<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></SPAN>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2>
<p>In the United States, some two-hundred-odd light-years
away, it happened to be Tuesday. On this Tuesday,
the broadcast from the stars was sponsored by Harvey's,
the national men's clothing chain. Harvey's advertising
department preferred discussion-type shows, because differences
of opinion in the shows proper led so neatly into
their tag-line. "You can disagree about anything but the
quality of a Harvey suit! That's Superb!"</p>
<p>Therefore the broadcast after the landing of the ship
on the volcanic planet was partly commercial, and partly
pictures and reports from the Spaceways expedition, and
partly queries and comments by big-name individuals on
Earth. Inevitably there was Dabney. And Dabney was
neurotic.</p>
<p>He did his best to make a shambles of everything.</p>
<p>The show started promptly enough at the beginning.
There was a two-minute film-strip of business-suited puppets
marching row on row, indicating the enormous popularity
of Harvey's suits. Then a fast minute hill-billy
puppet-show about two feuding mountaineers who found
they couldn't possibly retain their enmity when they found
themselves in agreement on the quality of Harvey suits.
"That's Superb!" The commercial ended with a choral
dance of madly enthusiastic miniature figures, dancing
while they lustily sang the theme-song, "You can disagree,
yes siree, you can disagree, About anything, indeed everything,
you and me, But you can't, no you can't disagree,
About the strictly super, extra super, Qualitee of a Har-ve-e-e-e
suit! That's superb!"</p>
<p>And thereupon the television audience of several continents
saw the faded-in image of mankind's first starship,
poised upon its landing-fins among trees more splendid
than even television shows had ever pictured before.
The camera panned slowly, and showed such open spaces<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</SPAN></span>
as very few humans had ever seen unencumbered by buildings,
and mountains of a grandeur difficult for most people
to believe in.</p>
<p>The scene cut to the space-ship's control-room and Al
the pilot acted briskly as the leader of an exploration-party
just returned—though he actually hadn't left the
ship. He introduced Jamison, wearing improvised leggings
and other trappings appropriate to an explorer in wilderness.
Jamison began to extrapolate from his observations
out the control-room port, adding film-clips for authority.</p>
<p>Smoothly and hypnotically, he pictured the valley as
the ship descended the last few thousand feet, and told of
the human colony to be founded in this vast and hospitable
area just explored. Mountainside hotels for star-tourists
would look down upon a scene of tranquility and cozy
spaciousness. This would be the first human outpost in the
stars. In the other valleys of this magnificent world there
would be pasture-lands, and humankind would again begin
to regard meat as a normal and not-extravagant part of
its diet—on this planet, certainly! There were minerals beyond
doubt, and water-power. The estimate was that at
least the equivalent of the Asian continent had been made
available for human occupation. And this splendid addition
to the resources of humanity ...</p>
<p>The second commercial cut Jamison off. Naturally. The
sponsor was paying for time. So for Jamison was substituted
the other fiction about the poor young man who
found himself envied by the board of directors of the firm
which employed him. His impeccable attire caused him to
be promoted to vice-president without any question of
whether or not he could fill the job. Because, of course,
he wore a Harvey suit.</p>
<p>Alicia Keith showed herself on the screen and gave the
woman's viewpoint as written about by Bell. She talked
pleasantly about how it felt to move about on a planet
never before trodden by human beings. She was interrupted
by the pictured face of the lady editor of Joint
Networks' feminine programs, who asked sweetly:</p>
<p>"Tell me, Alicia, what do you think the attainment of
the stars will mean to the Average American housewife
in the immediate future? Right now?"</p>
<p>Then Dabney came on. His appearance was fitted into
the sequence from Lunar City, and his gestures were extravagant
as anybody's gestures will be where their hands
and arms weigh so small a fraction of Earth-normal.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I wish," said Dabney impressively, "to congratulate
the men who have so swiftly adapted my discovery of
faster-than-light travel to practical use. I am overwhelmed
at having been able to achieve a scientific triumph which
in time will mean that mankind's future stretches endlessly
and splendidly into the future!"</p>
<p>Here there was canned applause. Dabney held up his
hand for attention. He thought. Visibly.</p>
<p>"But," he said urgently, "I admit that I am disturbed
by the precipitancy of the action that has been taken. I
feel as if I were like some powerful djinni giving gifts
which the recipients may use without thought."</p>
<p>More canned applause, inserted because he had given
instructions for it whenever he paused. The communicator-operator
at Luna City took pleasure in following instructions
exactly. Dabney held up his hand again. Again
he performed feats of meditation in plain view.</p>
<p>"At the moment," he said anxiously, "as the author of
this truly magnificent achievement, I have to use the same
intellect which produced it, to examine the possibility of
its ill-advised use. May not explorers—who took off without
my having examined their plans and precautions—may
not over-hasty users of my gift to humanity do harm?
