\"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into<br \/>the cage beside Fiorello.<br \/>\"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"<br \/>The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him.<br \/>The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the<br \/>far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted<br \/>aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back<br \/>into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.<br \/>\"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his<br \/>companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his<br \/>heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A<br \/>cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan<br \/>grabbed a lever at random and pulled.<br \/>Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral<br \/>Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan<br \/>swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an<br \/>elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.<br \/>Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky<br \/>business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing<br \/>in among brick and mortar particles....<br \/>But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the<br \/>way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way.<br \/>The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled<br \/>back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft<br \/>of the past decade on him.<br \/>It couldn't be<br \/>too<br \/>hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the<br \/>controls....<br \/>Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently,<br \/>in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted<br \/>his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage.<br \/>Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook<br \/>waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly<br \/>from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a<br \/>second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.<br \/>Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an<br \/>inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so<br \/>much as a minute into the past or future.<br \/>He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\"<br \/>and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned<br \/>black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type<br \/>knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of<br \/>something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it<br \/>worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the<br \/>usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here<br \/>somewhere....<br \/>Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.<br \/>A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In<br \/>another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed<br \/>a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls.<br \/>He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through<br \/>the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever<br \/>back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a<br \/>four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—<br \/>The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not<br \/>over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue<br \/>light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon,<br \/>and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis<br \/>racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and<br \/>the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple,<br \/>and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.<br \/>Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another;<br \/>he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the<br \/>zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward<br \/>the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....<br \/>Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering<br \/>twenty feet above a clipped lawn.<br \/>He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the<br \/>cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped<br \/>out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face<br \/>up—<br \/>Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a<br \/>plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter<br \/>filled with glowing blue plants—<br \/>The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she<br \/>took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square<br \/>sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside,<br \/>seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—<br \/>With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the<br \/>cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with<br \/>an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the<br \/>controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed<br \/>on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town,<br \/>approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up<br \/>fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—<br \/>He covered his ears, braced himself—<br \/>With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the<br \/>cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop.<br \/>Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud<br \/>click!<br \/>and the glow faded.<br \/>With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at<br \/>a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through<br \/>elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted<br \/>plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far<br \/>side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.<br \/>II<br \/>Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a<br \/>hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from<br \/>points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded<br \/>and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three<br \/>peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just<br \/>above the brown eyes.<br \/>\"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.<br \/>\"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"<br \/>\"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"<br \/>\"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands<br \/>closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.<br \/>\"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A<br \/>pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an<br \/>amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.<br \/>\"How ... what...?\"<br \/>\"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a<br \/>critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage<br \/>big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you<br \/>happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"<br \/>\"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I<br \/>went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.<br \/>\"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's<br \/>anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at<br \/>present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes,<br \/>accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out<br \/>the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed<br \/>giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face<br \/>similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted<br \/>around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire<br \/>into a black sky.<br \/>\"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted,<br \/>caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up<br \/>to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily<br \/>at work studying the ceiling.<br \/>\"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary<br \/>racial prejudices.\"<br \/>\"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"<br \/>\"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call<br \/>it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my<br \/>native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"<br \/>\"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He<br \/>sidled toward the door.<br \/>\"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can<br \/>offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk,<br \/>Pepsi—\"<br \/>\"No, thanks.\"<br \/>\"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer<br \/>swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with<br \/>a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be<br \/>of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious<br \/>blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most<br \/>opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the<br \/>picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How<br \/>does that grab you?\"<br \/>\"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"<br \/>\"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some<br \/>confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"<br \/>\"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came<br \/>here in. You want me—\"<br \/>\"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"<br \/>\"Huh?\"<br \/>\"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the<br \/>implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk.<br \/>The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a<br \/>time machine?\"<br \/>\"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"<br \/>The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused<br \/>up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea<br \/>you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back,<br \/>the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been<br \/>spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"<br \/>\"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"<br \/>\"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time<br \/>machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at<br \/>this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as<br \/>Endsville.\"<br \/>\"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he<br \/>could reach the machine and try a getaway—<br \/>\"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said,<br \/>following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch<br \/>yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm<br \/>afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best<br \/>introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth<br \/>Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop<br \/>new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire<br \/>Secondary Quadrant.\"<br \/>\"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That<br \/>has<br \/>to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just<br \/>materialize out of thin air like that.\"<br \/>\"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You<br \/>shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel,<br \/>that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll<br \/>make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good<br \/>condition for me. And in return—\"<br \/>\"<br \/>I'm<br \/>supposed to supply<br \/>you<br \/>with a time machine?\"<br \/>Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out,<br \/>Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal<br \/>entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some<br \/>embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr.<br \/>Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would<br \/>deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\"<br \/>The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the<br \/>desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.<br \/>\"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me<br \/>got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up<br \/>with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I<br \/>should say. What about it, Dan?\"<br \/>\"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"<br \/>\"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.<br \/>\"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.<br \/>Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.<br \/>\"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local<br \/>branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"<br \/>\"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"<br \/>\"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"<br \/>\"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He<br \/>took the directory, studied it.<br \/>\"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice<br \/>it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a<br \/>large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel<br \/>cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in<br \/>the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan.<br \/>Get a wiggle on.\"<br \/>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a<br \/>point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.<br \/>Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct<br \/>me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you<br \/>said.\"<br \/>\"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that<br \/>way.\"<br \/>Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.<br \/>Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan<br \/>looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.<br \/>\"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped<br \/>smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.<br \/>\"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to<br \/>get us to the right place.\"<br \/>\"Very well, Dan.\"<br \/>Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly<br \/>seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage<br \/>grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.<br \/>The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying<br \/>landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely<br \/>visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers<br \/>along both sides of the passage at once.<br \/>\"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines<br \/>employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"<br \/>\"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where<br \/>they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered<br \/>left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous<br \/>figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed<br \/>wrong—<br \/>The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.<br \/>Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete<br \/>walls, the barred door and—<br \/>\"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.<br \/>\"Grab him!\" someone yelled.<br \/>Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt<br \/>to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a<br \/>lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures<br \/>as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.<br \/>III<br \/>Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the<br \/>clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no<br \/>telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide<br \/>the carrier, then—<br \/>A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.<br \/>Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.<br \/>The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of<br \/>mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous<br \/>landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the<br \/>deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.<br \/>If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked<br \/>the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.<br \/>The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought<br \/>the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few<br \/>inches and cut the switch.<br \/>As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.<br \/>Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise<br \/>was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians<br \/>in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why<br \/>hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no<br \/>sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a<br \/>secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,<br \/>reached for the controls—<br \/>There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials<br \/>before him frosted over. There was a loud<br \/>pop!<br \/>like a flashbulb<br \/>exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle<br \/>which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded<br \/>to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a<br \/>tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.<br \/>Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,<br \/>the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly<br \/>red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat<br \/>pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set<br \/>yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in<br \/>a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.<br \/>\"<br \/>Alors, monsieur<br \/>,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in<br \/>a quick bow. \"<br \/>Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"<br \/>\"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.<br \/>Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class<br \/>five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"<br \/>Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to<br \/>stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"<br \/>\"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.<br \/>\"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"Inter-what?\"<br \/>\"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our<br \/>language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"<br \/>\"What do you want with me?\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.784023Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:28:30.208286Z","inner_id":134,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":133,"annotations":[{"id":3,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Snithian refuses to hire Dan.\nContextualized = Snithian refuses to hire Dan.\nSpan = Snithian refuses to hire Dan\nSupport = \"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked away, his cloak flapping at his knees.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Kelly is the head of security.\nContextualized = Kelly is the head of security.\nSpan = Kelly, head of security\nSupport = I've made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Kelly secretly hires Dan.\nContextualized = Kelly hires him in secret.\nSpan = hires him in secret\nSupport = I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = That night Dan guards from within the vault.\nContextualized = That night, Dan guards from within the vault.\nSpan = That night, Dan guards from within the vault\nSupport = If Dan sat in the vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they operated.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Dan kept himself occupied with sleep and food in the vault.\nContextualized = He kept himself occupied with sleep and food in the vault.\nSpan = keeping himself occupied with sleep and food\nSupport = Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami, liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer. He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of the brown-paper bundles. Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly from a light doze and sat up on the cot.\n\nInfo Unit #6 = A strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air in the vault.\nContextualized = A strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air in the vault.\nSpan = a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air.\nSupport = Between him and the crowded shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air. The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"AHTixiIcOa","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T19:10:08.922077Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:27:52.667619Z","lead_time":719.511,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":133,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":52855,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel.","reference":"Snithian refuses to hire Dan, but Kelly, head of security, hires him in secret. That night, Dan guards from within the vault, keeping himself occupied with sleep and food, when a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE STAR-SENT KNAVES<br \/>BY KEITH LAUMER<br \/>Illustrated by Gaughan<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>When the Great Galactic Union first encounters<br \/>Earth ... is this what is going to happen?<br \/>I<br \/>Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,<br \/>with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered<br \/>in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's<br \/>travel-stained six foot one.<br \/>\"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward<br \/>the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something<br \/>that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding<br \/>safeguarding my paintings.\"<br \/>\"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great<br \/>help to you.\"<br \/>\"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored<br \/>into Dan like hot pokers.<br \/>\"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards<br \/>here—the papers are full of it—\"<br \/>\"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,<br \/>I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"<br \/>\"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left<br \/>unguarded.\"<br \/>\"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.<br \/>\"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.<br \/>\"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day<br \/>and night—\"<br \/>\"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.<br \/>\"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.<br \/>\"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the<br \/>vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"<br \/>\"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.<br \/>\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"<br \/>\"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a<br \/>man in that vault.\"<br \/>\"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've<br \/>made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more<br \/>nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked<br \/>away, his cloak flapping at his knees.<br \/>\"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an<br \/>art lover.\"<br \/>\"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He<br \/>turned in at an office and closed the door.<br \/>\"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If<br \/>those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.<br \/>Just how cheap would you work?\"<br \/>\"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he<br \/>added.<br \/>Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If<br \/>you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"<br \/>Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low<br \/>ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a<br \/>white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk,<br \/>an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates,<br \/>plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's<br \/>order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami,<br \/>liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a<br \/>well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.<br \/>It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off<br \/>without a hitch.<br \/>Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing<br \/>from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was<br \/>obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large<br \/>canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks<br \/>undamaged.<br \/>Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone<br \/>who hadn't entered in the usual way.<br \/>Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The<br \/>Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With<br \/>such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the<br \/>vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they<br \/>operated.<br \/>He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of<br \/>the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he<br \/>slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air<br \/>cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered<br \/>at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a<br \/>magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly<br \/>seemed worth all the effort....<br \/>He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow<br \/>of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the<br \/>night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him<br \/>a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped<br \/>his way to the bunk.<br \/>So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up,<br \/>he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off<br \/>there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever<br \/>his discovery might mean to him.<br \/>But he was ready. Let them come.<br \/>Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly<br \/>from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded<br \/>shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.<br \/>The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an<br \/>out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures<br \/>were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs.<br \/>They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.<br \/>A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage<br \/>moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped,<br \/>crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage<br \/>settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly<br \/>switches....<br \/>The glow died.<br \/>Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth<br \/>was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it<br \/>was here—<br \/>Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had<br \/>prepared for the occasion:<br \/>Greeting, visitors from the Future....<br \/>Hopelessly corny. What about:<br \/>Welcome to the Twentieth Century....<br \/>No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to<br \/>Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now<br \/>looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with<br \/>a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves<br \/>looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and<br \/>balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed<br \/>Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the<br \/>table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at<br \/>the stacked shelves.<br \/>\"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.<br \/>\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"<br \/>\"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd<br \/>best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"<br \/>\"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"<br \/>The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.<br \/>\"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"<br \/>Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.<br \/>\"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"<br \/>\"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"<br \/>Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still<br \/>prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play<br \/>of rich browns!\"<br \/>\"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was<br \/>popular with the sparrows.\"<br \/>\"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"<br \/>\"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting<br \/>in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting<br \/>clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"<br \/>\"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"<br \/>\"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\"<br \/>Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow,<br \/>Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"<br \/>\"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty<br \/>tough guys when aroused.\"<br \/>\"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"<br \/>\"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the<br \/>gent's room—\"<br \/>\"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"<br \/>\"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a<br \/>fast fade.\"<br \/>\"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you<br \/>fellows.\"<br \/>\"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you<br \/>crook!\"<br \/>Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.<br \/>It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.<br \/>\"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to<br \/>Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"<br \/>\"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more<br \/>than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"<br \/>\"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are<br \/>arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward<br \/>the cage.<br \/>\"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to<br \/>us.\"<br \/>\"Can't be helped.\"<br \/>\"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.<br \/>\"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have<br \/>the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did<br \/>you?\"<br \/>\"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"<br \/>Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He<br \/>aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in<br \/>the time machine.\"<br \/>\"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.<br \/>\"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"<br \/>\"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"<br \/>\"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into<br \/>the cage beside Fiorello.<br \/>\"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"<br \/>The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him.<br \/>The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the<br \/>far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted<br \/>aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back<br \/>into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.<br \/>\"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his<br \/>companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his<br \/>heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A<br \/>cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan<br \/>grabbed a lever at random and pulled.<br \/>Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral<br \/>Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan<br \/>swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an<br \/>elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.<br \/>Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky<br \/>business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing<br \/>in among brick and mortar particles....<br \/>But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the<br \/>way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way.<br \/>The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled<br \/>back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft<br \/>of the past decade on him.<br \/>It couldn't be<br \/>too<br \/>hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the<br \/>controls....<br \/>Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently,<br \/>in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted<br \/>his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage.<br \/>Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook<br \/>waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly<br \/>from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a<br \/>second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.<br \/>Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an<br \/>inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so<br \/>much as a minute into the past or future.<br \/>He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\"<br \/>and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned<br \/>black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type<br \/>knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of<br \/>something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it<br \/>worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the<br \/>usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here<br \/>somewhere....<br \/>Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.<br \/>A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In<br \/>another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed<br \/>a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls.<br \/>He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through<br \/>the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever<br \/>back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a<br \/>four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—<br \/>The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not<br \/>over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue<br \/>light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon,<br \/>and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis<br \/>racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and<br \/>the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple,<br \/>and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.<br \/>Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another;<br \/>he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the<br \/>zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward<br \/>the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....<br \/>Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering<br \/>twenty feet above a clipped lawn.<br \/>He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the<br \/>cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped<br \/>out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face<br \/>up—<br \/>Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a<br \/>plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter<br \/>filled with glowing blue plants—<br \/>The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she<br \/>took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square<br \/>sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside,<br \/>seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—<br \/>With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the<br \/>cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with<br \/>an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the<br \/>controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed<br \/>on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town,<br \/>approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up<br \/>fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—<br \/>He covered his ears, braced himself—<br \/>With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the<br \/>cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop.<br \/>Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud<br \/>click!<br \/>and the glow faded.<br \/>With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at<br \/>a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through<br \/>elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted<br \/>plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far<br \/>side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.<br \/>II<br \/>Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a<br \/>hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from<br \/>points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded<br \/>and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three<br \/>peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just<br \/>above the brown eyes.<br \/>\"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.<br \/>\"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"<br \/>\"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"<br \/>\"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands<br \/>closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.<br \/>\"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A<br \/>pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an<br \/>amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.<br \/>\"How ... what...?\"<br \/>\"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a<br \/>critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage<br \/>big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you<br \/>happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"<br \/>\"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I<br \/>went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.<br \/>\"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's<br \/>anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at<br \/>present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes,<br \/>accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out<br \/>the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed<br \/>giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face<br \/>similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted<br \/>around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire<br \/>into a black sky.<br \/>\"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted,<br \/>caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up<br \/>to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily<br \/>at work studying the ceiling.<br \/>\"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary<br \/>racial prejudices.\"<br \/>\"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"<br \/>\"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call<br \/>it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my<br \/>native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"<br \/>\"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He<br \/>sidled toward the door.<br \/>\"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can<br \/>offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk,<br \/>Pepsi—\"<br \/>\"No, thanks.\"<br \/>\"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer<br \/>swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with<br \/>a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be<br \/>of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious<br \/>blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most<br \/>opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the<br \/>picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How<br \/>does that grab you?\"<br \/>\"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"<br \/>\"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some<br \/>confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"<br \/>\"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came<br \/>here in. You want me—\"<br \/>\"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"<br \/>\"Huh?\"<br \/>\"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the<br \/>implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk.<br \/>The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a<br \/>time machine?\"<br \/>\"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"<br \/>The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused<br \/>up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea<br \/>you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back,<br \/>the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been<br \/>spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"<br \/>\"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"<br \/>\"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time<br \/>machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at<br \/>this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as<br \/>Endsville.\"<br \/>\"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he<br \/>could reach the machine and try a getaway—<br \/>\"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said,<br \/>following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch<br \/>yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm<br \/>afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best<br \/>introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth<br \/>Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop<br \/>new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire<br \/>Secondary Quadrant.\"<br \/>\"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That<br \/>has<br \/>to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just<br \/>materialize out of thin air like that.\"<br \/>\"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You<br \/>shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel,<br \/>that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll<br \/>make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good<br \/>condition for me. And in return—\"<br \/>\"<br \/>I'm<br \/>supposed to supply<br \/>you<br \/>with a time machine?\"<br \/>Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out,<br \/>Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal<br \/>entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some<br \/>embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr.<br \/>Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would<br \/>deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\"<br \/>The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the<br \/>desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.<br \/>\"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me<br \/>got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up<br \/>with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I<br \/>should say. What about it, Dan?\"<br \/>\"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"<br \/>\"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.<br \/>\"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.<br \/>Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.<br \/>\"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local<br \/>branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"<br \/>\"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"<br \/>\"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"<br \/>\"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He<br \/>took the directory, studied it.<br \/>\"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice<br \/>it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a<br \/>large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel<br \/>cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in<br \/>the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan.<br \/>Get a wiggle on.\"<br \/>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a<br \/>point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.<br \/>Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct<br \/>me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you<br \/>said.\"<br \/>\"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that<br \/>way.\"<br \/>Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.<br \/>Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan<br \/>looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.<br \/>\"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped<br \/>smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.<br \/>\"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to<br \/>get us to the right place.\"<br \/>\"Very well, Dan.\"<br \/>Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly<br \/>seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage<br \/>grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.<br \/>The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying<br \/>landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely<br \/>visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers<br \/>along both sides of the passage at once.<br \/>\"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines<br \/>employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"<br \/>\"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where<br \/>they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered<br \/>left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous<br \/>figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed<br \/>wrong—<br \/>The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.<br \/>Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete<br \/>walls, the barred door and—<br \/>\"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.<br \/>\"Grab him!\" someone yelled.<br \/>Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt<br \/>to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a<br \/>lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures<br \/>as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.<br \/>III<br \/>Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the<br \/>clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no<br \/>telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide<br \/>the carrier, then—<br \/>A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.<br \/>Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.<br \/>The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of<br \/>mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous<br \/>landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the<br \/>deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.<br \/>If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked<br \/>the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.<br \/>The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought<br \/>the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few<br \/>inches and cut the switch.<br \/>As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.<br \/>Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise<br \/>was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians<br \/>in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why<br \/>hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no<br \/>sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a<br \/>secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,<br \/>reached for the controls—<br \/>There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials<br \/>before him frosted over. There was a loud<br \/>pop!<br \/>like a flashbulb<br \/>exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle<br \/>which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded<br \/>to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a<br \/>tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.<br \/>Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,<br \/>the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly<br \/>red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat<br \/>pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set<br \/>yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in<br \/>a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.<br \/>\"<br \/>Alors, monsieur<br \/>,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in<br \/>a quick bow. \"<br \/>Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"<br \/>\"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.<br \/>Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class<br \/>five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"<br \/>Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to<br \/>stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"<br \/>\"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.<br \/>\"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"Inter-what?\"<br \/>\"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our<br \/>language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"<br \/>\"What do you want with me?\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.783891Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:27:52.710511Z","inner_id":133,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":132,"annotations":[{"id":2,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office.\nContextualized = Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office.\nSpan = Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office\nSupport = Round-shouldered in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's travel-stained six foot one.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Dan Slane proposes that he guards Snithian's art vault overnight.\nContextualized = He proposes that he guard Snithian's art vault overnight.\nSpan = he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has\nSupport = \"Something about important information regarding safeguarding my paintings.\" \"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great help to you.\"\n\nInfo Unit #3 = There have been art thefts recently in Clyde Snithian's office.\nContextualized = There has been a recent slew of art thefts.\nSpan = in response to a recent slew of art thefts\nSupport = \"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Dan has a theory that the art thefts are entering from within the vaults.\nContextualized = He has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults.\nSpan = Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults\nSupport = It was obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks undamaged. Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone who hadn't entered in the usual way.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"r4g0B35fB7","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T19:00:09.938202Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:17:54.407168Z","lead_time":1011.1700000000001,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":132,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":52855,"background":"What is the plot of the story? ","reference":"Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE STAR-SENT KNAVES<br \/>BY KEITH LAUMER<br \/>Illustrated by Gaughan<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>When the Great Galactic Union first encounters<br \/>Earth ... is this what is going to happen?<br \/>I<br \/>Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,<br \/>with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered<br \/>in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's<br \/>travel-stained six foot one.<br \/>\"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward<br \/>the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something<br \/>that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding<br \/>safeguarding my paintings.\"<br \/>\"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great<br \/>help to you.\"<br \/>\"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored<br \/>into Dan like hot pokers.<br \/>\"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards<br \/>here—the papers are full of it—\"<br \/>\"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,<br \/>I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"<br \/>\"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left<br \/>unguarded.\"<br \/>\"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.<br \/>\"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.<br \/>\"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day<br \/>and night—\"<br \/>\"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.<br \/>\"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.<br \/>\"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the<br \/>vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"<br \/>\"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.<br \/>\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"<br \/>\"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a<br \/>man in that vault.\"<br \/>\"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've<br \/>made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more<br \/>nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked<br \/>away, his cloak flapping at his knees.<br \/>\"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an<br \/>art lover.\"<br \/>\"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He<br \/>turned in at an office and closed the door.<br \/>\"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If<br \/>those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.<br \/>Just how cheap would you work?\"<br \/>\"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he<br \/>added.<br \/>Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If<br \/>you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"<br \/>Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low<br \/>ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a<br \/>white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk,<br \/>an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates,<br \/>plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's<br \/>order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami,<br \/>liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a<br \/>well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.<br \/>It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off<br \/>without a hitch.<br \/>Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing<br \/>from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was<br \/>obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large<br \/>canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks<br \/>undamaged.<br \/>Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone<br \/>who hadn't entered in the usual way.<br \/>Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The<br \/>Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With<br \/>such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the<br \/>vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they<br \/>operated.<br \/>He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of<br \/>the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he<br \/>slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air<br \/>cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered<br \/>at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a<br \/>magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly<br \/>seemed worth all the effort....<br \/>He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow<br \/>of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the<br \/>night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him<br \/>a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped<br \/>his way to the bunk.<br \/>So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up,<br \/>he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off<br \/>there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever<br \/>his discovery might mean to him.<br \/>But he was ready. Let them come.<br \/>Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly<br \/>from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded<br \/>shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.<br \/>The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an<br \/>out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures<br \/>were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs.<br \/>They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.<br \/>A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage<br \/>moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped,<br \/>crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage<br \/>settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly<br \/>switches....<br \/>The glow died.<br \/>Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth<br \/>was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it<br \/>was here—<br \/>Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had<br \/>prepared for the occasion:<br \/>Greeting, visitors from the Future....<br \/>Hopelessly corny. What about:<br \/>Welcome to the Twentieth Century....<br \/>No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to<br \/>Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now<br \/>looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with<br \/>a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves<br \/>looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and<br \/>balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed<br \/>Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the<br \/>table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at<br \/>the stacked shelves.<br \/>\"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.<br \/>\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"<br \/>\"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd<br \/>best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"<br \/>\"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"<br \/>The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.<br \/>\"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"<br \/>Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.<br \/>\"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"<br \/>\"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"<br \/>Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still<br \/>prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play<br \/>of rich browns!\"<br \/>\"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was<br \/>popular with the sparrows.\"<br \/>\"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"<br \/>\"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting<br \/>in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting<br \/>clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"<br \/>\"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"<br \/>\"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\"<br \/>Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow,<br \/>Fiorello.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"<br \/>\"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty<br \/>tough guys when aroused.\"<br \/>\"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"<br \/>\"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the<br \/>gent's room—\"<br \/>\"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"<br \/>\"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a<br \/>fast fade.\"<br \/>\"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"<br \/>\"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you<br \/>fellows.\"<br \/>\"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you<br \/>crook!\"<br \/>Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker.<br \/>It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.<br \/>\"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to<br \/>Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"<br \/>\"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more<br \/>than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"<br \/>\"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are<br \/>arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward<br \/>the cage.<br \/>\"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to<br \/>us.\"<br \/>\"Can't be helped.\"<br \/>\"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.<br \/>\"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have<br \/>the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did<br \/>you?\"<br \/>\"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"<br \/>Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He<br \/>aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in<br \/>the time machine.\"<br \/>\"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.<br \/>\"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"<br \/>\"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"<br \/>\"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into<br \/>the cage beside Fiorello.<br \/>\"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"<br \/>The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him.<br \/>The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the<br \/>far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted<br \/>aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back<br \/>into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.<br \/>\"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his<br \/>companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his<br \/>heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A<br \/>cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan<br \/>grabbed a lever at random and pulled.<br \/>Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral<br \/>Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan<br \/>swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an<br \/>elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.<br \/>Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky<br \/>business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing<br \/>in among brick and mortar particles....<br \/>But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the<br \/>way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way.<br \/>The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled<br \/>back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft<br \/>of the past decade on him.<br \/>It couldn't be<br \/>too<br \/>hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the<br \/>controls....<br \/>Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently,<br \/>in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted<br \/>his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage.<br \/>Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook<br \/>waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly<br \/>from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a<br \/>second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.<br \/>Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an<br \/>inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so<br \/>much as a minute into the past or future.<br \/>He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\"<br \/>and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned<br \/>black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type<br \/>knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of<br \/>something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it<br \/>worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the<br \/>usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here<br \/>somewhere....<br \/>Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.<br \/>A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In<br \/>another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed<br \/>a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls.<br \/>He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through<br \/>the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever<br \/>back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a<br \/>four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—<br \/>The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not<br \/>over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue<br \/>light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon,<br \/>and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis<br \/>racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and<br \/>the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple,<br \/>and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.<br \/>Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another;<br \/>he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the<br \/>zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward<br \/>the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....<br \/>Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering<br \/>twenty feet above a clipped lawn.<br \/>He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the<br \/>cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped<br \/>out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face<br \/>up—<br \/>Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a<br \/>plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter<br \/>filled with glowing blue plants—<br \/>The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she<br \/>took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square<br \/>sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside,<br \/>seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—<br \/>With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the<br \/>cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with<br \/>an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the<br \/>controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed<br \/>on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town,<br \/>approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up<br \/>fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—<br \/>He covered his ears, braced himself—<br \/>With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the<br \/>cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop.<br \/>Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud<br \/>click!<br \/>and the glow faded.<br \/>With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at<br \/>a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through<br \/>elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted<br \/>plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far<br \/>side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.<br \/>II<br \/>Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a<br \/>hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from<br \/>points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded<br \/>and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three<br \/>peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just<br \/>above the brown eyes.<br \/>\"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.<br \/>\"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"<br \/>\"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"<br \/>\"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"<br \/>\"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands<br \/>closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.<br \/>\"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A<br \/>pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an<br \/>amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.<br \/>\"How ... what...?\"<br \/>\"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a<br \/>critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage<br \/>big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you<br \/>happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"<br \/>\"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I<br \/>went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.<br \/>\"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's<br \/>anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at<br \/>present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"<br \/>Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes,<br \/>accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out<br \/>the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed<br \/>giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face<br \/>similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted<br \/>around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire<br \/>into a black sky.<br \/>\"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted,<br \/>caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up<br \/>to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily<br \/>at work studying the ceiling.<br \/>\"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary<br \/>racial prejudices.\"<br \/>\"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"<br \/>\"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call<br \/>it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my<br \/>native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"<br \/>\"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He<br \/>sidled toward the door.<br \/>\"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can<br \/>offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk,<br \/>Pepsi—\"<br \/>\"No, thanks.\"<br \/>\"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer<br \/>swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with<br \/>a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be<br \/>of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious<br \/>blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most<br \/>opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the<br \/>picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How<br \/>does that grab you?\"<br \/>\"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"<br \/>\"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some<br \/>confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"<br \/>\"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came<br \/>here in. You want me—\"<br \/>\"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"<br \/>\"Huh?\"<br \/>\"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the<br \/>implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk.<br \/>The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a<br \/>time machine?\"<br \/>\"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"<br \/>The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused<br \/>up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea<br \/>you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back,<br \/>the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been<br \/>spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"<br \/>\"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"<br \/>\"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time<br \/>machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at<br \/>this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as<br \/>Endsville.