Robert Sheckley

“ Ger said sadly, "why don't you wake up? Most of the people on Grom are miserable. Only custom makes us take the caste-shape of our ancestors."
"Pilot," Ilg said, "all Grom are born Shapeless!"
"And being born Shapeless, all Grom should have Freedom of Shape," Ger said.
"Exactly," Ilg said. "But he'll never understand. Now excuse me. I want to Think." And the oak tree was silent.
Pid laughed humorlessly. "The Men will kill you off," he said. "Just as they killed off all the other expeditions."
"No one from Grom has been killed," Ger told him. "The other expeditions are right here." ”

“ Without a ship, he was nothing.
"Not all Grom 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." The Chief shook his body sadly. "I've told you this for a reason. We Grom 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." ”

“ After he planted the Displacer, he would go off by himself for a while and do it just a little more—somewhere where Ilg and Ger would not see him—before the Grom Army arrived and the invasion began.
He felt a tiny twinge of guilt, as he circled. It was Evil to want to keep this alien flying shape any longer than was absolutely necessary to the performance of his duty. It was a device of the Shapeless One—
But what had Ilg said? All Grom are born Shapeless. It was true. Grom children were amorphous, until old enough to be instructed in the caste-shape of their ancestors. ”

“ This planet's secret menace was—freedom! ”

“ Now, colonization barely kept up with the mounting birthrate. New worlds were constantly needed.
This particular world, discovered in a scouting expedition, was needed. It suited the Grom perfectly. But it was too far away. They didn't have enough fuel to mount a conquering space fleet.
Luckily, there was another way. A better way.
Over the centuries, the Grom scientists had developed the Displacer. A triumph of Identity Engineering, the Displacer allowed mass to be moved instantaneously between any two linked points. ”

“ So Men were unaware of the presence of the Grom. Getting near the reactor might not be so difficult after all. The others had failed in their duty because they were of the lower castes, weak and irresponsible. Even the Pilots among them must have been secretly sympathetic to the Cult of Shapelessness the Chief had mentioned, or the alien planet could never have swayed them.
What shape to assume for his attempt?
Pid considered.
A Dog might be best. Evidently Dogs could wander pretty much where they wished. If something went wrong, Pid could change his shape to meet the occasion. ”

“ Pid had said, standing at full attention, never quivering from Optimum Pilot's Shape.
"One 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."
"We'll do it, sir," Pid said.
"This expedition has to succeed," the Chief said, and his features blurred momentarily from sheer fatigue. "In strictest confidence, there's considerable unrest on Grom. The Miner caste is on strike, for instance. They want a new digging shape. Say the old one is inefficient." ”

“ This was completely unlike Grom, which had only eight distinct forms of animal life.
And evidently, the Men were skilled at detecting invaders, Pid thought. He wished he knew how the other expeditions had failed. It would make his job much easier.
Man lurched past them on two incredibly stiff legs. Rigidity was evident in his every move. Without looking, he hurried past.
"I know," Ger said, after the creature had moved away. "I'll disguise myself as a Man, walk through the gate to the reactor room, and activate my Displacer." ”

“ The Dog-shape was out. Absolutely. Such appalling sharpness of senses might be fine for a Hunter such as Ger—he probably gloried in them. But another moment of such impressions would have driven Pid the Pilot mad.
What now? He lay in the bush and thought about it, while gradually his mind threw off the last effects of the dizzying sensory assault.
He looked at the gate. The Men standing there evidently hadn't noticed his fiasco. They were looking in another direction.
... a Man? ”

“ Men walked in and out of the installation, and Dogs barked around the gates. But Ger did not appear.
Ger had failed. Ilg was gone. Only he was left.
And still he didn't know what had happened.
y morning, Pid was in complete despair. He knew that the twenty-first Grom expedition to this planet was near the point of complete failure. Now it was all up to him.
He saw that workers were arriving in great number, rushing through the gates. He decided to take advantage of the apparent confusion, and started to shape himself into a Man. ”

“ His arms flapped as he sought balance. His head wobbled on its neck, until he remembered to hold it up. Head up, eyes down, he missed seeing a small rock. His heel turned on it. He sat down, hard.
The ankle hurt. ”