May they not find bacteria the human body cannot resist?
May they not bring back plagues and epidemics? Have
they prepared themselves to use my discovery only for
the benefit of mankind? Or have they been precipitous?
I shall have to apply myself to the devising of methods
by which my discovery—made so that Humanity might
attain hitherto undreamed-of-heights—I shall have to devise
means by which it will be truly a blessing to mankind!"</p>
<p>Dabney, of course, had tasted the limelight. All the
world considered him the greatest scientist of all time—except,
of course, the people who knew something about
science. But the first actual voyagers in space had become
immediately greater heroes than himself. It was intolerable
to Dabney to be restricted to taking bows on programs
in which they starred. So he wrote a star part for himself.</p>
<p>The bearded biologist who followed him was to have
lectured on the pictures and reports forwarded to him beforehand.
But he could not ignore so promising a lead to
show how much he knew. So he lectured authoritatively
on the danger of extra-terrestrial disease-producing
organisms being introduced on Earth. He painted a lurid
picture, quoting from the history of pre-sanitation epidemics.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</SPAN></span>
He wound up with a specific prophecy of something
like the Black Death of the middle ages as lurking among
the stars to decimate humanity. He was a victim of the
well-known authority-trauma which affects some people
on television when they think millions of other people are
listening to them. They depart madly from their scripts to
try to say something startling enough to justify all the
attention they're getting.</p>
<p>The broadcast ended with a sentimental live commercial
in which a dazzlingly beautiful girl melted into the arms
of the worthy young man she had previously scorned. She
found him irresistible when she noticed that he was wearing
a suit she instantly knew by its quality could only come
from Harvey's.</p>
<p>On the planet of glaciers and volcanoes, Holden fumed.</p>
<p>"Dammit!" he protested. "They talk like we're lepers!
Like if we ever come back we'll be carriers of some monstrous
disease that will wipe out the human race! As a
matter of fact, we're no more likely to catch an extra-terrestrial
disease than to catch wry-neck from sick
chickens!"</p>
<p>"That broadcast's nothing to worry about," said Cochrane.</p>
<p>"But it is!" insisted Holden. "Dabney and that fool
biologist presented space-travel as a reason for panic! They
could have every human being on Earth scared to death
we'll bring back germs and everybody'll die of the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original read 'roup'.">croup</ins>!"</p>
<p>Cochrane grinned.</p>
<p>"Good publicity—if we needed it! Actually, they've
boosted the show. From now on every presentation has a
dramatic kick it didn't have before. Now everybody will
feel suspense waiting for the next show. Has Jamison got
the Purple Death on the Planet of Smoky Hilltops? Will
darling Alicia Keith break out in green spots next time
we watch her on the air? Has Captain Al of the star-roving
space-ship breathed in spores of the Swelling Fungus? Are
the space-travellers doomed? Tune in on our next broadcast
and see! My dear Bill, if we weren't signed up for
sponsors' fees, I'd raise our prices after this trick!"</p>
<p>Holden looked unconvinced. Cochrane said kindly:</p>
<p>"Don't worry! I could turn off the panic tomorrow—as
much panic as there is. Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and
Fallowe had a proposal they set great store by. They
wanted to parcel out a big contest for a name for mankind's
second planet. They had regional sponsors lined<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</SPAN></span>
up. It would have been worldwide! Advertisers were drooling
over the prospect of people proposing names for this
planet on box-tops! They were planning five million prize-money—and
who'd be afraid of us then? But I turned it
down because we haven't got a helicopter. We couldn't
stage enough different shows from this planet to keep it
going the minimum six weeks for a contest like that. Instead,
we're taking off in a couple of hours. Jones agrees.
