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day Arvardan appears here and, after a lukewarm rigmarole about his expedition, mentions casually that
he is going to Chica to see Shekt."
"But why mention it, Balkis? It seems foolhardy."
"Because you are straightforward. Put yourself in his position. He imagines, we suspect nothing. In such
a case it is audacity that wins. He's going to see Shekt. Good! He mentions it frankly. He even asks for a
letter of introduction. What better guarantee of honest and innocent intentions can he present? And that
brings up, another point. Schwartz may have discovered that he was being watched. He may have killed
Natter. But he has had no time to warn the others, or this comedy could not have played itself out in just
this fashion."
The Secretary's eyes were half lidded as he spun his spider web. "There is no way of telling how long it
will be before Schwartz's absence becomes suspicious for them, but it is at least safe to allow sufficient
time for Arvardan to meet Shekt. We'll catch them together; there will be that much less they can deny."
"How much time do we have" demanded the High Minister.
Balkis looked up thoughtfully. "The schedule is fluid, and ever since we uncovered Shekt's treason
they've been on triple shiftand things are proceeding well. We await only the mathematical computations
for the necessary orbits. What holds us up there is the inadequacy of our computers. Welt. . . it may be
only a matter of days now."
"Days" It was said in a tone queerly compounded of triumph and horror.
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"Days" repeated the Secretary. "But remember-one bomb even two seconds before zero, time will be
enough to stop us. And even afterward there will be a period of from one to six months when reprisals
can be taken. So we are not yet entirely safe."
Days And then the most incredibly one-sided battle in the history of the Galaxy would be joined and
Earth would attack all the Galaxy.
The High Minister's hands were trembling gently.
Arvardan was seated, in a stratoplane again. His thoughts were savage ones. There seemed no reason to
believe that the High Minister and his psychopathic subject population would allow an official invasion of
the radioactive areas. He was prepared for that. Somehow he wasn't even sorry about it. He could have
put up a better fight-if he ha care more.
As it was, by the Galaxy, there would be illegal entry. He would arm his ship and fight it out, if
necessary. He would rather.
The bloody fools!
Who the devil did they think they were?
Yes, yes, he knew. They thought they were the original humans, the inhabitants of the planet
The worst of it was he knew that they were right.
Well ... The ship was taking off. He felt himself sinking back into the soft cushion of his, seat and knew
that within the hour he'd be seeing Chica.
Not that he was eager to see Chica, he told himself, but the Synapsifier thing could be important, and
there was no: use being on Earth if he didn't take advantage of it. He certainly never intended to, return
once he left.
Rathole!
Ennius was right.
This Dr. Shekt, however . . . He fingered his letter of introduction, heavy with official formality
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And then he sat bolt upright-or tried to, struggling bitterly against the forces of inertia that were
compressing him, down into his seat as the Earth stiff sank away and the blue of the sky was deepened
into a rich purple.
He remembered the girl's name. It was Pola Shekt.
Now why had he forgotten? He felt angry and cheated. His mind was plotting against him, holding black
the last name till it was too late.
But, deep underneath, something was rather glad of it.
chapter 14 second meeting
In the two months that had elapsed from the day that Dr. Shekt's Synapsifier had been used on. Joseph
Schwartz, the physicist had changed completely. Physically not so much, though perhaps he was a
thought more stooped, a shade thinner. It was his manner-abstracted, fearful. He lived in an inner
communion, withdrawn from even his closest colleagues, and from which he emerged with a reluctance
that was plain to the blindest.
Only to Pola could be unburden himself, perhaps because she, too, had been strangely withdrawn those
two months.
"They're watching me," he would say. "I feel it somehow. Do you know what the feeling is like? . . .
There's been a turnover in the Institute in the last month or so, and it's the ones I like and feel I can trust
that go. . . . I never get a minute to myself. Always, someone about. They won't even let me write
reports."
And Pola would alternately sympathize with him and laugh at him, saying over and over again, "But what
can they possibly have against you to do all this? Even if you did experiment on Schwartz, that's not such
a terrible crime. They'd have just called you on the carpet for it."
But his face was yellow and thin as he muttered, "They won't let me live. My Sixty is coming and they
won't let me live."
"After all you've done. Nonsense!"
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