Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction November 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
KEEP YOUR SHAPE
By ROBERT SHECKLEY
Illustrated by VIDMER
Only a race as incredibly elastic as the Grom could have asingle rule of war:
id the Pilot slowed the ship almost to a standstill, and peeredanxiously at the green planet below.
Even without instruments, there was no mistaking it. Third from itssun, it was the only planet in this system capable of sustaining life.Peacefully it swam beneath its gauze of clouds.
It looked very innocent. And yet, twenty previous Grom expeditions hadset out to prepare this planet for invasion—and vanished utterly,without a word.
Pid hesitated only a moment, before starting irrevocably down. Therewas no point in hovering and worrying. He and his two crewmen were asready now as they would ever be. Their compact Displacers were storedin body pouches, inactive but ready.
Pid wanted to say something to his crew, but wasn't sure how to putit.
The crew waited. Ilg the Radioman had sent the final message to theGrom planet. Ger the Detector read sixteen dials at once, andreported, "No sign of alien activity." His body surfaces flowedcarelessly.
oticing the flow, Pid knew what to say to his crew. Ever since theyhad left Grom, shape-discipline had been disgustingly lax. TheInvasion Chief had warned him; but still, he had to do something aboutit. It was his duty, since lower castes such as Radiomen and Detectorswere notoriously prone to Shapelessness.
"A 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 prescribedshape and molded himself comfortably to a wall.
"However," Pid said sternly, "distance is no excuse for promiscuousShapelessness."
Ilg flowed hastily back into proper Radioman's shape.
"Exotic forms will undoubtedly be called for," Pid went on. "And forthat we have a special dispensation. But remember—any shape notassumed strictly in the line of duty is a foul, lawless device of TheShapeless One!"
Ger's body surfaces abruptly stopped flowing.
"That's all," Pid said, and flowed into his controls. The ship starteddown, so smoothly co-ordinated that Pid felt a glow of pride.
They were good workers, he decided. He just couldn't expect them to beas shape-conscious as a high-caste Pilot. Even the Invasion Chief hadtold him that.
"Pid," the Invasion Chief had said at their last interview, "we needthis planet desperately."
"Yes, sir," Pid had said, standing at full attention, never quiveringfrom Optimum Pilot's Shape.
"One of you," the Chief said heavily, "must get through and set up aDisplacer near an atomic power source. The army will be standing by atthis end, ready to step through."
"We'll do it, sir," Pid said.
"This expedition has to succeed," the Chief said, and his featuresblurred momenta