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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Attrition, by Jim Wannamaker 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: Attrition Author: Jim Wannamaker Illustrator: Roy G. Krenkel Release Date: January 14, 2008 [EBook #24282] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATTRITION *** Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net ATTRITION By JIM WANNAMAKER _Of course if Man is to survive, he must be adaptable, as any life form must. But that's not enough; he must adapt faster than the competing forms. And on new planets, that can be tricky...._ [Illustration] Illustrated by Krenkel The faxgram read: REPORT MA IS INSTANTER GRAVIS. The news obelisk just off the express strip outside Mega Angeles' Galactic Survey Building was flashing: ONE OF OUR STAR SHIPS IS MISSING! Going up in the lift, I recalled what I had seen once scrawled upon the bulkhead of a GS trainer: _Space is kind to those who respect her._ And underneath, in different handwriting: Fear _is the word, my boy_. The look given me by the only other passenger, a husky youngster in GS gray, when I punched Interstel's level, didn't help. It was on the tip of my tongue to retaliate: _Yes, and I'd turn in my own mother if she were a star chaser and I caught her doing something stupid._ But I let it ride; obviously, it was a general-principles reaction; he couldn't have known the particulars of my last assignment: the seldom kind that had given Interstel its reputation. The lumer over the main entrance glowed: INTERSTELLAR SECURITY, INVESTIGATION, AND SPECIAL SERVICES BRANCH, GALACTIC SURVEY, NORTH AMERICAN FEDERATION. At the end of the long corridor between offices was a door labeled: CHIEF SPECIAL AGENT. Gravis hadn't changed a bit in the thirty-six hours since I'd last seen him: a large, rumpled man who showed every year of the twenty he'd spent in Interstel. "It's a nasty job, Ivy." "Always has been," I said, completing the little interchange that had been reiterated so often that it had become almost a shibboleth. I took advantage of his momentary silence. I'd had an hour dur
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