[Illustration] SECURITY BY POUL ANDERSON ILLUSTRATED BY EBEL In a world where Security is all-important, nothing can ever be secure. A mountain-climbing vacation may wind up in deep Space. Or loyalty may prove to be high treason. But it has its rewards. It had been a tough day at the lab, one of those days when nothing seemsable to go right. And, of course, it had been precisely the day Hammond, the Efficiency inspector, would choose to stick his nose in. Anothermark in his little notebook--and enough marks like that meant aderating, and Control had a habit of sending derated labmen to Venus. That wasn't a criminal punishment, but it amounted to the same thing. Allen Lancaster had no fear of it for himself; the sector chief of aProject was under direct Control jurisdiction rather than Efficiency, and Control was friendly to him. But he'd hate to see young Rogers getit--the boy had been married only a week now. To top the day off, a report had come to Lancaster's desk from SectorSeven of the Project. Security had finally cleared it for generaltransmission to sector chiefs--and it was the complete design of anelectronic valve on which some of the best men in Lancaster's owndivision, Sector Thirteen, had been sweating for six months. There wenthalf a year's work down the drain, all for nothing, and Lancaster wouldhave that much less to show at the next Project reckoning. He had cursed for several minutes straight, drawing the admiring glancesof his assistants. It was safe enough for a high-ranking labman to gripeabout Security--in fact, it was more or less expected. Scientists hadtheir privileges. One of these was a private three-room apartment. Another was an extraliquor ration. Tonight, as he came home, Lancaster decided to make adent in the latter. He'd eaten at the commissary, as usual, but hadn'tstayed to talk. All the way home in the tube, he'd been thinking of thatwhiskey and soda. Now it sparkled gently in his glass and he sighed, letting a smilecrease his lean homely face. He was a tall man, a little stooped, hisclothes--uniform and mufti alike--perpetually rumpled. Solitary bynature, he was still unmarried in spite of the bachelor tax and had onlyone son. The boy was ten years old now, must be in the Youth Guard;Lancaster wasn't sure, never having seen him. It was dark outside his windows, but a glow above the walls across theskyway told of the city pulsing and murmuring beyond. He liked the quietof his evenings alone and had withstood a good deal of personal andofficial pressure to serve in various patriotic organizations. "Damnit, " he had explained, "I'm not doing routine work. I'm on a Project, and I need relaxation of my own choosing. " He selected a tape from his library. _Eine Kleine Nachtmusik_ liltedjoyously about him as he found a chair and sat down. Control hadn'tgotten around to making approved lists of music yet, though you'dsurely never hear Mozart in a public place. Lancaster got a cigar fromthe humidor and collapsed his long gaunt body across chair and hassock. Smoke, whiskey, good music--they washed his mind clean of worry andfrustration; he drifted off in a mist of unformed dreams. Yes, it wasn'tsuch a bad world. * * * * * The mail-tube went _ping!_ and he opened his eyes, swearing. For amoment he was tempted to let the pneumo-roll lie where it fell, buthabit was too strong. He grumbled his way over to the basket and took itout. The stamp across it jerked his mind to wakefulness. _OfiSal, sEkret, fOradresE OnlE_--and a Security seal! After a moment he swallowed his thumping heart. It couldn't be serious, not as far as he personally was concerned anyway. If that had been thecase, a squad of monitors would have been at the door. Not this messagetube. . . . He broke the seal and unfolded the flimsy with elaborate care. Slowly, he scanned it. Underneath the official letterhead, the wordswere curt. "_Dis iz A matr uv urjensE and iz top sEkret. DestrY Dis letrand Du tUb kontAniN it. _ tUmOrO, 15 jUn, at 2130 ourz, U wil gO tU DuobzurvatOrE, A nIt klub at 5730 viktOrE strEt, and ask Du hedwAtr fOr Amistr Berg. U wil asUm Dat hE iz an Old frend uv yOrz and Dat Dis iz AsOSal EveniN. Du UZUal penaltEz ar invOkt fOr fAlUr tU komplI. " There was no signature. Lancaster stood for a moment, trying to imaginewhat this might be. There was a brief chill of sweat on his skin. Thenhe suppressed his emotions. He had nothing to fear. His record was cleanand he wasn't being arrested. His mind wandered rebelliously off on something that had occurred to himbefore. Admittedly the new phonetic orthography was more efficient thanthe old, if less esthetic; but since little of the earlier literaturewas being re-issued in modern spelling not too many books had actuallybeen condemned as subversive--only a few works on history, politics, philosophy, and the like, together with some scientific texts restrictedfor security reasons; but one by one, the great old writings were sentto forgetfulness. Well, these were critical times. There wasn't material and energy tospare for irrelevant details. No doubt when complete peace was achievedthere would be a renaissance. Meanwhile he, Lancaster, had hisEuripides and Goethe and whatever else he liked, or knew where to borrowit. As for this message, they must want him for something big, maybesomething really interesting. Nevertheless, his evening was ruined. * * * * * The Observatory was like most approved recreation spots--large andraucous, selling unrationed food and drink and amusement at uncontrolledprices of which the government took its usual lion's share. The angle inthis place was astronomy. The ceiling was a blue haze a-glitter withslowly wheeling constellations, and the strippers began withmake-believe spacesuits. There were some rather good murals on the wallsdepicting various stages of the conquest of space. Lancaster was amusedat one of them. When he'd been here three years ago, the first landingon Ganymede had shown a group of men unfurling a German flag. It hadstuck in his mind, because he happened to know that the first expeditionthere had actually been Russian. That was all right then, seeing thatGermany was an ally at the time. But now that Europe was growingincreasingly cold to the idea of an American-dominated world, theGanymedean pioneers were holding a good safe Stars and Stripes. Oh, well. You had to keep the masses happy. They couldn't see that theirsacrifices and the occasional short wars were necessary to preventanother real smashup like the one seventy-five years ago. Lancaster'sannoyance was directed at the sullen foreign powers and the traitorswithin his own land. It was because of them that science had to bestrait-jacketed by Security regulations. The headwaiter bowed before him. "I'm looking for a friend, " saidLancaster. "A Mr. Berg. " "Yes, sir. This way, please. " Lancaster slouched after him. He'd worn the dress uniform of a Projectofficer, but he felt that all eyes were on its deplorable sloppiness. The headwaiter conducted him between tables of half-crockedcustomers--burly black-uniformed Space Guardsmen, army and air officers, richly clad industrialists and union bosses, civilian leaders, theirwives and mistresses. The waiters were all Martian slaves, he noticed, their phosphorescent owl-eyes smoldering in the dim blue light. He was ushered into a curtained booth. There was an auto-dispenser sothat those using it need not be interrupted by servants, and anultrasonic globe on the table was already vibrating to soundproof theregion. Lancaster's gaze went to the man sitting there. In spite ofbeing short, he was broad-shouldered and compact in plain gray eveningpajamas. His face was round and freckled, almost cherubic, under a shockof sandy hair, but there were merry little devils in his eyes. * * * * * "Good evening, Dr. Lancaster, " he said. "Please sit down. What'll youhave?" "Thanks, I'll have Scotch and soda. " Might as well make this expensive, if the government was footing the bill. And if this--Berg--thought himun-American for drinking an imported beverage, what of it? The scientistlowered himself into the seat opposite his host. "I'm having the same, as a matter of fact, " said Berg mildly. He twirledthe dial and slipped a couple of five-dollar coins into the dispenserslot. When the tray was ejected, he sipped his drink appreciatively andlooked across the rim of the glass at the other man. "You're a high-ranking physicist on the Arizona Project, aren't you, Dr. Lancaster?" he asked. That much was safe to admit. Lancaster nodded. "What is your work, precisely?" "You know I can't tell you anything like that. " "It's all right. Here are my credentials. " Berg extended a wallet. Lancaster scanned the cards and handed them back. "Okay, so you're in