\"<br \/>\"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he<br \/>could reach the machine and try a getaway—<br \/>\"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said,<br \/>following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch<br \/>yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm<br \/>afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best<br \/>introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth<br \/>Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop<br \/>new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire<br \/>Secondary Quadrant.\"<br \/>\"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That<br \/>has<br \/>to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just<br \/>materialize out of thin air like that.\"<br \/>\"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You<br \/>shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel,<br \/>that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll<br \/>make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good<br \/>condition for me. And in return—\"<br \/>\"<br \/>I'm<br \/>supposed to supply<br \/>you<br \/>with a time machine?\"<br \/>Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out,<br \/>Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal<br \/>entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some<br \/>embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr.<br \/>Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would<br \/>deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\"<br \/>The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the<br \/>desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.<br \/>\"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me<br \/>got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up<br \/>with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I<br \/>should say. What about it, Dan?\"<br \/>\"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"<br \/>\"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.<br \/>\"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.<br \/>Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.<br \/>\"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local<br \/>branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"<br \/>\"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"<br \/>\"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"<br \/>\"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He<br \/>took the directory, studied it.<br \/>\"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice<br \/>it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a<br \/>large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel<br \/>cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in<br \/>the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan.<br \/>Get a wiggle on.\"<br \/>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a<br \/>point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.<br \/>Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct<br \/>me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you<br \/>said.\"<br \/>\"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that<br \/>way.\"<br \/>Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.<br \/>Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan<br \/>looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.<br \/>\"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped<br \/>smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.<br \/>\"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to<br \/>get us to the right place.\"<br \/>\"Very well, Dan.\"<br \/>Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly<br \/>seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage<br \/>grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.<br \/>The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying<br \/>landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely<br \/>visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers<br \/>along both sides of the passage at once.<br \/>\"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines<br \/>employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"<br \/>\"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where<br \/>they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered<br \/>left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous<br \/>figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed<br \/>wrong—<br \/>The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.<br \/>Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete<br \/>walls, the barred door and—<br \/>\"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.<br \/>\"Grab him!\" someone yelled.<br \/>Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt<br \/>to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a<br \/>lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures<br \/>as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.<br \/>III<br \/>Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the<br \/>clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no<br \/>telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide<br \/>the carrier, then—<br \/>A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.<br \/>Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.<br \/>The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of<br \/>mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous<br \/>landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the<br \/>deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.<br \/>If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked<br \/>the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.<br \/>The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought<br \/>the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few<br \/>inches and cut the switch.<br \/>As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.<br \/>Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise<br \/>was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians<br \/>in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why<br \/>hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no<br \/>sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a<br \/>secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,<br \/>reached for the controls—<br \/>There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials<br \/>before him frosted over. There was a loud<br \/>pop!<br \/>like a flashbulb<br \/>exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle<br \/>which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded<br \/>to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a<br \/>tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.<br \/>Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,<br \/>the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly<br \/>red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat<br \/>pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set<br \/>yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in<br \/>a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.<br \/>\"<br \/>Alors, monsieur<br \/>,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in<br \/>a quick bow. \"<br \/>Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?<br \/>\"<br \/>\"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"<br \/>\"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.<br \/>Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class<br \/>five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"<br \/>Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to<br \/>stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"<br \/>\"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.<br \/>\"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"<br \/>\"Inter-what?\"<br \/>\"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our<br \/>language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"<br \/>\"What do you want with me?\"<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.783758Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:17:54.461564Z","inner_id":132,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":131,"annotations":[{"id":17,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dennis' ship crashed.\nContextualized = The ship crashed.\nSpan = The ship crashed\nSupport = The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action, too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent a crash. The crash-landing had not helped either.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Dennis' ship found themselves in a place without any chance to escape from.\nContextualized = The crew found itself in a place without any chance to escape from.\nSpan = the crew found itself in a place without any chance to escape from\nSupport = Think we can patch her up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\" That parting shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the emergency tank to make it down here! You mean we're stuck in this hellish rock-pile?\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Captain Dennis ordered to expore the place and find out what happened to Koerber.\nContextualized = The captain ordered to explore the place and see what happened to Koerber.\nSpan = The captain ordered to explore the place and see what happened to Koerber for sure\nSupport = I've got a few entries to make in the log book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try to find out what happened to Koerber's ship.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Some crew members would be welding the ship for repairs.\nContextualized = Others will be welding.\nSpan = while others will be welding\nSupport = \"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom, you get the welders ready.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = The crew reentered the ship.\nContextualized = The crew reentered the ship.\nSpan = the crew reentered the ship\nSupport = One by one they re-entered the cruiser.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"NYLIfTTc2L","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T16:46:42.552697Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:16:12.987446Z","lead_time":756.369,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":131,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake. Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him, a Martian attempted an attack. After a short fight, Dennis overcame the Martian who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon and supposedly was a space pirate. After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander and told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared, supposedly captured by Koerber, the head of pirates. Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader and the commander gave him this chance. They watched a recording of Marla's spaceship zig-zagging and being attacked, which ended with a blank screen. Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser. After a long search without success, something appeared on the visa-screen and the crew prepared to board. Nevertheless, no survivors were found and the Captain, Dennis, was out of hope. Everyone left in silence the spot of the tragedy of the attacked spacer. Back on the ship, one of the crew, George Randall, gladly informed that an object was detected. The crew rushed for the object which indeed turned out to be a pirate craft trying to escape the persecutor. Koerber's ship was soon doomed and he caught Dennis' ship with a beam to follow.","reference":"The ship crashed and the crew found itself in a place without any chance to escape from. The captain ordered to explore the place and see what happened to Koerber for sure, while others will be welding, and the crew reentered the ship.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE SOUL EATERS<br \/>By WILLIAM CONOVER<br \/>Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance<br \/>to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose<br \/>ships were the scourge of the Void. But his<br \/>luck had run its course, and now he was<br \/>marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save<br \/>himself from a menace weapons could not kill.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories Fall 1944.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>\"<br \/>And so, my dear<br \/>,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"<br \/>I'm<br \/>afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or<br \/>is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,<br \/>you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,<br \/>there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've<br \/>accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.<br \/>\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last<br \/>letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they<br \/>never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as<br \/>the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a<br \/>perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.<br \/>The barbaric rhythms of the<br \/>Congahua<br \/>, were a background of annoyance<br \/>in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian<br \/>dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,<br \/>began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,<br \/>in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left<br \/>him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts<br \/>in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not<br \/>to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom<br \/>upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one<br \/>solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.<br \/>Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.<br \/>When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of<br \/>Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not<br \/>fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.<br \/>True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his<br \/>fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian<br \/>Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been<br \/>ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers<br \/>that almost surrounded the space pirate.<br \/>A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every<br \/>dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use<br \/>of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as<br \/>if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's<br \/>soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality<br \/>under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.<br \/>It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a<br \/>fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a<br \/>sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and<br \/>most of his heart in Marla.<br \/>Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the<br \/>insidious<br \/>Verbena<br \/>, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty<br \/>glass of Martian<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel<br \/>eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a<br \/>young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in<br \/>those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?<br \/>Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger<br \/>brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could<br \/>instantly denote.<br \/>His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed<br \/>slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this<br \/>Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter<br \/>had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad<br \/>semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in<br \/>a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and<br \/>tilted back invitingly.<br \/>Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the<br \/>handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the<br \/>tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,<br \/>and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his<br \/>feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one<br \/>side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis<br \/>Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl<br \/>cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was<br \/>not there.<br \/>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided<br \/>the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and<br \/>planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all<br \/>Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the<br \/>Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin<br \/>that staggered and all but dropped him.<br \/>The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back<br \/>and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he<br \/>was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for<br \/>Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took<br \/>it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over<br \/>with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and<br \/>spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly<br \/>sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.<br \/>Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international<br \/>police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,<br \/>the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his<br \/>left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the<br \/>interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still<br \/>without the law were known to possess them.<br \/>\"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,<br \/>Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If<br \/>I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.<br \/>Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have<br \/>in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records<br \/>on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they<br \/>have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian<br \/>embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of<br \/>red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black<br \/>acerine<br \/>on his finger.<br \/>Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to<br \/>shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved<br \/>his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of<br \/>Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know<br \/>Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"<br \/>He reached for his glass of<br \/>Verbena<br \/>but the table had turned over<br \/>during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the<br \/>venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the<br \/>guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who<br \/>was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive<br \/>Palace.<br \/>\"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said<br \/>gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the<br \/>credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a<br \/>hoodoo!\"<br \/>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil<br \/>desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot<br \/>four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as<br \/>if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a<br \/>decision, he were forcing himself to speak:<br \/>\"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for<br \/>two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of<br \/>Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of<br \/>piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not<br \/>really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had<br \/>to say were difficult indeed.<br \/>\"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a<br \/>delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and<br \/>very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,<br \/>\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing<br \/>her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.<br \/>Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days<br \/>overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold<br \/>millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel<br \/>eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits<br \/>that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,<br \/>while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel<br \/>precision.<br \/>\"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power<br \/>of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an<br \/>atom-blast.<br \/>\"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of<br \/>emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and<br \/>that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known<br \/>every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.<br \/>\"Commander, give me one ...<br \/>one<br \/>chance at that spawn of unthinkable<br \/>begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis<br \/>was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface<br \/>of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you<br \/>Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"<br \/>Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that<br \/>purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where<br \/>the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"<br \/>He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set<br \/>on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see<br \/>a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left<br \/>Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel<br \/>in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your<br \/>chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began<br \/>to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer<br \/>up-tilted in its cradle.<br \/>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into<br \/>space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of<br \/>Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.<br \/>A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on<br \/>the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud<br \/>interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,<br \/>and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved<br \/>as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining<br \/>altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic<br \/>course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's<br \/>side.<br \/>Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in<br \/>actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it<br \/>was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with<br \/>deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of<br \/>the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.<br \/>Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose<br \/>features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor<br \/>and the burning fire in his eyes.<br \/>\"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach<br \/>Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other<br \/>transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes<br \/>they're never seen again.\"<br \/>\"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin<br \/>of ice.<br \/>\"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with<br \/>double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed<br \/>of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses<br \/>anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination<br \/>room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He<br \/>extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your<br \/>recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of<br \/>an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"<br \/>II<br \/>Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a<br \/>phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally<br \/>elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of<br \/>fathomless space.<br \/>To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first<br \/>assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the<br \/>inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance<br \/>against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even<br \/>their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked<br \/>the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol<br \/>spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was<br \/>hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a<br \/>thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the<br \/>comfortable luxury that they knew.<br \/>Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,<br \/>manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and<br \/>eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.<br \/>And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search<br \/>as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the<br \/>viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to<br \/>life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured<br \/>the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the<br \/>viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and<br \/>becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.<br \/>Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke<br \/>commanded through the teleradio from the control room:<br \/>\"Prepare to board!\"<br \/>Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for<br \/>all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his<br \/>apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt<br \/>nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of<br \/>space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale<br \/>when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who<br \/>were to go beside himself:<br \/>\"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"<br \/>\"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in<br \/>his basso-profundo voice.<br \/>\"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice<br \/>of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test<br \/>oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"<br \/>George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the<br \/>space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a<br \/>proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he<br \/>turned away with a look of shame.<br \/>Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed<br \/>survey.<br \/>\"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo<br \/>missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were<br \/>out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been<br \/>fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly<br \/>he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.<br \/>Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,<br \/>where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great<br \/>resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.<br \/>Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in<br \/>thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice<br \/>was harsh, laconic:<br \/>\"Prepare to return!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a<br \/>major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,<br \/>shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and<br \/>gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various<br \/>versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit<br \/>in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.<br \/>Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,<br \/>easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the<br \/>swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of<br \/>men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third<br \/>lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed<br \/>by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as<br \/>if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched<br \/>them intimately.<br \/>Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George<br \/>Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the<br \/>airlocks and removed the space suits.<br \/>\"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet<br \/>Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was<br \/>fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the<br \/>new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great<br \/>distance were his own achievement.<br \/>Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he<br \/>prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger<br \/>spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp<br \/>39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None<br \/>but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the<br \/>dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric<br \/>uncharted orbits.<br \/>Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,<br \/>followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was<br \/>anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded<br \/>powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.<br \/>Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:<br \/>\"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved<br \/>motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each<br \/>member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action<br \/>impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed<br \/>relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men<br \/>suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.<br \/>All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped<br \/>his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.<br \/>uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to<br \/>keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.<br \/>In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched<br \/>the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with<br \/>anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at<br \/>last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally<br \/>reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by<br \/>leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the<br \/>distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.<br \/>But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,<br \/>unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden<br \/>maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described<br \/>a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if<br \/>navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the<br \/>asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose<br \/>the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have<br \/>succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such<br \/>a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the<br \/>chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he<br \/>could take Koerber with him.<br \/>Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his<br \/>quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo<br \/>from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up<br \/>spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.<br \/>From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain<br \/>of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward<br \/>midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been<br \/>mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power<br \/>dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as<br \/>he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was<br \/>ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under<br \/>the detonating impact.<br \/>It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming<br \/>immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom<br \/>desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,<br \/>but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no<br \/>avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was<br \/>doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful<br \/>magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.<br \/>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis<br \/>maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he<br \/>sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the<br \/>maneuver avoided it.<br \/>\"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all<br \/>jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed<br \/>out of the increasing gravity trap.<br \/>\"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the<br \/>jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then<br \/>Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,<br \/>forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of<br \/>a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that<br \/>shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.<br \/>Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to<br \/>meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.<br \/>It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.<br \/>Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this<br \/>unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time<br \/>was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could<br \/>possibly explain the incredible gravity.<br \/>And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to<br \/>Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes<br \/>himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,<br \/>too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent<br \/>a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding<br \/>them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.<br \/>III<br \/>The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided<br \/>a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,<br \/>the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,<br \/>was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against<br \/>the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in<br \/>the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could<br \/>reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.<br \/>\"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he<br \/>turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her<br \/>up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"<br \/>Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into<br \/>the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower<br \/>petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.<br \/>\"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,<br \/>but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.<br \/>\"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his<br \/>ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.<br \/>\"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting<br \/>shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the<br \/>emergency tank to make it down here!\"<br \/>For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis<br \/>Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom<br \/>tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed<br \/>mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,<br \/>ragged line of cliffs.<br \/>\"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing<br \/>a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast<br \/>and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"<br \/>\"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in<br \/>this hellish rock-pile?\"<br \/>\"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,<br \/>impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"<br \/>\"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His<br \/>contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who<br \/>failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place<br \/>in the I.S.P.<br \/>\"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said<br \/>thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"<br \/>\"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for<br \/>our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal<br \/>optimist.<br \/>\"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,<br \/>you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log<br \/>book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try<br \/>to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a<br \/>low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.<br \/>A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear<br \/>the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead<br \/>bumped during the crash landing.<br \/>\"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.<br \/>\"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you<br \/>wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"<br \/>\"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding<br \/>job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the<br \/>words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His<br \/>candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage<br \/>with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened<br \/>the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized<br \/>this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better<br \/>men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had<br \/>been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in<br \/>the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung<br \/>his neck!<br \/>\"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll<br \/>need all hands now.\"<br \/>\"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his<br \/>mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon<br \/>him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.<br \/>\"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook<br \/>his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin<br \/>shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.<br \/>\"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.<br \/>\"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in<br \/>this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"<br \/>\"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds<br \/>on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.<br \/>Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat<br \/>a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they<br \/>re-entered the cruiser.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.783614Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:16:13.038115Z","inner_id":131,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":130,"annotations":[{"id":16,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = The crew rushed to find the object that had been detected.\nContextualized = The crew rushed for the object.\nSpan = The crew rushed for the object\nSupport = \"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\" Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. It grew by leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = The object detected turned out to be a pirate craft.\nContextualized = The object indeed turned out to be a pirate craft.\nSpan = which indeed turned out to be a pirate craft\nSupport = But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen, unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = The pirate craft was trying to escape the cruiser.\nContextualized = The pirate craft was trying to escape the persecutor.\nSpan = pirate craft trying to escape the persecutor\nSupport = As if navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such a trap without specific orders.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Koerber's pirate ship was soon doomed.\nContextualized = Koerber's ship was soon doomed.\nSpan = Koerber's ship was soon doomed\nSupport = He saw the pirate cruiser zoom desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass, but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no avail. Sensing he was doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Koerber's ship caught Dennis' ship with a beam to follow.\nContextualized = He caught Dennis' ship with a beam to follow.\nSpan = he caught Dennis' ship with a beam to follow.\nSupport = It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser. Then Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught, forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of a whiplash.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"xZkkc37z_E","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T16:40:13.297411Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:09:34.892132Z","lead_time":1291.153,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":130,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake. Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him, a Martian attempted an attack. After a short fight, Dennis overcame the Martian who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon and supposedly was a space pirate. After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander and told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared, supposedly captured by Koerber, the head of pirates. Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader and the commander gave him this chance. They watched a recording of Marla's spaceship zig-zagging and being attacked, which ended with a blank screen. Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser. After a long search without success, something appeared on the visa-screen and the crew prepared to board. Nevertheless, no survivors were found and the Captain, Dennis, was out of hope. Everyone left in silence the spot of the tragedy of the attacked spacer. Back on the ship, one of the crew, George Randall, gladly informed that an object was detected.","reference":"The crew rushed for the object which indeed turned out to be a pirate craft trying to escape the persecutor. Koerber's ship was soon doomed and he caught Dennis' ship with a beam to follow.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE SOUL EATERS<br \/>By WILLIAM CONOVER<br \/>Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance<br \/>to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose<br \/>ships were the scourge of the Void. But his<br \/>luck had run its course, and now he was<br \/>marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save<br \/>himself from a menace weapons could not kill.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories Fall 1944.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>\"<br \/>And so, my dear<br \/>,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"<br \/>I'm<br \/>afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or<br \/>is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,<br \/>you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,<br \/>there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've<br \/>accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.<br \/>\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last<br \/>letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they<br \/>never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as<br \/>the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a<br \/>perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.<br \/>The barbaric rhythms of the<br \/>Congahua<br \/>, were a background of annoyance<br \/>in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian<br \/>dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,<br \/>began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,<br \/>in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left<br \/>him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts<br \/>in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not<br \/>to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom<br \/>upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one<br \/>solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.<br \/>Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.<br \/>When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of<br \/>Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not<br \/>fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.<br \/>True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his<br \/>fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian<br \/>Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been<br \/>ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers<br \/>that almost surrounded the space pirate.<br \/>A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every<br \/>dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use<br \/>of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as<br \/>if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's<br \/>soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality<br \/>under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.<br \/>It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a<br \/>fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a<br \/>sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and<br \/>most of his heart in Marla.<br \/>Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the<br \/>insidious<br \/>Verbena<br \/>, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty<br \/>glass of Martian<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel<br \/>eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a<br \/>young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in<br \/>those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?<br \/>Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger<br \/>brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could<br \/>instantly denote.<br \/>His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed<br \/>slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this<br \/>Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter<br \/>had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad<br \/>semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in<br \/>a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and<br \/>tilted back invitingly.<br \/>Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the<br \/>handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the<br \/>tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,<br \/>and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his<br \/>feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one<br \/>side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis<br \/>Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl<br \/>cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was<br \/>not there.<br \/>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided<br \/>the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and<br \/>planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all<br \/>Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the<br \/>Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin<br \/>that staggered and all but dropped him.<br \/>The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back<br \/>and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he<br \/>was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for<br \/>Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took<br \/>it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over<br \/>with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and<br \/>spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly<br \/>sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.<br \/>Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international<br \/>police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,<br \/>the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his<br \/>left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the<br \/>interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still<br \/>without the law were known to possess them.<br \/>\"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,<br \/>Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If<br \/>I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.<br \/>Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have<br \/>in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records<br \/>on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they<br \/>have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian<br \/>embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of<br \/>red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black<br \/>acerine<br \/>on his finger.<br \/>Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to<br \/>shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved<br \/>his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of<br \/>Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know<br \/>Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"<br \/>He reached for his glass of<br \/>Verbena<br \/>but the table had turned over<br \/>during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the<br \/>venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the<br \/>guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who<br \/>was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive<br \/>Palace.<br \/>\"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said<br \/>gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the<br \/>credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a<br \/>hoodoo!\"<br \/>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil<br \/>desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot<br \/>four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as<br \/>if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a<br \/>decision, he were forcing himself to speak:<br \/>\"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for<br \/>two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of<br \/>Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of<br \/>piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not<br \/>really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had<br \/>to say were difficult indeed.<br \/>\"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a<br \/>delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and<br \/>very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,<br \/>\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing<br \/>her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.<br \/>Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days<br \/>overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold<br \/>millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel<br \/>eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits<br \/>that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,<br \/>while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel<br \/>precision.<br \/>\"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power<br \/>of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an<br \/>atom-blast.<br \/>\"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of<br \/>emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and<br \/>that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known<br \/>every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.<br \/>\"Commander, give me one ...<br \/>one<br \/>chance at that spawn of unthinkable<br \/>begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis<br \/>was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface<br \/>of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you<br \/>Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"<br \/>Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that<br \/>purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where<br \/>the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"<br \/>He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set<br \/>on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see<br \/>a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left<br \/>Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel<br \/>in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your<br \/>chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began<br \/>to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer<br \/>up-tilted in its cradle.<br \/>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into<br \/>space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of<br \/>Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.<br \/>A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on<br \/>the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud<br \/>interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,<br \/>and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved<br \/>as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining<br \/>altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic<br \/>course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's<br \/>side.<br \/>Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in<br \/>actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it<br \/>was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with<br \/>deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of<br \/>the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.<br \/>Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose<br \/>features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor<br \/>and the burning fire in his eyes.<br \/>\"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach<br \/>Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other<br \/>transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes<br \/>they're never seen again.\"<br \/>\"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin<br \/>of ice.<br \/>\"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with<br \/>double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed<br \/>of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses<br \/>anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination<br \/>room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He<br \/>extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your<br \/>recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of<br \/>an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"<br \/>II<br \/>Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a<br \/>phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally<br \/>elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of<br \/>fathomless space.<br \/>To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first<br \/>assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the<br \/>inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance<br \/>against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even<br \/>their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked<br \/>the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol<br \/>spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was<br \/>hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a<br \/>thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the<br \/>comfortable luxury that they knew.<br \/>Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,<br \/>manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and<br \/>eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.<br \/>And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search<br \/>as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the<br \/>viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to<br \/>life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured<br \/>the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the<br \/>viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and<br \/>becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.<br \/>Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke<br \/>commanded through the teleradio from the control room:<br \/>\"Prepare to board!\"<br \/>Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for<br \/>all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his<br \/>apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt<br \/>nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of<br \/>space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale<br \/>when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who<br \/>were to go beside himself:<br \/>\"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"<br \/>\"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in<br \/>his basso-profundo voice.<br \/>\"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice<br \/>of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test<br \/>oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"<br \/>George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the<br \/>space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a<br \/>proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he<br \/>turned away with a look of shame.<br \/>Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed<br \/>survey.<br \/>\"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo<br \/>missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were<br \/>out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been<br \/>fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly<br \/>he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.<br \/>Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,<br \/>where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great<br \/>resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.<br \/>Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in<br \/>thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice<br \/>was harsh, laconic:<br \/>\"Prepare to return!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a<br \/>major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,<br \/>shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and<br \/>gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various<br \/>versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit<br \/>in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.<br \/>Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,<br \/>easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the<br \/>swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of<br \/>men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third<br \/>lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed<br \/>by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as<br \/>if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched<br \/>them intimately.<br \/>Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George<br \/>Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the<br \/>airlocks and removed the space suits.<br \/>\"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet<br \/>Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was<br \/>fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the<br \/>new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great<br \/>distance were his own achievement.<br \/>Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he<br \/>prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger<br \/>spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp<br \/>39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None<br \/>but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the<br \/>dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric<br \/>uncharted orbits.<br \/>Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,<br \/>followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was<br \/>anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded<br \/>powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.<br \/>Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:<br \/>\"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved<br \/>motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each<br \/>member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action<br \/>impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed<br \/>relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men<br \/>suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.<br \/>All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped<br \/>his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.<br \/>uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to<br \/>keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.<br \/>In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched<br \/>the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with<br \/>anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at<br \/>last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally<br \/>reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by<br \/>leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the<br \/>distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.<br \/>But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,<br \/>unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden<br \/>maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described<br \/>a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if<br \/>navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the<br \/>asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose<br \/>the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have<br \/>succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such<br \/>a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the<br \/>chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he<br \/>could take Koerber with him.<br \/>Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his<br \/>quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo<br \/>from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up<br \/>spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.<br \/>From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain<br \/>of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward<br \/>midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been<br \/>mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power<br \/>dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as<br \/>he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was<br \/>ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under<br \/>the detonating impact.<br \/>It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming<br \/>immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom<br \/>desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,<br \/>but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no<br \/>avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was<br \/>doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful<br \/>magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.<br \/>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis<br \/>maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he<br \/>sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the<br \/>maneuver avoided it.<br \/>\"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all<br \/>jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed<br \/>out of the increasing gravity trap.<br \/>\"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the<br \/>jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then<br \/>Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,<br \/>forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of<br \/>a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that<br \/>shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.<br \/>Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to<br \/>meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.<br \/>It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.<br \/>Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this<br \/>unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time<br \/>was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could<br \/>possibly explain the incredible gravity.<br \/>And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to<br \/>Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes<br \/>himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,<br \/>too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent<br \/>a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding<br \/>them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.<br \/>III<br \/>The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided<br \/>a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,<br \/>the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,<br \/>was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against<br \/>the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in<br \/>the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could<br \/>reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.<br \/>\"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he<br \/>turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her<br \/>up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"<br \/>Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into<br \/>the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower<br \/>petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.<br \/>\"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,<br \/>but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.<br \/>\"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his<br \/>ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.<br \/>\"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting<br \/>shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the<br \/>emergency tank to make it down here!\"<br \/>For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis<br \/>Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom<br \/>tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed<br \/>mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,<br \/>ragged line of cliffs.<br \/>\"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing<br \/>a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast<br \/>and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"<br \/>\"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in<br \/>this hellish rock-pile?\"<br \/>\"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,<br \/>impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"<br \/>\"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His<br \/>contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who<br \/>failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place<br \/>in the I.S.P.<br \/>\"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said<br \/>thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"<br \/>\"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for<br \/>our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal<br \/>optimist.<br \/>\"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,<br \/>you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log<br \/>book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try<br \/>to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a<br \/>low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.<br \/>A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear<br \/>the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead<br \/>bumped during the crash landing.<br \/>\"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.<br \/>\"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you<br \/>wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"<br \/>\"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding<br \/>job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the<br \/>words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His<br \/>candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage<br \/>with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened<br \/>the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized<br \/>this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better<br \/>men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had<br \/>been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in<br \/>the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung<br \/>his neck!<br \/>\"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll<br \/>need all hands now.\"<br \/>\"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his<br \/>mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon<br \/>him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.<br \/>\"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook<br \/>his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin<br \/>shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.<br \/>\"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.<br \/>\"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in<br \/>this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"<br \/>\"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds<br \/>on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.<br \/>Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat<br \/>a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they<br \/>re-entered the cruiser.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.783462Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:09:34.943217Z","inner_id":130,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":129,"annotations":[{"id":15,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Everyone in Dennis' crew left the attacked spacer in silence.\nContextualized = Everyone left in silence the spot of the tragedy of the attacked spacer.\nSpan = Everyone left in silence the spot of the tragedy of the attacked spacer\nSupport = All left in silence, as if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched them intimately.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = George Randall is one of Dennis' crew members.\nContextualized = One of the crew was George Randall.\nSpan = one of the crew, George Randall\nSupport = Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = George Randall gladly informed the crew that an object had been detected.\nContextualized = George Randall gladly informed that an object was detected.\nSpan = gladly informed that an object was detected.\nSupport = Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"osHxCmfA4A","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T16:25:08.419527Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:04:10.441402Z","lead_time":804.6750000000001,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":129,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake. Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him, a Martian attempted an attack. After a short fight, Dennis overcame the Martian who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon and supposedly was a space pirate. After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander and told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared, supposedly captured by Koerber, the head of pirates. Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader and the commander gave him this chance. They watched a recording of Marla's spaceship zig-zagging and being attacked, which ended with a blank screen. Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser. After a long search without success, something appeared on the visa-screen and the crew prepared to board. Nevertheless, no survivors were found and the Captain, Dennis, was out of hope.","reference":"Everyone left in silence the spot of the tragedy of the attacked spacer. Back on the ship, one of the crew, George Randall, gladly informed that an object was detected.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE SOUL EATERS<br \/>By WILLIAM CONOVER<br \/>Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance<br \/>to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose<br \/>ships were the scourge of the Void. But his<br \/>luck had run its course, and now he was<br \/>marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save<br \/>himself from a menace weapons could not kill.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories Fall 1944.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>\"<br \/>And so, my dear<br \/>,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"<br \/>I'm<br \/>afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or<br \/>is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,<br \/>you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,<br \/>there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've<br \/>accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.<br \/>\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last<br \/>letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they<br \/>never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as<br \/>the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a<br \/>perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.<br \/>The barbaric rhythms of the<br \/>Congahua<br \/>, were a background of annoyance<br \/>in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian<br \/>dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,<br \/>began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,<br \/>in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left<br \/>him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts<br \/>in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not<br \/>to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom<br \/>upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one<br \/>solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.<br \/>Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.<br \/>When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of<br \/>Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not<br \/>fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.<br \/>True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his<br \/>fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian<br \/>Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been<br \/>ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers<br \/>that almost surrounded the space pirate.<br \/>A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every<br \/>dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use<br \/>of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as<br \/>if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's<br \/>soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality<br \/>under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.<br \/>It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a<br \/>fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a<br \/>sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and<br \/>most of his heart in Marla.<br \/>Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the<br \/>insidious<br \/>Verbena<br \/>, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty<br \/>glass of Martian<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel<br \/>eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a<br \/>young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in<br \/>those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?<br \/>Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger<br \/>brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could<br \/>instantly denote.<br \/>His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed<br \/>slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this<br \/>Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter<br \/>had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad<br \/>semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in<br \/>a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and<br \/>tilted back invitingly.<br \/>Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the<br \/>handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the<br \/>tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,<br \/>and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his<br \/>feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one<br \/>side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis<br \/>Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl<br \/>cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was<br \/>not there.<br \/>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided<br \/>the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and<br \/>planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all<br \/>Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the<br \/>Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin<br \/>that staggered and all but dropped him.<br \/>The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back<br \/>and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he<br \/>was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for<br \/>Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took<br \/>it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over<br \/>with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and<br \/>spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly<br \/>sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.<br \/>Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international<br \/>police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,<br \/>the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his<br \/>left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the<br \/>interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still<br \/>without the law were known to possess them.<br \/>\"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,<br \/>Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If<br \/>I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.<br \/>Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have<br \/>in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records<br \/>on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they<br \/>have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian<br \/>embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of<br \/>red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black<br \/>acerine<br \/>on his finger.<br \/>Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to<br \/>shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved<br \/>his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of<br \/>Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know<br \/>Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"<br \/>He reached for his glass of<br \/>Verbena<br \/>but the table had turned over<br \/>during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the<br \/>venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the<br \/>guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who<br \/>was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive<br \/>Palace.<br \/>\"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said<br \/>gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the<br \/>credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a<br \/>hoodoo!\"<br \/>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil<br \/>desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot<br \/>four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as<br \/>if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a<br \/>decision, he were forcing himself to speak:<br \/>\"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for<br \/>two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of<br \/>Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of<br \/>piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not<br \/>really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had<br \/>to say were difficult indeed.<br \/>\"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a<br \/>delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and<br \/>very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,<br \/>\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing<br \/>her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.<br \/>Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days<br \/>overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold<br \/>millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel<br \/>eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits<br \/>that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,<br \/>while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel<br \/>precision.<br \/>\"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power<br \/>of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an<br \/>atom-blast.<br \/>\"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of<br \/>emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and<br \/>that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known<br \/>every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.<br \/>\"Commander, give me one ...<br \/>one<br \/>chance at that spawn of unthinkable<br \/>begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis<br \/>was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface<br \/>of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you<br \/>Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"<br \/>Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that<br \/>purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where<br \/>the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"<br \/>He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set<br \/>on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see<br \/>a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left<br \/>Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel<br \/>in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your<br \/>chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began<br \/>to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer<br \/>up-tilted in its cradle.<br \/>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into<br \/>space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of<br \/>Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.<br \/>A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on<br \/>the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud<br \/>interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,<br \/>and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved<br \/>as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining<br \/>altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic<br \/>course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's<br \/>side.<br \/>Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in<br \/>actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it<br \/>was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with<br \/>deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of<br \/>the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.<br \/>Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose<br \/>features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor<br \/>and the burning fire in his eyes.<br \/>\"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach<br \/>Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other<br \/>transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes<br \/>they're never seen again.\"<br \/>\"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin<br \/>of ice.<br \/>\"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with<br \/>double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed<br \/>of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses<br \/>anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination<br \/>room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He<br \/>extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your<br \/>recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of<br \/>an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"<br \/>II<br \/>Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a<br \/>phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally<br \/>elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of<br \/>fathomless space.<br \/>To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first<br \/>assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the<br \/>inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance<br \/>against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even<br \/>their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked<br \/>the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol<br \/>spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was<br \/>hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a<br \/>thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the<br \/>comfortable luxury that they knew.<br \/>Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,<br \/>manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and<br \/>eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.<br \/>And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search<br \/>as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the<br \/>viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to<br \/>life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured<br \/>the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the<br \/>viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and<br \/>becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.<br \/>Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke<br \/>commanded through the teleradio from the control room:<br \/>\"Prepare to board!\"<br \/>Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for<br \/>all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his<br \/>apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt<br \/>nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of<br \/>space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale<br \/>when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who<br \/>were to go beside himself:<br \/>\"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"<br \/>\"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in<br \/>his basso-profundo voice.<br \/>\"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice<br \/>of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test<br \/>oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"<br \/>George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the<br \/>space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a<br \/>proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he<br \/>turned away with a look of shame.<br \/>Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed<br \/>survey.<br \/>\"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo<br \/>missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were<br \/>out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been<br \/>fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly<br \/>he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.<br \/>Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,<br \/>where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great<br \/>resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.<br \/>Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in<br \/>thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice<br \/>was harsh, laconic:<br \/>\"Prepare to return!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a<br \/>major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,<br \/>shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and<br \/>gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various<br \/>versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit<br \/>in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.<br \/>Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,<br \/>easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the<br \/>swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of<br \/>men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third<br \/>lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed<br \/>by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as<br \/>if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched<br \/>them intimately.<br \/>Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George<br \/>Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the<br \/>airlocks and removed the space suits.<br \/>\"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet<br \/>Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was<br \/>fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the<br \/>new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great<br \/>distance were his own achievement.<br \/>Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he<br \/>prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger<br \/>spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp<br \/>39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None<br \/>but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the<br \/>dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric<br \/>uncharted orbits.<br \/>Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,<br \/>followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was<br \/>anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded<br \/>powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.<br \/>Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:<br \/>\"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved<br \/>motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each<br \/>member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action<br \/>impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed<br \/>relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men<br \/>suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.<br \/>All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped<br \/>his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.<br \/>uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to<br \/>keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.<br \/>In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched<br \/>the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with<br \/>anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at<br \/>last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally<br \/>reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by<br \/>leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the<br \/>distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.<br \/>But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,<br \/>unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden<br \/>maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described<br \/>a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if<br \/>navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the<br \/>asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose<br \/>the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have<br \/>succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such<br \/>a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the<br \/>chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he<br \/>could take Koerber with him.<br \/>Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his<br \/>quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo<br \/>from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up<br \/>spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.<br \/>From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain<br \/>of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward<br \/>midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been<br \/>mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power<br \/>dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as<br \/>he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was<br \/>ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under<br \/>the detonating impact.<br \/>It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming<br \/>immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom<br \/>desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,<br \/>but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no<br \/>avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was<br \/>doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful<br \/>magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.<br \/>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis<br \/>maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he<br \/>sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the<br \/>maneuver avoided it.<br \/>\"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all<br \/>jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed<br \/>out of the increasing gravity trap.<br \/>\"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the<br \/>jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then<br \/>Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,<br \/>forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of<br \/>a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that<br \/>shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.<br \/>Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to<br \/>meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.<br \/>It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.<br \/>Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this<br \/>unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time<br \/>was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could<br \/>possibly explain the incredible gravity.<br \/>And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to<br \/>Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes<br \/>himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,<br \/>too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent<br \/>a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding<br \/>them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.<br \/>III<br \/>The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided<br \/>a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,<br \/>the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,<br \/>was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against<br \/>the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in<br \/>the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could<br \/>reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.<br \/>\"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he<br \/>turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her<br \/>up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"<br \/>Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into<br \/>the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower<br \/>petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.<br \/>\"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,<br \/>but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.<br \/>\"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his<br \/>ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.<br \/>\"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting<br \/>shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the<br \/>emergency tank to make it down here!\"<br \/>For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis<br \/>Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom<br \/>tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed<br \/>mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,<br \/>ragged line of cliffs.<br \/>\"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing<br \/>a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast<br \/>and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"<br \/>\"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in<br \/>this hellish rock-pile?\"<br \/>\"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,<br \/>impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"<br \/>\"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His<br \/>contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who<br \/>failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place<br \/>in the I.S.P.<br \/>\"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said<br \/>thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"<br \/>\"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for<br \/>our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal<br \/>optimist.<br \/>\"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,<br \/>you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log<br \/>book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try<br \/>to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a<br \/>low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.<br \/>A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear<br \/>the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead<br \/>bumped during the crash landing.<br \/>\"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.<br \/>\"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you<br \/>wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"<br \/>\"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding<br \/>job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the<br \/>words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His<br \/>candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage<br \/>with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened<br \/>the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized<br \/>this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better<br \/>men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had<br \/>been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in<br \/>the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung<br \/>his neck!<br \/>\"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll<br \/>need all hands now.\"<br \/>\"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his<br \/>mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon<br \/>him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.<br \/>\"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook<br \/>his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin<br \/>shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.<br \/>\"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.<br \/>\"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in<br \/>this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"<br \/>\"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds<br \/>on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.<br \/>Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat<br \/>a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they<br \/>re-entered the cruiser.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.783320Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:04:10.487193Z","inner_id":129,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":128,"annotations":[{"id":14,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dennis conducted a long search with no success.\nContextualized = They did a long search without success.\nSpan = After a long search without success\nSupport = Days and days of fruitless search for a phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of fathomless space. Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits, manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Something appeared on the viso-screen of the cruiser.\nContextualized = Something appeared on the viso-screen.\nSpan = something appeared on the visa-screen\nSupport = And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the viso-screen in the control room. On the viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = The crew of the cruiser prepared to board the ship they found.\nContextualized = The crew prepared to board it.\nSpan = the crew prepared to board\nSupport = \"Prepare to board!\" Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = No survivors were found on the ship.\nContextualized = No survivors were found.\nSpan = Nevertheless, no survivors were found\nSupport = No survivors.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Captain Dennis was out of hope.\nContextualized = The Captain, Dennis, was out of hope.\nSpan = the Captain, Dennis, was out of hope.\nSupport = Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed, where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"gNHhWaSZJw","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T16:13:06.856613Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:02:57.189833Z","lead_time":511.86600000000004,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":128,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake. Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him, a Martian attempted an attack. After a short fight, Dennis overcame the Martian who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon and supposedly was a space pirate. After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander and told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared, supposedly captured by Koerber, the head of pirates. Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader and the commander gave him this chance. They watched a recording of Marla's spaceship zig-zagging and being attacked, which ended with a blank screen. Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser.","reference":"After a long search without success, something appeared on the visa-screen and the crew prepared to board. Nevertheless, no survivors were found and the Captain, Dennis, was out of hope.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE SOUL EATERS<br \/>By WILLIAM CONOVER<br \/>Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance<br \/>to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose<br \/>ships were the scourge of the Void. But his<br \/>luck had run its course, and now he was<br \/>marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save<br \/>himself from a menace weapons could not kill.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories Fall 1944.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>\"<br \/>And so, my dear<br \/>,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"<br \/>I'm<br \/>afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or<br \/>is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,<br \/>you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,<br \/>there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've<br \/>accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.<br \/>\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last<br \/>letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they<br \/>never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as<br \/>the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a<br \/>perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.<br \/>The barbaric rhythms of the<br \/>Congahua<br \/>, were a background of annoyance<br \/>in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian<br \/>dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,<br \/>began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,<br \/>in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left<br \/>him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts<br \/>in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not<br \/>to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom<br \/>upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one<br \/>solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.<br \/>Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.<br \/>When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of<br \/>Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not<br \/>fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.<br \/>True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his<br \/>fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian<br \/>Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been<br \/>ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers<br \/>that almost surrounded the space pirate.<br \/>A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every<br \/>dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use<br \/>of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as<br \/>if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's<br \/>soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality<br \/>under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.<br \/>It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a<br \/>fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a<br \/>sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and<br \/>most of his heart in Marla.<br \/>Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the<br \/>insidious<br \/>Verbena<br \/>, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty<br \/>glass of Martian<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel<br \/>eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a<br \/>young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in<br \/>those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?<br \/>Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger<br \/>brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could<br \/>instantly denote.<br \/>His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed<br \/>slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this<br \/>Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter<br \/>had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad<br \/>semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in<br \/>a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and<br \/>tilted back invitingly.<br \/>Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the<br \/>handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the<br \/>tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,<br \/>and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his<br \/>feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one<br \/>side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis<br \/>Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl<br \/>cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was<br \/>not there.<br \/>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided<br \/>the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and<br \/>planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all<br \/>Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the<br \/>Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin<br \/>that staggered and all but dropped him.<br \/>The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back<br \/>and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he<br \/>was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for<br \/>Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took<br \/>it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over<br \/>with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and<br \/>spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly<br \/>sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.<br \/>Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international<br \/>police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,<br \/>the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his<br \/>left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the<br \/>interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still<br \/>without the law were known to possess them.<br \/>\"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,<br \/>Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If<br \/>I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.<br \/>Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have<br \/>in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records<br \/>on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they<br \/>have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian<br \/>embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of<br \/>red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black<br \/>acerine<br \/>on his finger.<br \/>Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to<br \/>shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved<br \/>his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of<br \/>Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know<br \/>Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"<br \/>He reached for his glass of<br \/>Verbena<br \/>but the table had turned over<br \/>during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the<br \/>venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the<br \/>guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who<br \/>was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive<br \/>Palace.<br \/>\"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said<br \/>gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the<br \/>credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a<br \/>hoodoo!\"<br \/>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil<br \/>desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot<br \/>four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as<br \/>if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a<br \/>decision, he were forcing himself to speak:<br \/>\"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for<br \/>two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of<br \/>Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of<br \/>piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not<br \/>really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had<br \/>to say were difficult indeed.<br \/>\"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a<br \/>delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and<br \/>very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,<br \/>\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing<br \/>her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.<br \/>Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days<br \/>overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold<br \/>millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel<br \/>eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits<br \/>that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,<br \/>while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel<br \/>precision.<br \/>\"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power<br \/>of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an<br \/>atom-blast.<br \/>\"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of<br \/>emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and<br \/>that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known<br \/>every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.<br \/>\"Commander, give me one ...<br \/>one<br \/>chance at that spawn of unthinkable<br \/>begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis<br \/>was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface<br \/>of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you<br \/>Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"<br \/>Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that<br \/>purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where<br \/>the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"<br \/>He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set<br \/>on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see<br \/>a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left<br \/>Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel<br \/>in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your<br \/>chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began<br \/>to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer<br \/>up-tilted in its cradle.<br \/>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into<br \/>space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of<br \/>Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.<br \/>A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on<br \/>the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud<br \/>interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,<br \/>and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved<br \/>as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining<br \/>altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic<br \/>course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's<br \/>side.<br \/>Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in<br \/>actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it<br \/>was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with<br \/>deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of<br \/>the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.<br \/>Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose<br \/>features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor<br \/>and the burning fire in his eyes.<br \/>\"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach<br \/>Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other<br \/>transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes<br \/>they're never seen again.\"<br \/>\"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin<br \/>of ice.<br \/>\"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with<br \/>double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed<br \/>of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses<br \/>anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination<br \/>room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He<br \/>extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your<br \/>recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of<br \/>an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"<br \/>II<br \/>Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a<br \/>phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally<br \/>elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of<br \/>fathomless space.<br \/>To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first<br \/>assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the<br \/>inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance<br \/>against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even<br \/>their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked<br \/>the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol<br \/>spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was<br \/>hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a<br \/>thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the<br \/>comfortable luxury that they knew.<br \/>Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,<br \/>manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and<br \/>eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.<br \/>And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search<br \/>as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the<br \/>viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to<br \/>life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured<br \/>the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the<br \/>viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and<br \/>becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.<br \/>Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke<br \/>commanded through the teleradio from the control room:<br \/>\"Prepare to board!\"<br \/>Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for<br \/>all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his<br \/>apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt<br \/>nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of<br \/>space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale<br \/>when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who<br \/>were to go beside himself:<br \/>\"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"<br \/>\"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in<br \/>his basso-profundo voice.<br \/>\"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice<br \/>of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test<br \/>oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"<br \/>George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the<br \/>space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a<br \/>proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he<br \/>turned away with a look of shame.<br \/>Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed<br \/>survey.<br \/>\"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo<br \/>missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were<br \/>out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been<br \/>fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly<br \/>he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.<br \/>Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,<br \/>where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great<br \/>resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.<br \/>Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in<br \/>thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice<br \/>was harsh, laconic:<br \/>\"Prepare to return!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a<br \/>major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,<br \/>shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and<br \/>gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various<br \/>versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit<br \/>in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.<br \/>Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,<br \/>easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the<br \/>swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of<br \/>men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third<br \/>lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed<br \/>by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as<br \/>if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched<br \/>them intimately.<br \/>Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George<br \/>Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the<br \/>airlocks and removed the space suits.<br \/>\"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet<br \/>Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was<br \/>fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the<br \/>new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great<br \/>distance were his own achievement.<br \/>Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he<br \/>prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger<br \/>spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp<br \/>39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None<br \/>but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the<br \/>dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric<br \/>uncharted orbits.<br \/>Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,<br \/>followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was<br \/>anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded<br \/>powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.<br \/>Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:<br \/>\"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved<br \/>motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each<br \/>member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action<br \/>impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed<br \/>relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men<br \/>suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.<br \/>All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped<br \/>his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.<br \/>uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to<br \/>keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.<br \/>In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched<br \/>the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with<br \/>anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at<br \/>last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally<br \/>reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by<br \/>leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the<br \/>distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.<br \/>But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,<br \/>unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden<br \/>maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described<br \/>a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if<br \/>navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the<br \/>asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose<br \/>the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have<br \/>succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such<br \/>a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the<br \/>chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he<br \/>could take Koerber with him.<br \/>Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his<br \/>quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo<br \/>from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up<br \/>spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.<br \/>From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain<br \/>of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward<br \/>midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been<br \/>mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power<br \/>dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as<br \/>he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was<br \/>ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under<br \/>the detonating impact.<br \/>It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming<br \/>immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom<br \/>desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,<br \/>but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no<br \/>avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was<br \/>doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful<br \/>magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.<br \/>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis<br \/>maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he<br \/>sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the<br \/>maneuver avoided it.<br \/>\"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all<br \/>jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed<br \/>out of the increasing gravity trap.<br \/>\"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the<br \/>jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then<br \/>Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,<br \/>forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of<br \/>a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that<br \/>shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.<br \/>Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to<br \/>meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.<br \/>It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.<br \/>Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this<br \/>unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time<br \/>was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could<br \/>possibly explain the incredible gravity.<br \/>And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to<br \/>Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes<br \/>himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,<br \/>too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent<br \/>a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding<br \/>them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.<br \/>III<br \/>The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided<br \/>a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,<br \/>the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,<br \/>was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against<br \/>the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in<br \/>the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could<br \/>reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.<br \/>\"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he<br \/>turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her<br \/>up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"<br \/>Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into<br \/>the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower<br \/>petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.<br \/>\"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,<br \/>but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.<br \/>\"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his<br \/>ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.<br \/>\"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting<br \/>shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the<br \/>emergency tank to make it down here!\"<br \/>For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis<br \/>Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom<br \/>tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed<br \/>mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,<br \/>ragged line of cliffs.<br \/>\"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing<br \/>a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast<br \/>and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"<br \/>\"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in<br \/>this hellish rock-pile?\"<br \/>\"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,<br \/>impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"<br \/>\"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His<br \/>contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who<br \/>failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place<br \/>in the I.S.P.<br \/>\"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said<br \/>thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"<br \/>\"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for<br \/>our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal<br \/>optimist.<br \/>\"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,<br \/>you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log<br \/>book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try<br \/>to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a<br \/>low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.<br \/>A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear<br \/>the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead<br \/>bumped during the crash landing.<br \/>\"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.<br \/>\"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you<br \/>wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"<br \/>\"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding<br \/>job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the<br \/>words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His<br \/>candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage<br \/>with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened<br \/>the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized<br \/>this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better<br \/>men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had<br \/>been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in<br \/>the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung<br \/>his neck!<br \/>\"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll<br \/>need all hands now.\"<br \/>\"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his<br \/>mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon<br \/>him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.<br \/>\"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook<br \/>his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin<br \/>shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.<br \/>\"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.<br \/>\"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in<br \/>this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"<br \/>\"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds<br \/>on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.<br \/>Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat<br \/>a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they<br \/>re-entered the cruiser.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.783179Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:02:57.243994Z","inner_id":128,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":127,"annotations":[{"id":13,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dennis and the I.S.P. commander watched a recording of Marla's spaceship.\nContextualized = They watched a recording of Marla's spaceship.\nSpan = They watched a recording of Marla's spaceshi\nSupport = You'll now see a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel in space. He fell silent, while the viso-screen began to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer up-tilted in its cradle.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = In the video, Marla's spaceship ziz-zagged.\nContextualized = Marla's spaceship zig-zagging.\nSpan = zig-zagging\nSupport = It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's side.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = In the video, Marla's spaceship was attacked.\nContextualized = Marla's spaceship was attacked.\nSpan = being attacked,\nSupport = Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = In the end, the video recording of Marla's spaceship turned blank.\nContextualized = It ended with a blank screen.\nSpan = which ended with a blank screen\nSupport = The great transport trembled under the impact of the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = After seeing the video, Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser.\nContextualized = Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser.\nSpan = Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser.\nSupport = \"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin of ice. \"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed of the thing that you'll want to know about.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"LspLGey0YX","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T16:07:01.459164Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:01:16.913447Z","lead_time":59149.721,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":127,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake. Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him, a Martian attempted an attack. After a short fight, Dennis overcame the Martian who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon and supposedly was a space pirate. After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander and told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared, supposedly captured by Koerber, the head of pirates. Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader and the commander gave him this chance.","reference":"They watched a recording of Marla's spaceship zig-zagging and being attacked, which ended with a blank screen. Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE SOUL EATERS<br \/>By WILLIAM CONOVER<br \/>Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance<br \/>to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose<br \/>ships were the scourge of the Void. But his<br \/>luck had run its course, and now he was<br \/>marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save<br \/>himself from a menace weapons could not kill.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories Fall 1944.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>\"<br \/>And so, my dear<br \/>,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"<br \/>I'm<br \/>afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or<br \/>is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,<br \/>you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,<br \/>there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've<br \/>accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.<br \/>\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last<br \/>letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they<br \/>never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as<br \/>the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a<br \/>perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.<br \/>The barbaric rhythms of the<br \/>Congahua<br \/>, were a background of annoyance<br \/>in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian<br \/>dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,<br \/>began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,<br \/>in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left<br \/>him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts<br \/>in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not<br \/>to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom<br \/>upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one<br \/>solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.<br \/>Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.<br \/>When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of<br \/>Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not<br \/>fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.<br \/>True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his<br \/>fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian<br \/>Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been<br \/>ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers<br \/>that almost surrounded the space pirate.<br \/>A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every<br \/>dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use<br \/>of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as<br \/>if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's<br \/>soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality<br \/>under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.<br \/>It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a<br \/>fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a<br \/>sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and<br \/>most of his heart in Marla.<br \/>Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the<br \/>insidious<br \/>Verbena<br \/>, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty<br \/>glass of Martian<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel<br \/>eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a<br \/>young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in<br \/>those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?<br \/>Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger<br \/>brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could<br \/>instantly denote.<br \/>His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed<br \/>slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this<br \/>Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter<br \/>had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad<br \/>semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in<br \/>a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and<br \/>tilted back invitingly.<br \/>Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the<br \/>handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the<br \/>tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,<br \/>and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his<br \/>feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one<br \/>side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis<br \/>Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl<br \/>cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was<br \/>not there.<br \/>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided<br \/>the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and<br \/>planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all<br \/>Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the<br \/>Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin<br \/>that staggered and all but dropped him.<br \/>The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back<br \/>and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he<br \/>was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for<br \/>Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took<br \/>it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over<br \/>with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and<br \/>spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly<br \/>sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.<br \/>Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international<br \/>police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,<br \/>the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his<br \/>left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the<br \/>interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still<br \/>without the law were known to possess them.<br \/>\"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,<br \/>Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If<br \/>I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.<br \/>Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have<br \/>in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records<br \/>on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they<br \/>have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian<br \/>embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of<br \/>red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black<br \/>acerine<br \/>on his finger.<br \/>Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to<br \/>shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved<br \/>his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of<br \/>Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know<br \/>Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"<br \/>He reached for his glass of<br \/>Verbena<br \/>but the table had turned over<br \/>during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the<br \/>venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the<br \/>guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who<br \/>was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive<br \/>Palace.<br \/>\"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said<br \/>gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the<br \/>credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a<br \/>hoodoo!\"<br \/>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil<br \/>desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot<br \/>four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as<br \/>if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a<br \/>decision, he were forcing himself to speak:<br \/>\"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for<br \/>two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of<br \/>Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of<br \/>piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not<br \/>really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had<br \/>to say were difficult indeed.<br \/>\"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a<br \/>delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and<br \/>very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,<br \/>\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing<br \/>her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.<br \/>Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days<br \/>overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold<br \/>millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel<br \/>eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits<br \/>that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,<br \/>while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel<br \/>precision.<br \/>\"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power<br \/>of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an<br \/>atom-blast.<br \/>\"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of<br \/>emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and<br \/>that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known<br \/>every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.<br \/>\"Commander, give me one ...<br \/>one<br \/>chance at that spawn of unthinkable<br \/>begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis<br \/>was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface<br \/>of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you<br \/>Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"<br \/>Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that<br \/>purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where<br \/>the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"<br \/>He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set<br \/>on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see<br \/>a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left<br \/>Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel<br \/>in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your<br \/>chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began<br \/>to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer<br \/>up-tilted in its cradle.<br \/>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into<br \/>space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of<br \/>Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.