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The Column Infiltrator

by Steven Gordon





Chapter 1





	It isn't easy, trying to sell state secrets.

	I should know, because I had to sit around, literally for days, 
waiting for the opportunity.

	I was in Banxital's, a seedy bar on the outskirts of Dulle.  
That's on Varisk II.  It's one of the most advanced planets in the 
League, so they say.  Dulle, the largest city  on the western coast of 
the main continent, was home to one of the biggest research centers of 
the fleet.  Very secret.  Very hush-hush.

	I sat in the bar, sighing as I sipped my drink.  I had let it be 
known, by means both subtle and otherwise, that I was a disgruntled 
employee at the local research base.  And that was all there was for me 
to do.  I had parked myself in this bar for the last week, and here I 
sat, here I waited.

	I hated waiting.  I was an operative, an agent, a man of action.  
Oh, I knew that some people enjoyed the prospect of tedious 
assignments.  They actually enjoyed the freedom from thought.  But not 
me.  No, I was going out of my mind from the dullness of this job.

	I was up for a vacation, but did I get it?  No.  I ask for 
infiltration work, and do I get that either?  No.  Instead, I sat 
there, waiting.  Me, Clifford Croft, the hottest young operative in the 
Column.  I could be on Sluria, on an important espionage mission.  The 
Column always needed more espionage work on Sluria.  Instead, I was 
stuck here.  I had very little patience for sit and bait work.

	The denizens of the bar seemed to be enjoying themselves well 
enough.  They sipped their watered down liquor and stared, often with 
unfocused eyes, at the transceiver mounted on the wall.  It was tuned 
into the finals from the zero gravity boosball tournament on Eridani II 
(Beta Centauri was ahead, last time I looked).  Everyone ignored me as 
I sat there, at a corner table.  I tried, with little effort, to look 
like just another grumpy worker.

	And then they showed up.

	Charles Waxman and Stanton Norno.  Not their real names, of 
course, simply the fictional ID's they had presented at the spaceport.  
And how do I know this?  I'm a spy, remember?

	Yes, they were using false ID's, to be sure.  I looked them over 
a bit.  One of them was short and thin, sporting a dull looking 
expression on his square-ish little head.  His head really did look a 
little square shaped.  It was symmetrical in almost every way.  I 
marveled at the creature before me.

	The other operative was taller, and looked normal, except for the 
moustache.  He wore a long and bushy creature, that, by the looks of 
it, slanted down over either side of his mouth, like the handlebars on 
a jetcycle.  Suddenly I blinked, forgetting their names.  Just what 
were they supposed to be called again?  I suddenly decided to think of 
them as just Squarehead and Handlebars.

	"Maxo Naxo?"

	I looked up.  They were now standing at my table.  That was the 
alias I had been operating under.  The trouble was, I wasn't very good 
with names.  I had a tendency to forget important ones, including my 
own.  My cover name, that is.  So I always picked a name that rhymed a 
little.  My real name, as I've mentioned before, was Clifford Croft, 
and everyone knew that--at the Column.  But these gentlemen didn't work 
at the Column.  At least, not at my Column.

	"Yes?" I said, looking up at Squarehead and Handlebars, with a 
slightly apprehensive look on my face.  That's good, I thought.  They 
would expect me to look that way.  I had purposely practiced in the 
mirror each morning to get that expression just right.

	Squarehead and Handlebars sat down, uninvited.  "We understand 
you're working at the base," said Squarehead.  He really did have a 
square shaped head.  It's almost as if you could turn it on its side, 
and it would still have the same width and height.  All that was 
missing were the four points at the corners. 

	"Maybe," I said, playing hard to get.  "What's it to you?"

	"We also understand you're experiencing certain... cash flow 
problems."

	"Who told you that?" I said suspiciously.  I couldn't be expected 
to be too naive.  Even these amateurs would begin to suspect.

	Handlebars grinned.  "We do our homework.  Mr. Naxo, we have a 
proposition we'd like to share with you." I wondered what kind of 
service hired such weird looking agents.  The problem with Handlebars 
was that he stood out too much.  That hairy beast under his nose looked 
so much like a lowercase 'n'.  N for no-good.  How inconspicuous could 
that be?

	"An offer for a mutual arrangement," Squarehead chipped in, as if 
Handlebars hadn't been crystal clear.  This was the offer to betray the 
research center I ostensibly worked at, in case I hadn't been paying 
attention.

	Well, it was about time.  I had been waiting nearly a week for 
them to show up.  The Chief knew that I was a top field agent, one of 
the best infiltrators he had.  And yet I had inexplicably been assigned 
this simplistic decoy assignment.

	They made me an offer, of course.  Money, in return for access to 
the base.  I tried to jack up the price--I'm always curious to see what 
the going rate for traitors are nowadays, and my new friends obligingly 
named a much higher figure.  By an order of magnitude.

	I whistled.  They must really want into the base, bad.  They of 
course didn't tell me what they wanted there, but once I got them in, 
they would have quite a range of defense secrets and other goodies to 
choose from.

	I haggled a little more over the price, but it was vanity, 
really--I could sense this was a one time deal, which probably meant 
that they would kill me afterwards, to obscure their tracks.  My, this 
assignment could get risky.

	But I agreed to their terms.  They wanted to go now, right then 
and there.  Evidently whatever it was they wanted to steal, they wanted 
to do so in a hurry.  Which was fine by me.

	It was night now, and my classification wasn't high enough to get 
us through the main gate, but I obligingly informed them of the alarm 
frequencies on the fence and they burned their way through.

	After that we darted through the darkness of the outer compound, 
evading the patrols.  My benefactors indicated they wished to go to the 
avionics building, and I used my passcard to gain us entrance.  As we 
entered we walked under a dim light, and I couldn't restrain the 
smallest of smiles.

	The records section was empty, no one was working there at this 
time of night.  After I secured their entry, Handlebars hurriedly 
closed the door behind us and then turned to search the files.  
Squarehead kept an eye on me and the door.  Very professional.

	I smiled innocently enough at Squarehead.  "Anything I can help 
with?" I said to Handlebars, who was rapidly tearing the files apart.  

	Handlebars ignored me.  He was tossing files on the floor as he 
combed through them.

	"Hey hey," I protested.  "You're making a mess!"

	Handlebars kept plowing through the records.  "Found it!" he 
said, seconds later.  He removed a file labeled "Digital Directional 
Circuitry."

	"Fine," I said.  "Would you like to pay me now, or when we get 
over the fence?"

	"Now," said Handlebars, nodding slightly to Squarehead.  
Squarehead drew a blaster, pointing it at me.

	"On second thought, you can pay me later," I said, trying to 
assuage their concerns about proper remuneration.

	"Don't move," said Handlebars, seeing my hand subtly moving 
inside my jacket.  I slowly removed my hand from my jacket, letting 
both arms fall to my side.  They had the drop on me.

	"We know what you're about, Column man," sneered Handlebars.

	Oh oh.  "You do?"

	"We've known all along that you're with the Column," Handlebars 
explained.  He looked pleased now, all too terrible happy.  "But we 
really needed to get into the base, and we didn't have the time to 
recruit a real traitor."

	"Uh-huh," I said, not even attempting to deny their allegations.  
It was time for a change of tact.  "You'll never get out of here alive.  
Our agents-"

	"-won't spring until you give the signal.  We're very conversant 
with Column procedure."

	Oh oh.

	Squarehead raised his blaster.  His fingers tightened on the 
trigger.  "And so, we'd like to thank you for your assistance-"

	"Wait!" I cried.  "If you're going to kill me, at least let me 
know what I'm dying for.  Who are you working for?  The Slurians?"

	Handlebars shook his head.  "Sorry, we don't take last requests."  
He dangled a passcard from his pocket.  "We'd love to stay and chat, 
but we've got a date with a transport."

	I started to put forward another objection, just as Squarehead 
pulled the trigger of his blaster.

	Click.

	Horrified, he checked the settings, pressed again.

	Click.

	Handlebars fired his own weapon, similarly to no avail.

	All the while I slowly drew a weapon from my own jacket.  "Want 
to bet on whether mine will work?" I said, smiling.

	They raged at me with dirty expressions on their faces.  
Squarehead muttered something intelligible.

	"You know, you really do have a square head," I commented, almost 
conversationally.  I covered them while my other hand went inside my 
jacket, pressing the signal activator. It was actually a squeeze toy 
that emitted a high pitch sound--it had no energy source of its own. 
But others were monitoring with sophisticated instruments and waiting 
for just such a sound.  

	As I did pressed the activator Squarehead ran for it, heading for 
the door.  I instinctively fired at him, and there was a loud swoosh 
and a thunk as a sleep dart slammed into his side.  Squarehead 
collapsed to the ground.

	My gun immediately swiveled to cover Handlebars.  "Don't try it, 
Handlebars," I said sternly.

	Handlebars looked puzzled.  "Handlebars?"

	I gestured with my free hands around my lips.  "The moustache, 
your silly moustache, you silly amateur, you."

	I heard the sounds of movement, and then my people suddenly 
trooped in, all at once, and took charge.  They grabbed the spies, 
dragging them away.

	"How....?" said Handlebars, as they slapped the electrocuffs on 
him.

	"Energy drainer," I said.  "We thoughtfully  put them up over the 
entrances to all the buildings.  Your blasters were drained the minute 
you stepped through the door."  I reached into his pocket, took out the 
pass card, dangling it momentarily in front of his face.  "But thanks 
for the information."

	They took him away, as I chuckled to myself.  "Amateurs."



	As I've said, I've been with the Column for some time now.  My, 
how time has passed quickly.  I remember that fateful day when I 
graduated college and had to make the big career decision.  I could 
have gone into the family business (boring), become a teacher (and 
taken a vow of poverty), or gone into politics (that vacuous field), or 
a half dozen other endeavors.  But the Column attracted me the most.  I 
liked the idea of traveling to other planets, sampling a bit of foreign 
culture, cracking into a top security installation, doing some spying, 
and, on occasion, catching some enemy spies.  It was a life of 
adventure, excitement, constant thrill and danger.

	At least, that's what I thought before  I joined.  It turned out 
that 90% of all Column people were paper passers and button pushers, 
analysts and logisticians.  I think I would've quit if I had ended up 
among them.  A scant 10% or so are field agents, and even most of those 
have boring jobs, like the sit and bait assignment I just pulled off.  
But I got into infiltration work.  That's the fun stuff.  Going to 
other planets, taking the fight to the enemy.  That's where the real 
challenge is.

	The only catch was the danger factor.  Agent casualty rates were 
considerably higher than those of comparable groups of businessmen, 
teachers, and politicians.  But capture, torture, and risk of death 
came with the job.  I never gave it much thought; I was always too good 
to be caught.

	The next day the Chief sent for me.  Alden Alderman himself.  I 
came, at the appointed time, only to find that I had arrived too 
precisely on the hour; I loitered for a few moments in the outer 
offices, so that I would be a few minutes late.  It's never good to 
show up to appointments on time.  Especially with superiors.  It gives 
them the wrong idea of who's really in charge.

	"You're late, Croft," the Chief growled, as I took a seat.  The 
Chief always growled.  That was the Chief's way.  He had a face like a 
bulldog, with loud jowls that flapped every time he talked.  I always 
thought he looked laughable, but now I realize he could have looked 
even sillier.

	He could have had a square head.

	"What can I do for you, Chief?" I said, giving A.A. my broadest 
smile.  "Did you wring those spies dry?"  That's a good tactic; it's 
always proper form to bring recent successes to the Chief's attention.  
A gentle reminder of my value to the firm.

	"Yes," he growled.  "They talked.  But they didn't know much.  
They were outside contractors.  We traced the passcard to a transport 
ship.  And then we traced the transport ship."

	'And?" I said.  I always had to prod A.A. for information; I 
think he liked it that way.  It showed him that the audience was still 
paying attention.

	"We traced it to the Happy Worlds."

	For a moment, my heart grew cold.  "The Happy Worlds." I 
repeated, a little dumbly.

	"We've detected a pattern of stepped up espionage of late," said 
the Chief.  "Many of our scientific and military installations are 
being raided for information.  We've traced several of the unsuccessful 
attempts to the Happy Worlds."

	Brrr.  That name again.  No one knew very much about the Happy 
Worlds, largely because no one ever went there.  The League didn't even 
have diplomatic relations with the Happy Worlds, and trade, as far as 
we know, was nonexistent.  But what we did know about the Happy Worlds 
wasn't very nice.

	The Happy Worlds, as they are known, are actually a group of 
systems in the rather remote Gamma Sector, at the fringes of human 
existence.  They are shut off, isolated from the rest of humanity.  
Their worlds are tightly controlled by a narrow circle of dictators.  
How tight is tight?  Well, intelligence reports, if one could believe 
them, state that each and every mind on the Happy Worlds is under the 
control of the rulers.  Each citizen is under a tight mental reign, 
conditioned to obey authority, to be productive, and... to be happy.  
Happy?

	I never believed the rumors, but then I had never gotten close 
enough to get an informed opinion of my own.  Nor did I want to.  
Unfortunately, I was getting an uncomfortable feeling....

	The Chief was looking at me.  "The next, step, logically, is to 
send a field agent-"

	"No.  No, no, and no," I said, making sure I was being thoroughly 
unambiguous.  "I categorically do not volunteer myself for this 
assignment."  I loved infiltration work, but this was suicide.

	"Croft, we need to know what is going on there.  You're one of my 
best people," he said, uncharacteristically softening a bit.

	"Send someone else," I snarled.

	"I have.  Two agents in the past three years," said the Chief.  
"Neither returned.  They have a very orderly society there.  It makes 
it difficult to infiltrate. We need to find out what is happening 
there.  We need to find out more about the Happy Worlds, and what it is 
they're after.  You will go."

	There was no arguing with the Chief.  A.A.'s mind was made up.  
Sighing, I made the best of it.  "Then I volunteer for this assignment.  
I'm happy to be on this mission. "  I got positively worked up about 
it.  "In fact, I'm glad to be a part of it."  

	"Good," said the Chief, ignoring the sarcasm.  "You'll be sent to 
Negan 14 immediately."

	"Negan?"

	"Negan 14, part and parcel of the Negan Empire.  That's what the 
Happy Worlders call it, at least," said A.A.

	"Negan 14?  Is that it?  There's no individual planet name?" I 
asked.

	"There's no individual anything on those planets," said A.A., 
matter of factly.

	I felt a small shiver go down my spine.  This was not a good way 
to start a mission.  "Nice name," I muttered.

	"You leave immediately," the Chief repeated.  Then, by way of 
dismissal, he said, "Report to Ops."

	The Chief turned to his paperwork.  That was that.  Another piece 
of cannonfodder had been sent on its way.  Not even a hearty "Go 
get'm!" or even a trite but appropriate "Good luck."  I sighed, and 
started to get up to leave.

	"Good luck," said A.A., not even bothering to look up.  Maybe he 
couldn't afford to make eye contact with an agent he was about to lose.  
But he did look at his watch.  "Better hurry along.  Ops is waiting for 
you."

	Ops was indeed waiting for me.  They strapped me into a helmet 
which went down over my forehead, and strapped monitoring instruments 
to my body.  But I ignored it all.  I was thinking about the Happy 
Worlds.  How did they control millions of people?  Drugs?  Telepathy?  
If it were telepathy, I would be spotted immediately.  I caught myself 
shivering, and forced myself to stop; twice in one hour was a bad sign.

	I felt a sting in my arm.  "Ow!" I said, complaining to the 
technician.  Then the helmet started to hum, and my mind started to 
feel fuzzy.  All my fears started to drain as my thoughts clouded....



	I saw, or imagined I saw, a small, foxy looking white animal. A 
dog, maybe.

	I opened my eyes, suddenly coming to with a start.  A thought 
faded, even as I grabbed for it.  I blinked, trying to remember 
something, even as a technician was removing my helmet.  I rubbed my 
arm, which was sore.  There were a number of pinpricks there.  I got 
up, cautiously stretching.  My mind felt disoriented.  I didn't 
remember hypnoinstruction being that rough.  But now I knew the native 
language, and I had the pertinent mission details in my mind.  I was 
ready.

	Or as ready as I was going to be.



Chapter 2



    	 I was alone.

	Alone, on a special stealthy Column scoutship.  No one could spot 
me.

	Well, maybe that's an exaggeration.  At close distances even an 
antiquated detection system would pick up my blip.  "Stealth" was one 
of those things, like deceiving your boss, that one could improve on 
over time, but never get entirely perfect.  If anyone was looking a 
little too closely, I would be discovered.

	But I was as stealthy as any League ship could be; in fact, more 
stealthy than most.  The Column never skimped on getting the best 
hardware.  They saved money by keeping other accounts trim, such as 
death benefits.

	My speedy scoutship was, in spaceship terms, the relative size of 
a pea.  A good salvo from a blaster cannon could demolish it.  Still, I 
hummed contently as the days went by; this was the safest part of my 
mission.  The real danger would come when I landed.

	The ship rocketed towards the Negan Empire, in particular the 
Happy World that the transport ship had been traced to.  Negan 14.  One 
of many Happy Worlds.  Soon I would be there, up to my armpits in Happy 
Worlders.  This thought did not make me happy.

	You have to understand; I'm good.  I'm really good.  I penetrated 
the sealed vault on Gulatron after four agents died trying.  I've 
infiltrated the upper reaches of the government on Callos IV.  I've 
invaded where others of my fellow agents have failed.  But the Happy 
Worlds gave me the shivers.

	I poured myself a drink and tried to be a little more analytical.  
It was the fear of the unknown, of course.  The Happy Worlds were cut 
off from the rest of the League.  Their societies were very ordered, 
very top-down controlled.  Though it would be more difficult to stay 
hidden in such a society, it would still be possible.  I could fool 
them; I hadn't yet met the adversary that I couldn't outthink.  

	But then there was the business of the mind control.

	I coughed, putting down my drink.  That was what was bothering 
me.  I've faced the risk of capture, torture, even death.  But I was 
greatly alarmed by the thought of my mind being taken from me, used, 
controlled, abused... or perhaps they would simply destroy my brain, 
and turn me into a genially humming vegetable.

	I idly thought of turning the scout around, and setting a course 
for a more, well, friendlier place.  But I was on a mission and I 
couldn't shirk my duty.  And besides, the Column would be more than a 
little peeved when they caught up with me.

	"Enough talk of gloom and doom!" I shouted, my voice echoing in 
the small command cabin.  I was the best of the best; I would show 
those Happy Worlders a thing or two.

	I sat there in the control room, musing over my situation.  It 
was impossible to make concrete plans because I had so little 
information.  Usually when I infiltrated a society I didn't even set a 
small toe in before I had had extensive briefings on its culture, 
psychology, sociology, technology, and a whole host of other ologies 
that make a society what it is.  But here I was, in a pea sized ship, 
speeding towards a planet I knew practically nothing about.

	"That's good," I said aloud, again solely for the benefit of the 
listening audience.  "Good.  It will give me flexibility.  Who needs 
plans?  Planners plan.  I'm a man of action."

	But I wasn't convincing myself.  Suddenly I thought of the image 
of electrodes wired to my head, sapping my personality...  I blinked, 
forcing the image from my mind.  I checked the rangefinder.  I was 
coming up on the planet.  I had to be ready to land.

	Or not to.  Our feeble intelligence branch couldn't tell me very 
much about the state of Happy World technology.  If their space 
defenses were more advanced than ours, I would be discovered and shot 
down in short order.  My ship would burst into flames and blow up in 
the atmosphere.  Not a nice thought.

	But I tended to doubt that would happen.  For one thing, if their 
technology was superior to the League's, what were they doing stealing 
League technology?  That was the very question I had been sent to 
answer.

	

	I arrived.  

	Negan 14, the Happy World I was heading for, was a large 
magnesium copper rock, about 50,000 miles in diameter.  My passive 
detectors picked up some pickets in the area, but they were slow 
moving, and didn't seem to notice my approach.  

	So I hoped.  I kept a careful eye on them as I monitored the 
rangefinder.  A sudden movement towards me would indicate detection.  I 
watched them make their plodding circuits around the system.

	They paid me not the slightest attention.  As I entered the 
atmosphere of planet 14, I slowed, braking as I decelerated.  Perhaps I 
would be able to land undetected after all.

	And then I saw the red light blinking on my console.  Someone had 
gotten a lock on me.  I immediately activated my active detection 
systems.  There, on the screen, were three surface to air missiles.  
All homing in on me.

	They were large, oval shaped brutes.  I set the analyzer to the 
merry task of finding out just what it was that they had sent up after 
me.  When the answer came I raised my eyebrows.  Chemical rocket 
engines... graviton stabilizers... Pallium warheads.  My my.  What an 
odd mix of the new and the old.

	Even before the analysis came through I was accelerating to 
maximum speed.  The ship creaked, and skipped a little on the 
atmosphere, but I wasn't worried about burning up; the missiles would 
reach the scout long before that would happen.  For although these were 
mere chemical rockets, they were built for easy maneuvering in an 
atmosphere, and my ship wasn't.  A small oversight.

	I periodically glanced at the rangefinder to track the progress 
of the missiles as I loaded my equipment in the escape pod.  
Unfortunately, my scoutship was unarmed, another technical 
specification I had not been not very pleased with.

	I threw everything I would need into the escape pod as fast as I 
could.  But when I was done I stopped for a moment.  Had I forgotten 
anything?

	"Impact in forty seconds," said my instrument panel.  I had keyed 
it for verbal transmission.  It was really quite versatile.  And, in a 
few seconds, it would no longer exist.

	"Thirty seconds," said my instruments.  Had I forgotten to pack 
something?  Or was I just delaying, fighting an unconscious urge to 
abandon the mission?  It was too late to back out now.

	"Twenty seconds."

	I was feeling uneasy about the mission, I had to acknowledge.  No 
amount of doublethinking on my part would obscure that.

	"Ten seconds."

	That was the last time announcement that I heard from the 
cockpit.  In a few short seconds the scoutship exploded, and burst into 
a million pieces.





	But I was not in the scout; I had ejected, just several seconds 
before.  The shockwave from the nearby explosion rocketed the pod, and 
I was so shaken up I was afraid I had timed it too closely.  I had 
wanted to make it appear as if the escape pod was a piece of debris 
from the scoutship.  The rumbling continued shaking the escape pod for 
a moment, but things quickly calmed down and I steered a path down to 
the planet surface.  If I was picked up, I would hopefully be perceived 
as a piece of wreckage.  Hopefully.

	I steered for an uninhabited area.  I didn't want to land too far 
away from a populated zone, but I didn't see any easy way to infiltrate 
by landing in the middle of a crowded street.  No, better to land away 
from prying eyes, and then to make a slow, cautious contact...

	Unfortunately, it was not to be.  As soon as I stepped out of the 
pod, I could see several speedy hovercraft in the distance.  Heading 
straight for me.





	The adrenaline was pumping, I won't deny it.  For a moment I 
thought I had been set up.  Then I forced myself to relax.  I hadn't 
expected this degree of vigilance, but I was prepared to cope with it.

	Several minutes later the hovercrafts closed on the pod.  This 
was, by and large, a flat terrain, but there were several outcroppings 
of rock in the area, and I took the opportunity to conceal myself 
behind one of them.  Not that it would hide me for very long.

	The hovercrafts were troop transports.  They looked like large, 
whale shaped vehicles that could carry a lot of people.  I eyed the 
large whales approaching me, and a fine sweat broke out on my back.  I 
was about to make contact with the enemy.

	The whale-shaped vehicles slowed as they got closer, and then 
they stopped, a few dozen feet from the pod, and the troops 
disembarked.  And then I got my first good look at some Happy people.

	They were wearing bulky suits, which looked like they had large 
interior pouches, for carrying objects, no doubt.  And they were armed 
with blaster weapons, rifles and pistols.  But what struck me the most 
were the plates.

	They wore what looked like license plates, one on the front, one 
on the back, and each soldier had his own number.  They were ten digit 
numbers, that started off with a letter, then a dash followed by ten 
digits.  The first letter always seemed to be a "D".  Very interesting.

	And none of them were smiling.  They all had blank expressions on 
their faces, as far as I could see.  So much for the Happy people being 
happy.

	The troops started to nose closer to my pod.  That naturally 
would be the first thing they would search.  But before any of them got 
really close I activated the electrotrigger.

	The pod blew up.  The Happy people immediately jerked, staring at 
the explosion.  But there was still no emotion on their faces.  When 
their attention turned away from the explosion, nothing had changed.

	Well, maybe there was a minor change.  I was now standing by the 
Happy soldiers, with a similarly dumb expression on my face.  A soldier 
turned, looked blankly at me, and then looked away.

	You doubt me?  Well, the Column wasn't entirely  bereft of 
intelligence about the Happy Worlds.  Several flights by remote stealth 
craft had gotten us some magnified holos of their world.  Including the 
citizenry, and the clothes they wore.  Need I add that I was, not 
coincidentally, wearing a bulky suit and two license plates, one front 
and one on the back, like all the other troops?  I even had gotten the 
license plates right--with a quick alteration, mine now began with a 
"D" as well.  The only problem was the gun.  My gun resembled their 
blaster pistols, but wasn't quite identical.  I fretted a little about 
this but held mine low, hoping no one would notice.

	"It blew up," said one of the troops dully.  "This must be 
reported."  The rest of the troops milled about aimlessly, walking in 
slow circles with vacant expressions in their eyes.

	So did I.  But I was constantly looking about.  And then I 
noticed something alarming.  I saw a little piece of silver, on the 
backs of one of the soldier's necks.  I stole another glance.  Then I 
shivered.  Everyone, everyone here had a small piece of metal 
protruding from the back of their necks.  Everyone but me, that is.

	Slowly and smoothly I backed up, so that a hovercraft was at my 
back.  This was one thing the intelligence boys had missed.  I wasn't 
too sure what that metal sliver was, but I had an idea.  And it wasn't 
a nice one.

	We stood about for a few minutes, until another hovercraft 
arrived.  But this one was only a two seater.  Obviously a VIP.  The 
driver slowed to a halt.

	When the occupant got out I immediately noticed the difference.  
He walked quickly, with a spring in his step, and his eyes darted 
about, sharply taking in the scene.  He wore the same uniform as the 
others, but the first letter on his license plate was a "B".  And, as 
he walked passed me, I noticed that his was the only neck that didn't 
have a silver lining.

	He looked over the wreckage, snapping questions to some of the 
D's on the scene, who answered in a dull monotone.  As a D without a 
metal sliver, I made sure to keep my back to him; in fact, I tried to 
keep an inconspicuous distance from the B.  But I watched what was 
happening very closely.

	The B played with some of the wreckage from my pod, but he didn't 
look like he was having very much fun with it.  He kicked a still-
sizzling piece of the outer hull and I would almost bet that he was 
frustrated, if such a feeling were possible and permitted on this 
world.  The B then ordered us to search the area and we did, stumbling 
about a bit, but we found nothing (there being nothing, besides me, to 
find).  Finally, disgusted, the B decided to called it quits.  He took 
out what looked like a pocket calculator and pressed a button.  
Immediately all the D's started to file back into their hovercraft.

	Interesting, I thought, as I obediently stood in line to enter 
one of the whale-shaped vehicles.  The D's were evidently under remote 
control.  But how could one hand held device control so many troops?  
The answer was that it must be a relay.  But a relay to what?

	Answers were not forthcoming from my companions in the hovercraft 
transport, who sat there with dull looks on their faces.  They didn't 
look happy.  All those blank expressions were already driving me crazy; 
several times on the trip back I had the urge to make faces at them.

	We arrived back at what I presumed was an army base, in the 
center of a nearby city.  The trip itself took over an hour, which made 
me wonder:  how did they find me so quickly?  Unless they started off 
the minute my ship entered the atmosphere, they never could have 
reached me as soon as they did.  Which meant that they were very well 
coordinated.  But how could these dim witted types do anything right?  
They must have some smart B's directing them, I decided.

	Our vehicle stopped at an army base, and we all filed out.  I 
uncomfortably noticed a camera above the entrance.  In a not too subtle 
fashion, I looked down at my license plate.  If they scanned our 
plates....

	Of course, there might well be someone with the license plate D-
3857463982.  But it was unlikely that that particular soldier was 
assigned to this base.  If the camera was scanning our plates....

	There was nothing I could do about it.  I walked by it, just like 
the rest.  If the authorities noticed something, they weren't revealing 
it for the moment.  No guards rushed up to grab me, no alarm bells 
rang.

	I wanted to heave a sigh of relief, only it would have been out 
of character.  Or rather, it would have been a show of character.

	But then alarm bells did ring and everyone stopped.  Simply 
stopped moving, as if to some unspoken command.  I slowly turned 
around.  The last soldier had just reentered the base.  I immediately 
knew what the problem was, what had given me away.

	One soldier too many had reported back from the expedition.



	We were ordered, verbally, to go to the parade grounds, where we 
would join others who were already in formation.  I could see them 
standing there, while other soldiers, carrying an electrical device, 
walked by them.  Surely an electric eye.  Surely one that was scanning 
their license plates, as I feared they might do before.  Surely they 
would scan my plate.  Surely they would catch me.

	 My stomach started to tie itself up in knots.  Now I knew why 
none of our agents had never returned.  This society was too organized 
to infiltrate.  I had made a mistake to join the armed forces, which 
would be the most organized of all the segments of society.

	There would be time for recriminations later.  Right now I had to 
think of a way out of this.  Think, Croft, think!

	Fact:  If I reported to the parade grounds, I would be caught. 

	Fact:  If I attempted to run, I would give myself away awfully 
quick.  

	Conclusion: I had to do something else.

	Amended Conclusion:  And whatever I was going to do, I needed to 
do it quickly.

	Every second brought another step, another shuffle closer to the 
parade grounds.  We marched closer and closer.  I would have to do 
something.  I would have to take a risk, a number of risks.

	I slowed my steps until I was the last man in my squad.  My 
fellow soldiers did not object to my tardiness, or, apparently, take 
any notice.  They also hadn't noticed the lack of metal hanging from 
the back of my neck, and I was counting on the fact that they weren't 
very observant.  So I hoped.

	As we walked by a shed I tripped the last man in line, and 
dragged him in.

	He looked at me and said, "We must report."

	"Yes," I said in monotone.  "Let me help you up."

	So I did, slowly, removing his license plates.

	"Those are mine," said the D, in a slow monotone.

	"So they are," I said, handing them back.  "Here, I will put them 
on you," I said, doing so.  Without comment we exited the shed and 
continued our march to the parade grounds.

	Oh, did I fail to mention that I switched license plates with the 
other soldier?  Actually, hidden in my suit pouch I had any combination 
of numbers that I might have added or changed to my license plates, 
altering my own ID number.  The problem was I needed a real live number 
for someone who had been on the mission.  It wouldn't have helped to 
copy someone else's number, for two people with the same number would 
similarly attract suspicion.

	I tried to put as much distance between the soldier I had 
assisted and myself.  When we stood in formation on the parade grounds 
I tried to ignore my heart, which was beating wildly.  There was still 
one more risk I was taking.

	Two D's carried around an electronic eye, on a wheeled cart, 
through each row.  A beam shot out of it, analyzing the numbers on each 
soldier's license plate.  When they reached my friend, the machine 
burped, and guards grabbed the hapless soldier, taking him away.

	I inwardly heaved a sigh of relief.

	But then the machine kept going.  These Happy people were nothing 
if not thorough.  And then the machine came to me.

	I won't lie about it, I was worried, and I'll tell you why.  If 
the machine simply scanned the license plates, as it seemed to be 
doing, I would be all right.  But if it also matched faces to license 
plates, then I would be in trouble.  I did not resemble my former 
friend at all.  I was playing a hunch, and at this point I had no other 
options.

	The machine came to me, flanked by many guards.  I put on my best 
blank expression, and tried to look half moribund.

	There was a hum, the machine paused for a moment...

	and moved on.

	I had done it.



Chapter 3



	I really should have left the army immediately.  It really would 
have been very foolish for me to stay.  I realized that when they 
interrogated my "friend" that they would be able to trace me very 
quickly.  Once they found out who my friend was, all they had to do was 
trace his number, and then they would be able to find me.  Under those 
circumstances it would have been only prudent to exit this base very, 
very quickly.

	But I was curious, and I wanted to poke around a little.  
Curiosity has killed a lot of cats, and a goodly number of agents, but 
now that I was inside a military installation I didn't want to pass up 
an opportunity I might not get again so easily. 

	We were ordered back to our quarters, but no one noticed when I 
slipped away.  It seemed like all the enlisted men were D's, and I 
truly think I could have mugged someone right in front of them and they 
wouldn't have blinked, unless they were ordered to.  The officers, what 
few there were, all seemed to be B's.  They were the real danger.  I 
would have to avoid them.

	Or join them.  I dodged into a secluded supply shack, and took 
some equipment out of my pouch.  In seconds my license plates, front 
and back, began with a "B".  I also changed the numbers on my plates, 
just to confuse the trail further.  Fortunately the officers I had seen 
didn't seem to have any badge of rank, so no additional accessories 
were required.

	I exited the shack, and started looking about.  No one paid the 
slightest attention.  Certainly not the D's, who walked past me as 
though I didn't even exist.  The only B I passed just nodded slightly, 
giving me a broad smile.  It took me only a moment to recover from the 
shock of this unexpected facial expression, but I managed to return it.

	I started a little tour of the buildings at the center of the 
base.  The base itself was a large, fenced in compound with a large 
training center and parade ground.  A fleet of hovercraft were parked 
in one corner of the base.  I made note of it, but for now I was more 
interested in the enclosed buildings.  One of them, marked "Armory" in 
the native language, was my first stop.  I needed to find out more 
about Happy Worlder technology, and weapons were a good place to start.

	At the entrance to the Armory there were two D's, both armed, on 
duty inside.  They looked dully at me.

	I momentarily debated whether to show facial expressions to them.  
I decided not to; the effort would probably be wasted.

	"I wish to see the weapons storeroom.  Now," I said, walking up 
to them.  Would I need a special pass?  Or would they just let me in?

	"Yes sir," said one of them dully, as he moved to let me walk by.

	It was that easy.  I made a nice tour of their weapons supply, 
crates of carefully stacked weapons neatly labeled in the hideous local 
language, as I took copious mental notes all the while.

	One thing I noticed almost immediately: their level of technology 
was below the League.  They had blaster weaponry, to be sure, but most 
of this stuff looked a generation or so behind standard League fare.  I 
got the chance to study one of their blaster rifles closely.  Even I, 
no engineer, could see that the power packs were of low reliability and 
would have to be replaced frequently.  The focusing tunnel was 
primitive but serviceable, but I shook my head; it was no wonder that 
these people were stealing League technology left and right.  But what 
were they really after?

	I toured more of the weapons stores, taking a few items that I 
thought the natives would not be likely to miss very soon.  I was 
turning to leave when I heard the sounds of people entering.

	I was preparing to turn into my brash officer mode when I saw who 
it was.  Three officers.  And the one in the middle, a thin fellow who 
seemed to have a permanent squint, had some sort of insignia on his 
collar.  This must be an important officer.

	They smiled at me and nodded and I immediately did the same, 
wondering whether I should have been the first to smile and nod and 
further wondering if getting out of the armory now would be quite as 
easy as getting in.

	It wasn't.

	I was just turning to leave I heard a voice say, "Just a moment."

	I turned, to see Squinty beckoning me with a crooked finger.  He 
had a broad smile on his face, but I don't think I liked it.

	"What are you doing here?" he smiled, speaking in a calm voice.  
Again, that smile.  It seemed to be plastered to his face.  It was 
bland, but I found it threatening.

	"My weapon malfunctioned.  I was getting a replacement," I said, 
in the same level tone.  I held up my blaster pistol.  It wasn't my 
off-planet weapon; I had switched mine with one of the primitive native 
versions several minutes ago.

	The officer nodded.  Squinty stared at me sharply.  He seemed to 
be thinking something over.  "Very well," he said.  "You may go."

