Operation Haystack
By H. R. van Dongen and Frank Herbert
()
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Operation Haystack - H. R. van Dongen
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Operation Haystack, by Frank Patrick Herbert
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Operation Haystack
Author: Frank Patrick Herbert
Illustrator: van Dongen
Release Date: March 1, 2008 [EBook #24721]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OPERATION HAYSTACK ***
Produced by Greg Weeks, Joel Schlosberg, Bruce Albrecht
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This eBook was produced from Astounding Science Fiction May 1959, pp. 92-111. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
p. 92
OPERATION
HAYSTACK
BY FRANK HERBERT
Illustrated by van Dongen
p. 93
It's hard to ferret out a gang of fanatics; it would, obviously, be even harder to spot a genetic line of dedicated men. But the problem Orne had was one step tougher than that!
hen the Investigation & Adjustment scout cruiser landed on Marak it carried a man the doctors had no hope of saving. He was alive only because he was in a womblike creche pod that had taken over most of his vital functions.
The man's name was Lewis Orne. He had been a blocky, heavy-muscled redhead with slightly off-center features and the hard flesh of a heavy planet native. Even in the placid repose of near death there was something clownish about his appearance. His burned, ungent-covered face looked made up for some bizarre show.
Marak is the League capital, and the I-A medical center there is probably the best in the galaxy, but it accepted the creche pod and Orne more as a curiosity than anything else. The man had lost one eye, three fingers of his left hand and part of his hair, suffered a broken jaw and various internal injuries. He had been in terminal shock for more than ninety hours.
Umbo Stetson, Orne's section chief, went back into his cruiser's office
after a hospital flitter took pod and patient. There was an added droop to Stetson's shoulders that accentuated his usual slouching stance. His overlarge features were drawn into ridges of sorrow. A general straggling, trampish look about him was not helped by patched blue fatigues.
The doctor's words still rang in Stetson's ears: This patient's vital tone is too low to permit operative replacement of damaged organs. He'll live for a while because of the pod, but—
And the doctor had shrugged.
Stetson slumped into his desk chair, looked out the open port beside him. Some four hundred meters below, the scurrying beetlelike activity of the I-A's main field sent up discordant roaring and clattering. Two rows of other scout cruisers were parked in line with Stetson's port—gleaming red and black needles. He stared at them without really seeing them.
p. 94
It always happens on some routine
assignment, he thought. Nothing but a slight suspicion about Heleb: the fact that only women held high office. One simple, unexplained fact ... and I lose my best agent!
He sighed, turned to his desk, began composing the report:
"The militant core on the