The astronomers back home have picked out another Sol-type
star that ought to have planets. We're going to run
over and see what pickings we can find. Not too far—only
twenty-some light-years!"</p>
<p>He regarded Holden quizzically to see how the last
phases affected him. Holden didn't notice it.</p>
<p>"A contest—It doesn't make sense!"</p>
<p>"I know it isn't sense!" said Cochrane. "It's public-relations!
I'm beginning to get my self-respect back. I see
now that a space-exploration job is only as good as its
public-relations man!"</p>
<p>He went zestfully to find Babs to tell her to leave the
communicator-set and let queries go unanswered as a matter
of simple business policy.</p>
<p>The sling which swung out of the airlock now became
busy. They had landed on this planet, and they were
going to leave it, and there had been a minimum of actual
contact with its soil. So Jamison took his leggings—put
on for the show—and he and Bell went down to the ground
and foraged through the woods. Jamison carried one of
Johnny Simms' guns, which he regarded with acute suspicion,
and Bell carried cameras. They photographed trees
and underbrush, first as atmosphere and then with fanatic
attention to leaves and fruits or flowers. Bell got pictures
of one of the small, furry bipeds that Cochrane and Holden
had spied when Babs was with them. He got a picture
of what he believed to be a spider-web—it was thicker and
heavier and huger than any web on Earth—and rather
fearfully looked for the monster that could string thirty-foot
cables as thick as fishing-twine. Then he found that
it was not a snare at all. It was a construction at whose
center something undiscoverable had made a nest, with
eggs in it. Some creature had made an unapproachable
home for itself where its young would not be assailed by
predators.</p>
<p>Al, the pilot, went out of the lock and descended to
the ground and went as far as the edge of the ash-ring. But<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</SPAN></span>
he did not go any farther. He wandered about unhappily,
pretending that he did not want to go into the woods. He
tried to appear quite content to view half-burnt trees for
his experience of the first extra-terrestrial planet on which
men had landed. He did kick up some pebbles—water-rounded—and
one of them had flecks of what looked like
gold in it. Al regarded it excitedly, and then thought of
freight-rates. But he did scrabble for more. Presently he
had a pocket-full of small stones which would be regarded
with rapture by his nieces and nephews because they had
come from the stars. Actually, they were quite commonplace
minerals. The flecks of what looked like gold were
only iron pyrates.</p>
<p>Jones did not leave the ship. He was puttering. Nor
Alicia. Holden urged her to take a walk, and she said
quietly:</p>
<p>"Johnny's out with a gun. He's hunting. I don't like
to be with Johnny when he may be disappointed."</p>
<p>She smiled, and Holden sourly went away. There had
been no particular consequences of Johnny Simms' inability
to remember what was right and what was wrong. But
Holden felt like a normal man about men whose wives
look patient. Even psychiatrists feel that it is somehow
disreputable to illtreat a woman who doesn't fight back.
This attitude is instinctive. It is what is called the fine,
deep-rooted impulse to chivalry which is one of the prides
of modern culture.</p>
<p>Holden settled dourly down at the communicator to
get an outgoing call to Earth, when there were some hundreds
of incoming calls backed up. By sheer obstinacy and
bad manners he made it. He got a connection to a hospital
where he was known, and he talked to its bacteriologist.
The bacteriologist was competent, but not yet famous.