	I did.

	I must say that had been quite a close one.  If I had had any 
sense at all, I would have left the base, right then and there.  I eyed 
the aircars in the distance.  They were tempting me very much right 
now.  But I turned away.  I still had work to do.

	I entered another building, the cafeteria.  I had some condensed 
provisions in my pouch, but I would prefer real food, if I could get 
it.

	I had obviously come to the wrong place.  D's were on a long line 
leading to the serving area, but I cut ahead of them.  (Rank does have 
some privileges).  They were all being served the same thing:  a purple 
drink, and a large tan cube.  I looked around.  Only D's were in sight.  
I surreptitiously took a piece out of a cube, put it in my mouth-

	and involuntarily spat it out, with the remains landing on a 
soldier's food tray.  The D in question looked a little surprised, but 
said nothing, and, commencing to pick up the discarded cube, he popped 
it into his mouth.  Evidently a half chewed saliva encrusted piece of 
food was not objectionable to him.

	Meanwhile I was gasping for breath from my experimentation with 
the local menu.  The taste of it had been so pungent, so burning, that 
it felt like the flavor had already burned into my mouth.  If that was 
all there was to eat on this planet, I would starve.  Right now my 
immediate priority was to wash this foul taste out of my mouth, but I 
instinctively knew better than to try the purple liquid.  Instead, I 
went into the kitchen.

	The chefs were D's, too.  They didn't seem to mind when I elbowed 
one of them out of the way as I ran for the main sink, rapidly putting 
my head under the faucet and turning the controls.

     Aaahhh.  That was better.  Much better.  I grimaced as I felt 
remnants of that foul food still clutching to my tastebuds, but it was 
now vastly diluted.  If the chefs were surprised by the sight of a 
solider gulping down water in their sink, they didn't communicate it to 
me.  Wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, I decided to explore the 
rest of the kitchen.

	Bad move.  The next thing I saw was the food preparation process, 
which almost made me sick again.

	The food blocks were made of a liquid that was put into brick 
shaped pans.  No surprise there.  But the batter itself was in a large 
dirty bowl that stank from across the room.  I watched as a D 
dispassionately poured a chemical into a brown stain incrusted vat.  
Drugs, perhaps, to keep the troops docile?  Possibly

	But the sight that really disgusted me were the rats.  They were 
everywhere. Running along the floors, the walls, the countertops.  The 
D's either didn't notice or didn't care.  What almost made me lose my 
lunch was the sight of several tails in the food vat.  Even as I 
watched another rat, balanced on the edge of the vat, slipped and fell 
in.  A large crunching device came down over the vat, mixing it and 
processing it.

	I was definitely going to be sick.  I got out of there 
immediately.  How could they tolerate that?  Were they so drugged that 
they didn't care about anything?  Anything at all?

	In the open air outside I started to regain my strength.  Which 
was a good thing too, because an officer and a squad of D's was 
approaching.  They stopped a soldier in front of me, scanning his ID.

	Oh, oh.  My deception hadn't lasted.

	I didn't hesitate to think what would happen if they scanned my 
ID.  It might not be a problem--it seemed very possible that there 
might be another officer in their registry with my serial number.  But 
if the scan was a little more specific, they might be checking to see 
if an officer with my ID was currently assigned to this base.  The 
problem was, I didn't know their procedure.  Time to leave.

	I started to turn the corner around the (gag!) cafeteria.  The 
hairs stood up on the back of my neck.  If they called out to me....

	But they didn't.  I started for the hovercrafts, at a brisk pace.  
As I walked I saw I passed a building marked 'administration'.  And 
then I stopped.

	This was too good of an opportunity to miss.  If there was 
anything useful to find on this base it would be in there.  And yet it 
seemed almost certain that further delay would increase the chance that 
I would be apprehended.  I didn't know what they did with prisoners 
here but I wasn't anxious to find out.

	Fear won out over curiosity, and I had just started walking 
again, when three shapes came out of the Admin building.  Squinty and 
his two officer buddies.  And one of them carried a scanning device.  I 
turned my back on them, and was glad of it.

	"B-3756493271!  Halt!"

	I halted, slowly turning around, with a grin plastered on my 
face.  All three of them were armed, and there were other soldiers 
walking by us.  This was not the place for a confrontation.

	I continued to smile, uncertain what to say.  When in doubt, 
smile.  Smile smile smile.

	"B-375, your attention, please," said Squinty.  "There is an 
intruder on the base.  We have reason to believe that it is an alien 
from another world."

	"An alien," I said, still keeping the smile up.  Hm, who could 
they be referring to?

	"Yes," said Squinty.  "Have any of the men in your unit been 
acting... unusual lately?"  He looked at me strangely, as if there were 
something mildly wrong.

	"No, sir," I said, still smiling, still trying not to look 
nervous.  But I worried whether I was trying so hard not to look 
nervous that I looked nervous.  I didn't have a mirror in front of me, 
I had no way to tell.

	Whatever expression I was showing, it was obviously looking 
strange to Squinty.  He looked at me even more curiously, as if he 
suspected.

	"B-375, what is your name?" said Squinty calmly.

	That chilled me to the bone.  Until this moment I had had no idea 
that Happy Worlders even had names.  I didn't know what typical Happy 
Worlder names were, or even if they used one name, or two.  Or more?

	Squinty was expecting an answer.  I thought I had better say 
something.

	"Br'atra," I mumbled.  There, that could be interpreted as one 
name, or even two.

	Squinty continued to smile at me, but it was a little strained 
now.  "I don't believe I know you.  What unit are you with?"  Out of 
the corner of his eye I noticed his hand straying closer to his 
holster.  He knew.

	"4-14," I said, recalling the number I had seen on one of the 
barracks.

	"Hm," said Squinty.  He snapped his fingers.  The junior officer 
came up to me, and scanned my license plate.  Soldiers continued to 
walk around us.

	After an interminable second, the scanner beeped.  I didn't know 
whether that was a good sound or not, but the tension in the air 
suddenly evaporated.

	"Very well," said Squinty.  "Maintain your vigilance."

	"Yes," I said, turning to go.  I couldn't believe it!  They had 
let me get away!  I started a fast march for the hovercraft.

	A mistake.  Just as I reached the parked fleet of sleek vehicles 
I heard a voice from behind me.  Calling to me.  I turned around.  It 
was my buddy Squinty again.  And his two pals.  Surely this wasn't a 
coincidence.  I looked around, without making it obvious that I was 
looking around.  There were four D's on guard here; hardly great odds, 
but better than they had been in the middle of the encampment.

	I pasted a smile on my face as Squinty approached, and I put a 
hand in my pouch.  My blaster remained holstered; it would have been 
suspicious had I drawn it.

	Squinty walked up to me.  "What are you doing here?" he said, 
fixing me with a sharp glare.  He wasn't smiling anymore.

	"Inspection," I said.  It seemed like a good thing to say; they 
were always doing a lot of that in the army, right?

	"You are to report for readjustment.  You are malfunctioning, 
come with us," said Squinty.

	 Ah, Squinty, you haven't guessed the half of it.  "Certainly," I 
said, starting to walk forward towards them.  And then I pressed the 
pocket activator in my suit pouch.

	There was an enormous explosion, as the weapons armory went up in 
flames.  Even at this distance we were pushed to the ground, and I'm 
afraid to even think what happened to the people and buildings in the 
vicinity of the weapons storage facility.  For there had been a large 
cache of explosives in the building, much of which could be set off by 
remote control detonation.  And at the time  I simply hadn't been able 
to resist taking one or two detonators with me.

	We were all forced to the ground by the power of the blast, but I 
was expecting it, and Squinty and his friends weren't.  I was the first 
one up, and the blaster was out of my holster in an instant.  I fired a 
stun bolt at each of Squinty's friends, but missed Squinty, who was 
struggling to draw his own weapon.

	"Not today, Squinty," I said, shooting him.

	I immediately turned around, ready for the hovercraft guards.  
They had gotten up, but they were just standing there.  Suddenly they 
all got stiff for a moment, and they froze.  And then they all started 
to draw their weapons.

	I found that interesting, and, had I more time to analyze their 
reactions, I might have spent some time in contemplation.  But, as it 
so happened, I was a little rushed, so I settled for shooting them.

	Or rather, shooting at them.  I shot one, and he went down, and 
then I shot at another, but he ducked to the side.  Then they started 
moving incredibly rapidly, much more rapidly than I had thought that 
such lethargic soldiers could, and they were firing at me!  I ducked 
behind a hovercar.  Not only were their shots getting close, but they 
were positioning themselves to rush the craft I was hiding behind.  One 
of them fired at me while the other two circled my position.  Perfect 
coordination.

	Two soldiers ran around the car I was using to cover myself... 
only to find I wasn't there.  That must have puzzled them a bit.

	And then I fired on them.  Or, to be more precise, I fired on 
their feet.  That was all I could see from under the bottom of the 
hovercar.  Luckily the one I had hidden under had already been revved 
up, or else there would have been nothing to slip under.  Even so I had 
to aim carefully as the condenser thrust virtually pinned my body to 
the ground.

	The wonderful things about blasters set on stun is that, given 
enough power, it doesn't matter which part of the body you hit.  
They're stunned.  I had reset the weapon to heavy stun for good 
measure, and in seconds two D's were lying by Squinty and his friends.

	That left one of the D's.  I popped up around the other side of 
the car, he turned, wheeling to face me, there was a weapons discharge, 
and-

	He fell to the ground, to join his sleeping friends.

	I looked in the distance.  Several companies of soldiers were 
running towards the hoverpool.  It was time to go.

	I entered the revved up aircar.  The controls looked simple 
enough.  They were.  I started it forward, towards the front gate.  But 
as I left the hovercraft parking area I tossed an object, which landed 
in the seat of one of the parked hovercraft.

	I gunned the craft towards the front gate.  There were troops 
there, all armed, all with rifles pointed at me.  They were firing.

	Blaster fire whizzed by me.  I changed directions.  But then I 
saw I was quickly heading towards several platoons of soldiers, on 
foot.  Not good.  I veered away, towards the fence.

	To my left I saw that troops were on the verge of reaching the 
hoverpool and were climbing into vehicles.  That was something I wasn't 
ready to tolerate so I touched the second activator in my pouch.  The 
explosive I had lobbed in the hovercraft went off, exploding 
marvelously.  The hovercraft were all parked very closely together and 
a chain reaction started and soon most of the hovercraft were burning.

	I would have liked to stay and further admire my handiwork but I 
realized that now was the best time to be going.  I taxied up to a 
thick steel fence on the perimeter.  It looked like a most imposing 
barrier.

	"Now, I know I saw blasters mounted on this thing... but which 
buttons activate it?"

	I pressed one button.  Wipers started to swish-swish on the front 
of the car.  "No, it isn't that one."

	I turned at the sound of further explosions.  The hovercraft lot 
was really going up.   But then I saw that several aircars were 
approaching me.  Either they had salvaged a few of them or they were 
coming from a different part of the base.  Which was irrelevant.  I 
just had to get out of there.

	I pushed another button, and a screen lit up, and a face stared 
at me.  A beam came out of the screen, lighting up the number on my 
license plate.

	"You're the wanted one," said the face.

	"And you must be one of the wanters," I said, turning the screen 
off.

	I looked behind me.  The hovercraft were getting closer.  Time to 
go.

	I revved up the engine.  The steel fence was reinforced with 
concrete.  I didn't know if I could break through, but I was going to 
find out.  I touched the accelerator-

	and a twin beam of blasters stabbed out of my hovercraft, slicing 
into the fence.  I looked more closely; I had actually pushed the small 
button next to the accelerator.  I fired again, and a section of the 
fence toppled.  It was an opening, albeit a narrow one.  I edged the 
hovercraft through, and, with some scraping, I made it.  I threw 
another explosive behind me, and waited.

	When the first of the pursuing hovercraft had nearly gotten to 
the hole in the fence, I activated it.  There was a brilliant 
explosion, and the hovercraft, swerving, crashed into the fence.

	"Time for some shore leave," I grinned, gunning the hovercraft 
onto the street.



Chapter 4



	My happiness quickly wore off.  I had had a series of narrow 
escapes.  My problem lay in the fact that I knew so little about this 
world, that it was difficult for me to blend in, even if I were 
ostensibly dressed like the Happy Worlders.  Right now I was in a 
stolen army vehicle which probably wouldn't be too difficult to track.

	But I was going into the civilian sector now.  Even on the Happy 
Worlds there must be fewer controls there.  Right?

	Wrong.  As I drove down the streets of a nearby city, I saw 
everyone wearing the same bulky suit I was.  That was the good news.  
The bad news was that everyone was wearing a license plate.  I sighed; 
I had been expecting that, but there was something a little depressing 
about seeing everyone walking around wearing a long number.

	And then I noticed the lettering scheme.   C, C, C, C... I saw 
one or two D's, and a few B's.  But C's were definitely in the majority 
here.  I still wasn't sure what the significance of the letters were; I 
guessed that the first letters, the A's and the B's, had authority over 
the later letters, the C's and the D's.  But there seemed to be more to 
it than that.  All the D's I had seen had metal strips coming out of 
the back of their necks.  And the B's seemed quite alert.

	Right now I needed someplace to put the car.  Like everything and 
everyone else on this planet, it had a license plate.  It probably 
wouldn't take the authorities too long to find it, and me as well, if I 
were still in it.  The problem was that wherever I dumped it would soon 
be discovered by the authorities.  Unless I thought of a clever way of 
getting rid of it....

	A bit of driving around gave me a clever idea.  I turned the 
hovercraft into a junk yard, and turned off the motor.  The craft 
sighed as it slowly dropped to the ground.

	As I got out a Happy person approached me.  He was a C, and he 
was smiling.

	I was a still a B, though I had altered my numbers using the 
symbols kit in my pouch.  I had a strong hunch that a B topped a C, 
meaning I could order him around.  I resolved to test that.

	"Happy day," said the man, smiling at me.

	"Happy day," I said, smiling back.

	"What can I do for you, friend?" said the man, speaking slowly.

	"I want to dispose of my car," I said, pointing to the trash 
compactor.

	The man silently took that in.  

	I waited, a bit uncomfortable with the silence.  "My car, it's a 
piece of junk."

	"A piece of junk," said the C, slowly, as he frowned slightly.  
"What can I do for you, my friend?"

	"I want you to do something about my car," I said, starting to 
lose patience.

	"What shall I do?"  His eyes were empty, vacant, almost.

	"Whatever your procedure is."

	"My procedure?"

	It was obvious that I was getting nowhere.  So I tried a 
different tact.  "Drive my car into the compactor, and then crush it."

	"Yes sir," he said.  He got into my hovercraft, and nudged it 
into the compactor.

	It was that simple.  All I had to do was give the orders.  The 
only snag occurred when the compactor started to come down, and the C 
was still in the car.  I had to order him to stop the compactor and get 
out before continuing.  I'm afraid he had taken my order rather 
literally, which raised a whole host of other questions in my mind.

	He was brainwashed, obviously; the question was, how?  And how 
complete was it?  These C's didn't seem to have any common sense at 
all.  I had looked at his neck when his back was turned to me, and 
there was no little metal sliver, as the D's had.

	I pondered this as I walked out of the junkyard, whistling.  Let 
them try to trace the car now.

	By the time I had exited the junkyard and was walking down the 
road back to the city I had changed identities again, just in case the 
C had remembered my number.  Though from the looks of him I doubted he 
could remember much of anything.  In a short time I reached the 
downtown area again.

	My, the city was quite bustling with activity, with B's, C's, and 
D's walking about everywhere.  I noticed a fair number of D's armed 
with blaster rifles, all in hovercrafts, patrolling the streets.  They 
were undoubtedly looking for me.  Probably I was the first foreigner to 
make an unscheduled trip to their planet in a long time, so they were 
devoting all their attentions to me.

	I was very flattered, but all I did was walk along the street, 
with a vague smile plastered to my lips, as all good B's and C's did.  
The D's did not smile, which made me wonder what had been done to them.  
Not all D's were armed, by the way; some walked the streets, with 
aimless looks in their eyes, which forced me to conclude that the 
letters did not necessarily correspond with certain professions.  But 
this was definitely a class based society:  B's were more important 
than C's, who were in turn more important than D's.  The scheme, of 
course, suggested that there were A's.  I couldn't wait to capture and 
interrogate one.

	But right now I had more immediate needs.  The first was food.  I 
still had some concentrated rations but they weren't very filling, and 
I really wished to conserve them for emergency situations.  As I walked 
along I noticed a food store, and I immediately turned in.

	I was only somewhat surprised to find row after row of the square 
tan blocks filling the shelves.  I didn't find the prospect of eating 
rat byproducts very enticing and I almost sighed, but turned it into a 
cough at the last minute when a C stared at me.

	But a few doors down I found another food store.  Bracing myself 
for the inevitable food cubes, I entered.   I was surprised to find a 
fair assortment of normal foods.  There were apples, raisins, bread, 
noodles--the choices weren't enormous, there was no meat, and much of 
the fruit looked badly decayed, but in hungry state it looked like a 
banquet.  I noticed that all the patrons in this store were B's.  And 
suddenly I remembered that all the people in the previous food store 
had been C's.  Ah, ha!

	I found my mouth watering as I eyed a loaf of bread.  I was 
starting to get really hungry now.

	Careful, careful.  I loitered around the checkout area.  What did 
these people use for money?  The answer, I quickly found, was nothing.  
Scanners at the checkout counter played a light over the consumer's ID 
plate, and then beeped.  Presumably this reduced the consumer's credit 
account by an appropriate amount.

	What did this mean for me?  My current license plate was B-
8472648597.  If there was in fact a B-8472648597 in existence, an 
appropriate amount would be taken out of his credit record, and I would 
be free and away.

	But if there wasn't, an alarm could go off.  No, I had to be 
reasonably certain that I was using a valid ID.  Dejected, I left the 
food store.  I supposed I could have copied down any B's ID and 
switched mine in a secluded alley (if any existed on this planet).

	But then I had a better idea.  I decided to secure lodgings 
first.  There was an apartment building above the food store.  I would 
be living there, I decided.

	I loitered around the lobby for a bit.  All the people going in 
and out seemed to be B's.  I don't know where the C's and D's lived, 
although I guessed that for them mass dormitories would probably be 
more the rule than the exception.  But B's were the elite; they would 
be entitled for their own apartments.  So my theory went.

	I waited until a single B got into an elevator, and then I jumped 
in after him.  He was a thin fellow, a young man wearing the typical 
bulky suits that Happy people do.

	"Happy day," he smiled at me.  It was a wide, beautiful smile, 
the same kind of smile that half the morons on this planet must be 
wearing.

	"Happy day," I smiled back at him.

	He didn't seem surprised when I got off at the same floor when he 
did, although the B did look over his shoulder when he saw me walking 
behind him.  These B's were definitely more self-aware than the C's or 
the D's.  When he reached his door I walked past him, keeping an eye 
out for how he was able to get in.  A scanning light reached out and 
touched his ID, and the door clicked open.  And then the door closed.

	I went to the end of the hallway, where there was a camera 
mounted on the wall.  I almost couldn't stop myself from chuckling.  
These people didn't go in for subtle surveillance.  Reaching behind the 
camera, I pulled out its operating wires.  I expected I would be 
restoring it to good working order before the malfunction was noticed.  
I just didn't want anyone who might be watching to look in on this 
floor at this particular moment.  For the next few seconds I needed a 
bit of privacy.  I went back and knocked on the B's door.

	He opened the door.  He looked a little puzzled to see me again, 
but he said, "Happy day."

	"Happy day," I smiled at him.  Then I shot him with my blaster 
pistol.  I had it set on 'stun'; there was no need to kill him.

	He slumped to the ground, and I entered his apartment, quickly 
closing the door behind us.

	Trouble.  There was a camera, mounted on the wall.  It didn't 
seem likely it could scan the alcove where the door was, so if anyone 
had been watching, they wouldn't have seen what had happened.  Still, 
my dragging in an unconscious body might attract a bit of attention.  I 
bit my lip momentarily, wondering how often each camera was tuned into 
by the central authorities.  Well, there was no way to tell.  
Whistling, I reached up the camera, disconnecting it.  Even if a 
warning buzzer flashed at headquarters, I doubted they would race out 
to repair it in ten minutes.  Which would be all the time I needed.

	I took the camera down, and opened it up.  "Ah!" I said, 
delightedly.  It was better than I hoped.  The camera contained a 
taping mechanism, which I readjusted.  I was still working on it when I 
heard a groaning from the door alcove.  I got up and went over to my 
friend.  "Oh, you're waking up," I said, momentarily putting a helping 
hand on his shoulder.

	Groaning, he started to get up.

	"Here, let me help," I said, and I shot him again.  "I'll get to 
you in just a moment.  But for now, please be quiet," I said, returning 
to my work.

	After a little more work I completed my task.  "There!" I said.  
I reinstalled the camera, stood directly underneath it, and was very, 
very quiet for about five seconds.  When I heard a click, I 
disconnected the camera again.  Then I made some final adjustments, and 
reconnected it.

	Then, whistling with the satisfaction of a job well done, I 
tended to my new friend.  As I looked around for something to tie him 
up with, I took notice of the apartment itself.  It was boxed shaped, 
aside from the door alcove, and it was quite small, essentially a one 
room studio.  There was a screen mounted in one wall which I hoped 
didn't transmit as well as receive, but right now it was off and I 
would attend to it later.  I hoisted my friend up on a chair, and 
securely tied him with strips of a shower curtain I had cut up.  It was 
the toughest thing I could find, fabric embedded with metallic fibers, 
and I had to really struggle with a cutting tool to make the strips, so 
I supposed they would hold him.

	He started to come around just after I returned from the hallway, 
where I restored the camera there to good working order.  As he reached 
consciousness my host started to smile instinctively, but quickly 
dropped it when memory came flooding back to him.

	"Well, well, a Happy Worlder who doesn't smile," I said.  I 
certainly was smiling at him.

	"You are an Unadjusted," he said, glaring at me.  Good, I liked 
that.  Anything was better than the moronic smile.

	"Oh, I'm quite well adjusted," I said, filing the word away in my 
mind.  That would be another topic to ask about.  "But for now, you're 
going to help me."

	"I don't think so," said the B, smiling at the camera on the 
wall.

	I calmly took a seat, munching a piece of bread I had found in 
the kitchen.  It was tasteless and stale, but I was hungry, and it did 
not matter much.  "Sorry, pal.  We're off the air.  I taped a five 
second loop of an empty room, and inserted it into the feeder.  That's 
the only thing that the home office will see on their holovision."

	"Help!  Help!"  The B cried.  He was so pitiful, I was almost 
tempted to laugh.

	"Ha ha ha," I said, easily giving in to the temptation.  "I fixed 
the sound, too.  Package deal.  Now, let's get down to business.  For 
starters, what's your name?"  I was interested in finding out what 
typical Happy Worlder names were.

	The Happy Worlder was silent.  I knew that he understood my 
question, but he simply did not want to respond.

	"You won't even give me your name?" I said.  "If we're going to 
get stuck on that, then it's going to be a long, long night, I can 
promise you that."  And I gave a powerful smile, for effect.  I don't 
like torture; I much prefer intimidation.  It's less messy.  And more 
fun, too.

	But my words had little effect on the Happy Worlder.  He sweated 
a little but said nothing.

	"Odd," I said.  "That you're resisting already."  I considered; I 
had a small amount of truth drug, but I wanted to save that until I 
came across someone important.  Not merely any old B.

	He was trying to resist but he didn't realize that he couldn't.  
This brainwashed sod was up against one of the cleverest minds in the 
galaxy.  Me.

	"All right," I sighed, in mock frustration.  "We'll play it your 
way."  I picked up my blaster with one hand, putting down my piece of 
bread with the other.  "See what you're making me do?  You're making me 
cut short my lunch."  In an overdramatic way, I adjusted the setting on 
the blaster.  "I don't like people who interfere with my meals."  I 
raised the blaster, pointing it at him.  In the past that always seemed 
to help people make a decision.

	"No!" he cried.  My captive was obviously no exception.

	"Tell me your name," I said.

	"My name is-" a pained expression appeared on his face.  
"Wa...ta!"

	"Wata?  Or Wa Ta?" I said.

	Wata, or maybe his name was Wa Ta, I don't know, screwed his face 
again as he tried to answer my question.  But he was having a difficult 
time of it.

	"What's the matter?" I said curiously.  "Why can't you answer?"

	The B nodded.  "I can't answer," he said, breathing more easily 
now.

	Hm.  Curiouser and curiouser.  "Well, then we'll have to do it my 
way," I said, shooting him.

	A beam of light stabbed out at him from the barrel of my gun, and 
he cried out as he was shot, slumping back in his chair.

	"Most interesting," I said, reaching over to peel back an eyelid.  
I had reset the blaster to heavy stun; he would be out for a while.

	I taped his lids open and then started to slap him on the face 
with moderate force.  When he blinked, or rather, tried to blink, and 
his eyes started to move, I knew that he was starting to come out of 
it.

	Which was precisely the state that I wanted him in.  I quickly 
took the hypnocube out of my pouch.

	One of the many small items I had brought with me to this most 
inhospitable planet was the hypnocube, a small device shaped like a 
cube (and hence the 'cube' part of hypnocube), a device that flashes 
patterns of into the optic nerve in such a way as to induce a trance-
like state, suitable for many purposes.  Especially interrogation.  The 
only problem is that unwilling victims need to be susceptible to the 
hypnocube in the first place, which is why I had to shoot my new friend 
again, much as it pained me to do so.  But, as an experienced spy, I've 
long been hardened to the realities of my work.

	Wata started talking.  That was his name; evidently, Happy People 
only had one name.  (Or perhaps B's only rated a single name; I had yet 
to interrogate an A, a little piece of work I still was looking forward 
to).  Wata was the manager of a government clothing distribution 
outlet.  I can't say that I was surprised to learn that all clothing 
outlets were government run.  And all food stores.  And all stores.  
And everything else, for that matter, including the people, their 
thoughts, and their minds.

	I quickly found out why Wata had been less than cooperative with 
me in his conscious state.  There were strong impulses in his mind to 
be loyal to the state, to give absolutely nothing away to the enemies 
of the state, the Unadjusted, or the Unprocessed, as they were also 
called.  I surmised the Unprocessed were people who had somehow escaped 
brainwashing, but Wata was able to tell me little of them, as he did 
not customarily mix and mingle in such circles.  For Wata had been 
conditioned.

	Or brainwashed, to put it bluntly.  Wata had obviously had his 
mind tampered with, this was very clear to me.  When I asked how this 
had done he was a little vague on the subject, but I suspected that he 
had been hypnotized, not unlike he was now.  Probably repeatedly.  They 
had strung his brain out in hypno sessions, ensuring his absolute 
loyalty.  At the same time they had left other parts of his brain 
alone, which explained why he retained more awareness than C's and D's.

	I had identified myself as his superior, and, in his current 
state of mind, Wata was trying very much to be helpful.   We talked 
about the other classes of citizens in this sick society.  I had been 
right when I surmised that there were A's, on the top of the pecking 
order, followed by B's, C's and D's.  Wata gave me the impression that 
C's were also conditioned, by the use of drugs.  That explained why 
they were slow witted.

	But my blood ran cold when he described the D's.  Remember the 
metal slivers I had seen in the back of their necks?  Those had been 
miniature antennae that kept them in continuous communication with 
their masters.  They were under the most complete control of the state, 
complete mental control, told what to think at every given minute of 
their grubby little lives.  They had no freedom, no individuality, no 
personality.  They were little better than robots.

	Which was to my advantage.  For though large numbers of them 
could be coordinated very quickly, they didn't have any initiative.  I 
could rob a bank in front of a company of them if they didn't have 
orders to stop me.

	I also probed Wata for information about A's, but Wata had never 
even seen an A, leading me to believe that they were very few and far 
between.

	I mulled this over for a while, and asked some more questions 
about this Happy World.  Wata knew a fair number of things about this 
society, but he wasn't very certain about how it was run, or who even 
ran it.  He had a vague notion of a "Master" and a "Super Master", but 
he didn't seem to know very much about them.  Only that they were in 
charge.  I sighed; that was all he really needed to know, I suppose.  I 
reflected upon the fact that this B, part of a relatively senior and 
relatively pampered segment of society, was still little more than a 
cog in a machine.

	I questioned Wata late into the night, picking up on everything 
from local customs to procedures for accessing mass transportation, 
trying to absorb everything I possibly could.  Finally, I got too tired 
to continue, and I brought him out of it.

	He glared at me when he came to.  I had tried to implant a 
suggestion that he should be friendly, but his conditioning was too 
strong, so Wata still wasn't feeling very amicably towards me.

	"You won't get away with this!" he yelled.  "Help!  Help!"

	I looked about.  I had no idea how thin the walls were here.

	"Help!  Help!" he cried.

	I stunned him again, and put a gag over his mouth.  "Nighty 
night," I said, as he slumped in his chair.  I went to bed too; I 
figure he wouldn't mind if I used his mattress. It was hard like a 
rock. It was probably made of food cubes.



Chapter 5



	"Good morning!" I said to my bound and gagged companion.

	"Mmm Mmmgh!" said Wata.

	"Mmm mmm, breakfast does smell good, doesn't it?" I smiled, 
laying out a hunk of cheese and a piece of bread for each of us.  I 
ungagged him, making him very aware of the unpleasant consequences that 
would come from yelling or loud noises.  But Wata's hands were still 
bound.  I set the food down before him.

	"How do you expect me to eat?" he said, glaring at me.

	"Be creative," I suggested, washing down the dull cheese with 
water.  "But if you're not hungry...." I added, giving him ample motive 
to be creative.

	It worked.  Still glaring at me, Wata bent over stiffly, putting 
his head to the plate.  When he came up he had a chunk of cheese in his 
mouth.  "Mumph Anarno!" he said accusingly.

	"Really? I've been told I can be quite a good caterer," I said 
sweetly.

	If Wata understood me, he didn't let on.  He just kept glaring at 
me as he swallowed large chunks of cheese.  I smiled encouragingly at 
him, as I would a small child that I was encouraging to eat.

	"You enjoy this," he muttered.

	"What?" I said.  I looked up, a little stunned.  Wata was getting 
an insight.

	"You enjoy taking people captives, controlling them."

	I laughed.  And I laughed and I laughed.  I laughed so hard that 
I almost fell out of my chair.  Wata just glared at me.

	"'What's so funny?' you might ask," I said, when I managed to 
calm down.  "That's what we call irony.  You, and all of your people, 
are under the control of others.  And not merely physically.  Your mind 
has been taken."

	"I have been guided," said Wata stubbornly.

	"Guided," I said, considering that for a moment.  "And you like 
it?"

	"What?"

	"Being guided?"

	"Of course.  It's necessary."

	"Hm..."  I said, taking that in.  I watched at he pecked at his 
food, like a large bird leaning down to the ground to pick up bits of 
edibles.  That made me laugh again.  "Ha ha ha," I said.  But when my 
laughter subsided I pulled the plate away from Wata.

	"I'm not done," said Wata.

	"Yes, you are," I said, getting up.  "You need to go on a diet.  
Consider it guidance."  I wanted to make a point, but I also wanted to 
be on my way.  There was much to be done today, and I didn't enjoy 
frittering away my time watching Wata peck at his food.

	I made some final preparations, then I said, "Well, I'm off for 
the day.  Wish me well."

	"Once you leave you'll never get back in!" Wata sneered.

	Wata wasn't very smart. Had it been true, he shouldn't have 
warned me.  "And why not?"

	"The door only opens to my code," he said, looking down at his 
license plate.

	"Ah hem," I said, tapping to my own.  It was identical to his.  I 
put the gag back in place.  "I'll be back for dinner.  And I may go 
shopping, so I hope you have appropriate credits in your account."

	He started to open his mouth to complain, just as I clapped my 
hands twice in rapid succession.  Suddenly, Wata slumped in his chair, 
falling asleep.

	"I like that," I said, smiling as I headed out the door.  I 
hadn't been able to alter Wata's original hypnotic programming, but I 
had been able to amend it.  Now whenever he was awake and heard a 
double clap, he would immediately fall asleep.  Not only would this 
help Wata pass time more quickly, but it would allay whatever fears I 
had that he might get out of his bonds and escape while I was out.  The 
last thing I needed was to return home after a hard day of espionage to 
find an entire platoon of troopers staked out for me.

	I started to walk in the streets, the standard smile plastered to 
my face.  I noticed that the troops who had been milling about 
yesterday were gone, and for that I was relieved.  Either they had 
called off the search or they had gone elsewhere, believing I wouldn't 
be stupid enough to stay in the city.  But I was.

	"Happy day," said a smiling C, passing by me.  I returned his 
greeting.

	As I walked across a street I noticed several B's, each wearing a 
stripe around their waists.  This was the first time I had noticed any 
Happy People dressing even slightly differently, so my attention would 
have been caught even if I hadn't noticed the long poles they were 
carrying.  And they were stopping people.  And asking them questions.  
And scanning their ID plates.

	I casually turned around, to head in another direction, and saw 
several more striped B's, doing the same interrogation bit.  I tried to 
brace myself; after all, I had nothing to be concerned about.  I had a 
valid ID plate, courtesy of my friend Wata.  What could I possibly be 
afraid of?

	And then I saw just what it was I could possibly be afraid of.  
Some of the C's that were stopped were given injections, with air 
hypos.  And some of the B's were being made to stare into small objects 
that I suspected weren't too different from hypnocubes.  They knew I 
had blended in with the local population.  They knew I was here.  They 
knew, and they were trying to ferret me out with random sweeps.

	Immediately, I felt a panic grip me.  I looked about, but there 
was no way to escape, unless I started running.  Which was definitely 
an option.  The striped B's didn't have distance weapons; all they had 
were those long poles.

	Or so I thought.  Suddenly, to my great surprise someone started 
running.  I couldn't see his ID clearly, but I think it was a C.  Some 
of the B's started chasing after him. 

	He didn't get far; one of the B's raised his pole, aimed it, and 
fired.  There was a wooshing sound, and the fleeing C fell to the 
ground.  The B's closed on him.  The C started to get up, but I saw he 
was limping.  They must have hit him in his leg.  He tried to get away, 
but the B's caught up to him, and he was cornered against a wall.

	"No, no!" he cried, his face a mask of agony and terror.

	One of the B's touched him on the shoulder with the rod.  
Instantly his face relaxed, and a gentle smile graced his face.  "Thank 
you," I heard him say.  

	A small van hovered up to the scene.  Still smiling, the C 
allowed himself to be escorted into it.  And then the van sped away, 
and everyone resumed going about their business, like nothing had even 
happened.

	But a chill went down my spine.  That easily could have been me 
that had been tapped with the rod.  And what would happen to the 
captured C?  Mental conditioning?  'Processing'?  I shuddered, and went 
about my way.

	I tried to explore some of the city, but I felt wary about going 
far from the apartment building.  From a distance I saw two more sweeps 
being conducted.  Inwardly I wondered whether I had made a mistake by 
staying in this city.   But I would have been willing to bet that there 
were roadblocks all around the city, with travelers being given the 
same treatment.  No, I couldn't leave now, not until I found a secure 
method of travel.

	All the architecture here was squat, white, boxshape, and 
extremely functional.  I was almost surprised when I walked by a large-
ish building flanked by pillars.  Just what could this place be?  I 
looked up at the native lettering.

	"Hall... of... Memory...." I read, slowly translating it from the 
native tongue.  Hm.  Could that be a museum of sorts?

	It could.  I decided to take a look.  It was a building of wide 
halls and tall ceilings, decidedly most atypical, for Happy Worlder 
architecture.  I looked around at the displays.  They depicted the past 
history of the Negan empire.  I studied a large mural, depicting 
valiant warriors leading a victorious battle.  Underneath was a series 
of lettering.

	"Everyone suffered in the chaos of before, until they masters 
came.  They restored order, and gave us happiness."

	Hm.  I walked on, glancing at exhibits. Nothing exceptional; just 
standard propaganda, as I would have expected.  I went casually from 
room to room, pausing by exhibits only infrequently.

	But I stopped at the head.

	There was a head, mounted in a glass booth.  It looked like the 
head of a person.  I looked more closely.  It was obviously a plastic 
replica.  But it looked real.  It was labeled, "The head of Blurpus, 
the anarchist.  Turn the lever, and hear what he has to say."

	Turn the lever?  This looked interesting.  I looked to the side 
of the booth, and sure enough, there was a lever.

	"Hm, a show and tell museum," I said, grasping the lever firmly.  
I turned the lever, and the mouth started to move!

	"Bla Bla-"  I stopped turning.  The mouth stopped moving.

	I started again.  "Bla bla bla bla bla bla bla," said the 
anarchist, making wild movements with his eyes.  I stopped turning.

	I don't suppose I had expected to actually see another point of 
view here.  The only point of view that mattered was the state's.  
Everything else was bla bla bla.

	I looked a little more, but my heart really wasn't in it; it was 
obvious that there was nothing of value to be learned here.  As I 
exited I noticed a small child by the head.  He pointed up at the 
display case, and said, in a high voice, "Bla bla bla."

	"Well, he's learned something," I muttered, hastily making my 
egress from this insane asylum.

	I walked around a little more, but by mid afternoon I returned to 
the apartment.  Wata was still asleep, which was fine with me.  I put 
him into a trance again.

	I needed to be more focused, I realized that much now.  Every day 
I stayed on this world increased my chances of being caught.  But I had 
been sent here on a mission:  to put a monkey wrench into the 
technology piracy operation that was being carried out from this 
planet.  But in order to do that I had to break into their secure 
defense installations.  I didn't even know where to find their secure 
defense installations.

	I put that very question to Wata.  Not very surprisingly, he 
didn't know very much about their secure facilities either.  I asked 
him where the top security government offices were.  Again, he didn't 
know.  I asked for a map of the city.

	"We don't have maps," said Wata in a dreamy voice.  He always 
sounded like that when I hypnotized him.

	"No maps," I said dully.  "Then who knows where anything is?"

	"The peacemen," said Wata.

	The peacemen.  Wata identified them as the striped men with the 
rods.



	I didn't decide to take action that evening, perhaps because I 
didn't have the necessary courage.  Instead I sat back, watching Happy 
broadcasts on the screen transceiver.

	I had no problem choosing a selection because there was only one 
channel.  The screen was also an interpersonal communicator but I 
didn't feel like talking to anybody.  Instead, I watched what I 
supposed passed for their version of the news.

	"Economic production is up 4.4% in the industrial sector," 
rumbled the broadcaster, a thoroughly bored looking B.  "As a reward 
for our hard work, the Master has raised our annual work quota 10%."  
How nice.  This Master fellow must be a real sweetheart.

	Most of the broadcast went like that, with the Master saying 
this, the Master doing that.  The Master exhorted workers to submit to 
an essay contest detailing how to increase productivity in 500 words or 
less.  The Master inaugurated the opening of a new Zeno production 
plant (I suppose one can never have enough Zeno).  The Master awarded 
the citizen of the week decoration to some anonymous C, who persuaded 
his factory workers to give up their free time to increase 
productivity.  The Master exhorted citizens to eat their food cubes so 
they would stay healthy and productive.

	Master knows best, I thought as I gave a yawn.  I wondered if 
there even was a real person who was the Master, or if he was simply a 
symbol put together by this controlling society.  There were many 
reports on his doings, but video footage didn't seem to be the style of 
this broadcast.  But then the announcer said, "And now, for our final 
message of the broadcast, we have a special treat.  I am pleased to 
announce a message from... the Master!"

	The image on the screen changed.  It now showed the face of an 
individual with piercing eyes and a slightly balding head.  Those eyes 
seemed to stab out at me, and I found myself involuntarily recoiling 
from the screen.

	Hawkeye spoke.  "Citizens. It had come to my attention that there 
has been a recent increase in the number of unprocessed fugitives.  I 
encourage you to report anyone you have even the slightest suspicion 
of.  No harm will come of them, if they are truly citizens of the 
state, and you will be doing the state, and yourself, enormous 
service."

	He paused, and the camera got a closeup on his face.  "Serve the 
Master.  Serve the State."  And then the broadcast ended.

	Suddenly I felt alone, very much by myself.  It had been like 
this before, on other infiltration missions, but I felt it all the more 
even now.  Every single citizen on this planet wouldn't hesitate to 
turn me in, much like Wata.  They were all against me.  It sounded very 
much like a paranoid's nightmare, but here nightmares were a living 
reality.  Quite depressing.

	"Buck up!" I said to myself.  "This is a fundamentally sick 
society, and if you can throw a wrench into the works, it will be worth 
the effort."  I clapped my hands once, then again, trying to drain the 
stress within me.

	Wata stirred in his chair.

	"Oh, sorry!  Go back to sleep, Wata,"  I said, clapping twice 
again.  Wata obediently fell asleep.



	"It's Croft... get him!" said a groaning voice.  The crowd surged 
forward.  I tried to run, but bodies blocked my exit, surrounding me.  
Hands reached out at me.  I chopped at one, two, three, four, but more 
kept coming.  Finally they grabbed me, and held me still.

	"Process him!  He must be processed!" said the groaning voice.

	

	I woke up in a sweat.  For a moment I trembled, looking around.

	I was alone.  Wata lay tied in his chair.  The wild look in my 
eyes faded.  I realized what had happened.  Or rather, what hadn't.

	I feared getting caught.  The fear was always there, 
unconsciously, on any mission.  But on this planet getting caught was a 
greater peril.  I would be processed.

	I cherished my individuality above all else.  I didn't want to be 
consumed, to become part of a large machine.  What, I wonder, would 
life be like with thoughts in my mind that weren't my own?  Or being 
unable to think at all?

	After a long time I drifted back into an uneasy sleep.



	The next day I set out to catch myself a policeman.  

	Was I mad?  Perhaps.  I felt mostly recovered from my experience 
of the night before, and I felt it important to confront my fears.  
Sitting around would only magnify them.  Besides, each day I 
procrastinated in the city increased my chances of being caught.  I had 
to do something.  So I went around, hunting for a cop.

	But the coppers found me.  I was walking along, on a nondescript 
city street, when I suddenly noticed the area being cordoned off.  
Hordes of striped police, en mass, where closing in.

	This wasn't quite what I had in mind.  I quickly looked about; 
there was no possibility of escape to another street.  I looked to my 
left.  There was a large building there, with a sign over it "Connector 
Orientation".  At that moment any exit from that street looked good to 
me.  Perhaps I could slip out through a back entrance.

	I had no idea what "Connector Orientation" meant, but whatever it 
was, there was a receptionist in the front, a B.  He was flanked by two 
D's, both of which were armed.  Immediately I tensed up.  Wherever I 
was, I was obviously in a secured area.

	"Your business?" said the B, smiling at me.

	I was acutely aware that both D's were grasping their weapons.  
Each stared at me with dull orbs.  All it would take would be a shouted 
command for them to open fire.  I was also acutely aware that outside 
on the streets the sweep was continuing.  Time to think fast, Croft.

	"I'm here from connector supply," I said, being careful to smile.  
I still had no idea what connector orientation was, but I figured there 
must be a supply source.

	B nodded.  Evidently I had provided a valid answer.  But there 
was a second hurdle.  "Your business?"

	My, these B's were on the ball.  This was going to be a lot 
harder than ordering a stupid C around.  I felt myself start to sweat.  
"Um, inspection tour."

	The B raised a hand scanner, and a light played over my ID plate, 
and immediately I had a thought.  He could be checking to see if I was 
affiliated with the Connector group, whatever that was.  In that case I 
was a dead duck.  Or he could be checking to see if I had a rogue ID.  
In that circumstance I shouldn't have any problem.

	It seemed like an eternity before the scanner beeped.  The B 
nodded to me, "You may go forward."

	Nodding, I said, "Happy day," keeping my voice carefully calm.  
That had been close.

	I started looking for a back door almost immediately.  But I 
passed a hallway of rooms, and I couldn't resist taking a look.  After 
all, A.A. had wanted me to find out everything I could about these 
people.

	One room contained stacked boxes.  I slipped in, opened one.  And 
came out with a small metal component, connected to a thin metal 
strand.  A chill went through me.  These were the mental control boxes 
that all the D's wore.  That the authorities would undoubtedly like to 
put in me.  My hand shuddered as I put it back into the box.

	I should have left right then and there, but I still was curious 
what the other rooms contained.  I shouldn't have even looked into the 
next room.  But there was a window set into the door, and I couldn't 
resist.

	There were a number of citizens, sitting in a corner.  At a 
keyboard sat a B.  He pressed a button and said, "Get up."

	They all got up, displaying jerky and uneven coordination.

	"Go to the other side of the room," said the B, pressing another 
button.

	They obeyed him, trooping across the room.

	"Pick up the pistols on the ground you see before you."

	They did so.

	"Now, fire them at each other."

	They obeyed.  But the guns only clicked.  It had been a test.

	"Very good," said the B, making a note.  To the B, it was all 
just an experiment.  Experimenting with people's minds.  To make sure 
they were under total control.  I'd like to have made a note of him.

	"No..." said a feeble voice.  It was one of the test subjects.

	"What?" said the B.

	"No," said one of them, starting to walk towards the door.  

	"You may not leave!" said the B, pressing a button.

	"No!" said the resister.  He grasped the back of his neck.  He 
seemed to be in pain.

	"Obey!" said the B.  He pressed another button.

	"No!" the resister screamed, grabbing the back of his neck.

	"Obey!" the B shrieked, pressing another button.  Hard.

	The resister's breathing grew softer.  His eyes grew vacant.  "I 
must obey," he said dully.

	I got out of there quickly.  I had the strong urge to go in there 
and splatter that B against a wall.  I could have done it; but that 
wasn't my mission.  I wasn't supposed to risk myself, I kept repeating.

	But I felt lousy as I exited the building.

	"Come again," smiled the B at the front desk.

	I felt a little better after I had taken a short walk.  The 
absolute control exercised by the Master was really obscene.  And what 
bothered me the most was that I could have been one of them. One of 
those D's, with a box implanted in my neck, telling me what to think 
every moment of my life.

	I fled in revulsion, losing track of time. When I looked up, I 
noticed that I had walked to the edge of the city limits.  There were a 
number of trees here along the road, and I only knew that I felt better 
away from those zombies.

	Only I wasn't entirely away from them.  As I walked along the 
road a hovercraft slowed and stopped right ahead of me.  Two striped 
men got out.  They both carried rods.

	"Identification," one said, raising a hand scanner.  The other, I 
noticed, had an air spray on his belt, as well as what I suspected was 
a hypno device.  As I was a B, they would probably use the hypno device 
on me, if anything.

	I stood still as they took my ID.  The scanner beeped.

	But that wasn't the end of it.  "What are you doing here, citizen 
Wata?" said one of them.

	"Taking a walk," I said, smiling.  "Thinking about the wisdom of 
the Master."  That seemed like a good thing to say.

	Not to these fellows.  "It says here that you're in 
manufacturing.  Why aren't you on shift?"

	"Well, ah...."

	One of the policemen took a small device from his belt.  "Look 
into this, please," he said.

	"Look into this," I counteroffered, drawing my blaster from my 
pouch, gunning him down.  The second whirled his rod to tap me on the 
shoulder.  I shot him and he fell, the rod dropping from his hands.

	I quickly dragged the bodies in the forest behind some trees, and 
went rummaging about in their patrol car.  I had given them the heavy 
stun treatment, so they wouldn't be awake for some time.  A few hours, 
perhaps.  Just the time that I would need.

	I entered their patrol car.  "Next stop, police headquarters," I 
said, taking a deep breath.



	It is a misperception that agents, even the best of agents, are 
always cool customers.  We're just under better emotional control than 
the average citizen.  But no amount of control I could muster could 
totally dispel the anxiety I felt when I parked my hovercar in the 
local police HQ.  I was wearing a bulky suite with a stripe on it, 
courtesy of one of my new friends who was sleeping it off in the 
forest.

	It was my understanding that there were several police precincts 
in the area.  I didn't know which one these fellows worked for, but, as 
I was appropriating the ID of one of them, I hoped I wouldn't run into 
other policemen who knew them.  The fear of discovery, though, kept the 
adrenaline pumping.

	I walked in the station.  Striped B's milled about, busy at work.  
No one seemed to take notice of me.  I sat down at an empty terminal, 
and requested access.

	The screen scanned my ID, and the words ACCESS GRANTED appeared 
on the screen.

	The system was very user friendly, which I quite appreciated; 
there were a number of menus, all of which could lead to interesting 
things.  But what I wanted was classified defense installations.  I was 
having trouble punching them up; evidently my classification wasn't 
high enough to access that information.  Instead I settled on a map of 
the region, along with a listing of 'classified' zones in a 500 unit 
area.  As the printer chugged out hard copies I couldn't resist a 
smile.  It was so easy!

	I started exploring the database some more.  I checked RECENT 
BULLETINS.  There was one item there that was of special interest to 
me.



	ALIEN OF 04-85-38 STILL EVADING CAPTURE.  ORIGINS UNKNOWN.  
INTENT UNKNOWN.  BUT PRESUMED TO BE AGENT OF HOSTILE POWERS.  SWEEPS 
CONTINUING IN ALL SECTORS IN 1500 UNIT AREA.



	A 1500 unit area!  Well, well, they must have thousands of people 
looking for me!  But wait, there was more.



	ALIEN SUSPECTED OF DISGUISING SELF IN ROLE OF CITIZENRY.  SWEEPS 
WILL CONTINUE UNTIL CAPTURE IS EFFECTED.  ALIEN IS SUSPECTED OF BEING 
EXTREMELY INTELLIGENT



	So, they did  have some accurate information about me.



-AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.  REWARD OF 5000 PRESTIGE UNITS GOES TO THE 
CITIZEN WHO ASSISTS IN THE CAPTURE.



	I whistled inwardly.  5000 prestige units.  I didn't know how 
much that meant, but it sounded like a lot.



REPORT CAPTURE TO CENTRAL CONTROL FOR PROCESSING AT EARLIEST 
OPPORTUNITY.



	That was the end of the bulletin.  Again I felt a chill.  They 
wanted to process  me.  Well, they weren't going to, not if I could 
help it.

	I got back to work on the database.  I printed out the names of 
the serial numbers of other policemen, information which I thought 
could be useful.  And then I was sorting through other databases and I 
caught the category "MALADJUSTED" and I just had to look.  Anything 
that was labeled maladjusted in this society was probably worth looking 
at.

	I quickly got the idea that this was a database for resisters.  I 
didn't have time to search all the names, but the database was 
prioritized according to threat potential.  I punched up the name of 
the citizen with the most threat potential.

	And came up with a long serial number (which I copied down) and a 
name:  Banner.  And punched up another series of buttons to find out 
more about him.  My stomach twisted.  He had just been caught.  And 
recently, too.  Circumstances?  Trying to steal information from a 
classified installation.

	I think I needed to have a talk with Mr. Banner.

	But I had to make the most of my time; I had already been at the 
terminal for over two hours, and I realized that my two friends who 
were sleeping in the forest could wake up soon. But then I saw a menu 
labeled "D CONTROLS", and I just had to take a peek.  D's evidently 
were remote controlled by something called central processing.  But 
they could also be controlled by individual handheld units.  I had just 
started to punch up a request on those when I felt a tap on my 
shoulder.

	Instinctively, I froze.  Then I slowly turned around, a small 
smile but stupid on my face.

	I was facing another striped B.  "You are not on priority duty," 
he said, smiling genially.

	"No," I said, not certain if this were a statement or a question.

	"This unit is malfunctioning," said the B, speaking loudly.  I 
looked about.  They were on to me!  I was all set to bolt from the 
chair when the B handed me an electronic notepad with a serial number 
on it.  "Take this unit in for readjustment."

	Oh.  I felt a big sigh of relief.  And withheld it.  I was still 
under the watchful eye of this B.  Now I had to perform an assignment.  
There was no getting out of it.  I was sent out in a hovercar with 
three other B's.  They smiled at me as we drove along to our 
destination.

	"I don't believe I've seen you here before," said one of them.  
He looked rather stupid and dull, more insipid than even an average 
member of this brain dead constabulary.

	"Neither have I," said the second one.  The third one nodded for 
effect.

	"No," I smiled.  "I have just been transferred."

	"From where?" said the stupid looking one.

	"From... 384.4 by 849," I said.  Happy World places did not have 
names.  Everything, I learned, was in map coordinates.  I had just 
picked those out of my head.

	"Odd," said the stupid B, as the hovercraft sped on.

	"What?" I said, still smiling.

	"I believe 384.4 by 849 is in the ocean," he said.  The stupid B 
evidently was not that stupid.

	"Did I say 384.4 by 849?  I meant, by 349," I said, hoping I had 
struck dry land.

	The B nodded, but he looked a little suspicious.  I wished we 
would get to our destination.  He kept giving me sharp glances, and I 
wished I could have smacked him a little.  He was going to blow my 
cover.

	In a few short minutes, we arrived at our destination.  We were 
at an apartment complex, actually not far from the one where I lived.  
We entered the main elevator, each of us carrying a police rod.

	When we reached the appropriate door, one of the B's knocked.  
When the occupant opened the door, he was wide eyed with surprise when 
he saw the four of us, rods ready.  He backed away, into the apartment, 
as we calmly marched in.

	I saw that he was an ordinary B.  He tried to smile, but he 
looked nervous.

	"B-8959278112?" said one of the B's.

	"Yes?" he said, still smiling.

	The B removed a hypnodevice from his belt.  "Please look into 
this."

	The B started to comply, but then he shielded his eyes.  "No, 
no!" he cried.  He tried to run past us, for the door.

	One of the B's easily tapped him with the rod.  He froze in his 
tracks, and gave a broad smile.  "Thank you," he said gently.

