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sent the final message to the Glom planet. Ger the Detector read sixteen dials at once, and reported, “No sign of alien activity.” His body surfaces flowed carelessly.
    Pid noticed the flow, and knew what he had to say. Ever since they had left Glom, Shape-discipline had been disgustingly lax. The Invasion Chief had warned him; but still, he had to do something about it. It was his duty, since lower castes such as Radiomen and Detectors were notoriously prone to Shapelessness.
    â€œA lot of hopes are resting on this expedition,” he began slowly. “We’re a long way from home now.”
    Ger the Detector nodded. Ilg the Radioman flowed out of his prescribed shape and molded himself comfortably to a wall.
    â€œHowever,” Pid said sternly, “Distance is no excuse for promiscuous Shapelessness.”
    Ilg flowed hastily back into proper Radioman’s Shape.
    â€œExotic shapes will undoubtedly be called for,” Pid went on. “And for that we have a special dispensation. But remember—any shape not assumed strictly in the line of duty is a device of The Shapeless One!”
    Ger’s body surfaces abruptly stopped flowing.
    â€œThat’s all,” Pid said, and flowed into his controls. The ship started down, so smoothly coordinated that Pid felt a glow of pride.
    They were good workers, he decided. He just couldn’t expect them to be as Shape-conscious as a high-caste Pilot. Even the Invasion Chief had told him that.
    â€œPid,” the Invasion Chief had said at their last interview, “We need this planet desperately.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Pid had said, standing at full attention, never quivering from Optimum Pilot’s Shape.
    â€œOne of you,” the Chief said heavily, “must get through and set up a Displacer near an atomic power source. The army will be standing by at this end, ready to step through.”
    â€œWe’ll do it, sir,” Pid said.
    â€œThis expedition has to succeed,” the Chief said, and his features blurred momentarily from sheer fatigue. “In strictest confidence, there’s considerable unrest on Glom. The miner caste is on strike, for instance. They want a new Digging Shape. Say the old one is inefficient.”
    Pid looked properly indignant. The Mining Shape had been set down by the ancients fifty thousand years ago, together with the rest of the basic shapes. And now these upstarts wanted to change it!
    â€œThat’s not all,” the Chief told him. “We’ve uncovered a new Cult of Shapelessness. Picked up almost eight thousand Glom, and I don’t know how many more we missed.”
    Pid knew that Shapelessness was a lure of The Shapeless One, the greatest evil that the Glom mind conceived of. But how, he wondered, did Glom fall for His lures?
    The Chief guessed his question. “Pid,” he said, “I suppose it’s difficult for you to understand. Do you enjoy Piloting?”
    â€œYes sir,” Pid said simply. Enjoy Piloting! It was his entire life! Without a ship, he was nothing.
    â€œNot all Glom feel that way,” the Chief said. “I don’t understand it either. All my ancestors have been Invasion Chiefs, back to the beginning of time. So of course I want to be an Invasion Chief. It’s only natural, as well as lawful. But the lower castes don’t feel that way.” He shook his body sadly.
    â€œI’ve told you this for a reason,” the Chief went on. “We Glom need more room. This unrest is caused purely by crowding. All our psychologists say so. Another planet to expand into will cure everything. So we’re counting on you, Pid.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Pid said, with a glow of pride.
    The Chief rose to end the interview. Then he changed his mind and sat down again.
    â€œYou’ll have to watch your crew,” he said. “They’re loyal, no doubt, but low-caste. And you know the lower castes.”
    Pid did