With Holden giving honest guesses at the color of
the sunlight, and its probable ultra-violet content, and with
careful estimates of the exactness with which burning vegetation
here smelled like Earth-plants, they arrived at imprecise
but common sense conclusions. Of the hundreds of
thousands of possible organic compounds, only so many
actually took part in the life-processes of creatures on
Earth. Yet there were hundreds of thousands of species prepared
to make use of anything usable. If the sunlight and
temperature of the two worlds were similar, it was somewhat
more than likely that the same chemical compounds
would be used by living things on both. So that there<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</SPAN></span>
could be micro-organisms on the new planet which could
be harmful. But on the other hand, either they would be
familiar in the toxins they produced—and human bodies
could resist them—or else they would be new compounds
to which humans would react allergically. Basically, then,
if anybody on the ship developed hives, they had reason
to be frightened. But so long as nobody sneezed or broke
out in welts, their lives were probably safe.</p>
<p>This comforting conclusion took a long time to work
out. Meanwhile Babs and Cochrane had swung down to
the ground and went hiking. Cochrane was armed as before,
though he had no experience as a marksman. In television
shows he had directed the firing of weapons shooting
blank charges—cut to a minimum so they wouldn't
blast the mikes. He knew what motions to go through,
but nothing else.</p>
<p>They did not explore in the same direction as their first
excursion. The ship was to take off presently, as soon as
this planet had turned enough for the space-ship's nose to
point nearly in the direction of their next target. They had
two hours for exploration.</p>
<p>They came upon something which lay still across their
path, like a great serpent. Cochrane looked at it startledly.
Then he saw that the round, glistening seeming snake was
fastened to the ground by rootlets. It was a plant which
grew like a creeper, absorbing nourishment from a vast
root-area. Somewhere, no doubt, it would rear upward
and spread out leaves to absorb the sun's light. It used,
in a way, the principle of those lateral wells which in dry
climates gather water too scarce to collect in merely vertical
holes.</p>
<p>They went on and on, admiring and amazed. All about
them were curiosities of adaptation, freaks of ecological
adjustment, marvels of symbiotic cooperation. A botanist
would have swooned with joy at the material all about.
A biologist would have babbled happily. Babs and Cochrane
admired without information. They walked interestedly
but unawed among the unparalleled. Back on Earth
they knew as much as most people about nature—practically
nothing at all. Babs had never seen any wild plants
before. She was fascinated by what she saw, and exclaimed
at everything. But she did not realize a fraction of the
marvels on which her eyes rested. On the whole, she
survived.</p>
<p>"It's a pity we haven't got a helicopter," Cochrane said<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span>
regretfully. "If we could fly around from place to place,
and send back pictures ... We can't do it in the ship ...
It would burn more fuel than we've got."</p>
<p>Babs wrinkled her forehead.</p>
<p>"Doctor Holden's badly worried because we can't make
as alluring a picture as he'd like."</p>
<p>Cochrane halted, to watch something which was flat
like a disk of gray-green flesh and which moved slowly out
of their path with disquieting writhing motions. It vanished,
and he said:</p>
<p>"Yes. Bill's an honest man, even if he is a psychiatrist.
He wants desperately to do something for the poor devils
back home who're so pitifully frustrated. There are tens of
millions of men who can't hope for anything better than to
keep the food and shelter supply intact for themselves and
their families. They can't even pretend to hope for more
than that. There isn't more than so much to go around.
But Bill wants to give them hope. He figures that without
hope the world will turn madhouse in another generation.
It will."</p>
<p>"You're trying to do something about that!" said Babs
quickly. "Don't you think you're offering hope to everybody
back on Earth?"</p>
<p>"No!" snapped Cochrane. "I'm not trying anything so
abstract as furnishing hope to a frustrated humanity! Nobody
can supply an abstraction! Nobody can accomplish
an abstraction! Everything that's actually done is specific
and real! Maybe you can find abstract qualities in it after
it's done, but I'm a practical man! I'm not trying to
produce an improved psychological climate, suitable for
debilitated psychos! I'm trying to get a job done!"</p>
<p>"I've wondered," admitted Babs, "what the job is."</p>
<p>Cochrane grimaced.</p>
<p>"You wouldn't believe it, Babs."</p>
<p>There was an odd quivering underfoot. Trees shook.