Security, " he said. "I still can't tell youanything, not without proper clearance. " Berg chuckled amiably. "Good. I'm glad to see you're discreet. Too manylabmen don't understand the necessity of secrecy, even between differentbranches of the same organization. " With a sudden whip-like sharpness:"You didn't tell anyone about this meeting, did you?" "No, of course not. " Despite himself, Lancaster was rattled. "That is, afriend asked if I'd care to go out with her tonight, but I said I wasmeeting someone else. " "That's right. " Berg relaxed, smiling. "All right, we may as well getdown to business. You're getting quite an honor, Dr. Lancaster. You'vebeen tapped for one of the most important jobs in the Solar System. " "Eh?" Lancaster's eyes widened behind the contact lenses. "But no oneelse has informed me--" "No one of your acquaintance knows of this. Nor shall they. But tell me, you've done work on dielectrics, haven't you?" "Yes. It's been a sort of specialty of mine, in fact. I wrote my thesison the theory of dielectric polarization and since then--no, that'sclassified. " "M-hm. " Berg took another sip of his drink. "And right now you're just acog in a computer-development Project. You see, I do know a few thingsabout you. However, we've decided--higher up, you know, in fact on thevery top level--to take you off it for the time being and put you onthis other job, one concerning your specialty. Furthermore, you won't bepart of a great organizational machine, but very much on your own. Thefewer who know of this, the better. " Lancaster wasn't sure he liked that. Once the job was done--if he werepossessed of all information on it--he might be incarcerated or evenshot as a Security risk. Things like that had happened. But there wasn'tmuch he could do about it. "Have no fears. " Berg seemed to read his thoughts. "Your reward may be alittle delayed for Security reasons, but it will come in due time. " Heleaned forward, earnestly. "I repeat, this project is _top secret_. It'sa vital link in something much bigger than you can imagine, and few menbelow the President even know of it. Therefore, the very fact thatyou've worked on it--that you've done any outside work at all--mustremain unknown, even to the chiefs of your Project. " "Good stunt if you can do it, " shrugged Lancaster. "But I'm hot. Security keeps tabs on everything I do. " "This is how we'll work it. You have a furlough coming up in two weeks, don't you--a three months' furlough? Where were you going?" "I thought I'd visit the Southwest. Get in some mountain climbing, seethe canyons and Indian ruins and--" "Yes, yes. Very well. You'll get your ticket as usual and a reservationat the Tycho Hotel in Phoenix. You'll go there and, on your firstevening, retire early. Alone, I need hardly add. We'll be waiting foryou in your room. There'll be a very carefully preparedduplicate--surgical disguise, plastic fingerprinting tips, fullyeducated in your habits, tastes, and mannerisms. He'll stay behind andcarry out your vacation while we smuggle you away. A similar exchangewill be affected when you return, you'll be told exactly how your doublespent the summer, and you'll resume your ordinary life. " "Ummm--well--" It was too sudden. Lancaster had to hedge. "Butlook--I'll be supposedly coming back from an outdoor vacation, with asuntan and well rested. Somebody's going to get suspicious. " "There'll be sun lamps where you're going, my friend. And I think thechance to work independently on something that really interests you willprove every bit as restful to your nerves as a summer's travel. I knowthe scientific mentality. " Berg chuckled. "Yes, indeed. " * * * * * The exchange went off so smoothly that it was robbed of all melodrama, though Lancaster had an unexpectedly eerie moment when he confronted hisdouble. It was his own face that looked at him, there in the impersonalhotel room, himself framed against blowing curtains and darkness ofnight. Then Berg gestured him to follow and they went down a cord ladderhanging from the window sill. A car waited in the alley below and slidinto easy motion the instant they had gotten inside. There was a driver and another man in the front seat, both shadowsagainst the moving blur of street lamps and night. Berg and Lancastersat in the rear, and the secret agent chatted all the way. But he saidnothing of informational content. When the highway had taken them well into the loneliness of the desert, the car turned off it, bumped along a miserable dirt track until it hadcrossed a ridge, and slowed before a giant transcontinental dieselectrictruck. A man emerged from its cab, waving an unhurried arm, and the carswung around to the rear of the van. There was a tailgate lowered, forming a ramp; above it, the huge double doors opened on a cavern ofblackness. The car slid up the ramp, and the man outside pushed it inafter them and closed the doors. Presently the truck got into motion. "This is _really_ secret!" whistled Lancaster. He felt awed andhelpless. "Quite so. Security doesn't like the government's right hand to knowwhat its left is doing. " Berg smiled, a dim flash of teeth in hisshadowy face. Then he was serious. "It's necessary, Lancaster. You don'tknow how strong and well-organized the subversives are. " "They--" The physicist closed his mouth. It was true--he hadn't thefaintest notion, really. He followed the news, but in a cursory fashion, without troubling to analyze the meaning of it. Damn it all, he hadenough else to think about. Just as well that elections had beensuspended and bade fair to continue indefinitely in abeyance. If he, amember of the intelligentsia, wasn't sufficiently acquainted with thepolitical and military facts of life to make rational decisions, itcertainly behooved the ill-educated masses to obey. "We might as well stretch ourselves, " said the driver. "Long way to goyet. " He climbed out and switched on an overhead light. * * * * * The interior of the van was roomy, even allowing for the car. There werebunks, a table and chairs, a small refrigerator and cookstove. Thedriver, a lean saturnine man who seemed to be forever chewing gum, beganto prepare coffee. The other sat down, whistling tunelessly. He wasyoung and powerfully built, but his right arm ended in a prostheticclaw. All of them were dressed in inconspicuous civilian garb. "Take us about ten hours, maybe, " said Berg. "The spaceship's 'way overin Colorado. " He caught Lancaster's blank stare, and grinned. "Yes, my friend, yourlab is out in space. Surprised?" "Mmm--yeah. I've never been off Earth. " "Sokay. We run at acceleration, you won't be spacesick. " Berg drew up achair, sat down, and tilted it back against a wall. The steady rumble ofengines pulsed under his words: "It's interesting, really, to consider the relationship betweengovernment and military technology. The powerful, authoritariangovernments have always arisen in such times as the evolution of warfaremade a successful fighting machine something elaborate, expensive, andmaintainable by professionals only. Like in the Roman Empire. It tookyears to train a legionnaire and a lot of money to equip an army andkeep it in the field. So Rome became autarchic. However, it was not soexpensive a proposition that a rebellious general couldn't put sometroops up for a while--or he could pay them with plunder. So you did getcivil wars. Later, when the Empire had broken up and warfare reliedlargely on the individual barbarian who brought his own weapons withhim, government loosened. It had to--any ruler who got to throwing hisweight around too much would have insurrection on his hands. Then as waragain became an art--well, you see how it goes. There are other factors, of course, like religion--ideology in general. But by and large, it'sworked out the way I explained it. Because there are always peoplewilling to fight when government encroaches on what they consider theirliberties, and governments are always going to try to encroach. So thebalance struck depends on comparative strength. The American colonistsback in 1776 relied on citizen levies and weapons were so cheap andsimple that almost anyone could obtain them. Therefore government stayedloose for a long time. But nowadays, who except a government can makeatomic bombs and space rockets? So we get absolute states. " * * * * * Lancaster looked around, feeling the loneliness close in on him. Thedriver was still clattering the coffee pot. The one-armed man wasutterly blank and expressionless. And Berg sat there, smiling, pouringout those damnable cynicisms. Was it some kind of test? Were theyprobing his loyalty? What kind of reply was expected? "We're a democratic nation and you know it, " he said. It came out morefeebly than he had thought. "Oh, well, sure. This