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send an unmanned scanner ahead. It probes around more or lesshit-or-miss until it locates something, somewhere, that looks habitable.When it spots a likely looking place, we keep a tight beam on it andsend through a manned scout." He grinned sourly. "Like me. If it looksgood to the scout, he signals back, and they leave the warp anchored fora sort of permanent gateway until we can get a transport beam built. Butwe can't control the directional and dimensional scope of the warp.There are an infinity of ways it can go, until we have a guide beamtransmitting from the other side. Then we can just scan a segment ofspace with the warp, and the scanner picks up the beam."

  He shook his head wearily. "We're new at it, Morgan. We've only tried afew dozen runs. We're not too far ahead of you in technology. We've beenusing rocket vehicles just like yours for over a century. That's finefor a solar system, but it's not much good for the stars. When the warpprinciple was discovered, it looked like the answer. But something wentwrong, the scanner picked up this planet, and I was coming through, andthen something blew. Next thing I knew I was falling. When I tried tomake contact again, the scanner was gone!"

  "And you found things here the same as back home," said Morgan.

  "The same! Your planet and mine are practically twins. Similar cities,similar technology, everything. The people are the same, with preciselythe same anatomy and physiology, the same sort of laws, the sameinstitutions, even compatible languages. Can't you see the importance ofit? This planet is on the other side of the universe from mine, with thefirst intelligent life we've yet encountered anywhere. But when I try totell your people that I'm a native of another star system, _they won'tbelieve me_!"

  "Why should they?" asked Morgan. "You look like a human being. You talklike one. You eat like one. You act like one. What you're asking them tobelieve is utterly incredible."

  "_But it's true._"

  Morgan shrugged. "So it's true. I won't argue with you. But as I askedbefore, even if I _did_ believe you, what do you expect _me_ to do aboutit? Why pick _me_, of all the people you've seen?"

  There was a desperate light in Parks' eyes. "I was tired, tired of beinglaughed at, tired of having people looking at me as though I'd lost mywits when I tried to tell them the truth. You were here, you were alone,so I started talking. And then I found out you wrote stories." He lookedup eagerly. "I've got to get back, Morgan, somehow. My life is there,my family. And think what it would mean to both of our worlds--contactwith another intelligent race! Combine our knowledges, our technologies,and we could explore the galaxy!"

  He leaned forward, his thin face intense. "I need money and I need help.I know some of the mathematics of the warp principle, know some of thedesign, some of the power and wiring principles. You have engineershere, technologists, physicists. They could fill in what I don't knowand build a guide beam. But they won't do it if they don't believe me.Your government won't listen to me, they won't appropriate any money."

  "Of course they won't. They've got a war or two on their hands, theyhave public welfare, and atomic bombs, and rockets to the moon to sinktheir money into." Morgan stared at the man. "But what can _I_ do?"

  "You can _write_! That's what you can do. You can tell the world aboutme, you can tell exactly what has happened. I know how public interestcan be aroused in my world. It must be the same in yours."

  Morgan didn't move. He just stared. "How many people have you talkedto?" he asked.

  "A dozen, a hundred, maybe a thousand."

  "And how many believed you?"

  "None."

  "You mean _nobody_ would believe you?"

  "_Not one soul._ Until I talked to you."

  And then Morgan was laughing, laughing bitterly, tears rolling down hischeeks. "And I'm the one man who couldn't help you if my life dependedon it," he gasped.

  "You believe me?"

  Morgan nodded sadly. "I believe you. Yes. I think your warp brought youthrough to a parallel universe of your own planet, not to another star,but I think you're telling the truth."

  "Then you _can_ help me."

  "I'm afraid not."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'd be worse than no help at all."

  Jefferson Parks gripped the table, his knuckles white. "Why?" he criedhoarsely. "If you believe me, why can't you help me?"

  Morgan pointed to the magazine lying on the table. "I write, yes," hesaid sadly. "Ever read stories like this before?"

  Parks picked up the magazine, glanced at the bright cover. "I barelylooked at it."

  "You should look more closely. I have a story in this issue. The readersthought it was very interesting," Morgan grinned. "Go ahead, look atit."

  The stranger from the stars leafed through the magazine, stopped at apage that carried Roger Morgan's name. His eyes caught the firstparagraph and he turned white. He set the magazine down with a tremblinghand. "I see," he said, and the life was gone out of his voice. Hespread the pages viciously, read the lines again.

  The paragraph said:

  "Just suppose," said Martin, "that I _did_ believe you. Just for argument." He glanced up at the man across the table. "Where do we go from here?"