<br \/>A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on<br \/>the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud<br \/>interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,<br \/>and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved<br \/>as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining<br \/>altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic<br \/>course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's<br \/>side.<br \/>Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in<br \/>actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it<br \/>was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with<br \/>deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of<br \/>the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.<br \/>Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose<br \/>features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor<br \/>and the burning fire in his eyes.<br \/>\"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach<br \/>Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other<br \/>transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes<br \/>they're never seen again.\"<br \/>\"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin<br \/>of ice.<br \/>\"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with<br \/>double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed<br \/>of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses<br \/>anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination<br \/>room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He<br \/>extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your<br \/>recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of<br \/>an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"<br \/>II<br \/>Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a<br \/>phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally<br \/>elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of<br \/>fathomless space.<br \/>To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first<br \/>assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the<br \/>inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance<br \/>against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even<br \/>their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked<br \/>the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol<br \/>spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was<br \/>hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a<br \/>thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the<br \/>comfortable luxury that they knew.<br \/>Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,<br \/>manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and<br \/>eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.<br \/>And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search<br \/>as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the<br \/>viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to<br \/>life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured<br \/>the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the<br \/>viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and<br \/>becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.<br \/>Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke<br \/>commanded through the teleradio from the control room:<br \/>\"Prepare to board!\"<br \/>Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for<br \/>all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his<br \/>apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt<br \/>nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of<br \/>space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale<br \/>when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who<br \/>were to go beside himself:<br \/>\"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"<br \/>\"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in<br \/>his basso-profundo voice.<br \/>\"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice<br \/>of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test<br \/>oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"<br \/>George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the<br \/>space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a<br \/>proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he<br \/>turned away with a look of shame.<br \/>Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed<br \/>survey.<br \/>\"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo<br \/>missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were<br \/>out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been<br \/>fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly<br \/>he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.<br \/>Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,<br \/>where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great<br \/>resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.<br \/>Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in<br \/>thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice<br \/>was harsh, laconic:<br \/>\"Prepare to return!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a<br \/>major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,<br \/>shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and<br \/>gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various<br \/>versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit<br \/>in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.<br \/>Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,<br \/>easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the<br \/>swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of<br \/>men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third<br \/>lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed<br \/>by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as<br \/>if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched<br \/>them intimately.<br \/>Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George<br \/>Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the<br \/>airlocks and removed the space suits.<br \/>\"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet<br \/>Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was<br \/>fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the<br \/>new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great<br \/>distance were his own achievement.<br \/>Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he<br \/>prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger<br \/>spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp<br \/>39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None<br \/>but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the<br \/>dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric<br \/>uncharted orbits.<br \/>Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,<br \/>followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was<br \/>anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded<br \/>powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.<br \/>Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:<br \/>\"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved<br \/>motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each<br \/>member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action<br \/>impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed<br \/>relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men<br \/>suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.<br \/>All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped<br \/>his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.<br \/>uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to<br \/>keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.<br \/>In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched<br \/>the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with<br \/>anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at<br \/>last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally<br \/>reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by<br \/>leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the<br \/>distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.<br \/>But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,<br \/>unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden<br \/>maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described<br \/>a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if<br \/>navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the<br \/>asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose<br \/>the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have<br \/>succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such<br \/>a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the<br \/>chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he<br \/>could take Koerber with him.<br \/>Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his<br \/>quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo<br \/>from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up<br \/>spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.<br \/>From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain<br \/>of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward<br \/>midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been<br \/>mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power<br \/>dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as<br \/>he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was<br \/>ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under<br \/>the detonating impact.<br \/>It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming<br \/>immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom<br \/>desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,<br \/>but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no<br \/>avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was<br \/>doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful<br \/>magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.<br \/>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis<br \/>maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he<br \/>sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the<br \/>maneuver avoided it.<br \/>\"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all<br \/>jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed<br \/>out of the increasing gravity trap.<br \/>\"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the<br \/>jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then<br \/>Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,<br \/>forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of<br \/>a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that<br \/>shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.<br \/>Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to<br \/>meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.<br \/>It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.<br \/>Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this<br \/>unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time<br \/>was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could<br \/>possibly explain the incredible gravity.<br \/>And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to<br \/>Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes<br \/>himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,<br \/>too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent<br \/>a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding<br \/>them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.<br \/>III<br \/>The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided<br \/>a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,<br \/>the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,<br \/>was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against<br \/>the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in<br \/>the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could<br \/>reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.<br \/>\"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he<br \/>turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her<br \/>up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"<br \/>Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into<br \/>the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower<br \/>petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.<br \/>\"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,<br \/>but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.<br \/>\"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his<br \/>ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.<br \/>\"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting<br \/>shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the<br \/>emergency tank to make it down here!\"<br \/>For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis<br \/>Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom<br \/>tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed<br \/>mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,<br \/>ragged line of cliffs.<br \/>\"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing<br \/>a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast<br \/>and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"<br \/>\"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in<br \/>this hellish rock-pile?\"<br \/>\"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,<br \/>impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"<br \/>\"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His<br \/>contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who<br \/>failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place<br \/>in the I.S.P.<br \/>\"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said<br \/>thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"<br \/>\"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for<br \/>our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal<br \/>optimist.<br \/>\"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,<br \/>you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log<br \/>book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try<br \/>to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a<br \/>low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.<br \/>A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear<br \/>the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead<br \/>bumped during the crash landing.<br \/>\"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.<br \/>\"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you<br \/>wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"<br \/>\"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding<br \/>job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the<br \/>words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His<br \/>candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage<br \/>with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened<br \/>the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized<br \/>this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better<br \/>men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had<br \/>been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in<br \/>the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung<br \/>his neck!<br \/>\"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll<br \/>need all hands now.\"<br \/>\"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his<br \/>mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon<br \/>him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.<br \/>\"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook<br \/>his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin<br \/>shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.<br \/>\"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.<br \/>\"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in<br \/>this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"<br \/>\"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds<br \/>on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.<br \/>Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat<br \/>a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they<br \/>re-entered the cruiser.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.783039Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:01:16.964159Z","inner_id":127,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":126,"annotations":[{"id":12,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander after he captured the pirate.\nContextualized = After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander.\nSpan = After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander\nSupport = Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for two reasons. The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = The I.S.P. commander told Dennis that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared.\nContextualized = He was told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared.\nSpan = told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared\nSupport = somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals. Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Marla was supposedly captured by Koerber.\nContextualized = They were supposedly captured by Koerber.\nSpan = supposedly captured by Koerber\nSupport = The thought of Marla in the power of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an atom-blast.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Koerber is the head of the pirates.\nContextualized = Koerber is the head of the pirates.\nSpan = Koerber, the head of pirates\nSupport = If I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Dennis begs to be sent to get Koerber the pirate leader.\nContextualized = Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader.\nSpan = Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader\nSupport = Commander, give me one ... one chance at that spawn of unthinkable begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ... I promise you that I will either bring you Koerber, or forfeit my life!\n\nInfo Unit #6 = The I.S.P. commander gives Dennis a chance to capture Koerber.\nContextualized = The commander gave him this chance.\nSpan = the commander gave him this chance.\nSupport = Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"lj7V71xwGE","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T23:42:01.882100Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:00:24.050106Z","lead_time":927.429,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":126,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake. Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him, a Martian attempted an attack. After a short fight, Dennis overcame the Martian who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon and supposedly was a space pirate.","reference":"After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander and told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared, supposedly captured by Koerber, the head of pirates. Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader and the commander gave him this chance.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE SOUL EATERS<br \/>By WILLIAM CONOVER<br \/>Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance<br \/>to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose<br \/>ships were the scourge of the Void. But his<br \/>luck had run its course, and now he was<br \/>marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save<br \/>himself from a menace weapons could not kill.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories Fall 1944.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>\"<br \/>And so, my dear<br \/>,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"<br \/>I'm<br \/>afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or<br \/>is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,<br \/>you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,<br \/>there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've<br \/>accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.<br \/>\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last<br \/>letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they<br \/>never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as<br \/>the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a<br \/>perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.<br \/>The barbaric rhythms of the<br \/>Congahua<br \/>, were a background of annoyance<br \/>in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian<br \/>dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,<br \/>began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,<br \/>in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left<br \/>him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts<br \/>in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not<br \/>to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom<br \/>upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one<br \/>solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.<br \/>Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.<br \/>When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of<br \/>Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not<br \/>fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.<br \/>True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his<br \/>fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian<br \/>Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been<br \/>ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers<br \/>that almost surrounded the space pirate.<br \/>A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every<br \/>dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use<br \/>of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as<br \/>if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's<br \/>soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality<br \/>under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.<br \/>It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a<br \/>fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a<br \/>sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and<br \/>most of his heart in Marla.<br \/>Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the<br \/>insidious<br \/>Verbena<br \/>, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty<br \/>glass of Martian<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel<br \/>eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a<br \/>young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in<br \/>those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?<br \/>Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger<br \/>brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could<br \/>instantly denote.<br \/>His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed<br \/>slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this<br \/>Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter<br \/>had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad<br \/>semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in<br \/>a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and<br \/>tilted back invitingly.<br \/>Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the<br \/>handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the<br \/>tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,<br \/>and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his<br \/>feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one<br \/>side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis<br \/>Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl<br \/>cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was<br \/>not there.<br \/>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided<br \/>the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and<br \/>planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all<br \/>Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the<br \/>Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin<br \/>that staggered and all but dropped him.<br \/>The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back<br \/>and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he<br \/>was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for<br \/>Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took<br \/>it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over<br \/>with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and<br \/>spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly<br \/>sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.<br \/>Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international<br \/>police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,<br \/>the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his<br \/>left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the<br \/>interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still<br \/>without the law were known to possess them.<br \/>\"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,<br \/>Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If<br \/>I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.<br \/>Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have<br \/>in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records<br \/>on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they<br \/>have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian<br \/>embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of<br \/>red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black<br \/>acerine<br \/>on his finger.<br \/>Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to<br \/>shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved<br \/>his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of<br \/>Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know<br \/>Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"<br \/>He reached for his glass of<br \/>Verbena<br \/>but the table had turned over<br \/>during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the<br \/>venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the<br \/>guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who<br \/>was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive<br \/>Palace.<br \/>\"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said<br \/>gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the<br \/>credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a<br \/>hoodoo!\"<br \/>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil<br \/>desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot<br \/>four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as<br \/>if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a<br \/>decision, he were forcing himself to speak:<br \/>\"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for<br \/>two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of<br \/>Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of<br \/>piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not<br \/>really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had<br \/>to say were difficult indeed.<br \/>\"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a<br \/>delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and<br \/>very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,<br \/>\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing<br \/>her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.<br \/>Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days<br \/>overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold<br \/>millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel<br \/>eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits<br \/>that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,<br \/>while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel<br \/>precision.<br \/>\"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power<br \/>of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an<br \/>atom-blast.<br \/>\"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of<br \/>emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and<br \/>that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known<br \/>every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.<br \/>\"Commander, give me one ...<br \/>one<br \/>chance at that spawn of unthinkable<br \/>begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis<br \/>was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface<br \/>of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you<br \/>Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"<br \/>Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that<br \/>purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where<br \/>the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"<br \/>He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set<br \/>on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see<br \/>a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left<br \/>Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel<br \/>in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your<br \/>chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began<br \/>to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer<br \/>up-tilted in its cradle.<br \/>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into<br \/>space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of<br \/>Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.<br \/>A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on<br \/>the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud<br \/>interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,<br \/>and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved<br \/>as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining<br \/>altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic<br \/>course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's<br \/>side.<br \/>Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in<br \/>actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it<br \/>was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with<br \/>deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of<br \/>the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.<br \/>Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose<br \/>features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor<br \/>and the burning fire in his eyes.<br \/>\"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach<br \/>Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other<br \/>transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes<br \/>they're never seen again.\"<br \/>\"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin<br \/>of ice.<br \/>\"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with<br \/>double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed<br \/>of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses<br \/>anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination<br \/>room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He<br \/>extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your<br \/>recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of<br \/>an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"<br \/>II<br \/>Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a<br \/>phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally<br \/>elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of<br \/>fathomless space.<br \/>To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first<br \/>assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the<br \/>inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance<br \/>against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even<br \/>their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked<br \/>the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol<br \/>spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was<br \/>hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a<br \/>thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the<br \/>comfortable luxury that they knew.<br \/>Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,<br \/>manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and<br \/>eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.<br \/>And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search<br \/>as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the<br \/>viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to<br \/>life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured<br \/>the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the<br \/>viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and<br \/>becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.<br \/>Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke<br \/>commanded through the teleradio from the control room:<br \/>\"Prepare to board!\"<br \/>Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for<br \/>all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his<br \/>apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt<br \/>nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of<br \/>space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale<br \/>when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who<br \/>were to go beside himself:<br \/>\"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"<br \/>\"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in<br \/>his basso-profundo voice.<br \/>\"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice<br \/>of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test<br \/>oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"<br \/>George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the<br \/>space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a<br \/>proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he<br \/>turned away with a look of shame.<br \/>Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed<br \/>survey.<br \/>\"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo<br \/>missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were<br \/>out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been<br \/>fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly<br \/>he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.<br \/>Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,<br \/>where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great<br \/>resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.<br \/>Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in<br \/>thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice<br \/>was harsh, laconic:<br \/>\"Prepare to return!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a<br \/>major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,<br \/>shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and<br \/>gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various<br \/>versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit<br \/>in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.<br \/>Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,<br \/>easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the<br \/>swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of<br \/>men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third<br \/>lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed<br \/>by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as<br \/>if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched<br \/>them intimately.<br \/>Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George<br \/>Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the<br \/>airlocks and removed the space suits.<br \/>\"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet<br \/>Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was<br \/>fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the<br \/>new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great<br \/>distance were his own achievement.<br \/>Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he<br \/>prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger<br \/>spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp<br \/>39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None<br \/>but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the<br \/>dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric<br \/>uncharted orbits.<br \/>Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,<br \/>followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was<br \/>anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded<br \/>powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.<br \/>Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:<br \/>\"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved<br \/>motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each<br \/>member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action<br \/>impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed<br \/>relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men<br \/>suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.<br \/>All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped<br \/>his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.<br \/>uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to<br \/>keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.<br \/>In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched<br \/>the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with<br \/>anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at<br \/>last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally<br \/>reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by<br \/>leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the<br \/>distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.<br \/>But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,<br \/>unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden<br \/>maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described<br \/>a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if<br \/>navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the<br \/>asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose<br \/>the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have<br \/>succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such<br \/>a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the<br \/>chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he<br \/>could take Koerber with him.<br \/>Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his<br \/>quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo<br \/>from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up<br \/>spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.<br \/>From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain<br \/>of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward<br \/>midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been<br \/>mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power<br \/>dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as<br \/>he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was<br \/>ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under<br \/>the detonating impact.<br \/>It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming<br \/>immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom<br \/>desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,<br \/>but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no<br \/>avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was<br \/>doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful<br \/>magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.<br \/>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis<br \/>maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he<br \/>sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the<br \/>maneuver avoided it.<br \/>\"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all<br \/>jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed<br \/>out of the increasing gravity trap.<br \/>\"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the<br \/>jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then<br \/>Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,<br \/>forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of<br \/>a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that<br \/>shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.<br \/>Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to<br \/>meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.<br \/>It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.<br \/>Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this<br \/>unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time<br \/>was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could<br \/>possibly explain the incredible gravity.<br \/>And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to<br \/>Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes<br \/>himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,<br \/>too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent<br \/>a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding<br \/>them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.<br \/>III<br \/>The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided<br \/>a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,<br \/>the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,<br \/>was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against<br \/>the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in<br \/>the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could<br \/>reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.<br \/>\"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he<br \/>turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her<br \/>up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"<br \/>Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into<br \/>the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower<br \/>petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.<br \/>\"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,<br \/>but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.<br \/>\"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his<br \/>ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.<br \/>\"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting<br \/>shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the<br \/>emergency tank to make it down here!\"<br \/>For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis<br \/>Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom<br \/>tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed<br \/>mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,<br \/>ragged line of cliffs.<br \/>\"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing<br \/>a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast<br \/>and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"<br \/>\"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in<br \/>this hellish rock-pile?\"<br \/>\"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,<br \/>impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"<br \/>\"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His<br \/>contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who<br \/>failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place<br \/>in the I.S.P.<br \/>\"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said<br \/>thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"<br \/>\"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for<br \/>our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal<br \/>optimist.<br \/>\"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,<br \/>you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log<br \/>book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try<br \/>to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a<br \/>low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.<br \/>A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear<br \/>the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead<br \/>bumped during the crash landing.<br \/>\"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.<br \/>\"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you<br \/>wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"<br \/>\"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding<br \/>job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the<br \/>words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His<br \/>candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage<br \/>with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened<br \/>the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized<br \/>this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better<br \/>men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had<br \/>been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in<br \/>the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung<br \/>his neck!<br \/>\"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll<br \/>need all hands now.\"<br \/>\"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his<br \/>mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon<br \/>him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.<br \/>\"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook<br \/>his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin<br \/>shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.<br \/>\"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.<br \/>\"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in<br \/>this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"<br \/>\"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds<br \/>on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.<br \/>Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat<br \/>a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they<br \/>re-entered the cruiser.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.782898Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T17:00:24.098903Z","inner_id":126,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":125,"annotations":[{"id":11,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dennis felt danger when a Mercurial dancer approached him.\nContextualized = Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him.\nSpan = Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him\nSupport = But his senses became instantly alert. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = A Martian attempted an attack on Dennis.\nContextualized = A Martian attempted an attack.\nSpan = a Martian attempted an attack\nSupport = Without warning, the Martian was on his feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis Brooke.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Dennis and the Martian had a short fight.\nContextualized = They had a short fight.\nSpan = After a short fight\nSupport = Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin that staggered and all but dropped him. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Dennis overcame the Martian in the fight.\nContextualized = Dennis overcame the Martian.\nSpan = Dennis overcame the Martian\nSupport = It caught the Martian on the jaw and spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor. Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = The Martian possessed a prohibited weapon.\nContextualized = The Martian turned out to possess a prohibited weapon.\nSpan = who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon\nSupport = Upon search, the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still without the law were known to possess them.\n\nInfo Unit #6 = The Martian was supposedly a space pirate.\nContextualized = He was supposedly was a space pirate.\nSpan = supposedly was a space pirate\nSupport = If I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew. your capture of one of\nKoerber's henchmen.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"3y5dC62UD4","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T23:34:58.445507Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:58:30.209998Z","lead_time":1430.004,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":125,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake.","reference":"Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him, a Martian attempted an attack. After a short fight, Dennis overcame the Martian who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon and supposedly was a space pirate.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE SOUL EATERS<br \/>By WILLIAM CONOVER<br \/>Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance<br \/>to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose<br \/>ships were the scourge of the Void. But his<br \/>luck had run its course, and now he was<br \/>marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save<br \/>himself from a menace weapons could not kill.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories Fall 1944.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>\"<br \/>And so, my dear<br \/>,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"<br \/>I'm<br \/>afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or<br \/>is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,<br \/>you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,<br \/>there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've<br \/>accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.<br \/>\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last<br \/>letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they<br \/>never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as<br \/>the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a<br \/>perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.<br \/>The barbaric rhythms of the<br \/>Congahua<br \/>, were a background of annoyance<br \/>in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian<br \/>dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,<br \/>began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,<br \/>in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left<br \/>him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts<br \/>in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not<br \/>to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom<br \/>upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one<br \/>solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.<br \/>Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.<br \/>When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of<br \/>Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not<br \/>fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.<br \/>True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his<br \/>fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian<br \/>Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been<br \/>ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers<br \/>that almost surrounded the space pirate.<br \/>A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every<br \/>dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use<br \/>of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as<br \/>if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's<br \/>soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality<br \/>under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.<br \/>It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a<br \/>fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a<br \/>sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and<br \/>most of his heart in Marla.<br \/>Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the<br \/>insidious<br \/>Verbena<br \/>, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty<br \/>glass of Martian<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel<br \/>eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a<br \/>young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in<br \/>those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?<br \/>Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger<br \/>brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could<br \/>instantly denote.<br \/>His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed<br \/>slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this<br \/>Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter<br \/>had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad<br \/>semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in<br \/>a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and<br \/>tilted back invitingly.<br \/>Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the<br \/>handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the<br \/>tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,<br \/>and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his<br \/>feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one<br \/>side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis<br \/>Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl<br \/>cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was<br \/>not there.<br \/>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided<br \/>the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and<br \/>planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all<br \/>Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the<br \/>Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin<br \/>that staggered and all but dropped him.<br \/>The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back<br \/>and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he<br \/>was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for<br \/>Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took<br \/>it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over<br \/>with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and<br \/>spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly<br \/>sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.<br \/>Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international<br \/>police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,<br \/>the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his<br \/>left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the<br \/>interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still<br \/>without the law were known to possess them.<br \/>\"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,<br \/>Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If<br \/>I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.<br \/>Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have<br \/>in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records<br \/>on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they<br \/>have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian<br \/>embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of<br \/>red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black<br \/>acerine<br \/>on his finger.<br \/>Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to<br \/>shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved<br \/>his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of<br \/>Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know<br \/>Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"<br \/>He reached for his glass of<br \/>Verbena<br \/>but the table had turned over<br \/>during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the<br \/>venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the<br \/>guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who<br \/>was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive<br \/>Palace.<br \/>\"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said<br \/>gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the<br \/>credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a<br \/>hoodoo!\"<br \/>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil<br \/>desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot<br \/>four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as<br \/>if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a<br \/>decision, he were forcing himself to speak:<br \/>\"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for<br \/>two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of<br \/>Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of<br \/>piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not<br \/>really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had<br \/>to say were difficult indeed.<br \/>\"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a<br \/>delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and<br \/>very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,<br \/>\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing<br \/>her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.<br \/>Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days<br \/>overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold<br \/>millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel<br \/>eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits<br \/>that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,<br \/>while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel<br \/>precision.<br \/>\"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power<br \/>of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an<br \/>atom-blast.<br \/>\"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of<br \/>emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and<br \/>that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known<br \/>every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.<br \/>\"Commander, give me one ...<br \/>one<br \/>chance at that spawn of unthinkable<br \/>begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis<br \/>was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface<br \/>of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you<br \/>Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"<br \/>Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that<br \/>purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where<br \/>the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"<br \/>He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set<br \/>on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see<br \/>a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left<br \/>Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel<br \/>in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your<br \/>chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began<br \/>to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer<br \/>up-tilted in its cradle.<br \/>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into<br \/>space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of<br \/>Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.<br \/>A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on<br \/>the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud<br \/>interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,<br \/>and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved<br \/>as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining<br \/>altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic<br \/>course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's<br \/>side.<br \/>Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in<br \/>actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it<br \/>was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with<br \/>deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of<br \/>the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.<br \/>Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose<br \/>features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor<br \/>and the burning fire in his eyes.<br \/>\"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach<br \/>Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other<br \/>transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes<br \/>they're never seen again.\"<br \/>\"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin<br \/>of ice.<br \/>\"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with<br \/>double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed<br \/>of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses<br \/>anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination<br \/>room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He<br \/>extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your<br \/>recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of<br \/>an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"<br \/>II<br \/>Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a<br \/>phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally<br \/>elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of<br \/>fathomless space.<br \/>To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first<br \/>assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the<br \/>inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance<br \/>against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even<br \/>their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked<br \/>the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol<br \/>spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was<br \/>hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a<br \/>thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the<br \/>comfortable luxury that they knew.<br \/>Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,<br \/>manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and<br \/>eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.<br \/>And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search<br \/>as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the<br \/>viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to<br \/>life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured<br \/>the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the<br \/>viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and<br \/>becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.<br \/>Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke<br \/>commanded through the teleradio from the control room:<br \/>\"Prepare to board!\"<br \/>Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for<br \/>all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his<br \/>apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt<br \/>nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of<br \/>space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale<br \/>when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who<br \/>were to go beside himself:<br \/>\"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"<br \/>\"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in<br \/>his basso-profundo voice.<br \/>\"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice<br \/>of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test<br \/>oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"<br \/>George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the<br \/>space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a<br \/>proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he<br \/>turned away with a look of shame.<br \/>Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed<br \/>survey.<br \/>\"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo<br \/>missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were<br \/>out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been<br \/>fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly<br \/>he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.<br \/>Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,<br \/>where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great<br \/>resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.<br \/>Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in<br \/>thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice<br \/>was harsh, laconic:<br \/>\"Prepare to return!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a<br \/>major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,<br \/>shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and<br \/>gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various<br \/>versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit<br \/>in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.<br \/>Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,<br \/>easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the<br \/>swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of<br \/>men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third<br \/>lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed<br \/>by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as<br \/>if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched<br \/>them intimately.<br \/>Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George<br \/>Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the<br \/>airlocks and removed the space suits.<br \/>\"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet<br \/>Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was<br \/>fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the<br \/>new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great<br \/>distance were his own achievement.<br \/>Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he<br \/>prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger<br \/>spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp<br \/>39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None<br \/>but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the<br \/>dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric<br \/>uncharted orbits.<br \/>Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,<br \/>followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was<br \/>anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded<br \/>powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.<br \/>Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:<br \/>\"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved<br \/>motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each<br \/>member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action<br \/>impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed<br \/>relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men<br \/>suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.<br \/>All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped<br \/>his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.<br \/>uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to<br \/>keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.<br \/>In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched<br \/>the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with<br \/>anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at<br \/>last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally<br \/>reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by<br \/>leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the<br \/>distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.<br \/>But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,<br \/>unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden<br \/>maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described<br \/>a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if<br \/>navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the<br \/>asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose<br \/>the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have<br \/>succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such<br \/>a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the<br \/>chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he<br \/>could take Koerber with him.<br \/>Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his<br \/>quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo<br \/>from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up<br \/>spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.<br \/>From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain<br \/>of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward<br \/>midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been<br \/>mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power<br \/>dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as<br \/>he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was<br \/>ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under<br \/>the detonating impact.<br \/>It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming<br \/>immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom<br \/>desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,<br \/>but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no<br \/>avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was<br \/>doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful<br \/>magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.<br \/>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis<br \/>maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he<br \/>sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the<br \/>maneuver avoided it.<br \/>\"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all<br \/>jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed<br \/>out of the increasing gravity trap.<br \/>\"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the<br \/>jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then<br \/>Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,<br \/>forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of<br \/>a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that<br \/>shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.<br \/>Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to<br \/>meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.<br \/>It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.<br \/>Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this<br \/>unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time<br \/>was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could<br \/>possibly explain the incredible gravity.<br \/>And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to<br \/>Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes<br \/>himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,<br \/>too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent<br \/>a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding<br \/>them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.