is just a state of emergency which has lastedunusually long, seventy-two years to be exact. If we hadn't lost WorldWar III, and needed a powerful remilitarization to overthrow the Sovietworld--but we did. " Berg took out a pack of cigarettes. "Smoke? I wasjust trying to explain to you why the subversives are so dangerous. Theyhave to be, or they wouldn't stand any kind of chance. When you set outto upset something as big as the United States government, it's an allor nothing proposition. They've had a long time now to organize, andthere's a huge percentage of malcontents to help them out. " "Malcontents? Well, look, Berg--I mean, you're the expert and of courseyou know your business, but a natural human grumble at conditionsdoesn't mean revolutionary sentiments. These aren't such bad times. People have work, and their needs are supplied. They aren't hankering tohave the Hemispheric Wars back again. " "The standard revolutionary argument, " said Berg patiently, "is that therebels aren't trying to overthrow the nation at all, but simply torestore constitutional and libertarian government. It's commonknowledge that they have help and some subsidies from outside, but it'scontended that these are merely countries tired of a world dominated byan American dictatorship and, being small Latin-American and Europeanstates, couldn't possibly think of conquering us. Surely you've seensubversive literature. " "Well, yes. Can't help finding their pamphlets. All over the place. And--" Lancaster closed his mouth. No, damned if he was going to admitthat he knew three co-workers who listened to rebel propagandabroadcasts. Those were silly, harmless kids--why get them in trouble, maybe get them sent to camp? * * * * * "You probably don't appreciate the hold that kind of argument has on alltoo many intellectuals--and a lot of the common herd, too, " said Berg. "Naturally you wouldn't--if your attitude has always been unsympathetic, these people aren't going to confide their thoughts to you. And thenthere are bought men, and spies smuggled in, and--oh, I needn'telaborate. It's enough to say that we've been thoroughly infiltrated, and that most of their agents have absolutely impeccable dossiers. Wecan't give neoscop to everybody, you know--Security has to rely on spotchecks and the testing of key personnel. Only when organizations get asbig as they are today, there's apt to be no real key man, and a fewspies strategically placed in the lower echelons can pick-up a hell of alot of information. Then there are the colonists out on the planets--ourhold on them has always necessarily been loose, because oftransportation and communication difficulties if nothing else. And, as Isay, foreign powers. A little country like Switzerland or Denmark orVenezuela can't do much by itself, but an undercover internationalpooling of resources. . . . Anyway, we have reason to believe in theexistence of a large, well financed, well organized underground, withtrained fighting men, big secret weapons dumps, and saboteurs ready forthe word 'go'--to say nothing of a restless population and any number ofcovert sympathizers who'd follow if the initial uprising had goodresults. " "Or bad, depending on whose viewpoint you take, " grinned the one-armedman. Lancaster put his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on shakinghands. "What has all this got to do with me?" he protested. "I'm notthe hero of some cloak-and-dagger spy story. I'm no good at undercoverstuff--what do you want of me?" "It's very simple, " Berg replied quietly. "The balance of power is stillwith the government, because it does have more of the really heavyweapons than any other group can possibly muster. Alphabet bombs, artillery, rockets, armor, spaceships and space missiles. You see? Onlyresearch has lately suggested that a new era in warfare is developing--anew weapon as decisive as the Macedonian phalanx, gunpowder, andaircraft were in their day. " As Lancaster raised his eyes, he met analmost febrile glitter in Berg's gaze. "And _this_ weapon may reversethe trend. It may be the cheap and simple arm that anyone can make anduse--the equalizer! So we've got to develop it before the rebels do. They have laboratories of their own, and their skill at stealing oursecrets makes it impossible for us to trust the research to a Project inthe usual manner. The fewer who knew of this weapon, the better--becausein the wrong hands it could mean--Armageddon!" * * * * * The run from Earth was short, for the space laboratory wasn't far awayat the moment as interplanetary distances go. Lancaster wasn't toldanything about its orbit, but guessed that it had a path a million milesor so sunward from Earth and highly tilted with respect to the ecliptic. That made for almost perfect concealment, for what spaceship wouldnormally go much north or south of the region containing the planets? He was too preoccupied during the journey to estimate orbital figures, anyway. He had seen enough pictures of open space, and some of them hadbeen excellent. But the reality towered unbelievably over allrepresentations. There simply is no way of describing that nakedgrandeur, and when you have once experienced it you don't want to try. His companions--Berg and the one-armed Jessup, who piloted thespaceboat--respected his need for silence. The station had been painted non-reflecting black, which complicatedtemperature control but made accidental observation of its existencealmost impossible. It loomed against the cold glory of stars like a pitof ultimate darkness, and Jessup had to guide the boat in with radar. When the last lock had clanged shut behind him and he stood in a narrowmetal corridor, shut away from the sky, Lancaster felt a sense ofunendurable loss. It faded, and he grew aware of others watching him. There were half adozen people, a motley group dressed in any shabby garment they happenedto fancy, with no sign of the semi-military discipline of a Projectcrew. A Martian hovered in the background, and Lancaster didn't noticehim at first. Berg introduced the humans casually. There was a stockygray-haired man named Friedrichs, a lanky space-tanned young chap calledIsaacson, a middle-aged woman and her husband by the name of Dufrere, aquiet Oriental who answered to Hwang, and a red-haired woman presentedas Karen Marek. These, Berg explained, were the technicians who would behelping Lancaster. This end of the space station was devoted to the labsand factories; for security reasons, Lancaster couldn't be permitted togo elsewhere, but it was hoped he would be comfortable here. "Ummm--pardon me, aren't you a rather mixed group?" asked the physicist. "Yes, very, " said Berg cheerfully. "The Dufreres are French, Hwang isChinese, and Karen here is Norwegian though her husband was Czech. Notto mention. . . . There you are, I didn't see you before! Dr. Lancaster, I'd like you to meet Rakkan of Thyle, Mars, a very accomplished labman. " * * * * * Lancaster gulped, shifting his feet and looking awkwardly at the smallgray-feathered body and the beaked owl-face. Rakkan bowed politely, sparing Lancaster the decision of whether or not to shake the clawlikehand. He assumed Rakkan was somebody's slave--but since when did slavesact as social equals? "But you said this project was top secret!" he blurted. "Oh, it is, " smiled Karen Marek. She had a husky, pleasant voice, andwhile she was a little too thin to be really good-looking, she was castin a fine mold and her eyes were large and gray and lovely. "I assureyou, non-Americans are perfectly capable of preserving a secret. More sothan most Americans, really--we don't have ties on Earth. No one to blabto. " "It's not well known today, but the original Manhattan Project thatconstructed the first atomic bombs had quite an internationalcharacter, " said Berg. "It even included German, Italian, and Hungarianelements though the United States was at war with those countries. " "Come along and we'll get you settled in your quarters, " invitedIsaacson. Lancaster followed him down the long hallways, rather dazed with thewhole business. He noticed that the space station had a crude, unfinished look, as if it had been hastily thrown together from whatevermaterials were available. That didn't ring true for a governmententerprise, no matter how secret. Berg seemed to read his thought again. "We've worked under severehandicaps, " he said. "Look, just suppose a lot of valuable material andequipment were ferried into space. If it's an ordinary government deal, you know how many light-years of red tape are involved. Requisitionshave to be filled out in triplicate, every last rivet has to beaccounted for--there'd simply have been too much chance of a rebel spygetting a lead on us. It was