There was no other peculiarity anywhere. Nothing fell. No
rocks rolled. In a valley among volcanoes, where the smoke
from no less than six cones could be seen at once, temblors
would not do damage. What damage mild shakings could
do would have been done centuries since.</p>
<p>Babs said uneasily:</p>
<p>"That feels—queer, doesn't it?"</p>
<p>Cochrane nodded. But just as he and Babs had never
been conditioned to be afraid of animals, they had been
conditioned by air-travel at home and space-travel to here<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span>
against alarm at movements of their surroundings. Temblors
were evidently frequent at this place. Trees were
anchored against them as against prevailing winds in exposed
situations. Landslides did not remain poised to fall.
Really unstable slopes had been shaken down long ago.</p>
<p>"I wish we had a helicopter," Cochrane repeated. "The
look of the mountains as we came down, with glaciers between
the smoking cones—that was good show-stuff! We
could have held interest here until we worked that naming
contest. We could use the extra capital that would bring in!
As it is, we've got to move on with practically nothing accomplished.
The trouble is that I didn't think we would
succeed as we have! Heaven knows I could have gotten
helicopters!"</p>
<p>He helped her up a small steep incline, where rock
protruded from a hillside.</p>
<p>The ground trembled again. Not alarmingly, but Babs'
hold of his hand tightened a little. They continued to climb.
They came out atop a small bare prominence which rose
above the forest. Here they could see over the treetops in
a truly extensive view. The mountains all about were
clearly visible. Some were ten and some twenty miles away.
Some, still farther, were barely visible in the thin haze of
distance. But there was a thick pall of smoke hovering
about one of the farthest. It was mushroom-shaped. At
one time in human history, it would have seemed typically
a volcanic cloud. To Cochrane and Babs, it was typically
the cloud of an atomic explosion.</p>
<p>The ground shook sharply underfoot. Babs staggered.</p>
<p>Flying things rose from the forests in swarms. They
hovered and darted and flapped above the tree-tops. Temblors
did not alarm the creatures of the valley. But ground-shocks
like this last were another matter.</p>
<p>A great tree, rearing above its fellows, toppled slowly.
With ripping, tearing noises, it bent sedately toward the
smoking, far-away mountain. It crashed thunderously down
upon smaller trees. There were other rending noises. The
flying things rose higher, seeming agitated. Echoes sounded
in the ears of the two atop the hill.</p>
<p>There was another sharp shock. Babs gave a little,
inarticulate cry. She pointed.</p>
<p>There was much smoke in the distance. Over the far-away
cone, which was indistinct in the smoke of its own
making—over the edge of the distant mountains a glare appeared.
It was a thin line of bright white light. With<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</SPAN></span>
infinite deliberation it began to creep down the slanting,
blessedly remote mountainside.</p>
<p>The ground seemed to shift abruptly, and then shift
back. Across and down the valley, five miles away, a portion
of the stony wall detached itself and slid downward in
seeming slow motion. Two more great trees made ripping
sounds. One crashed. There was an enormous darkness
above one part of the sky. Its under side glowed from fires
as of hell, in the crater beneath it. There were sparkings
above the mountaintop.</p>
<p>Very oddly indeed, the sky overhead was peacefully
blue. But at the horizon a sheet of fire rolled down mile-long
slopes. It seemed to move with infinite deliberation,
but to move visibly at such a distance it must have been
traveling like an express-train. It must have been unthinkably
hot, glaring-white molten stone, thin as water, pouring
downward in a flood of fire.</p>
<p>There was no longer a sensation of the ground trembling
underfoot. Now the noticeable sensation was when the
ground was still. Temblors were practically continuous.
There were distinct sharp impacts, as of violent blows
nearby.</p>
<p>Babs stared, fascinated. She glanced up at Cochrane.
