ort. You can see it from the window."

"For God's sake!" Bliss was on his feet, moving swiftly to the window.
It was there--needle-nosed, slim as one of the mermaids in his private
washroom, graceful as a vidar dancer. The entire length of it gleamed
like silver in the sunlight.

Bliss felt the premature old age that had been crowding upon him of late
fall away like the wool of a sheep at shearing. Here, at last, was
hope--real hope. After almost two and a half centuries of
non-communication, the men of the infant planet had returned to the aid
of the aging planet. For, once they saw the condition of Earth, and
understood it, there could be no question of anything else.

Mars, during the years of space-flight from Earth, had been the outlet
for the mother planet's ablest, toughest, brightest, most aggressive
young men and women. They had gone out to lick a hostile environment,
they had been hand-picked for the job--and they had done it. The ship,
out there in the poisonous Sahara, was living proof of their success.

He turned from the window and went back to his desk. He said, "Myra,
have their leader brought here to see me as soon as possible."

"_Roger!_" she said, leaving him swiftly, gracefully. Again he thought
it was too bad about her third eye. It had made it awfully hard for her
to find a husband. He supposed he should be grateful, since it had made
him an incomparably efficient secretary.

The young man was space-burned and silver-blond of hair. He was broad
and fair of feature and his body was tall and lean and perfect in his
black, skin-tight uniform with the silver rocket-burst on the left
breast. He stood at attention, lifted a gauntleted hand in salute and
said, "Your excellency, Chancellor Bliss--Space-Captain Hon Yaelstrom of
Syrtis City, Mars, bearing official rank of Inter-planetary legate
plenipotentiary. My papers, sir."

He stood stiff as a ramrod and laid a set of imposing-looking documents
on the vast desk before Bliss. His accent was stiff as his spinal
column. Bliss glanced casually at the papers, nodded and handed them
back. So this, he thought, was how a "normal," a pre-atomic, a
non-mutated human, looked. Impressive.

Catching himself wandering, he pushed a box of costly smokes toward the
ambassador.

"_Nein_--no thank you, sir," was the reply.

"Suppose you sit down and tell me what we can do for you," said Bliss,
motioning toward a chair.

"Thank you, sir, I prefer to stand," w