safer all around to use whatever chancematerials could be obtained from salvage or through individual purchaseson other planets. Ever hear of the _Waikiki_?" "Ummm--seems so--wasn't she the big freighter that disappeared manyyears ago?" "That's the one. A meteor swarm struck her on the way to Venus. Furthermore, one of them shorted out her engine controls, so that sheswooped out of the ecliptic plane and fell into an eccentric skew orbit. When this project was first started, one of our astronomers thought he'didentified the swarm--it has a regular path of its own about the sun, though the orbit is so cockeyed that spaceships hardly ever even see thethings. Anyway, knowing the orbit of the meteors and that of the_Waikiki_ at the time, he could calculate where the disaster must havetaken place--which gave us a lead in searching for the hulk. We found itafter a lot of investigation, moved it here, and built the station uparound it. Very handy. And completely secret. " Lancaster had always suspected that Security was a little mad. Now heknew it. Oh, well-- * * * * * His room was small and austere, but privacy was nice. The lab crew atein a common refectory. Beyond the edge of their territory, greatbulkheads blocked off three-fourths of the space station. Lancaster wassure that many people and several Martians lived there, for in the daysthat followed he saw any number of strangers appearing and disappearingin the region allowed him. Most of these were workmen of some kind orother, called in to help the lab crew as needed, but all of them weretight-lipped. They must have been cautioned not to speak to the guestmore than was strictly necessary. Living was Spartan in the station. It rotated fast enough to giveweight, but even on the outer skin that was only one-half Earth gravity. A couple of silent Martians prepared undistinguished meals and didhousework in the quarters. There were no films or other organizedrecreation, though Lancaster was told that the forbidden sector includeda good-sized room for athletics. But the crew he worked with didn't seem to mind. They had their ownlarge collections of books and music wires, which they borrowed fromeach other. They played chess and poker with savage skill. Conversationwas, at first, somewhat restrained in Lancaster's presence, and most ofthe humor had so little reference to things he knew that he couldn'tfollow it, but he became aware that they talked with more animation andintelligence than his friends on Earth. Manners were utterly informal, and it wasn't long before even Lancaster was being addressed by hisfirst name; but cooperation was smooth and there seemed to be none ofthe intrigue and backbiting of a typical Project crew. And the work filled their lives. Lancaster was caught up in it the "day"after his arrival, realized at once what it meant, and was plunged intothe fascination of it. Berg hadn't lied; this was big! The perfect dielectric. Such, at least, was the aim of the project. It was explained toLancaster that one Dr. Sophoulis had first seen the possibilities andorganized the research. It had gone ahead slowly, hampered by a lack ofneeded materials and expert personnel. When Sophoulis died, none of hisassistants felt capable of carrying on the work at any decent rate ofspeed. They were all competent in their various specialties, but ittakes more than training to do basic research--a certain inborn, intuitive flair is needed. So they had sent to Earth for a newboss--Lancaster. The physicist scratched his head in puzzlement. It didn't seem rightthat something so important should have to take the leavings oftechnical personnel. Secrecy or not, the most competent men on Earthshould have been tapped for this job, and they should have been giveneverything they needed to carry it through. Then he forgot hisbewilderment in the clean chill ecstasy of the work. * * * * * Man had been hunting superior dielectrics for a long time now. It wasmore than a question of finding the perfect electrical insulator, thoughthat would be handy too. What was really important was the sort ofcondensers made possible by a genuinely good dielectric material. Giventhat, you could do fantastic things in electronics. Most significant ofall was the matter of energy storage. If you could store large amountsof electricity in an accumulator of small volume, without appreciableleakage loss, you could build generators designed to handle averagerather than peak load--with resultant savings in cost; you could buildelectric motors, containing their own energy supply and henceportable--which meant electric automobiles and possibly aircraft; youcould use inconveniently located power sources, such as remotewaterfalls, or dilute sources like sunlight, to augment--maybeeventually replace--the waning reserves of fuel and fissionableminerals; you could. . . . Lancaster's mind gave up on all thepossibilities opening before him and settled down to the immediate taskat hand. "The original mineral was found on Venus, in the Gorbu-vashtar country, "explained Karen Marek. "Here's a sample. " She gave him a lump of rough, dense material which glittered in hard rainbow points of light. "It wasjust a curiosity at first, till somebody thought to test its electricalproperties. Those were slightly fantastic. We have all chemical andphysical data on this stuff already, of course, as well as an excellentidea of its crystal structure. It's a funny mixture of barium andtitanium compounds with some rare earths and--well, read the report foryourself. " Lancaster's eyes skimmed down the sheaf of papers she handed him. "Can'tmake very good condensers out of this, " he objected. "Too brittle--andlook how the properties vary with temperature. A practical dielectrichas to be stable in every way, at least over the range of conditions youintend to use it in. " She nodded. "Of course. Anyway, the mineral is very rare on Venus, and you know howtough it is to search for anything in Gorbu-vashtar. What's important isthe lead it gave Sophoulis. You see, the dielectric constant of thismaterial isn't constant at all. It _increases_ with applied voltage. Look at this curve here. " Lancaster whistled. "What the devil--but that's impossible! That muchvariability means a crystal structure which is--uh--flexible, damn it!But you've got a brittle substance here--" According to the accepted theory of dielectricity, this couldn't be. Lancaster realized with a thumping behind his veins that the theorywould have to be modified. Rather, this was an altogether differentphenomenon from normal insulation. He supposed some geological freak had formed the mineral. Venus was astrange planet anyway. But that didn't matter. The important thing nowwas to get to know this process. He went off into a happy mist ofquantum mechanics, oscillation theory, and periodic functions of acomplex variable. Karen and Isaacson exchanged a slow smile. * * * * * Sophoulis and his people had done heroic work under adverse conditions. A tentative theory of the mechanism involved had already beenformulated, and the search had started for a means to duplicate thesuper-dielectricity in materials otherwise more suitable to man's needs. But as he grew familiar with the place and the job, Lancaster wonderedjust how adverse the conditions really were. True, the equipment was old and cranky, much of it haywired together, much of it invented from scratch. But Rakkan the Martian, for all hislack of formal education, was unbelievably clever where it came tomaking apparatus and making it behave, and Friedrichs was a top-flightdesigner. The lab had what it needed--wasn't that enough? The rest of Lancaster's crew were equally good. The Dufreres werephysical chemists _par excellence_, Isaacson a brilliantcrystallographer with an unusual brain for mathematics, Hwang an experton quantum theory and inter-atomic forces, Karen an imaginativeexperimenter. None of them quite had the synthesizing mentality neededfor an overall picture and a fore-vision of the general direction ofwork--that had been Sophoulis' share, and was now Lancaster's--but theywere all cheerful and skilled where it came to detail work and couldoften make suggestions in a theoretical line. Then, too, there was no Security snooping about, no petty scramble forrecognition and promotion, no red tape. What was more important, Lancaster began to realize, was the personal nature of the wholeaffair. In a Project, the overall chief set the pattern, and it wasfollowed by his subordinates with increasingly less latitude as youworked down through the lower ranks. You did what you were told, produced results or else, and kept your mouth shut outside your ownsector of the Project. You had only the vaguest idea of what actuallywas being created, and