His skin was white. There were beads of sweat on his forehead.</p>
<p>"We're safe here, aren't we?" she asked, scared.</p>
<p>"I think so. But I'm not going to take you through
falling trees while this is going on! There's another tree
down! I'm worrying about the ship! If it topples—."</p>
<p>She looked at the nose of the space-ship, gleaming silver
metal, rising from the trees about the landing-spot it had
burned clear. A third of its length was visible.</p>
<p>"If it topples," said Cochrane, "we'll never be able to
take off. It has to point up to lift."</p>
<p>Babs looked from the ship to him, and back again. Then
her eyes went fearfully to the remote mountain. Rumblings
came from it now. They were not loud. They were hardly
more than dull growlings, at the lower limit of audible
pitch. They were like faint and distant thunder. There were
flashings like lightning in the cloud which now enveloped
the mountain's top.</p>
<p>Cochrane made an indescribable small sound. He stared
at the ship. As explosion-waves passed over the ground, a
faint, unanimous movement of the treetops became visible.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</SPAN></span>
It seemed to Cochrane that the space-ship wavered as if
about to fall from its upright position.</p>
<p>It was not designed to stand such violence as a fall
would imply. Its hull would be dented or rent. It was at
least possible that its fuel-store would detonate. But even if
its fall were checked by still-standing trees about it, it could
never take off again. The eight humans of its company
could never juggle it back to a vertical position. Rocket-thrust
would merely push it in the direction its nose
pointed. Toppled, its rocket-thrust would merely shove it
blindly over stones and trees and to destruction.</p>
<p>The ship swayed again. Visibly. Ground-waves made
its weight have the effect of blows. Part of its foundation
rested on almost-visible stone, only feet below the ground-level.
But one of the landing-fins rested on humus. As the
shocks passed, that fin-foot sank into the soft soil. The
space-ship leaned perceptibly.</p>
<p>Flying creatures darted back and forth above the tree-tops.
Miles away, insensate violence reigned. Clouds of
dust and smoke shot miles into the air, and half a mountainside
glowed white-hot, and there was the sound of long-continued
thunder, and the ground shook and quivered....</p>
<p>There were movements nearby. A creature with yellow
fur and the shape of a bear with huge ears came padding
out of the forest. It swarmed up the bare stone of the hill
on which Babs and Cochrane stood.</p>
<p>It ignored them. Halfway up the unwooded part of the
hill, it stopped and made plaintive, high-pitched noises.
Other creatures came. Many had come while the man and
girl were too absorbed to notice. Now two more of the
large animals came out into the open and climbed the hill.</p>
<p>Babs said shakily:</p>
<p>"Do you—think they'll—do you think—"</p>
<p>There was a nearer roaring. The space-ship leaned, and
leaned.... Cochrane's lips tensed.</p>
<p>The space-ship's rockets bellowed and a storm of hurtling
smoke flashed up around it. It lifted, staggering as its
steering-jets tried frantically to swing its lower parts underneath
its mass. It lurched violently, and the rockets flamed
terribly. It lifted again. Its tail was higher than the trees,
but it did not point straight up. It surged horribly across
the top of the forest, leaving a vast flash of flaming vegetation
behind it. Then it steadied, and aimed skyward and
climbed....</p>
<p>Then it was not. Obviously the Dabney field booster<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</SPAN></span>
had been flashed on to get the ship out to space. The ship
had vanished into emptiness.</p>
<p>The Dabney field had flicked it some hundred and
seventy-odd light-years from Earth's moon in the flicker of
a heart-beat. It might have gone that far again. Whoever
was in it had had no choice but to take off, and no way to
take off without suicidal use of fuel in any other way.</p>
<p>Cochrane looked at where the ship had vanished. Seconds
passed. There came the thunderclap of air closing the
vacuum the ship's disappearance had left.</p>
<p>There were squealings behind the pair on the hilltop.
Eight of the huge yellow beasts were out in the open, now.
Tiny, furry biped animals waddled desperately to get out
of their way. Smaller creatures scuttled here and there. A
sinuous creature with fur but no apparent legs writhed its
way upward. But all the creatures were frightened. They
observed an absolute truce, under the overmastering
greater fear of nature.</p>
<p>Far away, the volcano on the skyline boomed and
flashed and emitted monstrous clouds of smoke. The shining,
incandescent lava on its flanks glared across the
glaciers.</p>
<p>Babs gasped suddenly. She realized the situation in
which she and <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original read 'Cochrone'.">Cochrane</ins> had been left.</p>
<p>Shivering, she pressed close to him as the distant black
smoke-cloud spread toward the center of the sky.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />