Assignment In The Dawn
By BRYCE WALTON
There stood Roland, deep beneath a static, dying
civilization, fiercely ready to destroy it—and
himself, if need be—for love of Frances. Yet a
question nagged him. Who was she—and who was he?
[Transcriber’s Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
His consciousness filtered in slowly. It stirred like roiled water, and the first lucid cycle of cause and effect in associative memory was beginning. There was a kind of awful searching loneliness—but that was broken by the pleasantly soft voice of the woman who asked, “Is he waking?”
A sweet clear voice. It drew him as if it were some part of him that was missing. She could give meaning to that lonely despair. If he could only remember—. A man answered tensely, “He’s waking, all right. Check the spy-circuit again, Fran. Their newly developed rapport-clan is dangerous. They might find out about our new Adam.”
Adam?
He heard light footsteps fade off and return. “Circuit’s clear, Billy Boy.” A pause. “He’s attractive, isn’t he?”
“Uh-huh.”