why, and how it fitted into the broad scheme ofsociety. Hwang and Rakkan commented on that, one "evening" at dinner when theyhad grown more relaxed in Lancaster's presence. "It was inevitable, Isuppose, that scientific research should become corporate, " said theChinese. "So much equipment was needed, and so many specialties had tobe coordinated, that the solitary genius with only a few assistantshadn't a chance. Nevertheless, it's a pity. It's destroyed initiative inmany promising young men. The top man is no longer a scientist atall--he's an administrator with some technical background. The lowerranks do have to exercise ingenuity, yes, but only along the lines theyare ordered to follow. If some interesting sideline crops up, they can'tinvestigate it. All they can do is submit a memorandum to the chief, andmost likely if anything is done it will be carried out by someone else. " "What would you do about it?" shrugged Lancaster. "You just admittedthat the old-time genius in a garret can't compete. " "No--but the small team of creative specialists, each with an excellentunderstanding of the others' fields, and each working in a loose, free-willed cooperation with the rest, can. Indeed, the results will bemuch better. It was tried once, you may know. The early cybernetics men, back in the last century, worked that way. " "I wish we could co-opt some biologists and psychologists into this, "murmured Rakkan. His English was good, though indescribably accented byhis vocal apparatus. "The cellular and neural implications ofdielectricity look--promising. Maybe later. " "Well, " said Lancaster defensively, "a large Project can be made moresecure--less chance of leakage. " Hwang said nothing, but he cocked an eyebrow at an almost treasonableangle. * * * * * In going through Sophoulis' equations, Lancaster found what he believedwas the flaw that was blocking progress. The man had used a simplifiedquantum mechanics without correction for relativistic effects. That madefor neater mathematics but overlooked certain space-time aspects of thepsi function. The error was excusable, for Sophoulis had not beenfamiliar with the Belloni matrix, a mathematical tool that brought orderinto what was otherwise incomprehensible chaos. Belloni's work was stillclassified information, being too useful, in the design of new alloys, for general consumption. Lancaster went happily to work correcting theequations. But when he was finished, he realized that he had no businessshowing his results without proper clearance. He wandered glumly into the lab. Karen was there alone, setting up anapparatus for the next attempt at heat treatment. A smock covered herinto shapelessness, and her spectacular hair was bound up in a kerchief, but she still looked good. Lancaster, a shy man, was more susceptible toher than he wanted to be. "Where's Berg?" he asked. "Back on Earth with Jessup, " she told him. "Why?" "Damn! It holds up the whole business till he returns. " Lancasterexplained his difficulty. Karen laughed. "Oh, that's all right, " she said in the low voice heliked to hear. "We've all been cleared. " "Not officially. I've got to see the papers. " She glared at him then and stamped her foot. "How stupid can you getwithout having to be spoon fed?" she snapped. "You've seen how much wethink of regulations here. Let's have those equations, Mac. " "But--blast it, Karen, you don't appreciate the need for security. Bergexplained it to me once--how dangerous the rebels are, and how easilythey can steal our secrets. And they'll stop at nothing. Do you wantanother Hemispheric War?" She looked oddly at him, and when she spoke it was softly. "Allen, doyou really believe that?" "Certainly! It's obvious, isn't it? Our country is maintaining the peaceof the Solar System--once we drop the reins, all hell will run away fromus. " "What's wrong with setting up a world-wide federation of countries? Mostother nations are willing. " "But that--it's not _practical_!" "How do you know? It's never been tried. " "Anyway, we can't decide policy. That's just not for us. " "The United States is a democratic country--remember?" "But--" Lancaster looked away. For a moment he stood unspeaking, and shewatched him with grave eyes and said nothing. Then, not really knowingwhy he did it, he lifted a defiant head. "All right! We'll go ahead--andif Berg sends us all to camp, don't blame me. " "He won't. " She laughed and clapped his shoulder. "You know, Allen, there are times when I think you're human after all. " "Thanks, " he grinned wryly. "How about--uh--how about having a--a b-beerwith me now? To celebrate. " "Why, sure. " * * * * * They went down to the shop. A cooler of beer was there, its contentsbeing reckoned as among the essential supplies brought from Earth byJessup. Lancaster uncapped two bottles, and he and Karen sat down on abench, swinging their legs and looking over the silent, waitingmachines. Most of the station personnel were off duty now, in thearbitrary "night. " He sighed at last. "I like it here. " "I'm glad you do, Allen. " "It's a funny place, but I like it. The station and all its wackyinhabitants. They're heterodox as the very devil and would have troublegetting a dog catcher's job back home, but they're all refreshing. "Lancaster snapped his fingers. "Say, that's it! That's why you're allout here. The government needs your talents, and you aren't quitetrusted, so you're put here out of range of spies. Right?" "Do you have to see a rebel with notebook in hand under every bed?" sheasked with a hint of weariness. "The First Amendment hasn't beenrepealed yet, they say. Theoretically we're all entitled to our ownopinions. " "Okay, okay, I won't argue politics. Tell me about some of the peoplehere, will you? They're an odd bunch. " "I can't tell you much, Allen. That's where Security does apply. Isaacson is a Martian colonist, you've probably guessed that already. Jessup lost his hand in a--a fight with some enemies once. The Dufrereshad a son who was killed in the Moroccan incident. " Lancaster rememberedthat that affair had involved American power used to crush a French spyring centered in North Africa. Sovereignty had been brushed aside. Butdamn it, you had to preserve the status quo, for your own survival ifnothing else. "Hwang had to go into exile when the Chinese governmentchanged hands a few years back. I--" "Yes?" he asked when her voice faded out. "Oh, I might as well tell you. My husband and I lived in America afterour marriage. He was a good biotechnician and had a job with one of thebig pharmaceutical companies. Only he--went to camp. Later he died orwas shot, I don't know which. " Her words were flat. "That's a shame, " he said inadequately. "The funny part of it is, he wasn't engaged in treason at all. He wasquite satisfied with things as they were--oh, he talked a little, but sodoes everybody. I imagine some rival or enemy put the finger on him. " "Those things happen, " said Lancaster. "It's too bad, but they happen. " "They're bound to occur in a police state, " she said. "Sorry. We weren'tgoing to argue politics, were we?" "I never said the world was perfect, Karen. Far from it. Only whatalternative have we got? Any change is likely to be so dangerousthat--well, man can't afford mistakes. " "No, he can't. But I wonder if he isn't making one right now. Oh, well. Give me another beer. " They talked on indifferent subjects till Karen said it was her bedtime. Lancaster escorted her to her apartment. She looked at him curiously ashe said good night, and then went inside and closed the door. Lancasterhad trouble getting to sleep. * * * * * The corrected equations provided an adequate theory ofsuper-dielectricity--a theory with tantalizing hints about still otherphenomena--and gave the research team a precise idea of what they wantedin the way of crystal structure. Actually, the substance to be formedwas only semi-crystalline, with plastic features as well, all interwovenwith a grid of carbon-linked atoms. Now the trick was to produce thatstuff. Calculation revealed what elements would be needed, and whatspatial arrangement--only how did you get the atoms to assume therequired configuration and hook up in the right way? Theory would get you only so far, thereafter it was cut and try. Lancaster rolled up his sleeves with the rest and let Karen take overthe leadership--she was the best experimenter. He spent some gloriousand all but sleepless weeks, greasy, dirty, living in a jungle ofhaywired apparatus with a restless slide rule. There were plenty offailures, a lot of heartbreak and profanity, an occasional injury--butthey kept going, and they got there. The day came--or was it the night?