	What could I do?  There were three of them, and only one of me.  
It sickened me to do the state's work, especially this sort of state's 
work, but there was little I could do about it.

	But that could have been me.  That could have been me that had 
been tapped with the rod.  And then, what next?  Processing?  I started 
to shudder again, but turned it into a bright smile when I caught the 
dull B looking oddly at me.

	One of the B's called in on his pocket radio.  He said, "Mission 
accomplished.  B-8959278112 apprehended, returning to base."

	There was a short voice, and then a curt voice said.  
"Affirmative.  But note instructions now amended.  Apprehend B-
7563847279 as well.  Immediately."

	Oh well, we were being given another job.  After a few moments I 
had managed to calm down a bit, and I was now a little desensitized by 
this mission.  I was even rather ho hum about it, idly wondering who 
our next victim would be.

	And then I saw the others looking at my license plate, mouthing 
the numbers.  I looked down.  I was B-7563847279.  

	They had discovered my sleeping police friends.  They were after 
me now.



Chapter 6



	One of the B's whirled about to bring the rod down on my 
shoulder. I parried his rod with my own, and with my other hand brought 
the blaster out of my pocket.  I fired on one of my fellow coppers, and 
he fell, slumping to the ground.  I fired on a second, but he ducked, 
behind a piece of furniture.

	Meanwhile, my third associate was still trying to tap me with the 
rod.  He slammed down hard with his rod and mine went crashing to the 
floor.  But then I shot him, and he went down.

	Meanwhile the other B I had missed was crawling surreptitiously 
towards the door.  I picked up my fallen rod and smartly tapped him on 
the shoulder.  It was my dull friend, the one who had been suspicious 
of me earlier.  He wasn't suspicious now.  He just sat back and smiled.  
"Thank you," he said.

	"You're quite welcome," I said, smiling just as broadly.  I 
gestured to the rod.  "You wouldn't mind telling me how this works?"

	The B I had tapped with the rod gave a broad smile.  "Thank you," 
he said.

	"Hmmm."  If I were to get any answers, I would have to find them 
for myself.  I looked more closely at the rod.  How come it didn't 
affect the person who held it?  Then I noticed a guard grip at one end.  
The safe end.

	I approached the B we had apprehended.  He was still standing 
there, just smiling.

	"Snap out of it," I said, snapping my fingers in front of his 
face.  He didn't blink.  I tried slapping his face a few times, but 
that didn't work either.  All he did was thank me.

	I sighed.  I really should be getting out of here.  But I 
resolved to give it one more try.  I took out my own hypnocube, putting 
it up to his eyes.  He responded immediately.

	"Listen," I said, "You are no longer dazed.  Act normally.  Act 
normally."

	It seemed to have an effect, for as I put the cube away, the 
fellow blinked.

	"What happened?" he said, seeing the bodies of my fellow peacemen 
on the ground.

	"Just another sterling example of your tax dollars at work," I 
said.  "I suggest you leave. Now."

	"But you're..." Realization suddenly dawned on his face.  "Thank 
you!" he said, racing past me for the door.  In moments he was gone.

	On second thought, I should have stopped him to ask a few 
questions.  If he had been part of an underground organization, I had 
lost a valuable opportunity to make contact with them.  I sighed, 
preparing to depart.

	Suddenly one of the pocket communicators crackled.  "Report, 
report," it said.

	I paused for a moment, considering what to do.  If I didn't 
answer it, they would get suspicious.  If I did answer it, I might be 
able to bluff them.  But even if I didn't, I could escape before they 
sent in reinforcements.  On the other hand, it might be interesting to 
respond. For a moment I remained indecisive.

	"Report, report," it said again.

	I picked up the comlink, activating it.  "B-2244857684 here," I 
said, carefully reading the license plates off of one of my fallen 
companions.

	"B-7563847279 has been identified as the wanted alien.  He is 
dangerous, repeat, most dangerous.  You are to bring him directly to 
control.  At once.  You have apprehended him?"

	"Well," I said, taking a deep breath, "Yes, and no."

	"B-2244857684, repeat message.  Did not read."

	"B-7563847279 was so clever, that he managed to overpower us," I 
reported.  "I think he's smarter than we are."  And then I gave a 
chuckle.

	"B-2244857684..."  there was a pause.  "You are the alien."

	"Give the man a cigar," I chuckled.

	"Give yourself up, alien.  You cannot escape.  You will be 
captured."

	"I don't think so, pal.  You haven't had much luck so far, even 
with the resources of half the planet mobilized against me."

	"You will be captured.  You will be adjusted.  You will be made 
to fit."

	"I don't fit in very easily," I confessed.  "I never mix well at 
parties."

	"You will be taken."  The voice was flat, matter of factly.

	 I cleared my throat.  Time to wrap it up.  "Yes, Well, I'd like 
to stay and see you try, but I've got things to do, places to go, you 
know how it is.  Happy day," I said cheerfully, signing off.

	And then I got out of there, quick.  For I was certain that they 
would be there in minutes.  I took the elevator down and nearly dashed 
out the front entrance.  I didn't know when they would arrive.

	They didn't take very long to get there, and when they did, they 
arrived in numbers.  And in force.  Watching from a rooftop two blocks 
away, I saw how seriously they took me.  Literally hundreds of striped 
troops converged on the building.  They would search it from top to 
bottom, no doubt, tapping everyone in the building with their rods in a 
vain attempt to get a lead on me.  Well, let them spend all the time 
and effort they wanted; they could use the exercise.

	That evening Wata tried to engage me in conversation.  "You've 
assumed the role of a peaceman now," he said.

	"Oh, is that what they call them?" I said innocently, feeling the 
stripe along my waist.

	"You're going to be caught sooner or later.  Everyone is.  You 
might as well give yourself up.  It's for your own good." said Wata.  I 
think he was trying to play the role of my friend now.  Previous taunts 
were being overlooked for the greater good, getting clinical help for 
poor old me.

	"I should accept processing?" I said.  "No thanks.  I'd rather be 
in jail."

	"Incarceration?" Wata frowned.  "Why?  Why wouldn't you want the 
peace and harmony of correct thinking?"

	"Correct thinking," I chuckled.  "Listen to yourself.  Where I 
come from there are many ways of thinking.  People are allowed to think 
for themselves."

	"Chaos!  Anarchy!  Crime must be-"

	"A problem.  Well, yes, to a degree.  People can think anything 
they like, but if their thoughts led to actions that harm others, well, 
then, we draw the line, and apprehend them.  But your society engages 
in total thought control.  Look at your poor D's!"

	"The D's are happy," said Wata.

	"The D's are programmed to be happy.  They're not human beings, 
they're robots!"  Wata's attitude disgusted me.  I wondered if would he 
like to become a D.

	"But... what would they do with more initiative?  Most D's are 
simple laborers.  They have no need for it," said Wata.

	"Need for it.  You mean, the state has no need for it."  I 
sighed.  Why was I bothering to argue with him?  This brainwashed 
sliver of a cortex didn't have any thoughts of his own.  "Do you know 
you've been hypnotized?  Processed?"

	"Yes, of course."  Wata said it matter of factly, as if it didn't 
bother him.

	"And you don't mind?"

	"Why should I?  It is for the good of society, and-"

	"You disgust me.  Go to sleep, Wata," I said, annoyed, as I 
rapidly clapped twice.  He instantly dropped into a slumber.  But I 
kept frowning.

	I was so irritated by our discussion that I tried to watch some 
broadcast transmissions to take my mind off of it.  I turned on the 
viewer, only to see a drama about C's who were working extra hard to 
increase their productivity.  Their B supervisors were pleased, and it 
all ended happily.

	I turned off the TV, and tried to get to sleep.  





	The next day I paid a visit to the local insane asylum.

	Of course, it wasn't called that.  It wasn't even called "Mental 
Hospital".  The title of the building I entered was "Rehomogenization 
Facility 102."  My ID was scanned at the desk, but I wasn't pestered 
with any irksome questions. I was a peaceman, again, only this time 
with a valid ID.  Valid IDs would no longer be a problem, as long as I 
was a copper; I had a long list of current ones I had recorded when I 
had accessed the police terminal.

	I walked along the corridors of the facility, carrying my 
peaceman's rod.  The rod, I had also discovered, could be used to fire 
a paralyzing field, simply by squeezing the handle.  Very neat.

	I heard a high pitched whine coming from a room to the right.  I 
know I shouldn't have looked,  but I did.

	It was a conveyor belt of bodies.  They were all face down, but 
their faces were turned to the side, and I could see an idiotic smile 
on their face.  But what repulsed me the most was the machine above 
them.  Every time the conveyor belt moved forward, a body moved into 
position underneath it.  Then, with lightning quick speed, a laser 
burst out of the mechanism, cutting into the upper neck of the patient.  
And then a mechanical arm came close and inserted something into the 
victim.  The victims were so drugged up that they didn't even scream.

	But I wanted to; I had a fair idea what was happening here.  
These poor fools were being fitted with mind control units.  That's 
what they could do to me if I were captured.  That could be me lying on 
the table there, the beam cutting into my skin, the alien device being 
inserted into my mind, probing, controlling....   My stomach heaved, 
and I felt queasy; I grabbed my waist, and leaned against a wall.  

	"Can we help you?" said a C, smiling at me.

	I whirled about.  There were two C's, standing by the door.

	I immediately stood straight, ignoring my discomfort.  "This 
procedure...."  I was at a loss for words.

	"We are helping integrate citizens into society," said a C, 
smiling at me.  "These people had a difficult time adjusting.  But now 
they'll fit in very well."

	I wanted to bash his face in.  My first instinct was to blast 
those C's, wreck the machinery, and free those poor victims.

	But I had a job to do, and I couldn't risk myself.  

	I can't risk myself.  I'm too important to risk myself.  I can't, 
I can't.  I kept telling myself that.  Wordlessly, I marched from the 
room.

	I shouldn't have gone into the next room either, but there were 
no doors, and I couldn't help but see what was going on.  This was 
obviously the post operative ward.  Citizens were jerking, just 
wandering aimlessly, until a voice in the wall said, "Sit."

	They all sat.

	"Obey the master," said the voice.

	They repeated it.

	I had seen this all before, and I forced myself to move on.  This 
is what they wanted to do to me.  This is what they would do to me if 
they captured me.  I self consciously rubbed the back of my neck.

	I must have entered a C ward next, for the next thing I saw was a 
large room full of people being injected.  They stood there, dully in 
line, as a technician shot something into their arms.  Suddenly, one of 
them jumped out of line and yelled incoherently, "No, no!  Fuck, fuck, 
fuck!  I have to wash my hands!  I have to wash my hands! Jail! Jail!"

	I was surprised to see that this was not a resistor, but a newly 
inoculated patient.  He was a large man, with big pouting lips, and he 
was now running around wildly in circles, waving his hands in the air.

	"He's having a negative reaction," said an orderly.  "Prepare to 
wipe him clean again."  Several orderlies grabbed the fellow.

	"No! No!  Hands!  Hands!  Jail!  Jail!" The man shrieked.  But 
they held him down, and injected him with something else.  He slumped, 
unconscious.  A small trail of drool flowed out of his mouth onto the 
padded floor.

	I winced inwardly.

	"Happy day."

	I turned, to look into the face of a B who stood behind me.  Had 
I shown any negative emotion?

	"Happy day," I smiled.

	"Can I help you, peaceman?" said the B.  "My name is Banta.  I am 
the director of this complex."

	"Pleased to meet you," I smiled.  "I am Dulhead.  I am looking 
for one," I looked down at a piece of paper, "B-8392857362."

	"Ah, Banner," said the B.  "You'll find our patient in the B 
wing.  Follow me, please."  He escorted me down the hall.  "May I ask 
why you wish to see our patient?"

	"Peaceman business," I said.  "He is an unadjusted, you know."

	"Yes... so he was," said Banta.

	I didn't like the sound of that; had I arrived too late?

	I was brought to a small room.  When I entered I saw what must 
have been Banner.

	Banner smiled up at me.  "How may I help you, citizen?"

	I was surprised; Banner was a woman.  I hadn't known that before.  
She was slim but well proportioned, and had long straight hair brown 
that went down her back.  In other circumstances she might've been 
pretty.  But then I stared into his eyes.  They were empty, vacant 
things.  I had arrived too late.  I abruptly turned to go.

	"Leaving so soon?" said Banta.  "I thought you wanted to see 
Banner."  There was something in his mood, something I couldn't put my 
finger on, that put me on guard.

	"Ah, yes," I said.  "I forgot something in my vehicle."  I 
started to turn the corner.  

	And almost ran into five peacemen.  All with their rods aimed at 
me.

	"Happy day," I said, smiling.

	"It is a happy day," said Banta.  "We have you caught, alien."

	I raised my rod in one smooth motion.  But I couldn't be quicker 
than a trigger grip.  One of them fired, and there was a loud noise, 
and I noticed, with some shock, that I was incapable of moving.  I was 
frozen in place.

	Move, muscles, move.  I tried to jerk my arms, my legs.  But I 
wasn't going anywhere.

	"You may be wondering how you were caught, clever alien," smiled 
Banta.  "We were alerted that you might be coming here.  When central 
control realized exactly which false ID you used to access our systems, 
we simply examined the files you looked for.  When control noticed your 
examination of the Banner file, they arranged to greet you here."

	I had been outthought.  I hadn't considered that my research 
would be recorded.  And now I was caught.  My hand was still on my rod, 
my hand on the trigger grip.  If I could just move it a few inches....

	Banta reached into down and took the rod from my limp hand.  
"Central Command is sending a convoy for you within the hour.  In the 
interim, we'll do our best to make you comfortable."  He brought his 
face next to mind.  "You'll soon know the peace of mind and happiness 
that comes from conversion," he said.

	I tried to growl something defiant, but my vocal cords weren't 
working.

	And then, to my horror, one of the peacemen came forward, staff 
in hand.  He looked as if he was going to use it.  He brought the staff 
down on my shoulder.  I felt a tap, a tingling through my body, and 
then my mind ceased functioning.



Chapter 7



	"Thank you," I felt myself say.  Suddenly I felt a surge of 
happiness.  I smiled.  There were nice people all around me.

	The nice people led me away.  I found that I walked uncertainly, 
though I didn't understand why.  But gradually walking got easier again 
and my friends were very patient with me.

	They took me to a room and had me lie down.  I obeyed, though my 
body was still clumsy; I wanted my new friends to like me.  When I lay 
down they put metal clamps over my arms and legs.  I didn't know why 
they did that.

	I saw a nice machine over me.  For a moment I had just a drop of 
apprehension, and then it faded, and I didn't even know what I had been 
thinking.  I just lay there, smiling.

	Part of the machine above me came down and touched my arm.  There 
was a slight hum, and I felt a little vibration over my body.  Then 
that part of the machine lifted away.



	And my mind returned to my control.  Suddenly I was thinking very 
clearly again.  I looked left and right.  A double pair of bodyguards, 
all armed.

	I sighed.  I had tried to deny it, but I knew it could have come 
to this.  I had been caught, just as the other Column agents had.  This 
had been bound to happen.  This would probably be the last few minutes 
of my life that I would be exercising independent thought.  The laser 
would stab out, and one of those control devices would be planted in my 
neck....

	But I was facing up, not down!  Whatever that machine above me 
was, it wasn't a control device implanter.  A small ray of hope 
pervaded me.

	"The alien returns to its unadjusted self," said a voice that I 
recognized as Banta's.  But I couldn't see him.  

	"Sorry if I don't get up," I said.

	"Apology accepted.  I'm actually not far from you, just a few 
feet away at the control panel here.  Your escort to control central 
will be arriving in just a few minutes.  Until then we should be making 
productive use of our time together, don't you think?"

	"Sure.  Productivity is my middle name."  Keep him talking.  As 
long as I had my mind, I had a chance.  I was still in the same 
clothes, though I think they had emptied my pouch of all its devices.  
But had they found my hidden pouch?

	"To begin, what is your name?" Banta asked.

	"Floppo the Clown," I said.

	Suddenly I heard a high pitched noise, and a beam stabbed out of 
the machine, hitting me in the shoulder.  I felt a terrible shock.

	"That is a lie.  Your real name, please."

	"Go jump in the river."

	The machine stabbed out again.  Only this time the pain didn't 
stop.  It kept coursing through my body, wracking it with pain.  I 
tried to scream, but I couldn't make a sound.	

	And then it stopped.  I gasped for breath.

	"Your name, please."

	"Clifford Croft," I gasped.

	"What is your mission here, Cliffordcroft?" said Banta.

	"I'm a traveling deodorant salesman," I snarled.

	And then the pain kicked in again.  It increased very quickly, 
stabbing into my body, and I felt a strong pain of nausea in my gut.  
And then the pain ceased, and I was gasping for breath again.  It took 
me a moment to realize that there were newcomers in the room.

	"What is happening here?" said a new voice.

	"I am attempting to extract information from the alien," came 
Banta's voice.

	"The orders were that nothing was to be done to the alien until 
he was at control," said the newcomer.  It had a voice of authority to 
it.

	"The alien is unharmed," said Banta, sounding a little 
uncomfortable.  

	"I see," said the newcomer.  "You must be punished, of course."

	"Of course," said Banta, in a resigned way.

	"Inform control that you are to log two hours in the agony 
field."

	"Yes... thank you."

	Thank you indeed!  My only wish was to have seen poor Banta 
serving his sentence.

	"You are welcome," came the voice.  Then, "Prepare this alien for 
travel."

	"Shall we put him to peace?" came a voice.

	"No.  That is a risk, however slight, and he must not be damaged, 
not before the receipt is signed for him," said the newcomer's voice.  
"Fetch a standard C preparation, 100% strength."

	"I have one right here."  Footsteps clattered in the distance.

	A standard C preparation!  That sounded like a drug.  This was 
it; this would probably be my last moments of free thought.  I tried to 
struggle as the hand with the air hypo came into vision, but the metal 
clamps had me thoroughly bound.

	And then the hypo was against my skin, and I heard a hiss.



	And then everything was all right.  I smiled gently.  My mind was 
cluttered; what was I doing here?

	A man smiled at me.  "Come with me, Cliffordcroft," he said, 
guiding me by the hand.

	My mind tried to assimilate this.  "Going?"

	"Yes, you are going, to meet new friends."

	"Hmmm, friends," I heard myself say.

	They led me outside.  There was a whole convoys of hovercars 
there, many of them filled with people.

	"Ooooh," I said, eyeing all the vehicles.  "For me?"

	The man did not respond.  He left my field of vision, but gentle 
hands escorted me into a small four seater hovercar.

	We had a nice drive through the countryside, and after a short 
time we reached a place with aircraft.  A lot of them.

	Helpful hands propelled me up an airplane's steps.

	"Go trip?" I said.

	"Yes, a nice one," I was assured.

	But I was sad to leave all my new friends.  Only a few were going 
with me.

	But I enjoyed the plane's takeoff, and I made vroom-vroom sounds 
as we sped off the runway into the air.  We were on a small plane, but 
I didn't mind that; a few of my friends sat about, some watching me, 
others looking out the window.

	I looked out the window.  There were clouds, nice clouds.

	Nice clouds.

	I blinked.  Clouds... I was in a plane.

	A plane.

	I blinked again.

	I had been captured by the Happy Worlder authorities.



	Suddenly, as if I had taken off a pair of colored glasses, 
everything looked normal to me again.  They had drugged me, and were 
now taking me to their Central Control.  Not a place that I would 
minded going to, though not exactly under these conditions.

	I looked about.  I was guarded, but not restrained in any way, 
not even by electrocuffs.  Why?

	They thought I was drugged!  They were so confident in their 
methods, so sure of their means, that they were certain that I was 
drugged.

	And I had been.  I dimly remembered that now.  What had happened?

	I rubbed a slightly sore part of my arm.  One of my captors 
looked sharply at me.  I smiled at him.  He smiled back.

	There were small bumps in my arm.

	Inoculations.  The inoculations had worked.

	The Column had tried to prepare me as best they could.  During my 
preparation process they had given me an experimental drug inoculants.  
Theoretically, if it worked, it was supposed to cancel out the effects 
of any mind altering drug.  Theory was fine, but at the time I had 
pooh-poohed it.

	But it had worked.  My mind was free, free!

	I decided to postpone the celebrations.  I was in the air, in a 
plane full of guards, and... I looked out the window.  There was even a 
fighter escort.  These people really went in for overkill.

	I casually looked about the cabin.  There were three... no, only 
four of them.  All armed with rods.  Great odds.

	But the odds would be even worse on the ground.  Once I was in 
their labs, I was sure, they would drain any free thoughts I might 
still have.  Therefore I must never reach their labs. Once on the 
ground I'm sure I would be surrounded by a large convoy whose job would 
be to ensure that I reached those labs.  Therefore this plane must not 
reach its destination.  I would have to turn this plane around.  

	I looked out the windows at one of the escorting fighters.	One 
of the peaceman cast a glance towards me.  

	"Nice plane!" I said, waving out the window to it.  Well, maybe I 
wouldn't be able to turn things around so quickly.  First things first.  
Time to take control of the plane.

	I gradually let my smile fade, and then turned it into a frown.

	"Is something the matter?" said a peaceman.

	"Have go bathroom," I said.

	The peaceman nodded, and lifted me by the arm, out of the seat.  
I noticed that he left his rod in his seat.  That wasn't part of my 
plan.

	The washroom was in the rear of the plane.  He opened the door to 
the tiny compartment for me.

	But I just looked confused.  "Have... have go bathroom," I said.

	The peaceman's smile was beginning to wane, but he sighed, 
resigning himself to the inevitable.  He bent down to open my trousers-

	and got a knee in the face for his troubles.  And a good karate 
chop on the back of the neck; I wasn't feeling in a charitable mood.  
It was done silently, quickly, in the space of a few seconds.

	I slowly made my way back to the front of the plane, putting my 
best dumb look on.

	"Where is Rau?" said one of the peaceman.  He was referring to my 
escort, no doubt.

	I frowned, as if I was concentrating.  "Man... back there."

	The peaceman looked at each other.  "I'd better check," said one, 
getting up.  He left his rod in his seat.  Right next to me.

	He started to walk past me.  As he did so I picked up the rod by 
its proper end and tapped him with it.  He smiled, and slumped to the 
ground.

	The other two peacemen were surprised.  They had assumed I was 
helpless.  But instinct took over and they grabbed for their weapons.

	Before they had done so I tapped a second one.  And then there 
was only one left.

	We were too close to each other to use the projectile part of the 
rod.  Instead we battled it out, each trying to touch the other.  He 
swung his rod up to me, and I parried.  I swung mine across him, and he 
blocked it with his rod.  Then he sent a strong shove that pushed me to 
the ground.  He whirled his rod down with amazing speed, and I parried, 
just barely missing the rod's touch.

	It became a contest of strength as he pushed his weapon down 
against mine.  I saw the edge of his weapon getting closer and closer 
to my shoulder.  It was only a few inches apart, and closing....

	And then I kicked up with my right leg, getting the peaceman in 
the knee.  He howled, and let up for a second.  I pushed his rod back, 
and tapped his hand.

	He smiled, slowly dropping the rod.  "Thank you," he said.

	"It's quite all right, you needed that, I could tell," I said, 
sweating profusely as I got up.  Next stop:  the cockpit.

	The pilots all became very friendly after just a few moments.  
They were really quite a fun bunch.  Unfortunately, they also lost any 
interest they might have had in flying this plane.  I dragged one of 
them out of his seat, and rapidly familiarized myself with the 
controls.

	Then the radio crackled.  "43, prepare for autolanding.  Repeat, 
prepare for autolanding."

	I saw that the autopilot was engaged. I had a quick impulse to 
turn it off.  And then I looked out the window at the fighters to the 
side.  That wasn't a viable option.

	We closed on the landing strip.  I could see that we were close 
to a modern installation of some sort.  Central Control?  Probably.  
Security would undoubtedly be tight.  Very tight.

	I could see several hovercraft full of troops below by the 
landing strip.  Just waiting for me.  I was flattered, naturally.

	"Think fast, Croft," I muttered to myself, as I felt the wheels 
start to grind against the ground.  We were landing.

	Then I had an idea.  I went back to the passenger section, and 
took the hypnodevice off the belt of one of the peacemen. I turned to 
one of the guys on the ground. "All right, who here would like to be me 
for an hour?"



	The plane touched down, and a stairwell was rolled up against the 
lock.  The door opened, and I emerged.  Several hundred Happy Worlders, 
some armed with rifles, some with rods, were standing at attention.  
This mindless honor guard wasn't exactly a morale booster.  I briefly 
went inside, and then led one of the peacemen, by hand, down the steps.

	At the bottom of the stairs I was shocked to see the most 
beautiful woman I had ever seen.

	Well, maybe I should amend that.  The most beautiful woman I had 
ever seen on this planet.  Most of the women on this world, like most 
of the men, were mindless drones who seemed only half alive.

	But this woman was definitely very alive.  A brunette, with long 
flowing hair and piercing green eyes, she stared at me with vivid 
intellect.  And she was wearing a midnight black uniform, with a solid 
A in the corner.  What's more, she didn't wear a number.

	I flinched a little under her gaze, but apparently that was 
expected.  She shifted her gaze to the peaceman I had brought with me.

	"I am Thalessa," she said, as if that should mean something. 
"This is the one?" she asked, appraising the person impersonating me 
with her eyes.  Her gaze was hard and stern, and her voice carried a 
strong air of authority, with an unspoken expectation of immediate 
obedience.

	"Yes," I said mildly.

	"The great Clifford Croft," she said, saying my name correctly.  
"We have heard a great deal about you, Mr. Croft.  My name is Thalessa.  
I am the Chief Programmer of this planet."

	She paused, waiting for a reaction.  Then she frowned.  Evidently 
that was a privilege permitted A's.  She turned to an aide.  "Is this 
the right one?"

	The aide rapidly read off the numbers on the peaceman license 
plate and compared them to ones on his electronic stylus.  "Yes, 
Mistress."

	She nodded.  "Well, Mr. Croft, do you have anything to say?"

	Slowly, the B spoke.  "Thank you," he said, smiling gently.

	Thalessa turned sharply to me.  "What has been done to him?"

	"He became unruly on the plane, Mistress," I said, recoiling 
under that gaze.  "We had to calm him," I said, indicating the rod I 
held.

	Thalessa took a stick out of her belt, adjusted a setting, and 
touched it to the captive.  There was a hum, and then the peaceman 
expression changed, his gaze grew less dreamy, more concrete.  Oh oh.

	"Welcome, Mr. Croft," said Thalessa.

	"...Croft?" said the captive.

	"He's still under the influence of the C preparation, Mistress," 
I said.

	"Quiet!" she barked.  She turned back to Croft.  "I am... 
disappointed.  This does not seem like a bold offworld spy."

	"...I am Clifford Croft," said the peaceman dully.

	I had anticipated this.  Though I hadn't had much time to prepare 
for it, I had attempted to ready "Clifford Croft" as best I could.  I 
crossed my fingers, hoping the hypnoinstruction would hold for just a 
little while longer.  Was it good enough to fool the Mistress?

	"Yes, I know who you are," she frowned, turning to me.  "You are 
certain this is the one?"

	"Yes, Mistress," I said, wilting under that glance.  I tried to 
look meek, and managed it with little effort.  "His number confirms 
it."

	"Hm, we will see," she said. "Take him," she said, turning away.

	This was one smart cookie.  She was already starting to unravel 
part of my deception.  It was time to get out of here.  I turned back 
to the plane.

	"Halt!" I heard.  I had no choice; I slowly turned.  My heart 
pounded heavily in my chest.  They had figured me out; I wouldn't be 
allowed to escape.

	"Where are you going?" she said.  She looked sharply at me, and I 
just wanted to melt right then and there.

	"Back to my jurisdiction, Mistress," I said.

	She snapped her fingers.  "Refuel their plane, and send them on 
their way."  And then she turned away, and was gone.



Chapter 8



	I know I took more than one sigh of relief when the plane took 
off.  It had been close, entirely too close for my comfort.  They 
almost had me.   I had toyed with the idea of flying the plane to 
another jurisdiction, but in such an organized society I would have 
been willing to bet that any deviation from flight plan would have 
earned me a special reception at the landing strip.

	So I let the plane take me back to the city we had come from.  I 
sat there, idly watching the instruments, half monitoring the progress 
of the flight, half lost in my own thoughts.

	And then I saw a shadow fall over a section of the 
instrumentation.  If it had been a large, sudden darkening of my view, 
I would have become instantly alarmed, even in my distracted state.  
But all I noticed, or rather half noticed, was the outline of a small, 
thin shape, like a piece of a long cylinder, maybe, falling over the 
instruments.  And then the shadow started moving.  Quickly.

	That caught my attention.  I was rolling out of the chair 
instinctively, even before I realized the nature of the threat.  Out of 
the corner of my eye I saw a rod come crashing down on the cockpit 
seat.

	They say that every reaction has a reaction, and I wasn't the one 
to disappoint such a tried and true theory.  I was lashing out, kicking 
my opponent in the knees, almost even before I realized what I was 
doing.  Fine thing, that instinct.

	My assailant screamed, and fell to the floor.  Unfortunately his 
rod came crashing down as well, and I involuntarily closed my eyes as I 
saw it fall on me.

	Eyes open.  The rod was perched, inches above me, wedged between 
the seat and the instrumentation.  The plane was shaking, causing the 
rod to roll back and forth precariously in its awkward position.

	Slowly, gingerly, I maneuvered out of that situation, my eyes 
never leaving the rod above me.  I have heard of contests where people 
walked under a rod, to music, trying to get by it without touching it.  
Quite a lighthearted party affair.  But somehow joyous thoughts were 
not passing through my mind as I wiggled out of that position.  When I 
had gotten free I grabbed the rod by its proper handle.

	My friend the assailant was still crying on the floor.  He looked 
up at me, his face a mask of pain and hatred.

	"There there," I said.  "I know what you want, my friend."   And 
I tapped him with the rod.  Well, wouldn't you know it, a smile 
replaced the frown, and he put on a happy face.  "Thank you," he said, 
tears still streaming out of his eyes.

	"What are friends for?" I said, dragging him out of the cockpit.

	In a very short time the plane came into position for landing.  I 
did more than a bit of fingerbiting when the plane touched down; this 
would be the time when I would be the most vulnerable.  If they had 
discovered my deception by now, then they would be waiting for me.

	But they weren't; there were only two C mechanics at the tarmac, 
who tried to board the plane as I got off.  I still wasn't quite ready 
to have my handiwork discovered yet, so I welcomed them into the plane 
with two taps from my rod and they joined the other smiling sleeping 
beauties in the passenger section, who, I discovered, needed to be 
tapped periodically to maintain the effect of the happy stupor.

	I then made my way back to the apartment.  Madness, you say?  My 
handiwork at the police station had been discovered, but there was no 
reason to believe that my apartment hideout had been discovered. 

	But still I entered cautiously, my blaster at the ready (all my 
captured equipment had been aboard the plane).  But everything was all 
right; Wata, my gagged friend, was still sitting, gagged, in his chair.  
The poor thing, he must've been hungry; he hadn't been fed in over a 
day.

	"Mmmgh!" he said through his gag.

	"I had a hard day at work, I'll feed you later," I said, clapping 
twice.  Then I collapsed into bed.

	When I woke up, I fed Wata and myself (in reverse order, 
actually), and I turned on the local news.  To little surprise, I was 
the top item.

	"A dangerous alien is at loose, and he is believed to be in this 
region.  Report all suspicious activities to the peacemen.  A reward of 
20,000 prestige points is now being-"

	I whistled; I was now worth 20,000 prestige points.  And with 
that and a shuttle token I could go into orbit.  I grinned.

	"-the alien operates under a variety of identification numbers.  
He can be identified by his appearance-" and then they showed a picture 
of my face.

	I whistled.  Now they were getting sophisticated.  But what 
stunned me the most was what came next.

	"And now we have a personal message for the alien.  From the 
Mistress herself, Thalessa."

	The Chief Programmer's face came onto the screen.  I gasped; she 
seemed to be staring straight at me.  "Mr. Croft," she said.  "I was 
delighted to meet you.  We had a little misunderstanding at the 
spaceport, but I'm sure all that will be cleared up the next time you 
pay us a visit.  Give yourself up now.  You will not escape.  Sooner or 
later, you will be caught again."  She paused, and then some thought 
made Thalessa smile.  "Probably sooner, rather than later."     She 
seemed to be enjoying the prospect.  On that note the picture slowly 
faded.

	So she thought she would catch me.  Ha!  She obviously didn't 
know who she was up against.  I was the best infiltrator there was.  
And yet I felt a chill.  I had been outthought once.  It could happen 
again.  Perhaps I should leave now.  I had gathered a lot of 
information about this planet; surely A.A. would be satisfied.

	I realized I was lying to myself.  A.A. wouldn't be satisfied; I 
wouldn't be satisfied.  I had been sent here to investigate the Happy 
people's illicit technology transfer operation.  So far I hadn't even 
come close to accomplishing my mission.

	I thought about that for a while as I chomped on a piece of hard 
bread.  I stayed up half the night, my mind whirring with activity.  I 
wrote up a detailed plan of action.

	The following morning I tore it up.  These people weren't that 
stupid.  Correction:  these people were that stupid.  But Thalessa 
wasn't.  She was the one I had to outthink.

	I started from scratch again, staying at it for the entire day, 
but by the evening I had precious little to show for it.  Wata would 
periodically moan to be freed, rudely interrupting my line of thought.  
I would applaud him to sleep, but he would just wake up again, a few 
hours later.  It wasn't until the evening that I got an inspiration.

	Once I did, I started writing, and rapidly at that.  I spent the 
rest of the evening studying the plan, critiquing it, examining every 
angle.  Then I realized it could work.  It was dangerous, but it could 
work.



	The next morning I reentered society.  Things were a bit trickier 
now; I had to disguise my appearance.  I had cut my hair shorter, and 
combed it a different way, and changed its color, just for good 
measure.  But that wasn't all.  I had unearthed the preciously small 
supply of plastiskin that I had brought with me to this planet.  I 
widened my nose, and added a bit of flesh under my chin, suggesting 
just a touch of obesity.  Taken apart these were small measures, but 
together... they wouldn't fool anyone who was very familiar with my 
good looks.  I felt certain that it would not fool Thalessa.  But I 
didn't need to fool Thalessa.  Just a bunch of dumb B's, C's and D's.  
My disguise would be more than adequate.

	But still, I was a little unnerved when I made my way to the 
street.

	There were pictures of me.  Everywhere.  On all the public 
bulletin boards, in all the stores.  Even holographic images on the 
street signs.  I had the sudden impulse to turn around and go back to 
my apartment.

	But I resisted it; I would have to go out sometime.  I went and 
made a few minor purchases in the B food store, and then I went to the 
apartment complex across the street.  There was a helpful directory 
just inside the foyer, and I copied down the number of one of the B 
residents, as well as his apartment number.  When I went upstairs and 
reached his door, I changed the numbers on my license plate to match 
his, and his door let me in.  The B was out, as I expected; most 
citizens worked on a day shift.

	And then I went to his terminal.

	I needed two things:  first, a reliable source of information.  
And second, a source of information that couldn't be traced back to me.  
Once I had gotten what I needed from this terminal, I would leave this 
apartment, never to return.  The original occupant would have no reason 
to believe that anyone had been here.  I could have used the terminal 
in Wata's apartment, but if it were ever traced to its source, the 
peacemen would know where to find me.

	I collected a number of tidbits, some of which were quite useful.  
This B's terminal was not like the police terminal; it didn't offer 
access to 'classified' information (which was just about anything of 
value on this world), but nonetheless it offered some information that 
I found helpful.  one of my prizes was a list of ordinary B and C ID's 
from a local directory.  Unfortunately none of them were police ID's, 
which would have been better.  But I now had a list of safe ID's I 
could use.  I had decided to become an ordinary B, having shucked my 
police uniform.  My association with the peacemen was still too 
strongly fixed in the minds of the authorities, and until I found safe 
ID's to use again, I would stay an ordinary B.