<br \/>III<br \/>The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided<br \/>a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,<br \/>the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,<br \/>was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against<br \/>the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in<br \/>the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could<br \/>reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.<br \/>\"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he<br \/>turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her<br \/>up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"<br \/>Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into<br \/>the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower<br \/>petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.<br \/>\"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,<br \/>but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.<br \/>\"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his<br \/>ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.<br \/>\"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting<br \/>shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the<br \/>emergency tank to make it down here!\"<br \/>For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis<br \/>Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom<br \/>tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed<br \/>mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,<br \/>ragged line of cliffs.<br \/>\"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing<br \/>a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast<br \/>and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"<br \/>\"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in<br \/>this hellish rock-pile?\"<br \/>\"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,<br \/>impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"<br \/>\"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His<br \/>contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who<br \/>failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place<br \/>in the I.S.P.<br \/>\"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said<br \/>thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"<br \/>\"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for<br \/>our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal<br \/>optimist.<br \/>\"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,<br \/>you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log<br \/>book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try<br \/>to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a<br \/>low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.<br \/>A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear<br \/>the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead<br \/>bumped during the crash landing.<br \/>\"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.<br \/>\"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you<br \/>wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"<br \/>\"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding<br \/>job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the<br \/>words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His<br \/>candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage<br \/>with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened<br \/>the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized<br \/>this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better<br \/>men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had<br \/>been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in<br \/>the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung<br \/>his neck!<br \/>\"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll<br \/>need all hands now.\"<br \/>\"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his<br \/>mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon<br \/>him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.<br \/>\"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook<br \/>his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin<br \/>shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.<br \/>\"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.<br \/>\"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in<br \/>this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"<br \/>\"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds<br \/>on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.<br \/>Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat<br \/>a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they<br \/>re-entered the cruiser.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.782759Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:58:30.256102Z","inner_id":125,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":124,"annotations":[{"id":10,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Dennis Brooke was drinking.\nContextualized = Dennis Brooke was drinking.\nSpan = Dennis Brooke was drinking.\nSupport = Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the insidious Verbena, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty glass of Martian Bacca-glas, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a young Martian at the next table. His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed slightly.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Dennis Brooke was watching a dancer.\nContextualized = He was watching a dancer.\nSpan = watching a dancer\nSupport = The barbaric rhythms of the Congahua, were a background of annoyance in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace, began to leave no doubt as to her intentions.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Dennis Brooke was re-reading Marla's last letter.\nContextualized = He was rereading the last letter of Marla.\nSpan = rereading the last letter of Marla\nSupport = Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Marla was Dennis Brooke's fiancee.\nContextualized = Marla was his fiancee.\nSpan = his fiancee\nSupport = Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and very clever young lady could perform.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Marla left Dennis accepting a new assignment.\nContextualized = Marla accepted a new assignment and left him.\nSpan = who accepted a new assignment and left him\nSupport = Anyway, there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.\n\nInfo Unit #6 = Dennis was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake.\nContextualized = At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake.\nSpan = At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake.\nSupport = For he had been grounded. True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his fault; it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know Bertram! ","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"zYoY7AV5qq","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T23:26:35.620733Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:44:23.298164Z","lead_time":1104.4859999999999,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":124,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63150,"background":"What is the plot of the story? ","reference":"Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>THE SOUL EATERS<br \/>By WILLIAM CONOVER<br \/>Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance<br \/>to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose<br \/>ships were the scourge of the Void. But his<br \/>luck had run its course, and now he was<br \/>marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save<br \/>himself from a menace weapons could not kill.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories Fall 1944.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>\"<br \/>And so, my dear<br \/>,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"<br \/>I'm<br \/>afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or<br \/>is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,<br \/>you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,<br \/>there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've<br \/>accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.<br \/>\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last<br \/>letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they<br \/>never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as<br \/>the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a<br \/>perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.<br \/>The barbaric rhythms of the<br \/>Congahua<br \/>, were a background of annoyance<br \/>in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian<br \/>dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,<br \/>began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,<br \/>in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left<br \/>him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts<br \/>in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not<br \/>to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom<br \/>upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one<br \/>solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.<br \/>Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.<br \/>When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of<br \/>Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not<br \/>fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.<br \/>True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his<br \/>fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian<br \/>Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been<br \/>ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers<br \/>that almost surrounded the space pirate.<br \/>A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every<br \/>dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use<br \/>of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as<br \/>if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's<br \/>soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality<br \/>under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.<br \/>It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a<br \/>fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a<br \/>sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and<br \/>most of his heart in Marla.<br \/>Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the<br \/>insidious<br \/>Verbena<br \/>, fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty<br \/>glass of Martian<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>, and as he did so, his brilliant hazel<br \/>eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a<br \/>young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in<br \/>those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?<br \/>Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger<br \/>brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could<br \/>instantly denote.<br \/>His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed<br \/>slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this<br \/>Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter<br \/>had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad<br \/>semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in<br \/>a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and<br \/>tilted back invitingly.<br \/>Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the<br \/>handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the<br \/>tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,<br \/>and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his<br \/>feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one<br \/>side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis<br \/>Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl<br \/>cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was<br \/>not there.<br \/>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided<br \/>the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and<br \/>planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all<br \/>Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the<br \/>Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin<br \/>that staggered and all but dropped him.<br \/>The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back<br \/>and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he<br \/>was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for<br \/>Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took<br \/>it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over<br \/>with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and<br \/>spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly<br \/>sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.<br \/>Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international<br \/>police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,<br \/>the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his<br \/>left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the<br \/>interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still<br \/>without the law were known to possess them.<br \/>\"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,<br \/>Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If<br \/>I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.<br \/>Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have<br \/>in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records<br \/>on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they<br \/>have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian<br \/>embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of<br \/>red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black<br \/>acerine<br \/>on his finger.<br \/>Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to<br \/>shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved<br \/>his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of<br \/>Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know<br \/>Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"<br \/>He reached for his glass of<br \/>Verbena<br \/>but the table had turned over<br \/>during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming<br \/>Bacca-glas<br \/>shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the<br \/>venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the<br \/>guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who<br \/>was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive<br \/>Palace.<br \/>\"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said<br \/>gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the<br \/>credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a<br \/>hoodoo!\"<br \/>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil<br \/>desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot<br \/>four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as<br \/>if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a<br \/>decision, he were forcing himself to speak:<br \/>\"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for<br \/>two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of<br \/>Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of<br \/>piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not<br \/>really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had<br \/>to say were difficult indeed.<br \/>\"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a<br \/>delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and<br \/>very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,<br \/>\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing<br \/>her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.<br \/>Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days<br \/>overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold<br \/>millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"<br \/>Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel<br \/>eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits<br \/>that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,<br \/>while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel<br \/>precision.<br \/>\"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power<br \/>of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an<br \/>atom-blast.<br \/>\"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of<br \/>emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and<br \/>that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known<br \/>every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.<br \/>\"Commander, give me one ...<br \/>one<br \/>chance at that spawn of unthinkable<br \/>begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis<br \/>was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface<br \/>of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you<br \/>Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"<br \/>Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that<br \/>purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where<br \/>the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"<br \/>He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set<br \/>on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see<br \/>a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left<br \/>Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel<br \/>in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your<br \/>chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began<br \/>to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer<br \/>up-tilted in its cradle.<br \/>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into<br \/>space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of<br \/>Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.<br \/>A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on<br \/>the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud<br \/>interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,<br \/>and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved<br \/>as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining<br \/>altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic<br \/>course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's<br \/>side.<br \/>Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in<br \/>actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it<br \/>was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with<br \/>deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of<br \/>the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.<br \/>Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose<br \/>features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor<br \/>and the burning fire in his eyes.<br \/>\"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach<br \/>Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other<br \/>transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes<br \/>they're never seen again.\"<br \/>\"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin<br \/>of ice.<br \/>\"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with<br \/>double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed<br \/>of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses<br \/>anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination<br \/>room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He<br \/>extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your<br \/>recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of<br \/>an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"<br \/>II<br \/>Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a<br \/>phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally<br \/>elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of<br \/>fathomless space.<br \/>To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first<br \/>assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the<br \/>inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance<br \/>against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even<br \/>their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked<br \/>the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol<br \/>spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was<br \/>hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a<br \/>thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the<br \/>comfortable luxury that they knew.<br \/>Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,<br \/>manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and<br \/>eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.<br \/>And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search<br \/>as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the<br \/>viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to<br \/>life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured<br \/>the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the<br \/>viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and<br \/>becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.<br \/>Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke<br \/>commanded through the teleradio from the control room:<br \/>\"Prepare to board!\"<br \/>Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for<br \/>all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his<br \/>apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt<br \/>nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of<br \/>space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale<br \/>when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who<br \/>were to go beside himself:<br \/>\"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"<br \/>\"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in<br \/>his basso-profundo voice.<br \/>\"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice<br \/>of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test<br \/>oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"<br \/>George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the<br \/>space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a<br \/>proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he<br \/>turned away with a look of shame.<br \/>Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed<br \/>survey.<br \/>\"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo<br \/>missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were<br \/>out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been<br \/>fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly<br \/>he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.<br \/>Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,<br \/>where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great<br \/>resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.<br \/>Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in<br \/>thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice<br \/>was harsh, laconic:<br \/>\"Prepare to return!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a<br \/>major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,<br \/>shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and<br \/>gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various<br \/>versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit<br \/>in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.<br \/>Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,<br \/>easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the<br \/>swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of<br \/>men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third<br \/>lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed<br \/>by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as<br \/>if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched<br \/>them intimately.<br \/>Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George<br \/>Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the<br \/>airlocks and removed the space suits.<br \/>\"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet<br \/>Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was<br \/>fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the<br \/>new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great<br \/>distance were his own achievement.<br \/>Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he<br \/>prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger<br \/>spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp<br \/>39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None<br \/>but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the<br \/>dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric<br \/>uncharted orbits.<br \/>Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,<br \/>followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was<br \/>anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded<br \/>powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.<br \/>Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:<br \/>\"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"<br \/>Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved<br \/>motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each<br \/>member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action<br \/>impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed<br \/>relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men<br \/>suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.<br \/>All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped<br \/>his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.<br \/>uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to<br \/>keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.<br \/>In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched<br \/>the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with<br \/>anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at<br \/>last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally<br \/>reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by<br \/>leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the<br \/>distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.<br \/>But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,<br \/>unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden<br \/>maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described<br \/>a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if<br \/>navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the<br \/>asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose<br \/>the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have<br \/>succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such<br \/>a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the<br \/>chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he<br \/>could take Koerber with him.<br \/>Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his<br \/>quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo<br \/>from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up<br \/>spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.<br \/>From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain<br \/>of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward<br \/>midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been<br \/>mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power<br \/>dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as<br \/>he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was<br \/>ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under<br \/>the detonating impact.<br \/>It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming<br \/>immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom<br \/>desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,<br \/>but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no<br \/>avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was<br \/>doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful<br \/>magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.<br \/>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis<br \/>maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he<br \/>sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the<br \/>maneuver avoided it.<br \/>\"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all<br \/>jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed<br \/>out of the increasing gravity trap.<br \/>\"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the<br \/>jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then<br \/>Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,<br \/>forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of<br \/>a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that<br \/>shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.<br \/>Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to<br \/>meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.<br \/>It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.<br \/>Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this<br \/>unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time<br \/>was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could<br \/>possibly explain the incredible gravity.<br \/>And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to<br \/>Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes<br \/>himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,<br \/>too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent<br \/>a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding<br \/>them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.<br \/>III<br \/>The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided<br \/>a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,<br \/>the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,<br \/>was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against<br \/>the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in<br \/>the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could<br \/>reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.<br \/>\"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he<br \/>turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her<br \/>up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"<br \/>Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into<br \/>the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower<br \/>petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.<br \/>\"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,<br \/>but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.<br \/>\"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his<br \/>ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.<br \/>\"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting<br \/>shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the<br \/>emergency tank to make it down here!\"<br \/>For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis<br \/>Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom<br \/>tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed<br \/>mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,<br \/>ragged line of cliffs.<br \/>\"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing<br \/>a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast<br \/>and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"<br \/>\"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in<br \/>this hellish rock-pile?\"<br \/>\"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,<br \/>impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"<br \/>\"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His<br \/>contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who<br \/>failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place<br \/>in the I.S.P.<br \/>\"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said<br \/>thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"<br \/>\"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for<br \/>our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal<br \/>optimist.<br \/>\"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,<br \/>you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log<br \/>book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try<br \/>to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a<br \/>low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.<br \/>A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear<br \/>the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead<br \/>bumped during the crash landing.<br \/>\"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.<br \/>\"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you<br \/>wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"<br \/>\"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding<br \/>job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the<br \/>words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His<br \/>candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage<br \/>with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened<br \/>the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized<br \/>this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better<br \/>men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had<br \/>been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in<br \/>the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung<br \/>his neck!<br \/>\"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll<br \/>need all hands now.\"<br \/>\"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his<br \/>mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon<br \/>him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.<br \/>\"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook<br \/>his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin<br \/>shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.<br \/>\"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.<br \/>\"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in<br \/>this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"<br \/>\"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds<br \/>on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.<br \/>Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat<br \/>a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they<br \/>re-entered the cruiser.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.782621Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:44:23.348412Z","inner_id":124,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":122,"annotations":[{"id":24,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Johnson and Caldwell fire their effective but not fatal zit guns into the crowd.\nContextualized = Johnson and Caldwell fire their effective but not fatal zit guns into the crowd.\nSpan = Johnson and Caldwell fire their effective but not fatal zit guns into the crowd\nSupport = In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But there seemed to be an endless number of them. Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Johnson calls out Vee Vee’s name.\nContextualized = Johnson calls out Vee Vee’s name.\nSpan = Johnson calls out Vee Vee’s name\nSupport = \"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. \"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Caldwell tells Johnson to forget about Vee Vee.\nContextualized = Caldwell tells him to forget about her.\nSpan = Caldwell tells him to forget about her\nSupport = \"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = As the passage ends Johnson and Caldwell are trying to get through the frantic throng of people to reach Martin.\nContextualized = As the passage ends they are trying to get through the frantic throng of people to reach Martin.\nSpan =  As the passage ends they are trying to get through the frantic throng of people to reach Martin.\nSupport = \"Martin's the important one.\" Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went. Johnson followed. Back there a knot of Venusians were attacking a man.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"CltTXARtU-","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T17:59:10.441908Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:41:42.161033Z","lead_time":534.234,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":122,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63916,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists, but no one on Venus is supposed to know that. He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin, and it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there. Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams, and meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee. \n\nVee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson, which he swiftly blocks. They enter the Room of the Dreamer together, even though they don’t trust each other (and Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for her because she has been asking about Martin). As they enter the room and Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth, she reveals that she knows who he is but says she will keep his secret. \n\nThe Dreamer, Unger, enters the room and the dreaming commences. It seems to affect everyone, including Johnson, who sees a spaceship and then is upset that he can’t get it back. He has the odd sensation of different bodily organs speaking to him and trying to convince him what he’s seeing is real as he watches Unger levitate high into the air. \n\nUnger falls, hard, and the crowd gets very upset and murmurs suggest a human is at fault. Vee Vee suddenly kisses Johnson, saying she might not be able to later. He is puzzled by this, until he sees that Martin is in the room and the crowd is converging on him.","reference":"Johnson and Caldwell fire their effective but not fatal zit guns into the crowd as Johnson calls out Vee Vee’s name and Caldwell tells him to forget about her. As the passage ends they are trying to get through the frantic throng of people to reach Martin.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>The CONJURER of VENUS<br \/>By CONAN T. TROY<br \/>A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus.<br \/>When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that<br \/>globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories November 1952.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive,<br \/>Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way<br \/>with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been<br \/>occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up.<br \/>Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?<br \/>On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to<br \/>Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain<br \/>that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the<br \/>notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room.<br \/>Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses,<br \/>perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly<br \/>love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both<br \/>humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with<br \/>straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him,<br \/>aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.<br \/>Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson<br \/>entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed<br \/>that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to<br \/>recognize Caldwell.<br \/>\"Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?\" His voice<br \/>was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a<br \/>headwaiter was bowing to him.<br \/>\"I'll have a tarmur to start,\" Johnson said. \"How are the dreams<br \/>tonight?\"<br \/>\"Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself<br \/>will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite<br \/>his touch at dreaming, mighty one.\" The headwaiter spread his hands<br \/>in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do<br \/>ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger<br \/>hisself!\" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said. \"The great Unger!\" His voice expressed surprise,<br \/>just the right amount of it. \"I'll have a tarmur to start but when does<br \/>the dreaming commence?\"<br \/>\"In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty<br \/>one?\" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson<br \/>to the bar.<br \/>\"Not just yet,\" Johnson said. \"See me a little later.\"<br \/>\"But certainly.\" The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson was<br \/>at the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. \"Tarmur,\" Johnson<br \/>said. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light,<br \/>admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him,<br \/>watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinking<br \/>itself.<br \/>\"Beautiful, aren't they?\" a soft voice said. He glanced to his right.<br \/>A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cut<br \/>very low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on<br \/>Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue,<br \/>the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and<br \/>below the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons.<br \/>Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the<br \/>days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this<br \/>place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyes<br \/>smiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present here<br \/>in this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the bar<br \/>stool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians were<br \/>here who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace that<br \/>circled it?<br \/>\"They<br \/>are<br \/>beautiful,\" he said, smiling.<br \/>\"Thank you.\"<br \/>\"I was referring to the bubbles.\"<br \/>\"You were talking about my eyes,\" she answered, unperturbed.<br \/>\"How did you know? I mean....\"<br \/>\"I am very knowing,\" the girl said, smiling.<br \/>\"Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?\"<br \/>For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Then<br \/>it came again, stronger. \"Aren't you here?\"<br \/>Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up his<br \/>nose. \"My dear child ...\" he sputtered.<br \/>\"I am not a child,\" she answered with a firm sureness that left no<br \/>doubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. \"And my name is<br \/>Vee Vee.\"<br \/>\"Vee Vee? Um. That is....\"<br \/>\"Don't you think it's a nice name?\"<br \/>\"I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.\"<br \/>\"There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.\"<br \/>\"What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?\"<br \/>\"Growing.\" The blue eyes were unafraid.<br \/>Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in<br \/>the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then<br \/>his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his<br \/>purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman<br \/>on him.<br \/>There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.<br \/>In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questioned<br \/>the motives of the killer.<br \/>\"You look as if you were considering some very grave matter,\" Vee Vee<br \/>said.<br \/>\"Not any longer,\" he laughed.<br \/>\"You have decided them?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"Every last one of them?\"<br \/>\"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on<br \/>the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to<br \/>them.\" He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden<br \/>behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased<br \/>himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.<br \/>\"Zlock!\" Caldwell said, to the bartender. \"Make it snappy. Gotta have<br \/>zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system.\" Caldwell's voice was<br \/>thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out<br \/>of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The<br \/>fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.<br \/>\"I haven't seen him,\" Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. \"But I<br \/>think he is, or was, here.\"<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.<br \/>\"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.<br \/>\"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems,\" Vee Vee said, watching<br \/>Caldwell.<br \/>\"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—\"<br \/>\"Lying is one of the deadly sins.\" Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the<br \/>merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.<br \/>\"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?\" The headwaiter was<br \/>bowing and scraping in front of him. \"The great one has decided, yes?\"<br \/>\"The dreaming!\" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. \"Of course. We must see<br \/>the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we<br \/>darling?\" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.<br \/>\"Certainly,\" Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the<br \/>moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might<br \/>be something else. And<br \/>he<br \/>might be there.<br \/>\"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!\" The headwaiter<br \/>clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of<br \/>sight.<br \/>\"Say, I want to know more—\" Johnson began. His words were drowned in<br \/>a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden<br \/>silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes<br \/>were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,<br \/>cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.<br \/>In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians<br \/>and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation<br \/>of what was to happen.<br \/>The trumpets flared again.<br \/>On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From<br \/>beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that<br \/>sounded like lutes from heaven.<br \/>Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up with<br \/>her. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging<br \/>into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost<br \/>paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve<br \/>block paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, the<br \/>tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.<br \/>She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response to<br \/>the thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into his<br \/>elbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbing<br \/>it, she began to massage it.<br \/>\"You—you—\" Hot anger and shock were in her voice. \"You're the first<br \/>man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.\"<br \/>\"And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.\"<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"Shall we go watch the dreaming?\" He took the arm that still hung limp<br \/>at her side and tucked it into his elbow.<br \/>\"If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm,\" he<br \/>said. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.<br \/>\"I won't do it again,\" the girl said stoutly. \"I never make the same<br \/>mistake twice.\"<br \/>\"Good,\" Johnson said.<br \/>\"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said.<br \/>\"What a sweet, charming child you—\"<br \/>\"I told you before, I'm not a child.\"<br \/>\"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you<br \/>interrupt.\"<br \/>She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed to<br \/>say she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. He<br \/>tensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips of<br \/>her fingers she gently patted his arm.<br \/>\"There, there, darling, relax,\" she said. \"I know a better way to get<br \/>you than by using the Karmer grip.\"<br \/>\"What way?\"<br \/>Her eyes sparkled. \"Eve's way,\" she answered.<br \/>\"Um!\" Surprise sounded in his grunt. \"But apples don't grow on Venus.\"<br \/>\"Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.\"<br \/>Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming,<br \/>Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell's<br \/>face was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warning<br \/>signs. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his<br \/>arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.<br \/>II<br \/>It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling ramps<br \/>rising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have been<br \/>a stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was an<br \/>open space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling ramps<br \/>the room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusian<br \/>werewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.<br \/>The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. The<br \/>throbbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes were<br \/>playing. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they became<br \/>accustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that human<br \/>minds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it had<br \/>the feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rain<br \/>would have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.<br \/>The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sending<br \/>tingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of the<br \/>Dreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catching<br \/>hold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before but<br \/>he had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human ever<br \/>did. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold.<br \/>In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve center<br \/>inside the human organism was touched by something, some force, some<br \/>radiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt the<br \/>coldness now.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.<br \/>\"Do you feel it, darling?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"What is it?\"<br \/>\"How would I know?\"<br \/>\"Please!\" Her voice grew sharp. \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\"<br \/>\"Johnny! How do you know my name?\"<br \/>\"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he<br \/>is incognito on Venus?\" Her voice had a teasing quality in it.<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip<br \/>and be able to break it instantly?\"<br \/>\"Hell—\"<br \/>\"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost<br \/>expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human<br \/>body!\" Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper and<br \/>deeper into him.<br \/>\"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing<br \/>if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then<br \/>there was no doubt who you were!\" Her words went on and on.<br \/>\"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound.<br \/>\"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last<br \/>thing you really want to do.\"<br \/>He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving into<br \/>this room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came back<br \/>to her.<br \/>Again she patted his arm. \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with<br \/>me.\"<br \/>A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was<br \/>suddenly weak.<br \/>The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am<br \/>I not with you?\"<br \/>\"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. If he had had a<br \/>choice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as they<br \/>were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the<br \/>balance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—But<br \/>Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What<br \/>connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?<br \/>Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions on<br \/>a ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed to<br \/>another nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, moved<br \/>cushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of way<br \/>that was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on the<br \/>left.<br \/>\"Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you.\" Caldwell's voice was still<br \/>thick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Under<br \/>the man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zit<br \/>gun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feeling<br \/>his own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge of<br \/>gas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless in<br \/>operation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter of<br \/>seconds.<br \/>True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the next<br \/>day. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns as<br \/>effective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of the<br \/>little weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.<br \/>The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freely<br \/>through the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single bright<br \/>spotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliant<br \/>illumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. The<br \/>curtain rose.<br \/>Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.<br \/>Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>sought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. He<br \/>caught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffened<br \/>and became a rock.<br \/>Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light<br \/>had been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the<br \/>impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed three<br \/>hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robe<br \/>that would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of the<br \/>spotlight as if by magic.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Shhh. Nobody knows.\"<br \/>No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—<br \/>Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite sound<br \/>passed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himself<br \/>flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently<br \/>went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest<br \/>take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.<br \/>The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>dug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide for<br \/>protection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. She<br \/>drew closer to him.<br \/>A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, able<br \/>to take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she was<br \/>suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she<br \/>had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.<br \/>\"Haven't you ever seen this before?\" he whispered.<br \/>\"N—o.\" She shivered again. \"Oh, Johnny....\"<br \/>Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamer<br \/>lay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his<br \/>breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation<br \/>was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he<br \/>sensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed this<br \/>way, through such scented and musical and impossible places as these<br \/>Rooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himself<br \/>was not prepared to disagree.<br \/>Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ...<br \/>going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experience<br \/>to them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.<br \/>The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep,<br \/>perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music<br \/>and the perfume, and by something else. It was this something else<br \/>that sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opium<br \/>smokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance.<br \/>He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...<br \/>watching a space ship float in an endless void<br \/>.<br \/>As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into<br \/>his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer,<br \/>the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee and<br \/>Caldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were not<br \/>in the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet he<br \/>knew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was out<br \/>on the periphery of his universe, perhaps of<br \/>the<br \/>universe.<br \/>All he saw was the space ship.<br \/>It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seen<br \/>in his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.<br \/>Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-off<br \/>stars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped his<br \/>destiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he was<br \/>this night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.<br \/>The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and<br \/>thrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and now<br \/>he was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.<br \/>He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.<br \/>\"Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move.\" Vee Vee's voice. Who<br \/>was Vee Vee?<br \/>The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space ship<br \/>vanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room,<br \/>at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.<br \/>\"You ... you startled me,\" Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip on<br \/>his arm.<br \/>\"But, didn't you see it?\"<br \/>\"See what?\"<br \/>\"The space ship!\"<br \/>\"No. No.\" She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.<br \/>\"I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contact<br \/>with my dream.\"<br \/>\"Your dream?\"<br \/>He asked a question but she did not answer it. \"Sit down, darling,<br \/>and look at your damned space ship.\" Her voice was a taut whisper of<br \/>sound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his left<br \/>told him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... The<br \/>Venusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beat<br \/>of hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, a<br \/>high-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson had<br \/>not heard it before in this place.<br \/>He thought about the space ship he had seen.<br \/>The vision would not come.<br \/>He shook his head and tried again.<br \/>Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of a<br \/>woman in love.<br \/>He tried again for the space ship.<br \/>It would not come.<br \/>Anger came up instead.<br \/>Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which kept<br \/>intruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.<br \/>So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was not<br \/>dreaming, who was not in a state of trance.<br \/>His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....<br \/>Cold flowed over him.<br \/>Unger was slowly rising from the mat.<br \/>The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!<br \/>III<br \/>An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here<br \/>and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting<br \/>him.<br \/>\"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to<br \/>Venus to see. This ... this....\" The first voice went into silence.<br \/>Another voice took its place.<br \/>\"This is another damned vision!\" the second voice said. \"This ...<br \/>this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No Venusian<br \/>Dreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity,<br \/>can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!\"<br \/>\"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening.<br \/>We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian<br \/>Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\"<br \/>\"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said.<br \/>\"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our<br \/>master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some<br \/>other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\"<br \/>\"I—\" Johnson whispered.<br \/>\"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\"<br \/>\"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\"<br \/>\"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\"<br \/>\"I am your thyroid. I....\"<br \/>A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if<br \/>the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to<br \/>him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days<br \/>when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.<br \/>\"Be quiet!\" he said roughly.<br \/>The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. \"Action,<br \/>Master! Do something.\"<br \/>\"Quiet!\" Johnson ordered.<br \/>\"But hurry. We are excited.\"<br \/>\"There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation,<br \/>if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—we<br \/>can all die.\"<br \/>\"Die?\" the chorus quavered.<br \/>\"Yes,\" Johnson said. \"Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all go<br \/>together.\"<br \/>The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold the<br \/>little voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.<br \/>\"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported.<br \/>\"Please!\" Johnson said.<br \/>In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.<br \/>\"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.<br \/>\"I sweat....\" his skin began.<br \/>\"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said.<br \/>The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see<br \/>them. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that<br \/>force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.<br \/>\"Yaaah!\" The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of a<br \/>Venusian being jarred out of his dream.<br \/>\"Damn it!\" A human voice said.<br \/>A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.<br \/>Unger fell.<br \/>He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking,<br \/>body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.<br \/>There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. The<br \/>silence went. Voices came.<br \/>\"Who did that?\"<br \/>\"What happened?\"<br \/>\"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\" Anger marked<br \/>the voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of the<br \/>meaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. At<br \/>his left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. \"What—what happened? I was<br \/>back in the lab on Earth—\" Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, as<br \/>if some pleasant dream had been interrupted.<br \/>On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came up<br \/>around his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips came<br \/>hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.<br \/>\"What—\" he gasped.<br \/>\"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"<br \/>Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the back<br \/>of the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot of<br \/>Venusians were attacking a man.<br \/>\"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He<br \/>is<br \/>here!\"<br \/>In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired<br \/>blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft<br \/>throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd.<br \/>Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But<br \/>there seemed to be an endless number of them.<br \/>\"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had<br \/>slid out of his sight.<br \/>\"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.<br \/>\"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted. \"Martin's the important<br \/>one.\"<br \/>Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.<br \/>Johnson followed.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.782343Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:41:42.211384Z","inner_id":122,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":121,"annotations":[{"id":23,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Vee Vee kisses Johnson.\nContextualized = Vee Vee suddenly kisses Johnson.\nSpan = Vee Vee suddenly kisses Johnson\nSupport = Her lips came hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Vee Vee says she might not be able to kiss Johnson later.\nContextualized = She is saying she might not be able to later.\nSpan = saying she might not be able to later\nSupport = \"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Johnson is puzzled by Vee Vee's kiss and comment.\nContextualized = He is puzzled by this.\nSpan = He is puzzled by this\nSupport = Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. \"What—\" he gasped.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Johnson sees Martin in the room.\nContextualized = He sees that Martin is in the room.\nSpan = until he sees that Martin is in the room\nSupport = \"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He is here!\" Somewhere in the back of the room a human screamed. Back there a knot of Venusians were attacking a man.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = A crowd is converging on Martin.\nContextualized = A crowd is converging on him.\nSpan = the crowd is converging on him\nSupport = Back there a knot of Venusians were attacking a man. He fired blindly at the mass of Venusians. The soft throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd. But there seemed to be an endless number of them.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"QgPBAJ3W2c","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T17:53:51.347055Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:36:04.727211Z","lead_time":422.31499999999994,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":121,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63916,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists, but no one on Venus is supposed to know that. He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin, and it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there. Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams, and meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee. \n\nVee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson, which he swiftly blocks. They enter the Room of the Dreamer together, even though they don’t trust each other (and Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for her because she has been asking about Martin). As they enter the room and Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth, she reveals that she knows who he is but says she will keep his secret. \n\nThe Dreamer, Unger, enters the room and the dreaming commences. It seems to affect everyone, including Johnson, who sees a spaceship and then is upset that he can’t get it back. He has the odd sensation of different bodily organs speaking to him and trying to convince him what he’s seeing is real as he watches Unger levitate high into the air. \n\nUnger falls, hard, and the crowd gets very upset and murmurs suggest a human is at fault.","reference":"Vee Vee suddenly kisses Johnson, saying she might not be able to later. He is puzzled by this, until he sees that Martin is in the room and the crowd is converging on him.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>The CONJURER of VENUS<br \/>By CONAN T. TROY<br \/>A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus.<br \/>When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that<br \/>globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories November 1952.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive,<br \/>Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way<br \/>with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been<br \/>occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up.<br \/>Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?<br \/>On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to<br \/>Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain<br \/>that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the<br \/>notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room.<br \/>Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses,<br \/>perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly<br \/>love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both<br \/>humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with<br \/>straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him,<br \/>aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.<br \/>Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson<br \/>entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed<br \/>that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to<br \/>recognize Caldwell.<br \/>\"Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?\" His voice<br \/>was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a<br \/>headwaiter was bowing to him.<br \/>\"I'll have a tarmur to start,\" Johnson said. \"How are the dreams<br \/>tonight?\"<br \/>\"Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself<br \/>will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite<br \/>his touch at dreaming, mighty one.\" The headwaiter spread his hands<br \/>in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do<br \/>ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger<br \/>hisself!\" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said. \"The great Unger!