--when Karen took a slab of darklyshining substance out of the furnace where it had been heat-aging. Rakkan sawed it into several chunks for testing. It was Lancaster whoworked on the electric properties. He applied voltage till his generator groaned, and watched in awe asmeters climbed and climbed without any sign of stopping. He dischargedthe accumulated energy in a single blue flare that filled the lab withthunder and ozone. He tested for time lag of an electric signal andwondered wildly if it didn't feel like sleeping on its weary path. The reports came in, excited yells from one end of the long, clutteredroom to the other, exultant whoops and men pounding each other on theback. This was it! This was the treasure at the rainbow's end. * * * * * The substance and its properties were physically and chemically stableover a temperature range of hundreds of degrees. The breakdown voltagewas up in the millions. The insulation resistance was better than thebest known to Earth's science. The dielectric constant could be varied at will by a simple electricfield normal to the applied voltage gradient--a field which could begenerated by a couple of dry cells if need be--and ranged from a hundredthousand to about three billion. For all practical purposes, here wasthe ultimate dielectric. "We did it!" Friedrichs slapped Lancaster's back till it felt that theribs must crack. "We have it!" "Whooppee!" yelled Karen. Suddenly they had joined hands and were dancing idiotically around theinduction furnace. Lancaster clasped Rakkan's talons without caring thatit was a Martian. They sang then, sang till heads appeared at the doorand the glassware shivered. _Here we go 'round the mulberry bush, The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush--_ It called for a celebration. The end of a Project meant no more thanfiling a last report and waiting for the next assignment, but they ranthings differently out here. Somebody broke out a case of Venusianaguacaliente. Somebody else led the way to a storeroom, tossed itscontents into the hall, and festooned it with used computer tape. Rakkan forgot his Martian dignity and fiddled for a square dance, withIsaacson doing the calling. The folk from the other end of the stationswarmed in till the place overflowed. It was quite a party. Hours later, Lancaster was hazily aware of lying stretched on the floor. His head was in Karen's lap and she was stroking his hair. The hardysurvivors were following the Dufreres in French drinking songs, whichare the best in the known universe. Rakkan's fiddle wove in and out, alovely accompaniment to voices that were untrained but made rich andalive by triumph. _"Sur ma tomb' je veux qu'on inscrive: 'Ici-git le roi des buveurs. ' Sur ma tomb' je veux qu'on inscrive: 'Ici-git le roi des buveurs. Ici-git, oui, oui, oui, Ici-git, non, non, non--'"_ Lancaster knew that he had never been really happy before. * * * * * Berg showed up a couple of days later, looking worried. Lancaster'svacation time was almost up. When he heard the news, his eyes snappedgleefully and he pumped the physicist's hand. "Good work, boy!" "There are things to clean up yet, " said Lancaster, "but it's alldetail. Anybody can do it. " "And the material--what do you call it, anyway?" Karen grinned. "So far, we've only named it _ffuts_, " she said. "That's'stuff' spelled backward. " "Okay, okay. It's easy to manufacture?" "Sure. Now that we know how, anybody can make it in his own home--ifhe's handy at tinkering apparatus together. " "Fine, fine! Just what was needed. This is the ticket. " Berg turned backto Lancaster. "Okay, boy, you can pack now. We blast again in a fewhours. " The physicist shuffled his feet. "What are my chances of gettingre-assigned back here?" he asked. "I've liked it immensely. And now thatI know about it anyway--" "I'll see. I'll see. But remember, this is top secret. You go back toyour regular job and don't say a word on this to anyone less than thePresident--no matter what happens, understand?" "Of course, " snapped Lancaster, irritated. "I know my duty. " "Yeah, so you do. " Berg sighed. "So you do. " Leavetaking was tough for all concerned. They had grown fond of thequiet, bashful man--and as for him, he wondered how he'd get alongamong normal people. These were his sort. Karen wept openly and kissedhim good-bye with a fervor that haunted his dreams afterward. Then shestumbled desolately back to her quarters. Even Berg looked glum. He regained his cockiness on the trip home, though, and insisted ontalking all the way. Lancaster, who wanted to be alone with histhoughts, was annoyed, but you don't insult a Security man. "You understand the importance of this whole business, and why it has tobe secret?" nagged Berg. "I'm not thinking of the scientific andindustrial applications, but the military ones. " "Oh, sure. You can make lightning throwers if you want to. And you'veovercome the fuel problem. With a few _ffuts_ accumulators, charged fromany handy power source, you can build fuelless military vehicles, whichwould simplify your logistics immensely. And some really deadly handguns could be built--pistols the equivalent of a cannon, almost. "Lancaster's voice was dead. "So what?" "So plenty! Those are only a few of the applications. If you use yourimagination, you can think of dozens more. And the key point is--the_ffuts_ and the essential gadgetry using it are cheap to make inquantity, easy to handle--the perfect weapon for the citizen soldier. Orfor the rebel! It isn't enough to decide the outcome of a war all byitself, but it may very well be precisely the extra element which willtip the military balance against the government. And I've alreadydiscussed what that means. " "Yes, I remember. That's your department, not mine. Just let me forgetabout it. " "You'd better, " said Berg. * * * * * In the month after his return, Lancaster lived much as usual. He wasscolded a few times for an increasing absent-mindedness and a lack ofenthusiasm on the Project, but that wasn't too serious. He became moreof an introvert than ever. Having some difficulty with getting to sleep, he resorted to soporifics and then, in a savage reaction, to stimulants. But outwardly there was little to show the turmoil within him. He didn't know what to think. He had always been a loyal citizen--not afanatic, but loyal--and it wasn't easy for him to question his own basicassumptions. But he had experienced something utterly alien to what heconsidered normal, and he had found the strangeness more congenial--morehuman in every way--than the norm. He had breathed a differentatmosphere, and it couldn't but seem to him that the air of Earth wastainted. He re-read Kipling's _Chant-Pagan_ with a new understanding, and began to search into neglected philosophies. He studied the news indetail, and his critical eye soon grew jaundiced--did this editorial orthat feature story have any semantic content at all, or was it only atom-tom beat of loaded connotations? The very statements of fact weresubject to doubt--they should be checked against other accounts, orbetter yet against direct observation; but other accounts were forbiddenand there was no chance to see for himself. He took to reading seditious pamphlets with some care, and listened to anumber of underground broadcasts, and tried clumsily to sound out thoseof his acquaintances whom he suspected of rebellious thoughts. It allhad to be done very cautiously, with occasional nightmare moments whenhe thought he was being spied on; and was it right that a man should beafraid to hear a dissenting opinion? He wondered what his son was doing. It occurred to him that moderneducation existed largely to stultify independent thought. At the same time, he was unable to discard the beliefs of his wholelife. Sedition was sedition and treason was treason--you couldn't evadethat fact. There were no more wars--plenty of minor clashes, but no realwars. There was a stable economy, and nobody lacked for the essentials. The universal state might be a poor solution to the problems of a timeof troubles, but it was nevertheless a solution. Change would beunthinkably dangerous. Dangerous to whom? To the entrenched powers and their jackals. But theoppressed peoples of Earth had nothing to lose, really, except theirlives, and many of them seemed quite willing to sacrifice those. Did therights of man stop at a full belly, or was there more? He tried to take refuge in cynicism. After all, he was well off. He wasa successful jackal. But that wouldn't work either. He required a morebasic philosophy. One thing that held him back was the thought that if he became a rebel, he would be pitted against his friends--not only those of Earth, butthat strange joyous crew out in space. He couldn't see fighting againstthem. Then there was the very practical consideration