\" His voice expressed surprise,<br \/>just the right amount of it. \"I'll have a tarmur to start but when does<br \/>the dreaming commence?\"<br \/>\"In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty<br \/>one?\" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson<br \/>to the bar.<br \/>\"Not just yet,\" Johnson said. \"See me a little later.\"<br \/>\"But certainly.\" The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson was<br \/>at the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. \"Tarmur,\" Johnson<br \/>said. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light,<br \/>admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him,<br \/>watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinking<br \/>itself.<br \/>\"Beautiful, aren't they?\" a soft voice said. He glanced to his right.<br \/>A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cut<br \/>very low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on<br \/>Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue,<br \/>the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and<br \/>below the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons.<br \/>Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the<br \/>days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this<br \/>place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyes<br \/>smiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present here<br \/>in this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the bar<br \/>stool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians were<br \/>here who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace that<br \/>circled it?<br \/>\"They<br \/>are<br \/>beautiful,\" he said, smiling.<br \/>\"Thank you.\"<br \/>\"I was referring to the bubbles.\"<br \/>\"You were talking about my eyes,\" she answered, unperturbed.<br \/>\"How did you know? I mean....\"<br \/>\"I am very knowing,\" the girl said, smiling.<br \/>\"Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?\"<br \/>For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Then<br \/>it came again, stronger. \"Aren't you here?\"<br \/>Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up his<br \/>nose. \"My dear child ...\" he sputtered.<br \/>\"I am not a child,\" she answered with a firm sureness that left no<br \/>doubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. \"And my name is<br \/>Vee Vee.\"<br \/>\"Vee Vee? Um. That is....\"<br \/>\"Don't you think it's a nice name?\"<br \/>\"I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.\"<br \/>\"There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.\"<br \/>\"What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?\"<br \/>\"Growing.\" The blue eyes were unafraid.<br \/>Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in<br \/>the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then<br \/>his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his<br \/>purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman<br \/>on him.<br \/>There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.<br \/>In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questioned<br \/>the motives of the killer.<br \/>\"You look as if you were considering some very grave matter,\" Vee Vee<br \/>said.<br \/>\"Not any longer,\" he laughed.<br \/>\"You have decided them?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"Every last one of them?\"<br \/>\"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on<br \/>the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to<br \/>them.\" He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden<br \/>behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased<br \/>himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.<br \/>\"Zlock!\" Caldwell said, to the bartender. \"Make it snappy. Gotta have<br \/>zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system.\" Caldwell's voice was<br \/>thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out<br \/>of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The<br \/>fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.<br \/>\"I haven't seen him,\" Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. \"But I<br \/>think he is, or was, here.\"<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.<br \/>\"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.<br \/>\"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems,\" Vee Vee said, watching<br \/>Caldwell.<br \/>\"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—\"<br \/>\"Lying is one of the deadly sins.\" Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the<br \/>merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.<br \/>\"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?\" The headwaiter was<br \/>bowing and scraping in front of him. \"The great one has decided, yes?\"<br \/>\"The dreaming!\" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. \"Of course. We must see<br \/>the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we<br \/>darling?\" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.<br \/>\"Certainly,\" Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the<br \/>moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might<br \/>be something else. And<br \/>he<br \/>might be there.<br \/>\"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!\" The headwaiter<br \/>clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of<br \/>sight.<br \/>\"Say, I want to know more—\" Johnson began. His words were drowned in<br \/>a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden<br \/>silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes<br \/>were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,<br \/>cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.<br \/>In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians<br \/>and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation<br \/>of what was to happen.<br \/>The trumpets flared again.<br \/>On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From<br \/>beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that<br \/>sounded like lutes from heaven.<br \/>Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up with<br \/>her. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging<br \/>into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost<br \/>paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve<br \/>block paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, the<br \/>tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.<br \/>She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response to<br \/>the thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into his<br \/>elbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbing<br \/>it, she began to massage it.<br \/>\"You—you—\" Hot anger and shock were in her voice. \"You're the first<br \/>man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.\"<br \/>\"And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.\"<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"Shall we go watch the dreaming?\" He took the arm that still hung limp<br \/>at her side and tucked it into his elbow.<br \/>\"If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm,\" he<br \/>said. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.<br \/>\"I won't do it again,\" the girl said stoutly. \"I never make the same<br \/>mistake twice.\"<br \/>\"Good,\" Johnson said.<br \/>\"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said.<br \/>\"What a sweet, charming child you—\"<br \/>\"I told you before, I'm not a child.\"<br \/>\"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you<br \/>interrupt.\"<br \/>She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed to<br \/>say she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. He<br \/>tensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips of<br \/>her fingers she gently patted his arm.<br \/>\"There, there, darling, relax,\" she said. \"I know a better way to get<br \/>you than by using the Karmer grip.\"<br \/>\"What way?\"<br \/>Her eyes sparkled. \"Eve's way,\" she answered.<br \/>\"Um!\" Surprise sounded in his grunt. \"But apples don't grow on Venus.\"<br \/>\"Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.\"<br \/>Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming,<br \/>Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell's<br \/>face was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warning<br \/>signs. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his<br \/>arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.<br \/>II<br \/>It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling ramps<br \/>rising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have been<br \/>a stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was an<br \/>open space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling ramps<br \/>the room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusian<br \/>werewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.<br \/>The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. The<br \/>throbbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes were<br \/>playing. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they became<br \/>accustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that human<br \/>minds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it had<br \/>the feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rain<br \/>would have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.<br \/>The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sending<br \/>tingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of the<br \/>Dreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catching<br \/>hold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before but<br \/>he had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human ever<br \/>did. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold.<br \/>In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve center<br \/>inside the human organism was touched by something, some force, some<br \/>radiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt the<br \/>coldness now.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.<br \/>\"Do you feel it, darling?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"What is it?\"<br \/>\"How would I know?\"<br \/>\"Please!\" Her voice grew sharp. \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\"<br \/>\"Johnny! How do you know my name?\"<br \/>\"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he<br \/>is incognito on Venus?\" Her voice had a teasing quality in it.<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip<br \/>and be able to break it instantly?\"<br \/>\"Hell—\"<br \/>\"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost<br \/>expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human<br \/>body!\" Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper and<br \/>deeper into him.<br \/>\"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing<br \/>if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then<br \/>there was no doubt who you were!\" Her words went on and on.<br \/>\"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound.<br \/>\"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last<br \/>thing you really want to do.\"<br \/>He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving into<br \/>this room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came back<br \/>to her.<br \/>Again she patted his arm. \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with<br \/>me.\"<br \/>A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was<br \/>suddenly weak.<br \/>The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am<br \/>I not with you?\"<br \/>\"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. If he had had a<br \/>choice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as they<br \/>were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the<br \/>balance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—But<br \/>Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What<br \/>connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?<br \/>Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions on<br \/>a ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed to<br \/>another nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, moved<br \/>cushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of way<br \/>that was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on the<br \/>left.<br \/>\"Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you.\" Caldwell's voice was still<br \/>thick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Under<br \/>the man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zit<br \/>gun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feeling<br \/>his own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge of<br \/>gas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless in<br \/>operation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter of<br \/>seconds.<br \/>True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the next<br \/>day. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns as<br \/>effective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of the<br \/>little weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.<br \/>The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freely<br \/>through the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single bright<br \/>spotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliant<br \/>illumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. The<br \/>curtain rose.<br \/>Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.<br \/>Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>sought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. He<br \/>caught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffened<br \/>and became a rock.<br \/>Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light<br \/>had been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the<br \/>impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed three<br \/>hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robe<br \/>that would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of the<br \/>spotlight as if by magic.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Shhh. Nobody knows.\"<br \/>No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—<br \/>Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite sound<br \/>passed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himself<br \/>flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently<br \/>went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest<br \/>take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.<br \/>The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>dug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide for<br \/>protection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. She<br \/>drew closer to him.<br \/>A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, able<br \/>to take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she was<br \/>suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she<br \/>had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.<br \/>\"Haven't you ever seen this before?\" he whispered.<br \/>\"N—o.\" She shivered again. \"Oh, Johnny....\"<br \/>Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamer<br \/>lay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his<br \/>breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation<br \/>was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he<br \/>sensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed this<br \/>way, through such scented and musical and impossible places as these<br \/>Rooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himself<br \/>was not prepared to disagree.<br \/>Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ...<br \/>going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experience<br \/>to them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.<br \/>The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep,<br \/>perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music<br \/>and the perfume, and by something else. It was this something else<br \/>that sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opium<br \/>smokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance.<br \/>He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...<br \/>watching a space ship float in an endless void<br \/>.<br \/>As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into<br \/>his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer,<br \/>the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee and<br \/>Caldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were not<br \/>in the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet he<br \/>knew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was out<br \/>on the periphery of his universe, perhaps of<br \/>the<br \/>universe.<br \/>All he saw was the space ship.<br \/>It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seen<br \/>in his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.<br \/>Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-off<br \/>stars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped his<br \/>destiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he was<br \/>this night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.<br \/>The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and<br \/>thrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and now<br \/>he was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.<br \/>He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.<br \/>\"Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move.\" Vee Vee's voice. Who<br \/>was Vee Vee?<br \/>The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space ship<br \/>vanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room,<br \/>at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.<br \/>\"You ... you startled me,\" Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip on<br \/>his arm.<br \/>\"But, didn't you see it?\"<br \/>\"See what?\"<br \/>\"The space ship!\"<br \/>\"No. No.\" She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.<br \/>\"I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contact<br \/>with my dream.\"<br \/>\"Your dream?\"<br \/>He asked a question but she did not answer it. \"Sit down, darling,<br \/>and look at your damned space ship.\" Her voice was a taut whisper of<br \/>sound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his left<br \/>told him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... The<br \/>Venusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beat<br \/>of hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, a<br \/>high-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson had<br \/>not heard it before in this place.<br \/>He thought about the space ship he had seen.<br \/>The vision would not come.<br \/>He shook his head and tried again.<br \/>Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of a<br \/>woman in love.<br \/>He tried again for the space ship.<br \/>It would not come.<br \/>Anger came up instead.<br \/>Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which kept<br \/>intruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.<br \/>So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was not<br \/>dreaming, who was not in a state of trance.<br \/>His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....<br \/>Cold flowed over him.<br \/>Unger was slowly rising from the mat.<br \/>The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!<br \/>III<br \/>An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here<br \/>and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting<br \/>him.<br \/>\"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to<br \/>Venus to see. This ... this....\" The first voice went into silence.<br \/>Another voice took its place.<br \/>\"This is another damned vision!\" the second voice said. \"This ...<br \/>this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No Venusian<br \/>Dreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity,<br \/>can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!\"<br \/>\"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening.<br \/>We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian<br \/>Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\"<br \/>\"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said.<br \/>\"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our<br \/>master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some<br \/>other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\"<br \/>\"I—\" Johnson whispered.<br \/>\"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\"<br \/>\"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\"<br \/>\"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\"<br \/>\"I am your thyroid. I....\"<br \/>A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if<br \/>the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to<br \/>him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days<br \/>when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.<br \/>\"Be quiet!\" he said roughly.<br \/>The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. \"Action,<br \/>Master! Do something.\"<br \/>\"Quiet!\" Johnson ordered.<br \/>\"But hurry. We are excited.\"<br \/>\"There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation,<br \/>if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—we<br \/>can all die.\"<br \/>\"Die?\" the chorus quavered.<br \/>\"Yes,\" Johnson said. \"Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all go<br \/>together.\"<br \/>The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold the<br \/>little voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.<br \/>\"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported.<br \/>\"Please!\" Johnson said.<br \/>In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.<br \/>\"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.<br \/>\"I sweat....\" his skin began.<br \/>\"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said.<br \/>The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see<br \/>them. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that<br \/>force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.<br \/>\"Yaaah!\" The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of a<br \/>Venusian being jarred out of his dream.<br \/>\"Damn it!\" A human voice said.<br \/>A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.<br \/>Unger fell.<br \/>He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking,<br \/>body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.<br \/>There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. The<br \/>silence went. Voices came.<br \/>\"Who did that?\"<br \/>\"What happened?\"<br \/>\"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\" Anger marked<br \/>the voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of the<br \/>meaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. At<br \/>his left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. \"What—what happened? I was<br \/>back in the lab on Earth—\" Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, as<br \/>if some pleasant dream had been interrupted.<br \/>On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came up<br \/>around his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips came<br \/>hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.<br \/>\"What—\" he gasped.<br \/>\"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"<br \/>Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the back<br \/>of the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot of<br \/>Venusians were attacking a man.<br \/>\"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He<br \/>is<br \/>here!\"<br \/>In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired<br \/>blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft<br \/>throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd.<br \/>Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But<br \/>there seemed to be an endless number of them.<br \/>\"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had<br \/>slid out of his sight.<br \/>\"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.<br \/>\"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted. \"Martin's the important<br \/>one.\"<br \/>Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.<br \/>Johnson followed.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.782195Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:36:04.775982Z","inner_id":121,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":120,"annotations":[{"id":22,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Johnson has the odd sensation of different bodily organs speaking to him.\nContextualized = He has the odd sensation of different bodily organs speaking to him.\nSpan = He has the odd sensation of different bodily organs speaking to him\nSupport = An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting him. \"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to Venus to see. This ... this....\" \"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening. We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\" \"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said. \"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\" \"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\" \"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\" \"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\" \"I am your thyroid. I....\" A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them. \"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported. \"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated. \"I sweat....\" his skin began.\n \nInfo Unit #2 = The bodily voices try to convince Johnson that what he's seeing is real.\nContextualized = They are trying to convince him what he’s seeing is real.\nSpan = trying to convince him what he’s seeing is real\nSupport = \"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\" \"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Johnson watches Unger levitate high into the air.\nContextualized = He watches Unger levitate high into the air.\nSpan = he watches Unger levitate high into the air.\nSupport = \"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said. The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see them. If any  known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated. Unger was slowly rising from the mat. The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Unger falls down hard.\nContextualized = Unger falls, hard.\nSpan = Unger falls, hard\nSupport = Unger fell. He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking, body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = The crowd gets upset at Unger's fall.\nContextualized = The crowd gets very upset.\nSpan = the crowd gets very upset\nSupport = There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room. Anger marked the voices.\n\nInfo Unit #6 = The crowd blames a human for Unger's fall.\nContextualized =  Murmurs suggest a human is at fault.\nSpan = murmurs suggest a human is at fault.\nSupport = \"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\"","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"tXKdI4J5sx","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T17:49:48.374051Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:28:20.275337Z","lead_time":869.989,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":120,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63916,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists, but no one on Venus is supposed to know that. He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin, and it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there. Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams, and meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee. \n\nVee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson, which he swiftly blocks. They enter the Room of the Dreamer together, even though they don’t trust each other (and Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for her because she has been asking about Martin). As they enter the room and Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth, she reveals that she knows who he is but says she will keep his secret. \n\nThe Dreamer, Unger, enters the room and the dreaming commences. It seems to affect everyone, including Johnson, who sees a spaceship and then is upset that he can’t get it back.","reference":"He has the odd sensation of different bodily organs speaking to him and trying to convince him what he’s seeing is real as he watches Unger levitate high into the air. \n\nUnger falls, hard, and the crowd gets very upset and murmurs suggest a human is at fault.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>The CONJURER of VENUS<br \/>By CONAN T. TROY<br \/>A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus.<br \/>When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that<br \/>globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories November 1952.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive,<br \/>Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way<br \/>with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been<br \/>occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up.<br \/>Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?<br \/>On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to<br \/>Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain<br \/>that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the<br \/>notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room.<br \/>Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses,<br \/>perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly<br \/>love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both<br \/>humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with<br \/>straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him,<br \/>aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.<br \/>Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson<br \/>entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed<br \/>that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to<br \/>recognize Caldwell.<br \/>\"Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?\" His voice<br \/>was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a<br \/>headwaiter was bowing to him.<br \/>\"I'll have a tarmur to start,\" Johnson said. \"How are the dreams<br \/>tonight?\"<br \/>\"Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself<br \/>will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite<br \/>his touch at dreaming, mighty one.\" The headwaiter spread his hands<br \/>in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do<br \/>ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger<br \/>hisself!\" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said. \"The great Unger!\" His voice expressed surprise,<br \/>just the right amount of it. \"I'll have a tarmur to start but when does<br \/>the dreaming commence?\"<br \/>\"In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty<br \/>one?\" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson<br \/>to the bar.<br \/>\"Not just yet,\" Johnson said. \"See me a little later.\"<br \/>\"But certainly.\" The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson was<br \/>at the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. \"Tarmur,\" Johnson<br \/>said. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light,<br \/>admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him,<br \/>watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinking<br \/>itself.<br \/>\"Beautiful, aren't they?\" a soft voice said. He glanced to his right.<br \/>A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cut<br \/>very low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on<br \/>Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue,<br \/>the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and<br \/>below the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons.<br \/>Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the<br \/>days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this<br \/>place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyes<br \/>smiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present here<br \/>in this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the bar<br \/>stool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians were<br \/>here who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace that<br \/>circled it?<br \/>\"They<br \/>are<br \/>beautiful,\" he said, smiling.<br \/>\"Thank you.\"<br \/>\"I was referring to the bubbles.\"<br \/>\"You were talking about my eyes,\" she answered, unperturbed.<br \/>\"How did you know? I mean....\"<br \/>\"I am very knowing,\" the girl said, smiling.<br \/>\"Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?\"<br \/>For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Then<br \/>it came again, stronger. \"Aren't you here?\"<br \/>Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up his<br \/>nose. \"My dear child ...\" he sputtered.<br \/>\"I am not a child,\" she answered with a firm sureness that left no<br \/>doubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. \"And my name is<br \/>Vee Vee.\"<br \/>\"Vee Vee? Um. That is....\"<br \/>\"Don't you think it's a nice name?\"<br \/>\"I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.\"<br \/>\"There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.\"<br \/>\"What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?\"<br \/>\"Growing.\" The blue eyes were unafraid.<br \/>Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in<br \/>the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then<br \/>his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his<br \/>purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman<br \/>on him.<br \/>There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.<br \/>In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questioned<br \/>the motives of the killer.<br \/>\"You look as if you were considering some very grave matter,\" Vee Vee<br \/>said.<br \/>\"Not any longer,\" he laughed.<br \/>\"You have decided them?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"Every last one of them?\"<br \/>\"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on<br \/>the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to<br \/>them.\" He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden<br \/>behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased<br \/>himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.<br \/>\"Zlock!\" Caldwell said, to the bartender. \"Make it snappy. Gotta have<br \/>zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system.\" Caldwell's voice was<br \/>thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out<br \/>of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The<br \/>fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.<br \/>\"I haven't seen him,\" Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. \"But I<br \/>think he is, or was, here.\"<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.<br \/>\"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.<br \/>\"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems,\" Vee Vee said, watching<br \/>Caldwell.<br \/>\"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—\"<br \/>\"Lying is one of the deadly sins.\" Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the<br \/>merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.<br \/>\"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?\" The headwaiter was<br \/>bowing and scraping in front of him. \"The great one has decided, yes?\"<br \/>\"The dreaming!\" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. \"Of course. We must see<br \/>the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we<br \/>darling?\" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.<br \/>\"Certainly,\" Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the<br \/>moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might<br \/>be something else. And<br \/>he<br \/>might be there.<br \/>\"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!\" The headwaiter<br \/>clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of<br \/>sight.<br \/>\"Say, I want to know more—\" Johnson began. His words were drowned in<br \/>a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden<br \/>silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes<br \/>were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,<br \/>cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.<br \/>In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians<br \/>and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation<br \/>of what was to happen.<br \/>The trumpets flared again.<br \/>On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From<br \/>beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that<br \/>sounded like lutes from heaven.<br \/>Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up with<br \/>her. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging<br \/>into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost<br \/>paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve<br \/>block paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, the<br \/>tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.<br \/>She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response to<br \/>the thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into his<br \/>elbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbing<br \/>it, she began to massage it.<br \/>\"You—you—\" Hot anger and shock were in her voice. \"You're the first<br \/>man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.\"<br \/>\"And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.\"<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"Shall we go watch the dreaming?\" He took the arm that still hung limp<br \/>at her side and tucked it into his elbow.<br \/>\"If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm,\" he<br \/>said. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.<br \/>\"I won't do it again,\" the girl said stoutly. \"I never make the same<br \/>mistake twice.\"<br \/>\"Good,\" Johnson said.<br \/>\"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said.<br \/>\"What a sweet, charming child you—\"<br \/>\"I told you before, I'm not a child.\"<br \/>\"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you<br \/>interrupt.\"<br \/>She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed to<br \/>say she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. He<br \/>tensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips of<br \/>her fingers she gently patted his arm.<br \/>\"There, there, darling, relax,\" she said. \"I know a better way to get<br \/>you than by using the Karmer grip.\"<br \/>\"What way?\"<br \/>Her eyes sparkled. \"Eve's way,\" she answered.<br \/>\"Um!\" Surprise sounded in his grunt. \"But apples don't grow on Venus.\"<br \/>\"Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.\"<br \/>Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming,<br \/>Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell's<br \/>face was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warning<br \/>signs. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his<br \/>arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.<br \/>II<br \/>It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling ramps<br \/>rising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have been<br \/>a stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was an<br \/>open space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling ramps<br \/>the room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusian<br \/>werewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.<br \/>The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. The<br \/>throbbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes were<br \/>playing. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they became<br \/>accustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that human<br \/>minds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it had<br \/>the feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rain<br \/>would have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.<br \/>The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sending<br \/>tingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of the<br \/>Dreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catching<br \/>hold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before but<br \/>he had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human ever<br \/>did. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold.<br \/>In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve center<br \/>inside the human organism was touched by something, some force, some<br \/>radiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt the<br \/>coldness now.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.<br \/>\"Do you feel it, darling?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"What is it?\"<br \/>\"How would I know?\"<br \/>\"Please!\" Her voice grew sharp. \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\"<br \/>\"Johnny! How do you know my name?\"<br \/>\"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he<br \/>is incognito on Venus?\" Her voice had a teasing quality in it.<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip<br \/>and be able to break it instantly?\"<br \/>\"Hell—\"<br \/>\"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost<br \/>expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human<br \/>body!\" Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper and<br \/>deeper into him.<br \/>\"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing<br \/>if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then<br \/>there was no doubt who you were!\" Her words went on and on.<br \/>\"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound.<br \/>\"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last<br \/>thing you really want to do.\"<br \/>He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving into<br \/>this room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came back<br \/>to her.<br \/>Again she patted his arm. \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with<br \/>me.\"<br \/>A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was<br \/>suddenly weak.<br \/>The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am<br \/>I not with you?\"<br \/>\"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. If he had had a<br \/>choice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as they<br \/>were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the<br \/>balance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—But<br \/>Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What<br \/>connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?<br \/>Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions on<br \/>a ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed to<br \/>another nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, moved<br \/>cushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of way<br \/>that was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on the<br \/>left.<br \/>\"Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you.\" Caldwell's voice was still<br \/>thick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Under<br \/>the man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zit<br \/>gun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feeling<br \/>his own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge of<br \/>gas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless in<br \/>operation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter of<br \/>seconds.<br \/>True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the next<br \/>day. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns as<br \/>effective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of the<br \/>little weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.<br \/>The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freely<br \/>through the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single bright<br \/>spotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliant<br \/>illumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. The<br \/>curtain rose.<br \/>Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.<br \/>Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>sought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. He<br \/>caught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffened<br \/>and became a rock.<br \/>Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light<br \/>had been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the<br \/>impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed three<br \/>hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robe<br \/>that would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of the<br \/>spotlight as if by magic.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Shhh. Nobody knows.\"<br \/>No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—<br \/>Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite sound<br \/>passed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himself<br \/>flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently<br \/>went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest<br \/>take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.<br \/>The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>dug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide for<br \/>protection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. She<br \/>drew closer to him.<br \/>A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, able<br \/>to take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she was<br \/>suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she<br \/>had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.<br \/>\"Haven't you ever seen this before?\" he whispered.<br \/>\"N—o.\" She shivered again. \"Oh, Johnny....\"<br \/>Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamer<br \/>lay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his<br \/>breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation<br \/>was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he<br \/>sensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed this<br \/>way, through such scented and musical and impossible places as these<br \/>Rooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himself<br \/>was not prepared to disagree.<br \/>Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ...<br \/>going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experience<br \/>to them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.<br \/>The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep,<br \/>perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music<br \/>and the perfume, and by something else. It was this something else<br \/>that sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opium<br \/>smokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance.<br \/>He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...<br \/>watching a space ship float in an endless void<br \/>.<br \/>As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into<br \/>his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer,<br \/>the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee and<br \/>Caldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were not<br \/>in the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet he<br \/>knew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was out<br \/>on the periphery of his universe, perhaps of<br \/>the<br \/>universe.<br \/>All he saw was the space ship.<br \/>It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seen<br \/>in his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.<br \/>Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-off<br \/>stars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped his<br \/>destiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he was<br \/>this night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.<br \/>The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and<br \/>thrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and now<br \/>he was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.<br \/>He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.<br \/>\"Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move.\" Vee Vee's voice. Who<br \/>was Vee Vee?<br \/>The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space ship<br \/>vanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room,<br \/>at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.<br \/>\"You ... you startled me,\" Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip on<br \/>his arm.<br \/>\"But, didn't you see it?\"<br \/>\"See what?\"<br \/>\"The space ship!\"<br \/>\"No. No.\" She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.<br \/>\"I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contact<br \/>with my dream.\"<br \/>\"Your dream?\"<br \/>He asked a question but she did not answer it. \"Sit down, darling,<br \/>and look at your damned space ship.\" Her voice was a taut whisper of<br \/>sound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his left<br \/>told him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... The<br \/>Venusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beat<br \/>of hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, a<br \/>high-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson had<br \/>not heard it before in this place.<br \/>He thought about the space ship he had seen.<br \/>The vision would not come.<br \/>He shook his head and tried again.<br \/>Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of a<br \/>woman in love.<br \/>He tried again for the space ship.<br \/>It would not come.<br \/>Anger came up instead.<br \/>Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which kept<br \/>intruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.<br \/>So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was not<br \/>dreaming, who was not in a state of trance.<br \/>His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....<br \/>Cold flowed over him.<br \/>Unger was slowly rising from the mat.<br \/>The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!<br \/>III<br \/>An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here<br \/>and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting<br \/>him.<br \/>\"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to<br \/>Venus to see. This ... this....\" The first voice went into silence.<br \/>Another voice took its place.<br \/>\"This is another damned vision!\" the second voice said. \"This ...<br \/>this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No Venusian<br \/>Dreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity,<br \/>can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!\"<br \/>\"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening.<br \/>We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian<br \/>Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\"<br \/>\"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said.<br \/>\"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our<br \/>master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some<br \/>other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\"<br \/>\"I—\" Johnson whispered.<br \/>\"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\"<br \/>\"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\"<br \/>\"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\"<br \/>\"I am your thyroid. I....\"<br \/>A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if<br \/>the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to<br \/>him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days<br \/>when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.<br \/>\"Be quiet!\" he said roughly.<br \/>The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. \"Action,<br \/>Master! Do something.\"<br \/>\"Quiet!\" Johnson ordered.<br \/>\"But hurry. We are excited.\"<br \/>\"There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation,<br \/>if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—we<br \/>can all die.\"<br \/>\"Die?\" the chorus quavered.<br \/>\"Yes,\" Johnson said. \"Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all go<br \/>together.\"<br \/>The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold the<br \/>little voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.<br \/>\"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported.<br \/>\"Please!\" Johnson said.<br \/>In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.<br \/>\"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.<br \/>\"I sweat....\" his skin began.<br \/>\"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said.<br \/>The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see<br \/>them. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that<br \/>force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.<br \/>\"Yaaah!\" The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of a<br \/>Venusian being jarred out of his dream.<br \/>\"Damn it!\" A human voice said.<br \/>A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.<br \/>Unger fell.<br \/>He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking,<br \/>body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.<br \/>There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. The<br \/>silence went. Voices came.<br \/>\"Who did that?\"<br \/>\"What happened?\"<br \/>\"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\" Anger marked<br \/>the voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of the<br \/>meaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. At<br \/>his left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. \"What—what happened? I was<br \/>back in the lab on Earth—\" Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, as<br \/>if some pleasant dream had been interrupted.<br \/>On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came up<br \/>around his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips came<br \/>hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.<br \/>\"What—\" he gasped.<br \/>\"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"<br \/>Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the back<br \/>of the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot of<br \/>Venusians were attacking a man.<br \/>\"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He<br \/>is<br \/>here!\"<br \/>In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired<br \/>blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft<br \/>throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd.<br \/>Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But<br \/>there seemed to be an endless number of them.<br \/>\"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had<br \/>slid out of his sight.<br \/>\"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.<br \/>\"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted. \"Martin's the important<br \/>one.\"<br \/>Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.<br \/>Johnson followed.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.782058Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:28:20.329701Z","inner_id":120,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":119,"annotations":[{"id":21,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Unger is the Dreamer.\nContextualized = The Dreamer, Unger.\nSpan = The Dreamer, Unger\nSupport = The great Unger hisself will be here to do ze dreaming. Ah, ze great Unger hisself!\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Unger enters the room of the Dreamer.\nContextualized = The Dreamer, Unger, enters the room.\nSpan = The Dreamer, Unger, enters the room\nSupport = Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light. Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light\nhad been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Unger starts dreaming.\nContextualized = The dreaming commences.\nSpan = the dreaming commences\nSupport = He stretched himself flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Unger's dreaming affects everyone including Johnson.\nContextualized = It seems to affect everyone, including Johnson.\nSpan = It seems to affect everyone, including Johnson\nSupport = She was shivering. Now she was suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he sensed a pattern. The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep, perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music and the perfume, and by something else.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = When the dreaming commences, Johnson sees a spaceship.\nContextualized = Johnson sees a spaceship.\nSpan = who sees a spaceship\nSupport = He was ... watching a space ship float in an endless void. As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. All he saw was the space ship. The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and thrilled him. Sit down, darling, and look at your damned space ship. He thought about the space ship he had seen.\n\nInfo Unit #6 = Johnson was upset he could not get the spaceship back.\nContextualized = He is upset that he can’t get it back.\nSpan = then is upset that he can’t get it back.\nSupport = He tried again for the space ship. It would not come. Anger came up instead.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"GPDUrOJwmQ","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T17:40:24.126034Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:25:56.610451Z","lead_time":1011.056,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":119,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63916,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists, but no one on Venus is supposed to know that. He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin, and it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there. Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams, and meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee. \n\nVee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson, which he swiftly blocks. They enter the Room of the Dreamer together, even though they don’t trust each other (and Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for her because she has been asking about Martin). As they enter the room and Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth, she reveals that she knows who he is but says she will keep his secret.","reference":"\n\nThe Dreamer, Unger, enters the room and the dreaming commences. It seems to affect everyone, including Johnson, who sees a spaceship and then is upset that he can’t get it back.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>The CONJURER of VENUS<br \/>By CONAN T. TROY<br \/>A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus.<br \/>When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that<br \/>globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories November 1952.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive,<br \/>Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way<br \/>with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been<br \/>occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up.<br \/>Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?<br \/>On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to<br \/>Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain<br \/>that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the<br \/>notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room.<br \/>Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses,<br \/>perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly<br \/>love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both<br \/>humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with<br \/>straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him,<br \/>aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.<br \/>Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson<br \/>entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed<br \/>that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to<br \/>recognize Caldwell.<br \/>\"Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?\" His voice<br \/>was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a<br \/>headwaiter was bowing to him.<br \/>\"I'll have a tarmur to start,\" Johnson said. \"How are the dreams<br \/>tonight?\"<br \/>\"Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself<br \/>will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite<br \/>his touch at dreaming, mighty one.\" The headwaiter spread his hands<br \/>in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do<br \/>ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger<br \/>hisself!\" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said. \"The great Unger!\" His voice expressed surprise,<br \/>just the right amount of it. \"I'll have a tarmur to start but when does<br \/>the dreaming commence?\"<br \/>\"In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty<br \/>one?\" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson<br \/>to the bar.<br \/>\"Not just yet,\" Johnson said. \"See me a little later.\"<br \/>\"But certainly.\" The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson was<br \/>at the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. \"Tarmur,\" Johnson<br \/>said. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light,<br \/>admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him,<br \/>watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinking<br \/>itself.<br \/>\"Beautiful, aren't they?\" a soft voice said. He glanced to his right.<br \/>A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cut<br \/>very low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on<br \/>Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue,<br \/>the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and<br \/>below the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons.<br \/>Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the<br \/>days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this<br \/>place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyes<br \/>smiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present here<br \/>in this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the bar<br \/>stool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians were<br \/>here who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace that<br \/>circled it?<br \/>\"They<br \/>are<br \/>beautiful,\" he said, smiling.<br \/>\"Thank you.\"<br \/>\"I was referring to the bubbles.\"<br \/>\"You were talking about my eyes,\" she answered, unperturbed.<br \/>\"How did you know? I mean....\"<br \/>\"I am very knowing,\" the girl said, smiling.<br \/>\"Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?\"<br \/>For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Then<br \/>it came again, stronger. \"Aren't you here?\"<br \/>Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up his<br \/>nose. \"My dear child ...\" he sputtered.<br \/>\"I am not a child,\" she answered with a firm sureness that left no<br \/>doubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. \"And my name is<br \/>Vee Vee.\"<br \/>\"Vee Vee? Um. That is....\"<br \/>\"Don't you think it's a nice name?\"<br \/>\"I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.\"<br \/>\"There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.\"<br \/>\"What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?\"<br \/>\"Growing.\" The blue eyes were unafraid.<br \/>Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in<br \/>the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then<br \/>his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his<br \/>purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman<br \/>on him.<br \/>There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.<br \/>In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questioned<br \/>the motives of the killer.<br \/>\"You look as if you were considering some very grave matter,\" Vee Vee<br \/>said.<br \/>\"Not any longer,\" he laughed.<br \/>\"You have decided them?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"Every last one of them?\"<br \/>\"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on<br \/>the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to<br \/>them.\" He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden<br \/>behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased<br \/>himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.<br \/>\"Zlock!\" Caldwell said, to the bartender. \"Make it snappy. Gotta have<br \/>zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system.\" Caldwell's voice was<br \/>thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out<br \/>of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The<br \/>fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.<br \/>\"I haven't seen him,\" Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. \"But I<br \/>think he is, or was, here.\"<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.<br \/>\"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.<br \/>\"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems,\" Vee Vee said, watching<br \/>Caldwell.<br \/>\"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—\"<br \/>\"Lying is one of the deadly sins.\" Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the<br \/>merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.<br \/>\"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?\" The headwaiter was<br \/>bowing and scraping in front of him. \"The great one has decided, yes?\"<br \/>\"The dreaming!\" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. \"Of course. We must see<br \/>the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we<br \/>darling?\" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.<br \/>\"Certainly,\" Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the<br \/>moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might<br \/>be something else. And<br \/>he<br \/>might be there.<br \/>\"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!\" The headwaiter<br \/>clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of<br \/>sight.<br \/>\"Say, I want to know more—\" Johnson began. His words were drowned in<br \/>a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden<br \/>silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes<br \/>were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,<br \/>cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.<br \/>In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians<br \/>and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation<br \/>of what was to happen.<br \/>The trumpets flared again.<br \/>On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From<br \/>beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that<br \/>sounded like lutes from heaven.<br \/>Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up with<br \/>her. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging<br \/>into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost<br \/>paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve<br \/>block paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, the<br \/>tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.<br \/>She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response to<br \/>the thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into his<br \/>elbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbing<br \/>it, she began to massage it.<br \/>\"You—you—\" Hot anger and shock were in her voice. \"You're the first<br \/>man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.\"<br \/>\"And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.\"<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"Shall we go watch the dreaming?\" He took the arm that still hung limp<br \/>at her side and tucked it into his elbow.<br \/>\"If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm,\" he<br \/>said. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.<br \/>\"I won't do it again,\" the girl said stoutly. \"I never make the same<br \/>mistake twice.\"<br \/>\"Good,\" Johnson said.<br \/>\"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said.<br \/>\"What a sweet, charming child you—\"<br \/>\"I told you before, I'm not a child.\"<br \/>\"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you<br \/>interrupt.\"<br \/>She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed to<br \/>say she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. He<br \/>tensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips of<br \/>her fingers she gently patted his arm.<br \/>\"There, there, darling, relax,\" she said. \"I know a better way to get<br \/>you than by using the Karmer grip.\"<br \/>\"What way?\"<br \/>Her eyes sparkled. \"Eve's way,\" she answered.<br \/>\"Um!\" Surprise sounded in his grunt. \"But apples don't grow on Venus.\"<br \/>\"Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.\"<br \/>Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming,<br \/>Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell's<br \/>face was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warning<br \/>signs. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his<br \/>arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.<br \/>II<br \/>It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling ramps<br \/>rising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have been<br \/>a stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was an<br \/>open space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling ramps<br \/>the room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusian<br \/>werewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.<br \/>The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. The<br \/>throbbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes were<br \/>playing. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they became<br \/>accustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that human<br \/>minds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it had<br \/>the feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rain<br \/>would have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.<br \/>The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sending<br \/>tingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of the<br \/>Dreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catching<br \/>hold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before but<br \/>he had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human ever<br \/>did. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold.<br \/>In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve center<br \/>inside the human organism was touched by something, some force, some<br \/>radiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt the<br \/>coldness now.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.<br \/>\"Do you feel it, darling?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"What is it?\"<br \/>\"How would I know?\"<br \/>\"Please!\" Her voice grew sharp. \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\"<br \/>\"Johnny! How do you know my name?\"<br \/>\"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he<br \/>is incognito on Venus?\" Her voice had a teasing quality in it.<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip<br \/>and be able to break it instantly?\"<br \/>\"Hell—\"<br \/>\"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost<br \/>expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human<br \/>body!\" Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper and<br \/>deeper into him.<br \/>\"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing<br \/>if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then<br \/>there was no doubt who you were!\" Her words went on and on.<br \/>\"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound.<br \/>\"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last<br \/>thing you really want to do.\"<br \/>He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving into<br \/>this room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came back<br \/>to her.<br \/>Again she patted his arm. \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with<br \/>me.\"<br \/>A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was<br \/>suddenly weak.<br \/>The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am<br \/>I not with you?\"<br \/>\"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. If he had had a<br \/>choice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as they<br \/>were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the<br \/>balance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—But<br \/>Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What<br \/>connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?<br \/>Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions on<br \/>a ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed to<br \/>another nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, moved<br \/>cushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of way<br \/>that was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on the<br \/>left.<br \/>\"Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you.\" Caldwell's voice was still<br \/>thick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Under<br \/>the man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zit<br \/>gun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feeling<br \/>his own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge of<br \/>gas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless in<br \/>operation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter of<br \/>seconds.<br \/>True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the next<br \/>day. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns as<br \/>effective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of the<br \/>little weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.<br \/>The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freely<br \/>through the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single bright<br \/>spotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliant<br \/>illumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. The<br \/>curtain rose.<br \/>Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.<br \/>Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>sought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. He<br \/>caught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffened<br \/>and became a rock.<br \/>Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light<br \/>had been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the<br \/>impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed three<br \/>hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robe<br \/>that would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of the<br \/>spotlight as if by magic.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Shhh. Nobody knows.\"<br \/>No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—<br \/>Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite sound<br \/>passed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himself<br \/>flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently<br \/>went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest<br \/>take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.<br \/>The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>dug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide for<br \/>protection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. She<br \/>drew closer to him.<br \/>A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, able<br \/>to take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she was<br \/>suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she<br \/>had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.<br \/>\"Haven't you ever seen this before?\" he whispered.<br \/>\"N—o.\" She shivered again. \"Oh, Johnny....\"<br \/>Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamer<br \/>lay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his<br \/>breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation<br \/>was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he<br \/>sensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed this<br \/>way, through such scented and musical and impossible places as these<br \/>Rooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himself<br \/>was not prepared to disagree.<br \/>Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ...<br \/>going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experience<br \/>to them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.<br \/>The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep,<br \/>perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music<br \/>and the perfume, and by something else. It was this something else<br \/>that sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opium<br \/>smokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance.<br \/>He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...<br \/>watching a space ship float in an endless void<br \/>.<br \/>As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into<br \/>his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer,<br \/>the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee and<br \/>Caldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were not<br \/>in the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet he<br \/>knew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was out<br \/>on the periphery of his universe, perhaps of<br \/>the<br \/>universe.<br \/>All he saw was the space ship.<br \/>It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seen<br \/>in his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.<br \/>Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-off<br \/>stars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped his<br \/>destiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he was<br \/>this night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.<br \/>The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and<br \/>thrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and now<br \/>he was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.<br \/>He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.<br \/>\"Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move.\" Vee Vee's voice. Who<br \/>was Vee Vee?<br \/>The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space ship<br \/>vanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room,<br \/>at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.<br \/>\"You ... you startled me,\" Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip on<br \/>his arm.<br \/>\"But, didn't you see it?\"<br \/>\"See what?\"<br \/>\"The space ship!\"<br \/>\"No. No.\" She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.<br \/>\"I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contact<br \/>with my dream.\"<br \/>\"Your dream?\"<br \/>He asked a question but she did not answer it. \"Sit down, darling,<br \/>and look at your damned space ship.\" Her voice was a taut whisper of<br \/>sound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his left<br \/>told him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... The<br \/>Venusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beat<br \/>of hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, a<br \/>high-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson had<br \/>not heard it before in this place.<br \/>He thought about the space ship he had seen.<br \/>The vision would not come.<br \/>He shook his head and tried again.<br \/>Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of a<br \/>woman in love.<br \/>He tried again for the space ship.<br \/>It would not come.<br \/>Anger came up instead.<br \/>Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which kept<br \/>intruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.<br \/>So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was not<br \/>dreaming, who was not in a state of trance.<br \/>His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....<br \/>Cold flowed over him.<br \/>Unger was slowly rising from the mat.<br \/>The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!<br \/>III<br \/>An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here<br \/>and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting<br \/>him.<br \/>\"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to<br \/>Venus to see. This ... this....\" The first voice went into silence.<br \/>Another voice took its place.<br \/>\"This is another damned vision!\" the second voice said. \"This ...<br \/>this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No Venusian<br \/>Dreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity,<br \/>can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!\"<br \/>\"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening.<br \/>We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian<br \/>Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\"<br \/>\"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said.<br \/>\"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our<br \/>master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some<br \/>other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\"<br \/>\"I—\" Johnson whispered.<br \/>\"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\"<br \/>\"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\"<br \/>\"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\"<br \/>\"I am your thyroid. I....\"<br \/>A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if<br \/>the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to<br \/>him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days<br \/>when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.<br \/>\"Be quiet!\" he said roughly.<br \/>The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. \"Action,<br \/>Master! Do something.\"<br \/>\"Quiet!\" Johnson ordered.<br \/>\"But hurry. We are excited.\"<br \/>\"There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation,<br \/>if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—we<br \/>can all die.\"<br \/>\"Die?\" the chorus quavered.<br \/>\"Yes,\" Johnson said. \"Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all go<br \/>together.\"<br \/>The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold the<br \/>little voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.<br \/>\"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported.<br \/>\"Please!\" Johnson said.<br \/>In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.<br \/>\"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.<br \/>\"I sweat....\" his skin began.<br \/>\"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said.<br \/>The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see<br \/>them. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that<br \/>force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.<br \/>\"Yaaah!\" The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of a<br \/>Venusian being jarred out of his dream.<br \/>\"Damn it!\" A human voice said.<br \/>A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.<br \/>Unger fell.<br \/>He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking,<br \/>body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.<br \/>There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. The<br \/>silence went. Voices came.<br \/>\"Who did that?\"<br \/>\"What happened?\"<br \/>\"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\" Anger marked<br \/>the voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of the<br \/>meaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. At<br \/>his left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. \"What—what happened? I was<br \/>back in the lab on Earth—\" Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, as<br \/>if some pleasant dream had been interrupted.<br \/>On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came up<br \/>around his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips came<br \/>hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.<br \/>\"What—\" he gasped.<br \/>\"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"<br \/>Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the back<br \/>of the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot of<br \/>Venusians were attacking a man.<br \/>\"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He<br \/>is<br \/>here!\"<br \/>In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired<br \/>blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft<br \/>throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd.<br \/>Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But<br \/>there seemed to be an endless number of them.<br \/>\"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had<br \/>slid out of his sight.<br \/>\"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.<br \/>\"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted. \"Martin's the important<br \/>one.\"<br \/>Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.<br \/>Johnson followed.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.781922Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:25:56.660988Z","inner_id":119,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":118,"annotations":[{"id":20,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Johnson and Vee Vee enter the Room of the Dreamer together.\nContextualized = They enter the Room of the Dreamer together.\nSpan = They enter the Room of the Dreamer together\nSupport = Shall we go watch the dreaming? Of course. We must see the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we darling? Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming, Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Johson and Vee Vee don't trust each other.\nContextualized = They don't trust each other.\nSpan = even though they don’t trust each other\nSupport = If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm. \"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said. \"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound. The second reason concerned her presence here in this\nplace where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman on him. \"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for Vee Vee.\nContextualized = Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for her.\nSpan = Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for her\nSupport = \"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Vee Vee has been asking about Martin.\nContextualized = She has been asking about Martin.\nSpan = she has been asking about Martin\nSupport = \"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.  And as for Martin—But Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin.\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth.\nContextualized = Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth.\nSpan = Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth\nSupport = \"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound. \"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last thing you really want to do.\" The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am I not with you?\" \"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was suddenly weak.\n\nInfo Unit #6 = Vee Vee reveals that she knows who Johnson really is.\nContextualized = She reveals that she knows who he really is.\nSpan = she reveals that she knows who he is\nSupport = \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\" \"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he\nis incognito on Venus?\" \"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip and be able to break it instantly?\" \"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human body!\" \"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then there was no doubt who you were!\"\n\nInfo Unit #7 = Vee Vee promises to keep Johnson's identity a secret.\nContextualized = She says she will keep his secret.\nSpan = says she will keep his secret.\nSupport = \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with me.\" No harm will come to you. Am I not with you?","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"SaeON66o04","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T17:27:52.158309Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:22:27.085262Z","lead_time":2216.343,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":118,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63916,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists, but no one on Venus is supposed to know that. He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin, and it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there. Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams, and meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee. \n\nVee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson, which he swiftly blocks.","reference":"They enter the Room of the Dreamer together, even though they don’t trust each other (and Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for her because she has been asking about Martin). As they enter the room and Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth, she reveals that she knows who he is but says she will keep his secret.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>The CONJURER of VENUS<br \/>By CONAN T. TROY<br \/>A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus.<br \/>When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that<br \/>globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories November 1952.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive,<br \/>Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way<br \/>with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been<br \/>occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up.<br \/>Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?<br \/>On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to<br \/>Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain<br \/>that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the<br \/>notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room.<br \/>Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses,<br \/>perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly<br \/>love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both<br \/>humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with<br \/>straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him,<br \/>aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.<br \/>Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson<br \/>entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed<br \/>that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to<br \/>recognize Caldwell.<br \/>\"Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?\" His voice<br \/>was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a<br \/>headwaiter was bowing to him.<br \/>\"I'll have a tarmur to start,\" Johnson said. \"How are the dreams<br \/>tonight?\"<br \/>\"Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself<br \/>will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite<br \/>his touch at dreaming, mighty one.\" The headwaiter spread his hands<br \/>in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do<br \/>ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger<br \/>hisself!\" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said. \"The great Unger!\" His voice expressed surprise,<br \/>just the right amount of it. \"I'll have a tarmur to start but when does<br \/>the dreaming commence?\"<br \/>\"In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty<br \/>one?\" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson<br \/>to the bar.<br \/>\"Not just yet,\" Johnson said. \"See me a little later.\"<br \/>\"But certainly.\" The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson was<br \/>at the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. \"Tarmur,\" Johnson<br \/>said. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light,<br \/>admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him,<br \/>watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinking<br \/>itself.<br \/>\"Beautiful, aren't they?\" a soft voice said. He glanced to his right.<br \/>A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cut<br \/>very low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on<br \/>Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue,<br \/>the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and<br \/>below the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons.<br \/>Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the<br \/>days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this<br \/>place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyes<br \/>smiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present here<br \/>in this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the bar<br \/>stool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians were<br \/>here who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace that<br \/>circled it?<br \/>\"They<br \/>are<br \/>beautiful,\" he said, smiling.<br \/>\"Thank you.\"<br \/>\"I was referring to the bubbles.\"<br \/>\"You were talking about my eyes,\" she answered, unperturbed.<br \/>\"How did you know? I mean....\"<br \/>\"I am very knowing,\" the girl said, smiling.<br \/>\"Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?\"<br \/>For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Then<br \/>it came again, stronger. \"Aren't you here?\"<br \/>Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up his<br \/>nose. \"My dear child ...\" he sputtered.<br \/>\"I am not a child,\" she answered with a firm sureness that left no<br \/>doubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. \"And my name is<br \/>Vee Vee.\"<br \/>\"Vee Vee? Um. That is....\"<br \/>\"Don't you think it's a nice name?\"<br \/>\"I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.\"<br \/>\"There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.\"<br \/>\"What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?\"<br \/>\"Growing.\" The blue eyes were unafraid.<br \/>Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in<br \/>the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then<br \/>his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his<br \/>purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman<br \/>on him.<br \/>There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.<br \/>In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questioned<br \/>the motives of the killer.<br \/>\"You look as if you were considering some very grave matter,\" Vee Vee<br \/>said.<br \/>\"Not any longer,\" he laughed.<br \/>\"You have decided them?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"Every last one of them?\"<br \/>\"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on<br \/>the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to<br \/>them.\" He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden<br \/>behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased<br \/>himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.<br \/>\"Zlock!\" Caldwell said, to the bartender. \"Make it snappy. Gotta have<br \/>zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system.\" Caldwell's voice was<br \/>thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out<br \/>of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The<br \/>fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.<br \/>\"I haven't seen him,\" Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. \"But I<br \/>think he is, or was, here.\"<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.<br \/>\"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.<br \/>\"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems,\" Vee Vee said, watching<br \/>Caldwell.<br \/>\"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—\"<br \/>\"Lying is one of the deadly sins.\" Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the<br \/>merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.<br \/>\"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?\" The headwaiter was<br \/>bowing and scraping in front of him. \"The great one has decided, yes?\"<br \/>\"The dreaming!\" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. \"Of course. We must see<br \/>the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we<br \/>darling?\" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.<br \/>\"Certainly,\" Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the<br \/>moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might<br \/>be something else. And<br \/>he<br \/>might be there.<br \/>\"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!\" The headwaiter<br \/>clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of<br \/>sight.<br \/>\"Say, I want to know more—\" Johnson began. His words were drowned in<br \/>a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden<br \/>silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes<br \/>were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,<br \/>cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.<br \/>In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians<br \/>and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation<br \/>of what was to happen.<br \/>The trumpets flared again.<br \/>On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From<br \/>beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that<br \/>sounded like lutes from heaven.<br \/>Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up with<br \/>her. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging<br \/>into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost<br \/>paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve<br \/>block paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, the<br \/>tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.<br \/>She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response to<br \/>the thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into his<br \/>elbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbing<br \/>it, she began to massage it.<br \/>\"You—you—\" Hot anger and shock were in her voice. \"You're the first<br \/>man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.\"<br \/>\"And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.\"<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"Shall we go watch the dreaming?\" He took the arm that still hung limp<br \/>at her side and tucked it into his elbow.<br \/>\"If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm,\" he<br \/>said. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.<br \/>\"I won't do it again,\" the girl said stoutly. \"I never make the same<br \/>mistake twice.\"<br \/>\"Good,\" Johnson said.<br \/>\"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said.<br \/>\"What a sweet, charming child you—\"<br \/>\"I told you before, I'm not a child.\"<br \/>\"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you<br \/>interrupt.\"<br \/>She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed to<br \/>say she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. He<br \/>tensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips of<br \/>her fingers she gently patted his arm.<br \/>\"There, there, darling, relax,\" she said. \"I know a better way to get<br \/>you than by using the Karmer grip.\"<br \/>\"What way?\"<br \/>Her eyes sparkled. \"Eve's way,\" she answered.<br \/>\"Um!\" Surprise sounded in his grunt. \"But apples don't grow on Venus.\"<br \/>\"Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.\"<br \/>Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming,<br \/>Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell's<br \/>face was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warning<br \/>signs. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his<br \/>arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.<br \/>II<br \/>It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling ramps<br \/>rising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have been<br \/>a stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was an<br \/>open space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling ramps<br \/>the room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusian<br \/>werewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.<br \/>The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. The<br \/>throbbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes were<br \/>playing. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they became<br \/>accustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that human<br \/>minds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it had<br \/>the feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rain<br \/>would have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.<br \/>The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sending<br \/>tingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of the<br \/>Dreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catching<br \/>hold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before but<br \/>he had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human ever<br \/>did. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold.<br \/>In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve center<br \/>inside the human organism was touched by something, some force, some<br \/>radiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt the<br \/>coldness now.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.<br \/>\"Do you feel it, darling?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"What is it?\"<br \/>\"How would I know?\"<br \/>\"Please!\" Her voice grew sharp. \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\"<br \/>\"Johnny! How do you know my name?\"<br \/>\"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he<br \/>is incognito on Venus?\" Her voice had a teasing quality in it.<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip<br \/>and be able to break it instantly?\"<br \/>\"Hell—\"<br \/>\"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost<br \/>expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human<br \/>body!\" Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper and<br \/>deeper into him.<br \/>\"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing<br \/>if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then<br \/>there was no doubt who you were!\" Her words went on and on.<br \/>\"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound.<br \/>\"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last<br \/>thing you really want to do.\"<br \/>He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving into<br \/>this room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came back<br \/>to her.<br \/>Again she patted his arm. \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with<br \/>me.\"<br \/>A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was<br \/>suddenly weak.<br \/>The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am<br \/>I not with you?\"<br \/>\"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. If he had had a<br \/>choice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as they<br \/>were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the<br \/>balance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—But<br \/>Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What<br \/>connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?<br \/>Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions on<br \/>a ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed to<br \/>another nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, moved<br \/>cushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of way<br \/>that was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on the<br \/>left.<br \/>\"Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you.\" Caldwell's voice was still<br \/>thick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Under<br \/>the man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zit<br \/>gun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feeling<br \/>his own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge of<br \/>gas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless in<br \/>operation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter of<br \/>seconds.<br \/>True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the next<br \/>day. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns as<br \/>effective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of the<br \/>little weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.<br \/>The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freely<br \/>through the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single bright<br \/>spotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliant<br \/>illumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. The<br \/>curtain rose.<br \/>Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.<br \/>Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>sought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. He<br \/>caught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffened<br \/>and became a rock.<br \/>Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light<br \/>had been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the<br \/>impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed three<br \/>hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robe<br \/>that would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of the<br \/>spotlight as if by magic.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Shhh. Nobody knows.\"<br \/>No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—<br \/>Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite sound<br \/>passed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himself<br \/>flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently<br \/>went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest<br \/>take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.<br \/>The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>dug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide for<br \/>protection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. She<br \/>drew closer to him.<br \/>A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, able<br \/>to take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she was<br \/>suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she<br \/>had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.<br \/>\"Haven't you ever seen this before?\" he whispered.<br \/>\"N—o.\" She shivered again. \"Oh, Johnny....\"<br \/>Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamer<br \/>lay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his<br \/>breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation<br \/>was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he<br \/>sensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed this<br \/>way, through such scented and musical and impossible places as these<br \/>Rooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himself<br \/>was not prepared to disagree.<br \/>Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ...<br \/>going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experience<br \/>to them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.<br \/>The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep,<br \/>perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music<br \/>and the perfume, and by something else. It was this something else<br \/>that sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opium<br \/>smokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance.<br \/>He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...<br \/>watching a space ship float in an endless void<br \/>.<br \/>As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into<br \/>his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer,<br \/>the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee and<br \/>Caldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were not<br \/>in the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet he<br \/>knew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was out<br \/>on the periphery of his universe, perhaps of<br \/>the<br \/>universe.<br \/>All he saw was the space ship.<br \/>It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seen<br \/>in his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.<br \/>Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-off<br \/>stars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped his<br \/>destiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he was<br \/>this night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.<br \/>The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and<br \/>thrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and now<br \/>he was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.<br \/>He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.<br \/>\"Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move.\" Vee Vee's voice. Who<br \/>was Vee Vee?<br \/>The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space ship<br \/>vanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room,<br \/>at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.<br \/>\"You ... you startled me,\" Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip on<br \/>his arm.<br \/>\"But, didn't you see it?\"<br \/>\"See what?\"<br \/>\"The space ship!\"<br \/>\"No. No.\" She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.<br \/>\"I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contact<br \/>with my dream.\"<br \/>\"Your dream?\"<br \/>He asked a question but she did not answer it. \"Sit down, darling,<br \/>and look at your damned space ship.\" Her voice was a taut whisper of<br \/>sound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his left<br \/>told him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... The<br \/>Venusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beat<br \/>of hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, a<br \/>high-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson had<br \/>not heard it before in this place.<br \/>He thought about the space ship he had seen.<br \/>The vision would not come.<br \/>He shook his head and tried again.<br \/>Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of a<br \/>woman in love.<br \/>He tried again for the space ship.<br \/>It would not come.<br \/>Anger came up instead.<br \/>Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which kept<br \/>intruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.<br \/>So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was not<br \/>dreaming, who was not in a state of trance.<br \/>His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....<br \/>Cold flowed over him.<br \/>Unger was slowly rising from the mat.<br \/>The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!<br \/>III<br \/>An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here<br \/>and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting<br \/>him.<br \/>\"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to<br \/>Venus to see. This ... this....\" The first voice went into silence.<br \/>Another voice took its place.<br \/>\"This is another damned vision!\" the second voice said. \"This ...<br \/>this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No Venusian<br \/>Dreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity,<br \/>can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!\"<br \/>\"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening.<br \/>We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian<br \/>Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\"<br \/>\"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said.<br \/>\"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our<br \/>master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some<br \/>other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\"<br \/>\"I—\" Johnson whispered.<br \/>\"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\"<br \/>\"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\"<br \/>\"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\"<br \/>\"I am your thyroid. I....\"<br \/>A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if<br \/>the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to<br \/>him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days<br \/>when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.<br \/>\"Be quiet!\" he said roughly.<br \/>The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. \"Action,<br \/>Master! Do something.\"<br \/>\"Quiet!\" Johnson ordered.<br \/>\"But hurry. We are excited.\"<br \/>\"There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation,<br \/>if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—we<br \/>can all die.\"<br \/>\"Die?\" the chorus quavered.<br \/>\"Yes,\" Johnson said. \"Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all go<br \/>together.\"<br \/>The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold the<br \/>little voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.<br \/>\"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported.<br \/>\"Please!\" Johnson said.<br \/>In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.<br \/>\"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.<br \/>\"I sweat....\" his skin began.<br \/>\"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said.<br \/>The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see<br \/>them. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that<br \/>force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.<br \/>\"Yaaah!\" The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of a<br \/>Venusian being jarred out of his dream.<br \/>\"Damn it!\" A human voice said.<br \/>A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.<br \/>Unger fell.<br \/>He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking,<br \/>body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.<br \/>There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. The<br \/>silence went. Voices came.<br \/>\"Who did that?\"<br \/>\"What happened?\"<br \/>\"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\" Anger marked<br \/>the voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of the<br \/>meaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. At<br \/>his left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. \"What—what happened? I was<br \/>back in the lab on Earth—\" Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, as<br \/>if some pleasant dream had been interrupted.<br \/>On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came up<br \/>around his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips came<br \/>hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.<br \/>\"What—\" he gasped.<br \/>\"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"<br \/>Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the back<br \/>of the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot of<br \/>Venusians were attacking a man.<br \/>\"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He<br \/>is<br \/>here!\"<br \/>In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired<br \/>blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft<br \/>throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd.<br \/>Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But<br \/>there seemed to be an endless number of them.<br \/>\"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had<br \/>slid out of his sight.<br \/>\"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.<br \/>\"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted. \"Martin's the important<br \/>one.\"<br \/>Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.<br \/>Johnson followed.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.781786Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:22:27.131426Z","inner_id":118,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":117,"annotations":[{"id":19,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams.\nContextualized = Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams.\nSpan = Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams\nSupport = Johnson was at the bar. Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams? How are the dreams tonight? The headwaiter spread his hands in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. I'll have a tarmur to start but when does the dreaming commence? As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson to the bar.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Johnson meets a woman named Vee Vee at the bar.\nContextualized = He meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee.\nSpan = meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee.\nSupport = And my name is Vee Vee. A girl had slid into the stool beside him. Her eyes smiled up at him unafraid. \"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Vee Vee is a gorgeous and dangerous woman.\nContextualized = Vee Vee is a gorgeous and dangerous woman.\nSpan = gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee.\nSupport = Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue, the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and below the necklace. \"They are beautiful,\" he said, smiling. \"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you interrupt.\" \"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt.\n\nInfo Unit #4 = Vee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson.\nContextualized = Vee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson.\nSpan = Vee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson\nSupport = He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve block paralysis on him. You're the first man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis. I know a better way to get you than by using the Karmer grip.  If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm. And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip and be able to break it instantly?\n\nInfo Unit #5 = Johnson swiftly blocks Vee Vee from attempting the Karmer nerve paralysis.\nContextualized = He swiftly blocks it.\nSpan = which he swiftly blocks.\nSupport = His left hand moved with lightning speed, the tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder. You're the first man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis. And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip and be able to break it instantly? And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing if you could break the Karmer nerve grip?","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"e-3NzkTSiu","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T17:13:44.396293Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:12:34.743493Z","lead_time":875.369,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":117,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63916,"background":"What is the plot of the story? Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists, but no one on Venus is supposed to know that. He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin, and it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there.","reference":"Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams, and meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee. \n\nVee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson, which he swiftly blocks.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>The CONJURER of VENUS<br \/>By CONAN T. TROY<br \/>A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus.<br \/>When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that<br \/>globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories November 1952.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive,<br \/>Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way<br \/>with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been<br \/>occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up.<br \/>Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?<br \/>On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to<br \/>Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain<br \/>that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the<br \/>notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room.<br \/>Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses,<br \/>perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly<br \/>love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both<br \/>humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with<br \/>straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him,<br \/>aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.<br \/>Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson<br \/>entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed<br \/>that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to<br \/>recognize Caldwell.<br \/>\"Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?\" His voice<br \/>was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a<br \/>headwaiter was bowing to him.<br \/>\"I'll have a tarmur to start,\" Johnson said. \"How are the dreams<br \/>tonight?\"<br \/>\"Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself<br \/>will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite<br \/>his touch at dreaming, mighty one.\" The headwaiter spread his hands<br \/>in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do<br \/>ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger<br \/>hisself!\" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said. \"The great Unger!\" His voice expressed surprise,<br \/>just the right amount of it. \"I'll have a tarmur to start but when does<br \/>the dreaming commence?\"<br \/>\"In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty<br \/>one?\" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson<br \/>to the bar.<br \/>\"Not just yet,\" Johnson said. \"See me a little later.\"<br \/>\"But certainly.\" The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson was<br \/>at the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. \"Tarmur,\" Johnson<br \/>said. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light,<br \/>admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him,<br \/>watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinking<br \/>itself.<br \/>\"Beautiful, aren't they?\" a soft voice said. He glanced to his right.<br \/>A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cut<br \/>very low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on<br \/>Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue,<br \/>the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and<br \/>below the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons.<br \/>Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the<br \/>days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this<br \/>place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyes<br \/>smiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present here<br \/>in this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the bar<br \/>stool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians were<br \/>here who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace that<br \/>circled it?<br \/>\"They<br \/>are<br \/>beautiful,\" he said, smiling.<br \/>\"Thank you.\"<br \/>\"I was referring to the bubbles.\"<br \/>\"You were talking about my eyes,\" she answered, unperturbed.<br \/>\"How did you know? I mean....\"<br \/>\"I am very knowing,\" the girl said, smiling.<br \/>\"Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?\"<br \/>For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Then<br \/>it came again, stronger. \"Aren't you here?\"<br \/>Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up his<br \/>nose. \"My dear child ...\" he sputtered.<br \/>\"I am not a child,\" she answered with a firm sureness that left no<br \/>doubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. \"And my name is<br \/>Vee Vee.\"<br \/>\"Vee Vee? Um. That is....\"<br \/>\"Don't you think it's a nice name?\"<br \/>\"I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.\"<br \/>\"There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.\"<br \/>\"What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?\"<br \/>\"Growing.\" The blue eyes were unafraid.<br \/>Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in<br \/>the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then<br \/>his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his<br \/>purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman<br \/>on him.<br \/>There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.<br \/>In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questioned<br \/>the motives of the killer.<br \/>\"You look as if you were considering some very grave matter,\" Vee Vee<br \/>said.<br \/>\"Not any longer,\" he laughed.<br \/>\"You have decided them?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"Every last one of them?\"<br \/>\"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on<br \/>the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to<br \/>them.\" He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden<br \/>behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased<br \/>himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.<br \/>\"Zlock!\" Caldwell said, to the bartender. \"Make it snappy. Gotta have<br \/>zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system.\" Caldwell's voice was<br \/>thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out<br \/>of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The<br \/>fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.<br \/>\"I haven't seen him,\" Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. \"But I<br \/>think he is, or was, here.\"<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.<br \/>\"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.<br \/>\"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems,\" Vee Vee said, watching<br \/>Caldwell.<br \/>\"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—\"<br \/>\"Lying is one of the deadly sins.\" Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the<br \/>merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.<br \/>\"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?\" The headwaiter was<br \/>bowing and scraping in front of him. \"The great one has decided, yes?\"<br \/>\"The dreaming!\" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. \"Of course. We must see<br \/>the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we<br \/>darling?\" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.<br \/>\"Certainly,\" Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the<br \/>moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might<br \/>be something else. And<br \/>he<br \/>might be there.<br \/>\"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!\" The headwaiter<br \/>clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of<br \/>sight.<br \/>\"Say, I want to know more—\" Johnson began. His words were drowned in<br \/>a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden<br \/>silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes<br \/>were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,<br \/>cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.<br \/>In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians<br \/>and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation<br \/>of what was to happen.<br \/>The trumpets flared again.<br \/>On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From<br \/>beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that<br \/>sounded like lutes from heaven.<br \/>Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up with<br \/>her. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging<br \/>into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost<br \/>paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve<br \/>block paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, the<br \/>tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.<br \/>She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response to<br \/>the thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into his<br \/>elbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbing<br \/>it, she began to massage it.<br \/>\"You—you—\" Hot anger and shock were in her voice. \"You're the first<br \/>man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.\"<br \/>\"And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.\"<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"Shall we go watch the dreaming?\" He took the arm that still hung limp<br \/>at her side and tucked it into his elbow.<br \/>\"If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm,\" he<br \/>said. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.<br \/>\"I won't do it again,\" the girl said stoutly. \"I never make the same<br \/>mistake twice.\"<br \/>\"Good,\" Johnson said.<br \/>\"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said.<br \/>\"What a sweet, charming child you—\"<br \/>\"I told you before, I'm not a child.\"<br \/>\"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you<br \/>interrupt.\"<br \/>She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed to<br \/>say she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. He<br \/>tensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips of<br \/>her fingers she gently patted his arm.<br \/>\"There, there, darling, relax,\" she said. \"I know a better way to get<br \/>you than by using the Karmer grip.\"<br \/>\"What way?\"<br \/>Her eyes sparkled. \"Eve's way,\" she answered.<br \/>\"Um!\" Surprise sounded in his grunt. \"But apples don't grow on Venus.\"<br \/>\"Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.\"<br \/>Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming,<br \/>Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell's<br \/>face was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warning<br \/>signs. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his<br \/>arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.<br \/>II<br \/>It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling ramps<br \/>rising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have been<br \/>a stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was an<br \/>open space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling ramps<br \/>the room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusian<br \/>werewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.<br \/>The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. The<br \/>throbbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes were<br \/>playing. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they became<br \/>accustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that human<br \/>minds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it had<br \/>the feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rain<br \/>would have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.<br \/>The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sending<br \/>tingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of the<br \/>Dreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catching<br \/>hold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before but<br \/>he had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human ever<br \/>did. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold.<br \/>In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve center<br \/>inside the human organism was touched by something, some force, some<br \/>radiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt the<br \/>coldness now.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.<br \/>\"Do you feel it, darling?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"What is it?\"<br \/>\"How would I know?\"<br \/>\"Please!\" Her voice grew sharp. \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\"<br \/>\"Johnny! How do you know my name?\"<br \/>\"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he<br \/>is incognito on Venus?\" Her voice had a teasing quality in it.<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip<br \/>and be able to break it instantly?\"<br \/>\"Hell—\"<br \/>\"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost<br \/>expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human<br \/>body!\" Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper and<br \/>deeper into him.<br \/>\"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing<br \/>if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then<br \/>there was no doubt who you were!\" Her words went on and on.<br \/>\"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound.<br \/>\"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last<br \/>thing you really want to do.\"<br \/>He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving into<br \/>this room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came back<br \/>to her.<br \/>Again she patted his arm. \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with<br \/>me.\"<br \/>A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was<br \/>suddenly weak.<br \/>The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am<br \/>I not with you?\"<br \/>\"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. If he had had a<br \/>choice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as they<br \/>were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the<br \/>balance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—But<br \/>Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What<br \/>connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?<br \/>Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions on<br \/>a ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed to<br \/>another nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, moved<br \/>cushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of way<br \/>that was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on the<br \/>left.<br \/>\"Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you.\" Caldwell's voice was still<br \/>thick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Under<br \/>the man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zit<br \/>gun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feeling<br \/>his own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge of<br \/>gas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless in<br \/>operation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter of<br \/>seconds.<br \/>True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the next<br \/>day. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns as<br \/>effective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of the<br \/>little weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.<br \/>The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freely<br \/>through the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single bright<br \/>spotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliant<br \/>illumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. The<br \/>curtain rose.<br \/>Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.<br \/>Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>sought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. He<br \/>caught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffened<br \/>and became a rock.<br \/>Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light<br \/>had been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the<br \/>impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed three<br \/>hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robe<br \/>that would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of the<br \/>spotlight as if by magic.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Shhh. Nobody knows.\"<br \/>No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—<br \/>Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite sound<br \/>passed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himself<br \/>flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently<br \/>went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest<br \/>take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.<br \/>The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>dug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide for<br \/>protection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. She<br \/>drew closer to him.<br \/>A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, able<br \/>to take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she was<br \/>suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she<br \/>had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.<br \/>\"Haven't you ever seen this before?\" he whispered.<br \/>\"N—o.\" She shivered again. \"Oh, Johnny....\"<br \/>Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamer<br \/>lay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his<br \/>breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation<br \/>was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he<br \/>sensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed this<br \/>way, through such scented and musical and impossible places as these<br \/>Rooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himself<br \/>was not prepared to disagree.<br \/>Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ...<br \/>going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experience<br \/>to them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.<br \/>The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep,<br \/>perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music<br \/>and the perfume, and by something else. It was this something else<br \/>that sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opium<br \/>smokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance.<br \/>He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...<br \/>watching a space ship float in an endless void<br \/>.<br \/>As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into<br \/>his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer,<br \/>the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee and<br \/>Caldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were not<br \/>in the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet he<br \/>knew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was out<br \/>on the periphery of his universe, perhaps of<br \/>the<br \/>universe.<br \/>All he saw was the space ship.<br \/>It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seen<br \/>in his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.<br \/>Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-off<br \/>stars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped his<br \/>destiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he was<br \/>this night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.<br \/>The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and<br \/>thrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and now<br \/>he was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.<br \/>He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.<br \/>\"Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move.\" Vee Vee's voice. Who<br \/>was Vee Vee?<br \/>The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space ship<br \/>vanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room,<br \/>at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.<br \/>\"You ... you startled me,\" Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip on<br \/>his arm.<br \/>\"But, didn't you see it?\"<br \/>\"See what?\"<br \/>\"The space ship!\"<br \/>\"No. No.\" She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.<br \/>\"I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contact<br \/>with my dream.\"<br \/>\"Your dream?\"<br \/>He asked a question but she did not answer it. \"Sit down, darling,<br \/>and look at your damned space ship.\" Her voice was a taut whisper of<br \/>sound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his left<br \/>told him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... The<br \/>Venusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beat<br \/>of hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, a<br \/>high-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson had<br \/>not heard it before in this place.<br \/>He thought about the space ship he had seen.<br \/>The vision would not come.<br \/>He shook his head and tried again.<br \/>Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of a<br \/>woman in love.<br \/>He tried again for the space ship.<br \/>It would not come.<br \/>Anger came up instead.<br \/>Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which kept<br \/>intruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.<br \/>So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was not<br \/>dreaming, who was not in a state of trance.<br \/>His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....<br \/>Cold flowed over him.<br \/>Unger was slowly rising from the mat.<br \/>The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!<br \/>III<br \/>An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here<br \/>and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting<br \/>him.<br \/>\"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to<br \/>Venus to see. This ... this....\" The first voice went into silence.<br \/>Another voice took its place.<br \/>\"This is another damned vision!\" the second voice said. \"This ...<br \/>this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No Venusian<br \/>Dreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity,<br \/>can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!\"<br \/>\"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening.<br \/>We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian<br \/>Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\"<br \/>\"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said.<br \/>\"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our<br \/>master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some<br \/>other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\"<br \/>\"I—\" Johnson whispered.<br \/>\"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\"<br \/>\"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\"<br \/>\"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\"<br \/>\"I am your thyroid. I....\"<br \/>A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if<br \/>the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to<br \/>him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days<br \/>when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.<br \/>\"Be quiet!\" he said roughly.<br \/>The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. \"Action,<br \/>Master! Do something.\"<br \/>\"Quiet!\" Johnson ordered.<br \/>\"But hurry. We are excited.\"<br \/>\"There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation,<br \/>if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—we<br \/>can all die.\"<br \/>\"Die?\" the chorus quavered.<br \/>\"Yes,\" Johnson said. \"Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all go<br \/>together.\"<br \/>The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold the<br \/>little voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.<br \/>\"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported.<br \/>\"Please!\" Johnson said.<br \/>In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.<br \/>\"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.<br \/>\"I sweat....\" his skin began.<br \/>\"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said.<br \/>The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see<br \/>them. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that<br \/>force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.<br \/>\"Yaaah!\" The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of a<br \/>Venusian being jarred out of his dream.<br \/>\"Damn it!\" A human voice said.<br \/>A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.<br \/>Unger fell.<br \/>He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking,<br \/>body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.<br \/>There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. The<br \/>silence went. Voices came.<br \/>\"Who did that?\"<br \/>\"What happened?\"<br \/>\"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\" Anger marked<br \/>the voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of the<br \/>meaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. At<br \/>his left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. \"What—what happened? I was<br \/>back in the lab on Earth—\" Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, as<br \/>if some pleasant dream had been interrupted.<br \/>On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came up<br \/>around his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips came<br \/>hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.<br \/>\"What—\" he gasped.<br \/>\"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"<br \/>Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the back<br \/>of the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot of<br \/>Venusians were attacking a man.<br \/>\"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He<br \/>is<br \/>here!\"<br \/>In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired<br \/>blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft<br \/>throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd.<br \/>Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But<br \/>there seemed to be an endless number of them.<br \/>\"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had<br \/>slid out of his sight.<br \/>\"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.<br \/>\"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted. \"Martin's the important<br \/>one.\"<br \/>Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.<br \/>Johnson followed.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.781609Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:12:34.791710Z","inner_id":117,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":116,"annotations":[{"id":18,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Jonny Johnson is one of Earth's foremost scientists.\nContextualized = Jonny Johnson is one of Earth's foremost scientists.\nSpan = Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists\nSupport = Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he is incognito on Venus? John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human body!\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Nobody on Venus is supposed to know that Jonny Johnson is one of Earth's foremost scientists.\nContextualized = No one on Venus is supposed to know that.\nSpan = but no one on Venus is supposed to know that\nSupport = Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he is incognito on Venus? If she was being planted on him, then his purpose here was suspected. Your secrets are safe with me.\n\nInfo Unit #3 = Johnson and Caldwell have come to Venus to look for Martin.\nContextualized = He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin.\nSpan = He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin\nSupport = But Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?\n\nInfo Unit #4 = It would be dangerous for Johnson and Caldwell if anyone knew they were in Venus.\nContextualized = It would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there.\nSpan = it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there.\nSupport = But with circumstances as they were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the balance.","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport =","Info Unit #1 =\nSupport =\n\nInfo Unit #2 =\nSupport ="]},"id":"6a8EQuA4d3","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-30T17:02:03.265932Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:11:17.405551Z","lead_time":1074.171,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":116,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"8a29f5fd-squality_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":63916,"background":"What is the plot of the story? ","reference":"Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists, but no one on Venus is supposed to know that. He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin, and it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there.","generation":"","document":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict\/\/EN\"<br \/>    \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/xhtml1\/DTD\/xhtml1-strict.dtd\"><br \/>The CONJURER of VENUS<br \/>By CONAN T. TROY<br \/>A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus.<br \/>When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that<br \/>globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.<br \/>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br \/>Planet Stories November 1952.<br \/>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br \/>the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]<br \/>The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive,<br \/>Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way<br \/>with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been<br \/>occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up.<br \/>Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?<br \/>On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to<br \/>Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain<br \/>that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the<br \/>notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room.<br \/>Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses,<br \/>perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly<br \/>love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both<br \/>humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with<br \/>straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him,<br \/>aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.<br \/>Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson<br \/>entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed<br \/>that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to<br \/>recognize Caldwell.<br \/>\"Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?\" His voice<br \/>was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a<br \/>headwaiter was bowing to him.<br \/>\"I'll have a tarmur to start,\" Johnson said. \"How are the dreams<br \/>tonight?\"<br \/>\"Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself<br \/>will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite<br \/>his touch at dreaming, mighty one.\" The headwaiter spread his hands<br \/>in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do<br \/>ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger<br \/>hisself!\" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said. \"The great Unger!\" His voice expressed surprise,<br \/>just the right amount of it. \"I'll have a tarmur to start but when does<br \/>the dreaming commence?\"<br \/>\"In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty<br \/>one?\" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson<br \/>to the bar.<br \/>\"Not just yet,\" Johnson said. \"See me a little later.\"<br \/>\"But certainly.\" The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson was<br \/>at the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. \"Tarmur,\" Johnson<br \/>said. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light,<br \/>admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him,<br \/>watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinking<br \/>itself.<br \/>\"Beautiful, aren't they?\" a soft voice said. He glanced to his right.<br \/>A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cut<br \/>very low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on<br \/>Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue,<br \/>the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and<br \/>below the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons.<br \/>Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the<br \/>days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this<br \/>place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyes<br \/>smiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present here<br \/>in this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the bar<br \/>stool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians were<br \/>here who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace that<br \/>circled it?<br \/>\"They<br \/>are<br \/>beautiful,\" he said, smiling.<br \/>\"Thank you.\"<br \/>\"I was referring to the bubbles.\"<br \/>\"You were talking about my eyes,\" she answered, unperturbed.<br \/>\"How did you know? I mean....\"<br \/>\"I am very knowing,\" the girl said, smiling.<br \/>\"Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?\"<br \/>For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Then<br \/>it came again, stronger. \"Aren't you here?\"<br \/>Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up his<br \/>nose. \"My dear child ...\" he sputtered.<br \/>\"I am not a child,\" she answered with a firm sureness that left no<br \/>doubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. \"And my name is<br \/>Vee Vee.\"<br \/>\"Vee Vee? Um. That is....\"<br \/>\"Don't you think it's a nice name?\"<br \/>\"I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.\"<br \/>\"There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.\"<br \/>\"What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?\"<br \/>\"Growing.\" The blue eyes were unafraid.<br \/>Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in<br \/>the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then<br \/>his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his<br \/>purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman<br \/>on him.<br \/>There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.<br \/>In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questioned<br \/>the motives of the killer.<br \/>\"You look as if you were considering some very grave matter,\" Vee Vee<br \/>said.<br \/>\"Not any longer,\" he laughed.<br \/>\"You have decided them?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"Every last one of them?\"<br \/>\"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on<br \/>the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to<br \/>them.\" He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden<br \/>behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased<br \/>himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.<br \/>\"Zlock!\" Caldwell said, to the bartender. \"Make it snappy. Gotta have<br \/>zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system.\" Caldwell's voice was<br \/>thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out<br \/>of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The<br \/>fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.<br \/>\"I haven't seen him,\" Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. \"But I<br \/>think he is, or was, here.\"<br \/>\"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.<br \/>\"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.<br \/>\"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems,\" Vee Vee said, watching<br \/>Caldwell.<br \/>\"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—\"<br \/>\"Lying is one of the deadly sins.\" Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the<br \/>merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.<br \/>\"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?\" The headwaiter was<br \/>bowing and scraping in front of him. \"The great one has decided, yes?\"<br \/>\"The dreaming!\" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. \"Of course. We must see<br \/>the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we<br \/>darling?\" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.<br \/>\"Certainly,\" Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the<br \/>moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might<br \/>be something else. And<br \/>he<br \/>might be there.<br \/>\"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!\" The headwaiter<br \/>clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of<br \/>sight.<br \/>\"Say, I want to know more—\" Johnson began. His words were drowned in<br \/>a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden<br \/>silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes<br \/>were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,<br \/>cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.<br \/>In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians<br \/>and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation<br \/>of what was to happen.<br \/>The trumpets flared again.<br \/>On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From<br \/>beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that<br \/>sounded like lutes from heaven.<br \/>Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up with<br \/>her. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging<br \/>into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost<br \/>paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve<br \/>block paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, the<br \/>tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.<br \/>She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response to<br \/>the thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into his<br \/>elbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbing<br \/>it, she began to massage it.<br \/>\"You—you—\" Hot anger and shock were in her voice. \"You're the first<br \/>man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.\"<br \/>\"And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.\"<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"Shall we go watch the dreaming?\" He took the arm that still hung limp<br \/>at her side and tucked it into his elbow.<br \/>\"If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm,\" he<br \/>said. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.<br \/>\"I won't do it again,\" the girl said stoutly. \"I never make the same<br \/>mistake twice.\"<br \/>\"Good,\" Johnson said.<br \/>\"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said.<br \/>\"What a sweet, charming child you—\"<br \/>\"I told you before, I'm not a child.\"<br \/>\"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you<br \/>interrupt.\"<br \/>She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed to<br \/>say she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. He<br \/>tensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips of<br \/>her fingers she gently patted his arm.<br \/>\"There, there, darling, relax,\" she said. \"I know a better way to get<br \/>you than by using the Karmer grip.\"<br \/>\"What way?\"<br \/>Her eyes sparkled. \"Eve's way,\" she answered.<br \/>\"Um!\" Surprise sounded in his grunt. \"But apples don't grow on Venus.\"<br \/>\"Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.\"<br \/>Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming,<br \/>Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell's<br \/>face was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warning<br \/>signs. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his<br \/>arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.<br \/>II<br \/>It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling ramps<br \/>rising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have been<br \/>a stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was an<br \/>open space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling ramps<br \/>the room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusian<br \/>werewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.<br \/>The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. The<br \/>throbbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes were<br \/>playing. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they became<br \/>accustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that human<br \/>minds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it had<br \/>the feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rain<br \/>would have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.<br \/>The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sending<br \/>tingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of the<br \/>Dreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catching<br \/>hold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before but<br \/>he had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human ever<br \/>did. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold.<br \/>In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve center<br \/>inside the human organism was touched by something, some force, some<br \/>radiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt the<br \/>coldness now.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.<br \/>\"Do you feel it, darling?\"<br \/>\"Yes.\"<br \/>\"What is it?\"<br \/>\"How would I know?\"<br \/>\"Please!\" Her voice grew sharp. \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\"<br \/>\"Johnny! How do you know my name?\"<br \/>\"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he<br \/>is incognito on Venus?\" Her voice had a teasing quality in it.<br \/>\"But—\"<br \/>\"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip<br \/>and be able to break it instantly?\"<br \/>\"Hell—\"<br \/>\"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost<br \/>expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human<br \/>body!\" Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper and<br \/>deeper into him.<br \/>\"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing<br \/>if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then<br \/>there was no doubt who you were!\" Her words went on and on.<br \/>\"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound.<br \/>\"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last<br \/>thing you really want to do.\"<br \/>He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving into<br \/>this room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came back<br \/>to her.<br \/>Again she patted his arm. \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with<br \/>me.\"<br \/>A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was<br \/>suddenly weak.<br \/>The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am<br \/>I not with you?\"<br \/>\"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. If he had had a<br \/>choice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as they<br \/>were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the<br \/>balance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—But<br \/>Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What<br \/>connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?<br \/>Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions on<br \/>a ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed to<br \/>another nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, moved<br \/>cushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of way<br \/>that was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on the<br \/>left.<br \/>\"Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you.\" Caldwell's voice was still<br \/>thick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Under<br \/>the man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zit<br \/>gun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feeling<br \/>his own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge of<br \/>gas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless in<br \/>operation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter of<br \/>seconds.<br \/>True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the next<br \/>day. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns as<br \/>effective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of the<br \/>little weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.<br \/>The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freely<br \/>through the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single bright<br \/>spotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliant<br \/>illumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. The<br \/>curtain rose.<br \/>Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.<br \/>Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>sought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. He<br \/>caught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffened<br \/>and became a rock.<br \/>Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light<br \/>had been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the<br \/>impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed three<br \/>hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robe<br \/>that would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of the<br \/>spotlight as if by magic.<br \/>Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. \"How—\"<br \/>\"Shhh. Nobody knows.\"<br \/>No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—<br \/>Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite sound<br \/>passed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himself<br \/>flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently<br \/>went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest<br \/>take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.<br \/>The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingers<br \/>dug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide for<br \/>protection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. She<br \/>drew closer to him.<br \/>A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, able<br \/>to take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she was<br \/>suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she<br \/>had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.<br \/>\"Haven't you ever seen this before?\" he whispered.<br \/>\"N—o.\" She shivered again. \"Oh, Johnny....\"<br \/>Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamer<br \/>lay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his<br \/>breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation<br \/>was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he<br \/>sensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed this<br \/>way, through such scented and musical and impossible places as these<br \/>Rooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himself<br \/>was not prepared to disagree.<br \/>Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ...<br \/>going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experience<br \/>to them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.<br \/>The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep,<br \/>perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music<br \/>and the perfume, and by something else. It was this something else<br \/>that sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opium<br \/>smokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance.<br \/>He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...<br \/>watching a space ship float in an endless void<br \/>.<br \/>As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into<br \/>his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer,<br \/>the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee and<br \/>Caldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were not<br \/>in the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet he<br \/>knew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was out<br \/>on the periphery of his universe, perhaps of<br \/>the<br \/>universe.<br \/>All he saw was the space ship.<br \/>It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seen<br \/>in his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.<br \/>Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-off<br \/>stars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped his<br \/>destiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he was<br \/>this night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.<br \/>The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and<br \/>thrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and now<br \/>he was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.<br \/>He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.<br \/>\"Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move.\" Vee Vee's voice. Who<br \/>was Vee Vee?<br \/>The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space ship<br \/>vanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room,<br \/>at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.<br \/>\"You ... you startled me,\" Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip on<br \/>his arm.<br \/>\"But, didn't you see it?\"<br \/>\"See what?\"<br \/>\"The space ship!\"<br \/>\"No. No.\" She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.<br \/>\"I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contact<br \/>with my dream.\"<br \/>\"Your dream?\"<br \/>He asked a question but she did not answer it. \"Sit down, darling,<br \/>and look at your damned space ship.\" Her voice was a taut whisper of<br \/>sound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his left<br \/>told him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... The<br \/>Venusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beat<br \/>of hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, a<br \/>high-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson had<br \/>not heard it before in this place.<br \/>He thought about the space ship he had seen.<br \/>The vision would not come.<br \/>He shook his head and tried again.<br \/>Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of a<br \/>woman in love.<br \/>He tried again for the space ship.<br \/>It would not come.<br \/>Anger came up instead.<br \/>Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which kept<br \/>intruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.<br \/>So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was not<br \/>dreaming, who was not in a state of trance.<br \/>His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....<br \/>Cold flowed over him.<br \/>Unger was slowly rising from the mat.<br \/>The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!<br \/>III<br \/>An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here<br \/>and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting<br \/>him.<br \/>\"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to<br \/>Venus to see. This ... this....\" The first voice went into silence.<br \/>Another voice took its place.<br \/>\"This is another damned vision!\" the second voice said. \"This ...<br \/>this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No Venusian<br \/>Dreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity,<br \/>can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!\"<br \/>\"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening.<br \/>We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian<br \/>Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\"<br \/>\"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said.<br \/>\"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our<br \/>master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some<br \/>other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\"<br \/>\"I—\" Johnson whispered.<br \/>\"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\"<br \/>\"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\"<br \/>\"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\"<br \/>\"I am your thyroid. I....\"<br \/>A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if<br \/>the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to<br \/>him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days<br \/>when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.<br \/>\"Be quiet!\" he said roughly.<br \/>The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. \"Action,<br \/>Master! Do something.\"<br \/>\"Quiet!\" Johnson ordered.<br \/>\"But hurry. We are excited.\"<br \/>\"There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation,<br \/>if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—we<br \/>can all die.\"<br \/>\"Die?\" the chorus quavered.<br \/>\"Yes,\" Johnson said. \"Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all go<br \/>together.\"<br \/>The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold the<br \/>little voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.<br \/>\"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported.<br \/>\"Please!\" Johnson said.<br \/>In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.<br \/>\"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.<br \/>\"I sweat....\" his skin began.<br \/>\"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said.<br \/>The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see<br \/>them. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that<br \/>force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.<br \/>\"Yaaah!\" The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of a<br \/>Venusian being jarred out of his dream.<br \/>\"Damn it!\" A human voice said.<br \/>A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.<br \/>Unger fell.<br \/>He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking,<br \/>body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.<br \/>There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. The<br \/>silence went. Voices came.<br \/>\"Who did that?\"<br \/>\"What happened?\"<br \/>\"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\" Anger marked<br \/>the voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of the<br \/>meaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. At<br \/>his left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. \"What—what happened? I was<br \/>back in the lab on Earth—\" Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, as<br \/>if some pleasant dream had been interrupted.<br \/>On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came up<br \/>around his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips came<br \/>hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.<br \/>\"What—\" he gasped.<br \/>\"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"<br \/>Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the back<br \/>of the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot of<br \/>Venusians were attacking a man.<br \/>\"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He<br \/>is<br \/>here!\"<br \/>In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired<br \/>blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft<br \/>throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd.<br \/>Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But<br \/>there seemed to be an endless number of them.<br \/>\"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had<br \/>slid out of his sight.<br \/>\"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.<br \/>\"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted. \"Martin's the important<br \/>one.\"<br \/>Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.<br \/>Johnson followed.<br \/>","dataset":"squality"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T18:49:25.781486Z","updated_at":"2022-08-01T16:11:17.454513Z","inner_id":116,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1},{"id":1,"annotations":[{"id":1,"completed_by":1,"result":[{"value":{"text":["Info Unit #1 = Resveratrol supplementation significantly increased flow-mediated dilation (FMD) among patients with MetS and related disorders.\nSupport = Chronic resveratrol consumption improves brachial flow-mediated dilatation in healthy obese adults. A single dose of resveratrol (75 mg) following chronic resveratrol supplementation result ed in a 35% greater acute FMD response than the equivalent placebo supplementation. A single dose of resveratrol (75 mg) following chronic resveratrol supplementation result ed in a 35% greater acute FMD response than the equivalent placebo supplementation. These FMD improvements remained significant after adjusting for baseline FMD. Blood pressure (BP) measurements, aortic systolic blood pressure (SBP) and brachial flow-mediated dilation (FMD) were performed before and 1.5 hours after the intervention. Compared with the placebo, trans-resveratrol did not affect fasting FMD (2.9 ± 1.4% vs. 3.0 ± 1.9% ; p = 0.69). After the postpr and ial test, changes in FMD (−0.7 ± 2.3% vs. 0.2 ± 2.6% ; p = 0.13) were also not significantly different. We have previously demonstrated acute dose-dependent increases of flow-mediated dilatation (FMD) in the brachial artery after resveratrol consumption in mildly hypertensive, overweight\/obese adults.\n\nInfo Unit #2 = Resveratrol supplementation did not affect systolic blood pressure (SBP) and diastolic blood pressure (DBP).\nSupport = There was no statistical difference between baseline and final values of brachial BP and also no changes in aortic SBP.  Blood pressure, arterial compliance, and all components of the Stroop Color-Word Test were unaffected by chronic resveratrol supplementation. There was no statistical difference between baseline and final values of brachial BP and also no changes in aortic SBP. The results reveal that supplementation of resveratrol for 3 months significantly improves the mean hemoglobin A(1c) (means ± SD, 9.99 ± 1.50 vs 9.65 ± 1.54 ; P <.05), systolic blood pressure (mean ± SD, 139.71 ± 16.10 vs 127.92 ± 15.37 ; P <.05), total cholesterol (mean ± SD, 4.70 ± 0.90 vs 4.33 ± 0.76 ; P <.05), and total protein (mean ± SD, 75.6 ± 4.6 vs 72.3 ± 6.2 ; P <.05) in T2DM. Resveratrol treatment significantly decreased systolic blood pressure, fasting blood glucose, haemoglobin A1c, insulin, and insulin resistance, while HDL was significantly increased, when compared to their baseline levels. We failed to detect significant differences in weight, BMI, waist circumference, and values of arterial blood pressure, fasting glucose, glycated hemoglobin, insulin, C-peptide, free fatty acids, liver transaminases, uric acid, adiponectin, interleukin-6, in both the Resv500 and Resv40 arms vs placebo. "]},"id":"VLhgZ7MVFc","from_name":"outputs","to_name":"english","type":"textarea","origin":"manual"}],"was_cancelled":false,"ground_truth":false,"created_at":"2022-06-29T17:50:36.374305Z","updated_at":"2022-06-29T17:50:36.374351Z","lead_time":1744.652,"prediction":{},"result_count":0,"task":1,"parent_prediction":null,"parent_annotation":null}],"file_upload":"7c93133c-ms2_valid_labelstudio.csv","drafts":[],"predictions":[],"data":{"review_id":195771044,"background":"Introduction There are current trials investigating the effect of resveratrol supplementation on endothelial function and blood pressures among patients with metabolic syndrome (MetS) ; however, the findings are controversial. Aim This systematic review and meta- analysis of r and omized controlled trials (RCTs) were carried out to summarize the effects of resveratrol supplementation on endothelial activation and blood pressures among patients with MetS and related disorders..","reference":"Conclusions Resveratrol supplementation significantly increased FMD among patients with MetS and related disorders, but did not affect SBP and DBP..","generation":"Theveratrol supplementation is associated with a significant reduction in endothelial activation and blood pressures in patients with MetS and related disorders. However, the effect of resversatrol on endothelial function and blood pressure remains unclear..","document":"REFERENCE #0:<br \/>Beneficial effects of acute trans-resveratrol supplementation in treated hypertensive patients with endothelial dysfunction ABSTRACT Endothelial dysfunction is a surrogate marker of cardiovascular risk. Resveratrol is known to improve endothelial function in animals, however, clinical trials are limited. We hypothesized that the acute trans-resveratrol supplementation improves endothelial function in treated hypertensive patients with endothelial dysfunction. Twenty-four hypertensive patients between 45 and 65 years-old with baseline endothelial dysfunction were enrolled in a r and omized, cross-over, double-blind, placebo-controlled trial. Individuals received either a single dose of trans-resveratrol (300 mg) or placebo and were crossed-over after a one-week washout period. Blood pressure (BP) measurements, aortic systolic blood pressure (SBP) and brachial flow-mediated dilation (FMD) were performed before and 1.5 hours after the intervention. FMD was significantly increased in women (4.2 ± 0.5 vs 7.1 ± 1.3%, p = 0.026) but not in men (4.4 ± 0.9 vs 4.9 ± 0.8%, p = 0.588) in the trans-resveratrol group. There was no statistical difference between baseline and final values of brachial BP and also no changes in aortic SBP. Patients with higher low-density lipoprotein (LDL) cholesterol had better FMD response to trans-resveratrol than patients with lower LDL cholesterol (7.4 ± 1.2 vs 4.3 ± 1.0%, p = 0.004). Our study demonstrated that the acute supplementation of trans-resveratrol promoted an improvement in endothelial function, especially in women and those with higher LDL-cholesterol, despite no changes in BP. List of Abbreviation : Aix : augmentation index ; AP : augmentation pressure ; BP : blood pressure ; BMI : body Mass Index ; CVD : cardiovascular disease ; FMD : flow-mediated dilation ; FRS : Framingham Risk Score ; HDL : high-density lipoprotein ; LDL : low-density lipoprotein ; NO : nitric oxide ; SPSS : Statistical Package for Social Sciences ; ROS : reactive oxygen species ; SBP : systolic blood pressure ; TG : triglycerides.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #1:<br \/>Supplementation with Resveratrol and Curcumin Does Not Affect the Inflammatory Response to a High-Fat Meal in Older Adults with Abdominal Obesity: A Randomized, Placebo-Controlled Crossover Trial. Background High-fat meals induce postpr and ial inflammation. Resveratrol is a polyphenol known to prevent comorbidities associated with cardiovascular disease and exerts an anti-inflammatory action. There is also an increasing body of evidence supporting the role of curcumin, a polyphenol from the curcuminoid family, as a modulator of proinflammatory processes. Objective The objectives of this study were to investigate the following : 1) the bioavailability of resveratrol consumed in combination with curcumin after consumption of a high-fat meal ; and 2) the acute combined effects of this combination on the postpr and ial inflammatory response of subjects with abdominal obesity. Methods In a double blind, crossover, r and omized, placebo-controlled study, 11 men and 11 postmenopausal women [ mean ± SD age : 62 ± 5 y ; mean ± SD body mass index (in kg\/m2) : 29 ± 3 ] underwent a 6-h oral fat tolerance test on 2 occasions separated by 1 - 2 wk : once after consumption of a dietary supplement (200 mg resveratrol and 100 mg curcumin, Res\/Cur) and once after consumption of a placebo (cellulose). Plasma concentrations of total resveratrol and its major metabolites as well as inflammatory markers, adhesion molecules, and whole blood NFκB1 and PPARA gene expression were measured during both fat tolerance tests. Results Kinetics of resveratrol and identified metabolites revealed rapid absorption patterns but also relatively limited bioavailability based on free resveratrol concentrations. Supplementation with Res\/Cur did not modify postpr and ial variations in circulating inflammatory markers (C-reactive protein, IL-6, IL-8, monocyte chemoattractant protein-1) and adhesion molecules [ soluble E-selectin, soluble vascular cell adhesion molecule-1 (sVCAM-1), soluble intercellular adhesion molecule-1 ] compared to placebo (PTreatment × Time > 0.05). However, Res\/Cur significantly decreased the cumulative postpr and ial response of sVCAM-1, compared to placebo (incremental area under the curve -4643%, P = 0.01). Postpr and ial variations of whole-blood PPARA and NFKB1 gene expression were not different between Res\/Cur and placebo treatments. Conclusions Acute supplementation with Res\/Cur has no impact on the postpr and ial inflammation response to a high-fat meal in abdominally obese older adults. Further studies are warranted to examine how resveratrol and curcumin may alter the vascular response to a high-fat meal. This trial was registered at clinical trials.gov as NCT01964846.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #2:<br \/>Trans-Resveratrol Supplementation and Endothelial Function during the Fasting and Postprandial Phase: A Randomized Placebo-Controlled Trial in Overweight and Slightly Obese Participants Studies on the effects of the long-term intake of trans-resveratrol on vascular function are conflicting. In addition, postpr and ial effects of long-term trans-resveratrol intake on endothelial function are not known. We therefore supplemented 45 overweight and slightly obese volunteers (25 men and 20 women) with a mean (±SD) age of 61 ± 7 years and body mass index of 28.3 ± 3.2 kg\/m2 in r and om order trans-resveratrol (2 × 75 mg\/day) or placebo capsules for 4 weeks, separated by a washout period of at least 4 weeks. At the end of each intervention period, brachial artery flow-mediated vasodilation (FMD) was measured before and after meal consumption. Plasma biomarkers for endothelial function, inflammation, and glucose and lipid metabolism were also determined. Compared with the placebo, trans-resveratrol did not affect fasting FMD (2.9 ± 1.4% vs. 3.0 ± 1.9% ; p = 0.69). After the postpr and ial test, changes in FMD (−0.7 ± 2.3% vs. 0.2 ± 2.6% ; p = 0.13) were also not significantly different. Postpr and ial changes in biomarkers were also comparable. In conclusion, for overweight and slightly obese volunteers, a daily intake of 150 mg of trans-resveratrol for 4 weeks does not change plasma biomarkers of endothelial function or inflammation in the fasting state or postpr and ial phase.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #3:<br \/>Effects of resveratrol supplementation on liver fat content in overweight and insulin‐resistant subjects: A randomized, double‐blind, placebo‐controlled clinical trial We performed the largest r and omized, placebo‐controlled clinical trial to date (N = 112, 12‐week intervention) to investigate the effects and safety of resveratrol supplementation on liver fat content and cardiometabolic risk parameters in overweight and obese and insulin‐resistant subjects. At baseline the variability in liver fat content was very large, ranging from 0.09% to 37.55% (median, 7.12% ; interquartile range, 3.85%‐12.94%). Mean (SD) liver fat content was 9.22 (6.85)% in the placebo group and 9.91 (7.76)% in the resveratrol group. During the study liver fat content decreased in the placebo group (−0.7%) but not in the resveratrol group (−0.03%) (differences between groups : P =.018 for the intention‐to‐treat [ ITT ] population ; N = 54, resveratrol, N = 54, placebo and P =.0077 for the per protocol [ PP ] population). No effects of resveratrol supplementation on cardiometabolic risk parameters were observed. Resveratrol supplementation was well tolerated and safe.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #4:<br \/>Placebo-controlled, randomised clinical trial: high-dose resveratrol treatment for non-alcoholic fatty liver disease ABSTRACT Objective “ The obesity epidemic ” has led to an increase in obesity-related conditions including non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD), for which effective treatments are in dem and. The polyphenol resveratrol prevents the development of experimental NAFLD through modulation of cellular pathways involved in calorie restriction. We aim ed to test the hypothesis that resveratrol alleviates NAFLD in a r and omised, clinical trial. Material s and methods A total of 28 overweight patients with transaminasemia and histological NAFLD were r and omised 1:1 to placebo or resveratrol 1.5 g daily for 6 months. Twenty-six participants completed the trial and underwent repeated clinical investigation, blood work, MR spectroscopy ; and 19 participants agreed to a repeat liver biopsy. Results Resveratrol treatment was generally not superior to placebo in improving plasma markers of liver injury (primary outcome : alanine transaminase, p = 0.51). Resveratrol-treated patients showed a 3.8% decrease in liver lipid content (p = 0.03), with no difference between the two treatment arms (p = 0.38) and no improvement of histological features. Resveratrol treatment was not associated with improvements in insulin sensitivity or markers of the metabolic syndrome, except for a transient decrease in systolic BP. Microarray analysis and qRT-PCR revealed no major changes in expression profile. Also, we report a serious adverse event in a patient who developed fever and bicytopenia. Conclusions In this placebo-controlled, high-dose and long-term study, resveratrol treatment had no consistent therapeutic effect in alleviating clinical or histological NAFLD, though there may be a small ameliorating effect on liver function tests and liver fat accumulation.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #5:<br \/>Resveratrol supplementation improves glycemic control in type 2 diabetes mellitus. Resveratrol is a naturally occurring polyphenolic compound. Numerous animal studies have been reported on its wide-ranging beneficial effects in the biological system including diabetes mellitus (DM). We hypothesized, therefore, that oral supplementation of resveratrol would improve the glycemic control and the associated risk factors in patients with type 2 diabetes mellitus (T2DM). The present clinical study was therefore carried out to test the hypothesis. Sixty-two patients with T2DM were enrolled from Government Headquarters Hospital, Ootacamund, India, in a prospect i ve, open-label, r and omized, controlled trial. Patients were r and omized into control and intervention groups. The control group received only oral hypoglycemic agents, whereas the intervention group received resveratrol (250 mg\/d) along with their oral hypoglycemic agents for a period of 3 months. Hemoglobin A(1c), lipid profile, urea nitrogen, creatinine, and protein were measured at the baseline and at the end of 3 months. The results reveal that supplementation of resveratrol for 3 months significantly improves the mean hemoglobin A(1c) (means ± SD, 9.99 ± 1.50 vs 9.65 ± 1.54 ; P <.05), systolic blood pressure (mean ± SD, 139.71 ± 16.10 vs 127.92 ± 15.37 ; P <.05), total cholesterol (mean ± SD, 4.70 ± 0.90 vs 4.33 ± 0.76 ; P <.05), and total protein (mean ± SD, 75.6 ± 4.6 vs 72.3 ± 6.2 ; P <.05) in T2DM. No significant changes in body weight and high-density lipoprotein and low-density lipoprotein cholesterols were observed. Oral supplementation of resveratrol is thus found to be effective in improving glycemic control and may possibly provide a potential adjuvant for the treatment and management of diabetes.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #6:<br \/>Resveratrol Ameliorates Arterial Stiffness Assessed by Cardio-Ankle Vascular Index in Patients With Type 2 Diabetes Mellitus. Resveratrol has been reported to have potent anti-atherosclerotic effects in animal studies. However, there are few interventional studies in human patients with atherosclerogenic diseases. The cardio-ankle vascular index (CAVI) reflects arterial stiffness and is a clinical surrogate marker of atherosclerosis. The aim of the present study was to investigate the effect of resveratrol on arterial stiffness assessed by CAVI in patients with type 2 diabetes mellitus (T2DM).In this double-blind, r and omized, placebo-controlled study, 50 patients with T2DM received supplement of a 100 mg resveratrol tablet (total resveratrol : oligo-stilbene 27.97 mg\/100 mg\/day) or placebo daily for 12 weeks. CAVI was assessed at baseline and the end of study. Body weight (BW), blood pressure (BP), glucose and lipid metabolic parameters, and diacron-reactive oxygen metabolites (d-ROMs ; an oxidative stress marker) were also measured. Resveratrol supplementation decreased systolic BP (-5.5 ± 13.0 mmHg), d-ROMs (-25.6 ± 41.8 U.CARR), and CAVI (-0.4 ± 0.7) significantly (P < 0.05) and decreased BW (-0.8 ± 2.1 kg, P = 0.083) and body mass index (-0.5 ± 0.8 kg\/m2, P = 0.092) slightly compared to baseline, while there were no significant changes in the placebo group. Decreases in CAVI and d-ROMs were significantly greater in the resveratrol group than in the placebo group. Multivariate logistic regression analysis identified resveratrol supplementation as an independent predictor for a CAVI decrease of more than 0.5.In conclusion, 12-week resveratrol supplementation may improve arterial stiffness and reduce oxidative stress in patients with T2DM. Resveratrol may be beneficial in preventing the development of atherosclerosis induced by diabetes. However, a large-scale cohort study is required to vali date the present findings.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #7:<br \/>Antihyperglycemic Effects of Short Term Resveratrol Supplementation in Type 2 Diabetic Patients The objective of this study was to examine the effectiveness of resveratrol in lowering blood glucose in the presence of st and ard antidiabetic treatment in patients with type 2 diabetes, in a r and omized placebo-controlled double-blinded parallel clinical trial. A total of 66 subjects with type 2 diabetes were enrolled in this study and r and omly assigned to intervention group which was supplemented with resveratrol at a dose 1 g\/day for 45 days and control group which received placebo tablets. Body weight, blood pressure, fasting blood glucose, haemoglobin A1c, insulin, homeostatic assessment s for insulin resistance, triglycerides, total cholesterol, low density lipoprotein, high density lipoprotein, and markers of liver and kidney damage were measured at baseline and after 45 days of resveratrol or placebo supplementation. Resveratrol treatment significantly decreased systolic blood pressure, fasting blood glucose, haemoglobin A1c, insulin, and insulin resistance, while HDL was significantly increased, when compared to their baseline levels. On the other h and, the placebo group had slightly increased fasting glucose and LDL when compared to their baseline levels. Liver and kidney function markers were unchanged in the intervention group. Overall, this study showed that resveratrol supplementation exerted strong antidiabetic effects in patients with type 2 diabetes.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #8:<br \/>Six months of resveratrol supplementation has no measurable effect in type 2 diabetic patients. A randomized, double blind, placebo-controlled trial. The polyphenol resveratrol is considered to exert many beneficial actions, such as antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, insulin-sensitizer and anticancer effects. Its benefits in patients with type 2 diabetes mellitus (T2DM) are controversial. Our aims were to determine whether resveratrol supplementation at two different dosages (500 and 40mg\/day) for 6 months i) reduced the concentrations of C-reactive-protein (CRP) and ii) ameliorated the metabolic pattern of T2DM patients. In the present double-blind, r and omized, placebo-controlled trial, 192 T2DM patients were r and omized to receive resveratrol 500mg\/day (Resv500arm), resveratrol 40mg\/day (Resv40arm) or placebo for 6-months. At baseline and at the trial end, CRP values, anthropometric, metabolic and liver parameters were determined. No serious adverse event occurred. A dose-dependent, though not significant, CRP decrease of 5.6% (Resv40arm) and 15.9% (Resv500arm) was observed vs placebo. We failed to detect significant differences in weight, BMI, waist circumference, and values of arterial blood pressure, fasting glucose, glycated hemoglobin, insulin, C-peptide, free fatty acids, liver transaminases, uric acid, adiponectin, interleukin-6, in both the Resv500 and Resv40 arms vs placebo. Total cholesterol and triglycerides slightly increased in the Resv500arm. Subgroup analyses revealed that lower diabetes duration (in both Resv500 and Resv40arms), and, in the Resv500arm, younger age, aspirin use and being a smoker were associated with a significantly higher CRP reduction vs placebo. The supplementations with 40mg\/day or 500mg\/day resveratrol did neither reduce CRP concentrations, nor improve the metabolic pattern of T2DM patients.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #9:<br \/>Resveratrol as Add-on Therapy in Subjects With Well-Controlled Type 2 Diabetes: A Randomized Controlled Trial OBJECTIVE To determine whether resveratrol supplementation can improve insulin sensitivity and promote overall metabolic health on top of st and ard diabetes care. RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODS Seventeen subjects with well-controlled type 2 diabetes (T2D) were treated with placebo and 150 mg\/day resveratrol (resVida) in a r and omized double-blind crossover study for 30 days. The main outcome measure was insulin sensitivity by the hyperinsulinemic-euglycemic clamp technique. RESULTS Hepatic and peripheral insulin sensitivity were not affected by resveratrol treatment. Intrahepatic lipid content also remained unaffected by resveratrol ; however, the change in intrahepatic lipid content correlated negatively with plasma resveratrol levels (R = −0.68, P = 0.03). Intramyocellular lipid content increased in type 2 muscle fibers (P = 0.03), and systolic blood pressure tended to decrease (P = 0.09) upon resveratrol treatment. In addition, resveratrol significantly improved ex vivo mitochondrial function (state 3 and state U respiration upon malate with octanoyl-carnitine, P < 0.005). Intriguingly, a correlation was found between plasma levels of a metabolite of resveratrol (dihydroresveratrol) and the metformin dose used by the patients (R = 0.66, P = 0.005), suggesting an interaction between metformin and resveratrol. It could be speculated that the lack of a resveratrol-induced insulin-sensitizing effect is caused by this interaction. CONCLUSIONS Resveratrol supplementation does not improve hepatic or peripheral insulin sensitivity. Our results question the generalized value of resveratrol as an add-on therapy in the treatment of T2D and emphasize the need to perform studies in drug-naive patients with T2D or subjects with prediabetes.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #10:<br \/>The effects of resveratrol supplementation on cardiovascular risk factors in patients with non-alcoholic fatty liver disease: a randomised, double-blind, placebo-controlled study. Non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD) is usually associated with insulin resistance, central obesity, reduced glucose tolerance, type 2 diabetes mellitus and hypertriacylglycerolaemia. The beneficial effects of resveratrol on metabolic disorders have been shown previously. The aim of this study was to evaluate the effects of resveratrol supplementation on cardiovascular risk factors in patients with NAFLD. In this r and omised double-blinded placebo-controlled clinical trial, fifty NAFLD patients were supplemented with either a 500-mg resveratrol capsule or a placebo capsule for 12 weeks. Both groups were advised to follow an energy-balanced diet and physical activity recommendations. resveratrol supplementation reduced alanine aminotransferase (ALT) and hepatic steatosis significantly more than placebo (P0·05). There were no significant changes in blood pressure, insulin resistance markers and TAG in either group (P>0·05). Our data have shown that 12-week supplementation of 500 mg resveratrol does not have any beneficial effect on anthropometric measurements, insulin resistance markers, lipid profile and blood pressure ; however, it reduced ALT and hepatic steatosis in patients with NAFLD.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #11:<br \/>Resveratrol does not benefit patients with nonalcoholic fatty liver disease. BACKGROUND & AIMS Nonalcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD), characterized by accumulation of hepatic triglycerides (steatosis), is associated with abdominal obesity, insulin resistance, and inflammation. Although weight loss via calorie restriction reduces features of NAFLD, there is no pharmacologic therapy. Resveratrol is a polyphenol that prevents high-energy diet-induced steatosis and insulin resistance in animals by up-regulating pathways that regulate energy metabolism. We performed a placebo-controlled trial to assess the effects of resveratrol in patients with NAFLD. METHODS Overweight or obese men diagnosed with NAFLD were recruited from hepatology outpatient clinics in Brisbane, Australia from 2011 through 2012. They were r and omly assigned to groups given 3000 mg resveratrol (n = 10) or placebo (n = 10) daily for 8 weeks. Outcomes included insulin resistance (assessed by the euglycemic-hyperinsulinemic clamp), hepatic steatosis, and abdominal fat distribution (assessed by magnetic resonance spectroscopy and imaging). Plasma markers of inflammation, as well as metabolic, hepatic, and antioxidant function, were measured ; transcription of target genes was measured in peripheral blood mononuclear cells. Resveratrol pharmacokinetics and safety were assessed. RESULTS Eight-week administration of resveratrol did not reduce insulin resistance, steatosis, or abdominal fat distribution when compared with baseline. No change was observed in plasma lipids or antioxidant activity. Levels of alanine and aspartate aminotransferases increased significantly among patients in the resveratrol group until week 6 when compared with the placebo group. Resveratrol did not significantly alter transcription of NQO1, PTP1B, IL6, or HO1 in peripheral blood mononuclear cells. Resveratrol was well-tolerated. CONCLUSIONS Eight weeks administration of resveratrol did not significantly improve any features of NAFLD, compared with placebo, but it increased hepatic stress, based on observed increases in levels of liver enzymes. Further studies are needed to determine whether agents that are purported to mimic calorie restriction, such as resveratrol, are safe and effective for complications of obesity. Clinical trials registration no : ACTRN12612001135808.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #12:<br \/>Serum concentrations and gene expression of sirtuin 1 in healthy and slightly overweight subjects after caloric restriction or resveratrol supplementation: A randomized trial. BACKGROUND Sirtuin 1 (Sirt1) plays an important role in vascular biology, and influences aspects of age-dependent atherosclerosis. In animals, the sirtuin system is strongly influenced by resveratrol and caloric restriction, but its expression in humans is controversial. This study investigated the effects of resveratrol and caloric restriction on Sirt1 serum concentrations and vascular biomarkers in a healthy human population. METHODS AND RESULTS Forty-eight healthy participants (24 women) aged 55 - 65years were r and omized to either 30days of resveratrol administration (500mg\/day) or caloric restriction (1000cal\/day). Blood was collected at baseline and day 30. Laboratory data analyzed were triglycerides, total cholesterol, HDL, VLDL, LDL, apolipoprotein A1, apolipoprotein B, lipoprotein (a), non-esterified fatty acids (NEFA), glucose, insulin, oxidative stress, C-reactive protein, and Sirt1. Expression of the Sirt1 gene was analyzed using real-time PCR. Caloric restriction diminished the abdominal circumference and improved the lipid profile, but not resveratrol intervention. Resveratrol and caloric restriction increased serum concentrations of Sirt1, from 1.06±0.71 to 5.75±2.98ng\/mL ; p<0.0001, and from 1.65±1.81 to 5.80±2.23ng\/mL ; p<0.0001, respectively. Sirt1 increased in women and men in both interventions. On the other h and expression of Sirt1 mRNA was not different after caloric restriction and resveratrol treatment. CONCLUSIONS Caloric restriction and resveratrol significantly increased plasma concentrations of Sirt1. The long-term impact of these interventions on atherosclerosis should be assessed.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #13:<br \/>Chronic resveratrol consumption improves brachial flow-mediated dilatation in healthy obese adults Background : We have previously demonstrated acute dose-dependent increases of flow-mediated dilatation (FMD) in the brachial artery after resveratrol consumption in mildly hypertensive, overweight\/obese adults. Resveratrol supplementation has also been shown to increase cerebral blood flow acutely, without affecting cognition. Objectives : To evaluate the effects of chronic resveratrol supplementation on both FMD and cognitive performance. Method : Twenty-eight obese but otherwise healthy adults (BMI : 33.3 ± 0.6 kg\/m2) were r and omized to take a single 75 mg capsule of trans-resveratrol (Resvida) or placebo daily for 6 weeks each in a double-blind crossover supplementation trial. Blood pressure, arterial compliance, FMD, and performance on the Stroop Color-Word Test were assessed at the end of each 6-week intervention period while fasted and at least 18 h after taking the last daily capsule. An additional capsule of the same supplement was then taken. FMD assessment was repeated 1 h later. Results : Chronic resveratrol supplementation for 6 weeks was well tolerated and result ed in a 23% increase in FMD compared with placebo (P = 0.021, paired t-test). The extent of increase correlated negatively with baseline FMD (r = −0.47, P = 0.01). A single dose of resveratrol (75 mg) following chronic resveratrol supplementation result ed in a 35% greater acute FMD response than the equivalent placebo supplementation. These FMD improvements remained significant after adjusting for baseline FMD. Blood pressure, arterial compliance, and all components of the Stroop Color-Word Test were unaffected by chronic resveratrol supplementation. Conclusion : Daily resveratrol consumption was well tolerated and has the potential to maintain healthy circulatory function in obese adults.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #14:<br \/>Resveratrol supplementation decreases blood glucose without changing the circulating CD14+CD16+ monocytes and inflammatory cytokines in patients with type 2 diabetes: a randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled study. Chronic low- grade inflammation is the hallmark of type 2 diabetes (T2D). Although in vitro and animal studies have shown that resveratrol exerts anti-inflammatory effects, clinical trials addressing these effects in patients with T2D are limited. Therefore, in the present study, we hypothesized that supplementation of resveratrol might improve inflammatory markers in patients with T2D in a r and omized, double-blind, placebo-controlled clinical trial. A total of 45 T2D patients were supplemented with either of 800 mg\/d resveratrol or placebo capsules for 8 weeks. Percentage of CD14+CD16 + monocytes, plasma levels of inflammatory cytokines (tumor necrosis factor α, interleukin [ IL ] 1β, IL-6, and monocyte chemoattractant protein-1), the expression levels of genes involved in the inflammatory responses (toll-like receptor 2, toll-like receptor 4, and nuclear factor κB), lipopolysaccharide-stimulated cytokine (tumor necrosis factor α, IL-1β, and IL-6) secretion from peripheral blood mononuclear cells, and metabolic and anthropometric parameters were assessed at both the baseline level and the end of the study. Compared with the placebo group, we could not detect any significant difference in the percentage of CD14+CD16 + monocytes, lipopolysaccharide-induced cytokine secretion, plasma levels of inflammatory cytokines, and the expression of inflammatory genes in resveratrol group. Moreover, we did not find any significant change in the metabolic and anthropometric parameters except for a significant reduction in fasting blood glucose and blood pressure. In conclusion, 8-week supplementation of resveratrol reduces blood glucose level in patients with T2D without improving their inflammatory markers.<br \/><br \/>REFERENCE #15:<br \/>Effect of resveratrol supplementation on lipid profile in subjects with dyslipidemia: A randomized double-blind, placebo-controlled trial. OBJECTIVES The aim of this study was to explore the effect of resveratrol supplementation on lipid profile in individuals with dyslipidemia. METHODS Apparently healthy men and non-pregnant women 20 to 65 y of age with new diagnosis of dyslipidemia were enrolled in a r and omized double-blind, placebo-controlled trial and r and omly allocated to receive either resveratrol 100 mg\/d or placebo (sucrose 0.5 g\/d) for 2 mo. Smoking, alcohol intake, diabetes, acute or chronic renal or hepatic diseases, malignancy, cardiovascular disease, serum triacylglycerol levels ≥400 mg\/dL, low-density lipoprotein cholesterol levels ≥190 mg\/dL, and consumption of lipid-lowering drugs or supplements containing resveratrol were exclusion criteria. RESULTS Seventy-one individuals with new diagnosis of dyslipidemia were enrolled and r and omly allocated to the resveratrol (n = 35) or placebo groups (n = 36). At baseline, there were no significant differences between the study groups. After intervention period, individuals in the resveratrol group showed a significant decrease in total cholesterol (201.4 ± 34.4 versus 220.6 ± 37.4, P = 0.04) and triacylglycerol (133.4 ± 55.3 versus 166.7 ± 68.5, P = 0.04) concentrations compared with the placebo group, without significant statistical differences for high-density lipoprotein cholesterol and low-density lipoprotein cholesterol levels. CONCLUSION The results suggest that resveratrol supplementation significantly reduces total cholesterol and triacylglycerol concentrations in individuals with dyslipidemia.<br \/><br \/>","dataset":"ms2"},"meta":{},"created_at":"2022-06-29T16:36:54.953162Z","updated_at":"2022-06-29T17:50:36.444080Z","inner_id":1,"total_annotations":1,"cancelled_annotations":0,"total_predictions":0,"project":1,"updated_by":1}]