that he hadn't thefaintest idea of how to contact the underground even if he wanted to. And he'd make a hell of a poor conspirator. He was still in an unhappy and undecided whirlpool when the monitorscame for him. * * * * * They knocked on the door at midnight, as was their custom, and he feltsuch an utter panic that he could barely make it across the apartment tolet them in. The four burly men wavered before his eyes, and there was aroaring and a darkness in his head. They arrested him without ceremonyon suspicion of treason, which meant that habeas corpus and even theright of trial didn't apply. Two of them escorted him to a car, theother two stayed to search his dwelling. At headquarters, he was put in a cell and left to stew for some hours. Then a pair of men in the uniform of the federal police led him to aquestioning chamber. He was given a chair and a smiling, soft-voicedman--almost fatherly, with his plump cheeks and white hair--offered hima cigarette and began talking to him. "Just relax, Dr. Lancaster. This is pretty routine. If you've nothing tohide then you've nothing to fear. Just tell the truth. " "Of course. " It was a dry whisper. "Oh, you're thirsty. So sorry. Alec, get Dr. Lancaster a glass of water, will you, please? And by the way, my name is Harris. Let's call this afriendly conference, eh?" Lancaster drank avidly. Harris' manner was disarming, and the physicistfelt more at ease. This was--well, it was just a mistake. Or maybe asimple spot check. Nothing to fear. He wouldn't be sent to camp--not he. Such things happened to other people, not to Allen Lancaster. "You've been immunized against neoscop?" asked Harris. "Yes. It's routine for my rank and over, you know. In case we shouldever be kidnapped--but why am I telling _you_ this?" Lancaster tried tosmile. His face felt stiff. "Hm. Yes. Too bad. " "Of course, I've no objection at all to your using a lie detector onme. " "Fine, fine. " Harris beamed and gestured to one of the expressionlesspolicemen. A table was wheeled forth, bearing the instrument. "I'm gladyou're so cooperative, Dr. Lancaster. You've no idea how much troubleit saves me--and you. " They ran a few harmless calibrating questions. Then Harris said, stillsmiling, "And now tell me, Dr. Lancaster. Where were you really thissummer?" Lancaster felt his heart leap into his throat, and knew in a suddenterror that the dials were registering his reaction. "Why--I took myvacation, " he stammered. "I was in the Southwest--" "Mmmm--the machine doesn't quite agree with you. " Harris remainedimpishly cheerful. "But it's _true_! You can check back and--" "There are such things as doubles, you know. Come, come, now, let's notwaste the whole night. We both have many other things to do. " "I--look. " Lancaster gulped down his panic and tried to speak calmly. "Suppose I am lying. The machine should tell you that I'm not doing soout of disloyalty. There are things I can't tell anyone withoutclearance. Like if you asked me about my work on the Project--I can'ttell you that. Why don't you check through regular Security channels?There was a man named Berg--at least he called himself that. You'll findthat it's all perfectly okay with Security. " "You can tell me anything, " said Harris gently. "I can't tell you this. Not anybody short of the President. " Lancastercaught himself. "Of course, that's assuming that I did really spend thesummer for something other than my vacation. But--" Harris sighed. "I was afraid of this. I'm sorry, Lancaster. " He noddedto his policemen. "Go ahead, boys. " * * * * * Lancaster kept sliding into unconsciousness. They jolted him back tolife with stimulant injections and vigorous slaps and resumed working onhim. Now and then they would let up and Harris' face would swim out of ahaze of pain, smiling, friendly, sympathetic, offering him a smoke or ashot of whiskey. Lancaster sobbed and wanted more than anything else inthe world to do as that kindly man asked. But he didn't dare. He knewwhat happened to those who revealed state secrets. Finally he was thrown back into his cell and left to himself. When herecovered from his faint--that was a very slow process--he had no ideaof how many hours or days had gone by. There was a water tap in the roomand he drank thirstily, vomited the liquid up again, and sat with hishead in his hands. So far, he thought dully, they hadn't done too much to him. He was shortseveral teeth, and there were some broken fingers and toes, and maybe afloating kidney. The other bruises, lacerations, and burns would healall right if they got the chance. Only they wouldn't. He wondered vaguely how Security had gotten onto his track. Berg'sprecautions had been very thorough. So thorough, apparently, that Harriscould find no trace of what had really happened that summer, and wasgoing only on suspicion. But what had made him suspicious in the firstplace? An anonymous tip-off--from whom? Maybe some enemy, some rival onthe Project, had chosen this way of getting rid of his sector chief. In the end, Lancaster thought wearily, he'd tell. Why not do it now?Then--probably--he'd only be shot for betraying Berg's confidence. Thatwould be the easy way out. No. He'd hang on for awhile yet. There was always a faint chance. His cell door opened and two guards came in. He was past flinching fromthem, but he had to be supported on his way to the questioning room. Harris sat there, still smiling. "How do you do, Dr. Lancaster, " he saidpolitely. "Not so well, thank you. " The grin hurt his face. "I'm sorry to hear that. But really, it's your own fault. You knowthat. " "I can't tell you anything, " said Lancaster. "I'm under Security oath. Ican't speak of this to anyone below the President. " Harris looked annoyed. "Don't you think the President has better thingsto do than come running to every enemy of the state that yaps afterhim?" "There's been some mistake, I tell you, " pleaded Lancaster. "I'll say there has. And you're the one that's made it. Go ahead, boys. "Harris picked up a magazine and started reading. * * * * * After awhile, Lancaster focused his mind on Karen Marek and kept itthere. That helped him bear up. If they knew, out in the station, whatwas happening to him, they--well, they wouldn't forget him, try topretend they'd never known him, as the little fearful people of Earthdid. They'd speak up, and do their damnedest to save their friend. The blows seemed to come from very far away. They didn't do things likethis out in the station. Lancaster realized the truth at that moment, but it held no surprise. The most natural thing in the world. And now, of course, he'd never talk. Maybe. When he woke up, there was a man before him. The face blurred, seemed togrow to monstrous size and then move out to infinite distances. Thevoice of Harris had a ripple in it, wavering up and down, up and down. "All right, Lancaster, here's the President. Since you insist, here heis. " "Go ahead, American, " said the man. "Tell me. It's your duty. " "No, " said Lancaster. "But I am the President. You wanted to see me. " "Most likely a double. Prove your identity. " The man who looked like the President sighed and turned away. * * * * * Lancaster woke up again lying on a cot. He must have been brought awakeby a stimulant, for a white-coated figure was beside him, holding ahypodermic syringe. Harris was there too, looking exasperated. "Can you talk?" he asked. "I--yes. " Lancaster's voice was a dull croak. He moved his head, feelingthe ache of it. "Look here, fellow, " said Harris. "We've been pretty easy with you sofar. Nothing has happened to you that can't be patched up. But we'regetting impatient now. It's obvious that you're a traitor and hidingsomething. " Well, yes, thought Lancaster, he was a traitor, by one definition. Onlyit seemed to him that a man had a right to choose his own loyalties. Having experienced what the police state meant, he would have beenuntrue to himself if he had yielded to it. "If you don't answer my questions in the next session, " said Harris, "we'll have to start getting really rough. " Lancaster remained silent. It was too much effort to try to speak. "Don't think you're being heroic, " said Harris. "There's nothing prettyor even very human about a man under interrogation. You've beenscreaming as loud as anybody. " Lancaster looked away. He heard the doctor's voice. "I'd advice giving him a few days' restbefore starting again, sir. " "You're new here, aren't you?" asked Harris. "Yes, sir. I was only assigned to this duty a few weeks ago. " "Well, we don't put on kid gloves for traitors. " "That's not what I mean, sir, " said the doctor. "There are limits topain beyond which further treatment simply doesn't register. Also, I'm alittle suspicious about this man's heart. It has a murmur, andquestioning puts a terrific strain on it. You wouldn't want him to dieon your hands, would you, sir?" "Mmmm--no. What do you advise?" "Just a few days in the hospital, with treatment and rest. It'll alsohave a psychological effect as he thinks of what's waiting for him. " Harris considered for a moment. "All right. I've got enough other thingsto do anyway. " "Very good, sir. You won't regret this. " Lancaster heard the footsteps retreat into silence. Presently the doctorcame around to stand facing him. He was a short, curly-haired man ofundistinguished appearance. For a moment they locked eyes, thenLancaster closed his. He wanted to tell the doctor to go away, but itwasn't worth the trouble. Later he was put on a stretcher and carried down endless halls toanother cell. This one had a hospital look about it, somehow, and theair was sharp with the smell of antiseptics. The doctor came when he wasinstalled in bed and took his arm and slipped a needle into it. "Sleepytime, " he said. Lancaster drifted away again. * * * * * When he woke up, he felt darkness and movement. He looked around, wondering if he had gone blind, and the breath moaned out between hisbruised lips. A hand was laid on his shoulder and a voice spoke out ofthe black. "It's okay, fella. Take it easy. There'll be no more questions. " It was the doctor's voice, and the doctor looked nothing at all likeCharon, but still Lancaster wondered if he weren't being ferried overthe river of death. There was a thrumming all about him, and he heard alow keening of wind. "Where are we going?" he mumbled. "Away. You're in a stratorocket now. Just take it easy. " Lancaster fell asleep after awhile. Beyond that there was a drugged, confused period where he was only dimlyaware of moving and trying to talk. Shadows floated across his vision, shadows telling him something he couldn't quite grasp. He followedobediently enough. Full clarity came eventually, and he was lying in abunk looking up at a metal ceiling. The shivering pulse of rocketstrembled in his body. A spaceship? A spaceship! He sat up, heart thudding, and looked wildly around. "Hey!" he cried. The remembered figure of Berg came through the door. "Hullo, Allen, " hesaid. "How're you feeling?" "I--you--" Lancaster sank weakly back to his pillow. He grew aware thathe was thoroughly bandaged, splinted, and braced, and that there was nomore pain. Not much, anyway. "I feel fine, " he said. "Good, good. The doc says you'll be okay. " Berg sat down on the edge ofthe bunk. "I can't stay here long, but the hell with it. We'll be at thestation soon. You deserve to know some things, such as that you've beenrescued. " "Well, that's obvious, " said Lancaster. "By us. The rebels. The underground. Subversive characters. " "That's obvious too. And thanks--" The word was so ridiculouslyinadequate that Lancaster had to laugh. * * * * * "I suppose you've guessed most of it already, " said Berg. "We needed ascientist of your caliber for our project. One thing we're desperatelyshort of is technical personnel, since the only real education in suchlines is to be had on Earth and most graduates find comfortable berthsin the existing society. Like you, for instance. So we played a trick onyou. We used part of our organization--yes, we have a big one, and it'spretty smart and powerful too--to convince you this was a government jobof top secrecy. More damn things can be done in the name of Security--"Berg clicked his tongue. "Everybody you saw at the station was more orless play-acting, of course. The whole thing was set up to fool you. Wemight not have gotten away with it if we'd used some other person, moreshrewd about such things, but we'd studied you and knew you for anamiable, unsuspicious guy, too wrapped up in your own work to gowitch-smelling. " "I guessed that much, " admitted Lancaster. "After I'd been in the cellsfor awhile. Your way of living and thinking was so different fromanything like--" "Yeah. I'm sorry as hell about that, Allen. We thought you could justreturn to ordinary life, but somehow--through one of those accidents ormalices inevitable in a state where every man spies on hisneighbor--you were hauled in. We knew of it at once--yes, we've eveninfiltrated the secret police--and decided to do something about it. Quite apart from the danger of your betraying what you knew--we couldhave eliminated that by quietly murdering you--there was the fact thatwe'd gotten you into this and did owe you something. We managed to getDr. Pappas transferred to the inquisitory where you were being held. Hedrugged you, producing a remarkably corpse-like figure, and smuggled youout as simply another one who'd died under questioning. I used mySecurity papers to get the body for special autopsy instead of the usualimmediate cremation. Then we simply drove till we reached thestratorocket we'd arranged to have ready, and you were flown to ourspaceboat, and now you're on the way back to the station. You were keptunder drugs most of the way to help you rest--they'd knocked you aroundquite a bit in the inquisitory. So--" Berg shrugged. "Pappas can't goback to Earth now, of course, but we can always use a medic in space, and it was well worth the trouble to rescue you. " "I'm honored, " said Lancaster. "I still feel like hell about what happened to you, though. " "It's all right. I can't say I enjoyed it, but now that I've learnedsome hard facts--oh, well, forget the painful nature of the lesson. I'llbe okay. And I'm going home!" * * * * * Jessup supported Lancaster as they entered the space station. His oldcrew was there waiting to greet him. They were all immensely pleased tohave him back, though Karen wept bitterly on his shoulder. "It's all right, " he told her. "I'm not in such bad shape as I look. Honest, Karen, I'm all right. And now that I have gotten back, and knowwhere I really belong--damn, but it was worth it!" She looked at him with eyes as gray as a rainy dawn. "And you are withus?" she whispered. "You're one of us? Of your own will?" "Of course I am. Give me a week or two to rest, and I'll be back in thelab bossing all of you like a Simon Legree. Hell, we've just begun onthat super-dielectricity. And there are a lot of other things I want totry out, too. " "It means exile, " she said. "No more blue skies and green valleys andocean winds. No more going back to Earth. " "Well, there are other planets, aren't there? And we'll go back to Earthin the next decade, I bet. Back to start a new American Revolution andwrite the Bill of Rights in the sky for all to see. " Lancaster grinnedshyly. "I'm not much at making speeches, and I certainly don't like tolisten to them. But I've learned the truth and I want to say it outloud. The right of man to be free is the most basic one he's got, andwhen he gives that up he finishes by surrendering everything else too. You people are fighting to bring back honesty and liberty and thepossibility of progress. I hope nobody here is a fanatic, becausefanaticism is exactly what we're fighting against. I say we, becausefrom now on I'm one of you. That is, if you're sure you want me. " He stopped, clumsily. "Okay. Speech ended. " Karen drew a shivering breath and smiled at him. "And everything elsejust begun, Allen, " she said. He nodded, feeling too much for words. "Get to bed with you, " ordered Pappas. * * * * * Jessup led Lancaster off, and one by one the others drifted back totheir jobs. Finally only Karen and Berg stood by the airlock. "You keep your beautiful mouth shut, my dear, " said the man. "Oh, sure. " Karen sighed unhappily. "I wish I'd never learned yourscheme. When you explained it to me I wanted to shoot you. " "You insisted on an explanation, " said Berg defensively. "When Allen wasdue to go back to Earth, you wanted us to tell him who we were and keephim. But it wouldn't have worked. I've studied his dossier, and he's notthe kind of man to switch loyalties that easily. If we were to have himat all, it could only be with his full consent. And now we've got him. " "It was still a lousy trick, " she said. "Of course it was. But we had no choice. We _had_ to have a first-ratephysicist. " "You know, " she said, "you're a rat from way back. " "That I am. And by and large, I enjoy it. " Berg grimaced. "Though I mustadmit this job leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I like Allen. It was thehardest thing I ever did, tipping off the federal police about him. " He turned on his heel and walked away, smiling faintly. Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Space Science Fiction_ February 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyrighton this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errorshave been corrected without note.