	And then there was some less directly useful information I had 
discovered.  One tidbit led me to a surgical supply house, where I 
bullied some C's into contributing to my supply of face-altering 
cosmetics.  Another trail led to a government warehouse, where I used 
similar means to obtain cans of concentrated food.  B food, that is; 
cans of noodles, plain juice and the like.  I carried those back to the 
apartment.

	And then I acquired a few other odds and ends.  The citizens on 
the street didn't seem to take notice of me, and I managed to avoid the 
few police sweeps I came near.  I switched my identities constantly, 
and usually walked in the streets as a C; for this way if I was given a 
drug 'reinforcement', I would not be affected for very long.  Though I 
had no way of knowing how long my anti-drug inoculation would last, it 
was a sure bet that I would be less vulnerable to drugs than 
hypnocubes.

	But the big payoff came when I went to the public works division 
of this municipality.  There I had to deal with a B, and that was my 
toughest job of the day.

	I had elected to rank myself as a B as well, so we would be on at 
least equal footing.  I met the manager in the lobby, where there was a 
hustle and bustle of C's moving around, servicing heavy machinery.

	"What can I do for you, my friend?" said the B, smiling at me.

	I took one look at that moronic smile, and I was nearly tempted 
to say 'Bend over so I can give you a swift boot where it will do the 
most good."  But instead I stuck with the script.  "I'd like access to 
your database," I said.  "I'm doing a land survey for the government, 
and I need some information."  I smiled at him stupidly.  It seemed the 
appropriate thing to do.

	"Certainly," said the B, stepping forward, as he lifted a hand 
scanner.  "If I may just check your ID."

	Oh my.  Unless the particular ID I wore was involved in this sort 
of business, I was about to be caught.

	I moved closer to him, pushing the scanner away.  "You can't do 
that," I whispered, getting close to him.

	"Why not?" said the B, looking puzzled.

	I looked around.  "I'm actually a peaceman, assigned on a special 
mission.  Is there a private place we can talk for a moment?"

	"Certainly," said the B, leading me into a little room.  I closed 
the door behind me.  "Have a seat," I said, gesturing to a chair.

	He sat down.  "What's this all about, citizen?" he said.

	"It has to do with an energy source," I said.

	"Energy?"  The citizen was puzzled.

	"It's quite shocking.  You see... wait, let me show you.  Perhaps 
a demonstration will be decisive."  And demonstrate I did, shooting him 
with my blaster.  He didn't fall, as I had been kind enough to have him 
seated, but he did sort of slump.

	I took out my hypnocube.  I was operating on a theory.  There was 
no way that I, an amateur, could circumvent his hypnotically imposed 
loyalty to the state.  But I had learned that B's would obey hypnotic 
instruction that didn't conflict with their basic programming.  
Programming.  I shivered, thinking about Thalessa.  But then I snapped 
out of it, and got down to work.

	I told the B that he when he awoke, he would remember nothing of 
what had happened, and he dutifully repeated it several times before I 
was satisfied.  If he did somehow snap out of it, all the authorities 
would know is that I had accessed his database; but they wouldn't know 
what it was I had looked up.  

	There was a terminal in the room.  I logged on, and the screen 
scanned my ID.  My sleeping friend's ID.  As I've mentioned before, if 
my little visit here was traced, they wouldn't be able to distinguish 
between the information I had searched for, and the normal use of the 
terminal on the part of my sleeping friend.  I was correct in my 
assumption that this terminal had greater access than the one in the 
apartment, and I quickly punched out a series of maps and diagrams.  I 
also punched out another series of ID's which could be useful to me 
later.  After a little bit more of tap tapping on the keyboard my work 
was completed.  I signed off the terminal, and went to the door.   I 
looked at my sleeping friend, and then clapped twice.  He started to 
stir, and I quickly ran out the door.  Once I was in view of the 
laboring C's outside I slowed my pace, and walked to the exit.  It was 
that simple.

	But I wasn't done yet; that night, I returned to perform a 
mission of stealth.  The place was dark, and abandoned; there wasn't 
even a night guard.  Good.  I took out my power source scanner, one of 
the few instruments that had survived my trip to this planet.  I swept 
for alarm circuit, but only found one, connected to the lock.  Good.

	The electrolock was simple, I could have picked it even if I 
hadn't had special equipment.  This public works division simply wasn't 
considered a classified area.  Which was fine by me.

	I went through the machinery, picking what I wanted:  a laser 
drill, a few odds and ends, and... a fair supply of explosives.  I 
loaded them up in a stolen car I had appropriated earlier in the day, 
and then closed everything up, leaving no traces of my forced entry.

	Except for the missing equipment.  In such an orderly society, 
stealing must be quite a rarity, so the lost equipment would almost 
certainly be attributed to my efforts.  This would start the 
authorities thinking just what it was I was going to do with a laser 
drill and a pack of explosives, a line of inquiry I did not want them 
to trouble their little brainwashed minds with.  

	But, fortunately for me, none of the equipment I had taken was 
stolen.  Or rather, the public works department's inventory would not 
register them as stolen; in fact, the inventory would never register 
them at all.  I had erased the listings of the tools I had taken from 
the inventory that afternoon.  In effect I was stealing equipment that 
no longer existed in their records.  I patted myself on the back for a 
job well done, put the equipment with the other supplies I had stolen, 
and went home.

	"They will find you, sooner or later," said Wata, when I ungagged 
him for dinner.

	"So you keep telling me," I smiled.

	"I advise you to give yourself up," said Wata.  "They've already 
almost caught you once."

	I jerked.  "How did you know that?"

	"I heard it when you were watching the broadcast."

	"Oh."  I said.  I paused.  "Sorry, Wata, my old friend, but I 
can't do that."  I didn't see any need to tell him that he would in 
fact be a free man in two days time.  I went to bed.



	The next morning, bright and early, I went underground.  Quite 
literally.  I had searched the public works database for maps of the 
sewer system, and through scrutinizing them I had found what I was 
looking for.  Along with the sewer system were a maze of little service 
tunnels that served as conduits for most of the electrical wiring in 
the city.  Shortly after dawn I was in one of them, zapping away at a 
wall with my laser drill.  At one point I came to a large boulder, and 
blasted it away with some of the explosives I had taken.  The ground 
shook around me, and it was a little surprising that the police station 
above me did not send men down to investigate.

	Or  perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all.  For the police 
station had yesterday received a duly official message, over the 
terminal system, that the public works authority was repairing the 
tunnel system underneath the station.  When they heard the sounds of 
work, it would just confirm what they already knew.  I guess they had 
very little curiosity about it, for they never did send anyone to 
investigate.

	And that was fine; I didn't mind working without disruptions.  
But I smiled a little after every explosion.  I could imagine the 
peacemen being jolted by every blast.  I chuckled softly as I set the 
next charge.  

	After a continuous day of work, I was done.  It had been a lot of 
work, but it was complete.  The excavation work, at least.  Next came 
the shopping, and that took another day.  

	I was nearly exhausted when I was done, but satisfaction swelled 
in me.  I decided to go home to sleep one last night in the apartment.  
I was just approaching the grounds of the apartment building when I 
caught some movement out of the corner of my eye.  There was some 
rustling in the bushes.  I immediately stopped, and, yawning, felt 
inside my bulky suit as if I had forgotten something.

	And I took the opportunity to casually look around.  Now I could 
see that the entire grounds were surrounded by troops.  They had 
somehow discovered Wata.  They had discovered him, and set a trap for 
me.  

	I thought quickly.  Either they had spotted me, or they hadn't.

	If they had, there was nothing I could do about it; I simply was 
not going to get away. If I hadn't been discovered, and I suddenly 
turned around, to walk away, that would look suspicious.

	I entered the apartment building, conscious of all the eyes that 
must have been on me.  The lobby was virtually empty, except for a lone 
B sitting in a corner; obviously, whatever surprise was in store must 
be waiting for me in my room.

	I yawned for a moment, as I waited for an elevator to come.  I 
could feel the eyes of the B in the lobby.  I heard him mumble 
something softly.  They were getting ready to close the trap.

	The elevator came.  I got into it, and pressed the button for my 
floor.  I saw the B mumble something, perhaps "he's going up".  Then as 
the elevator doors closed I darted out, and shot the B with my blaster.

	I spent a precious minute changing the numbers on my license 
plate, and then changing my facial appearance.  It didn't matter what I 
looked like, as long as I looked like someone else, anyone else, than 
the person who had just entered the building.  Then I calmly walked out 
of the apartment lobby.

	I hoped I wouldn't be recognized.

	I hoped that the troops were thinking I was on the way up to my 
apartment building.

	I hoped I would have enough time to get away.

	I would immediately know when my ruse had ceased to work.  The 
troops would all come running out, there would be a blaster bolt, 
and... I would wake up with an adjusted mind.

	I walked silently on the hard plasticrete walkway, towards my 
car.  I heard the gentle hissing of the Gazoota, a predatory nightbird 
that commonly left deposits the size of golf balls in public places.  
The strong illumination from lightposts on the walkway played over me 
as I walked.  I had a great temptation to look back.  I ignored it.

	I kept walking.

	I heard a sound.

	I kept walking.

	I heard several sounds.

	Just as I had reached my stolen hovercar, all the troops came 
running out of the bushes.  	Towards me.

	I got in, gunned the engine, and got out of there.  

	They followed.  An entire convoy of vehicles raced after me.  I 
looked back, watching my pursuers.

	They were closing, fast. Breathing heavily, I gunned the engine 
to maximum potential.   The wind whipped through my hair and the engine 
groaned.  I raced down the road, and they followed, sirens blaring all 
the way.

	"Clifford Croft."

	I almost jumped.  There was a vehicle, almost right behind me.  
One of many.  And this one had an ugly gun mounted on it.  One of the 
passengers stood up, with an amplifier to his mouth.

	"Clifford. Croft, please press four."

	I nodded obligingly as I put my foot to the accelerator.  I was 
already at top speed.  Then I happen to glance at the vis receptor, and 
saw the numbers.  I pushed 4.

	The face of the passenger in the other vehicle came on my screen.  
"Clifford. Croft," he said.

	"How do you do," I said, looking at the road ahead.  They hadn't 
set up roadblocks, not yet.  But I couldn't outrun them, that was 
clear.  What was I going to do?

	"Clifford. Croft, you must surrender," said the man.

	"Says who?" I said, stalling for time.  There was a branch in the 
road.  One direction seemed to go further into the city; the other, out 
of it.  I would have a better chance of escaping outside of the city, 
if only I could outrun them.  But I couldn't, not with a whole 
battalion of the regular army in speedy pursuit vehicles, right behind 
me.  I chose to go further into the city.  It would be easier to trap 
me, and yet, perhaps I would have a chance to escape that I wouldn't 
otherwise.  If only I could get unseen to the place I had prepared....

	"Clifford Croft, you must surrender, or we will open fire," said 
the man.

	"Your orders are to capture me alive," I said, trying to stall.  
At least, that's what I hoped their orders were.  Buildings zoomed by 
on either side as I zipped into the city.

	My last remark seemed to cause the man to pause.  Good.  I had 
made an accurate guess.

	Suddenly, I looked up at the road.

	There was a roadblock, straight ahead.

	Two hovercars were just moving into position.  In a split second 
I had to make a decision what to do.  I pressed the accelerator for all 
it was worth.

	As a child I had often played in hoverbuggies.  These were small 
carts at amusement parks that floated above the ground.  Kiddies could 
and did bump into other hoverbuggies, smacking into each other for all 
their hearts content.  It was all great fun.

	My eyes narrowed.  The hovercars in blockade mode were still 
airborne.

	Still, it was quite a jolt when my aircar slammed into the 
blockade.  For a second there was resistance, and I was rudely jolted 
in my seat.  But then I was moving forward again, and I saw that the 
hovercars had been pushed out of the way.  My car, though still 
operable, wasn't in the best shape; but as I glanced back I saw that 
the blockading force would be needing some body work on their own 
vehicles.

	Unfortunately, I had also cleared the way for my pursuers.

	"That was very destructive," the man on my screen chided me.

	I didn't respond, but instead turned down a narrow street.

	Suddenly I heard a whine, and looked in my rearview mirror.  They 
were firing at me!

	"Hey, no firing, must take me alive remember?" I said.

	The firing ceased, for a moment.  But then a cold female voice 
came over the channel.  "If he resists, disable his vehicle.  Use 
whatever means necessary."

	A chill went down my back.  I recognized that voice.

	"Yes, Mistress," said the man, and he barked orders to the side.  
They opened fire again on me.

	To be more precise, they were firing at my car.   They were 
aiming for the rear, where many of the engine components were housed.  
Several of their hits started to score and I had a feeling that my 
journey in this particular vehicle was about to come to an end.  

	I looked in my rear view mirror.  They were even firing with the 
large gun mounted on the aircar right behind me.

	My time for selecting options became even more limited as a large 
laser bolt hit the rear of my aircar.  Suddenly my driver's console 
flared up and my vehicle started to slow down.

	I looked about rapidly.  I was in a manufacturing district, a 
region of narrow streets.  But wait, what was that ahead, a tunnel?  
Yes, and it was labeled "Garbage disposal.  Caution, do not enter."

	With the last remaining power of the aircar, I entered, skidding 
past two garbage trucks that were unloading rubbish into the passage.  
The aircar skidded on the refuse and landed squarely into the large 
tunnel entrance.  But then the aircar slid down a steep chute.

	This was not too pleasing.  It could have been worse; the incline 
was at a 45 degree angle, so it was not a straight fall, but it was 
hardly enjoyable either.  But we, the aircar and I, stopped before we 
landed at the bottom, and the fall of the aircar was cushioned by 
mounds and mounds of rubbish below us.

	I was a little shaken up by the fall, but I quickly regained my 
senses.  "Well, I muttered, looking up at the entrance, "At least they 
won't be so quick to follow me down here."

	But before I got too busy congratulating myself I saw a flash, 
and I looked forward, down the rest of the chute.  The flashes were 
continuous, and every time they occurred, the pile of rubbish beneath 
the aircar moved down a little.

	"Oh oh," I said, getting a fairly good idea how the garbage was 
disposed of.  Maybe coming down this chute hadn't been such a good 
idea.

	This was a disintegrator.

	Zap!  The garbage level was moving lower now.

	I looked around at the smooth walls.  Climbing out would be 
impossible.

	Zap!  I could almost see the projector from here.

	Zap!  It blasted anything in the tunnel.  There would be no way 
to avoid its beam.

	Zap!  Well, at least they hadn't captured me.  Not that that was 
much consolation.

	Zap!  The mound of garbage between the hovercar and the projector 
was much smaller now.  I was almost in its range.

	Zap!  The light flickered off the smooth walls.  I frowned, 
staring intently.

	Zap!  There was a projection, on one of the walls.  I had just 
passed it.  I reached out trying to grab it...

	Zap!  The aircar was lowered from below me.  I was suspended by 
my grip on the projection.

	Zap!  More garbage fell down from above, pounding into me.  I 
kept my one-armed grip on the projection.  Looking below I was afforded 
an excellent view of the aircar, which had just been disintegrated.  No 
new garbage was being poured on me, thankfully, but I had an excellent 
view of the disintegrator.

	Zap!  If I lost my grip, I wouldn't be killed by the fall.  For 
whatever little that was worth.

	I felt my grip starting to weaken.



Chapter 9



	It's times like this, when I'm about to fall down and chute and 
be instantly killed by a garbage processor on an alien planet, that I 
begin to panic.  Oh, I know what you're thinking; I'm an accomplished 
agent, one of the best, all of which is quite true.  But I am also 
human, and a meaningless death at the unmerciful hands of a sanitation 
machine was almost more than I could bear.

	"Get a grip, get a grip!" I said, to myself.  I meant it quite 
literally, too, as I felt my hand loosening on the projection. I moved 
my feet up against the smooth walls, trying to find anything, anything 
which I could get a purchase on.  I felt around, without luck, until I 
probed upwards with my feet, and found a narrow ledge.

	I got a purchase on it just as my grip on the projection was 
about to give way.  It was a narrow ledge, just enough to stick my toes 
in, but combined with my grip on the handle it was enough to keep me 
steady.

	"Great," I said, looking down.  The zapper was still going apace.  
"So what do you do now, Clifford? Hang here for the next decade?  You'd 
make a lovely wall ornament."

	Wait a minute.  I looked closer at the projection that I held.  
This was no projection.

	It was a handle.

	Peering closely, I saw the outlines of a door.

	"Yes!" I cried.  I pushed at it, but it didn't budge.  With my 
free hand I felt around for the lock.  Yes, there it was.  It must be a 
route for workers who serviced the disintegrator when it was off line.   
I took my lockpick out of my bulky suit and started fiddling.

	Suddenly, my tentative purchase on the ledge gave way, and my 
legs fell off.  Only my firm grasp on the handle kept me from plunging 
into the disintegrator field.  I watched helplessly as my lockpick 
tumbled out of the lock, down into the bottom of the chute.

	Zap!

	Slowly I regained the purchase with the toes of my shoes.  I 
sighed, knowing that I didn't have any more lockpicks with me.  I felt 
around for my blaster, and was relieved to find it in its holster.

	But what now?  if I were to blast the door at this range I would 
get burned.  Certainly the recoil would send me falling into the chute.  
I sighed again, and leaned my free elbow against the door.

	The door slowly creaked inward.

	I must have finished unlocking it just as I stumbled.  With a 
feeling of great satisfaction, I pushed the door in and for the first 
time got a firm footing on the ledge.  I gave a sigh of relief as I 
took one last look down, now from a safe vantage point.

	Zaaaa...

	The machine stopped.  I waited a moment, just to be sure.  My 
pursuers had stopped the machine.  Some help that was to me now.

	It was time to leave.  Undoubtedly they would be down here in 
minutes, searching for me.

	Closing the door behind me, I climbed a rugged set of stairs in a 
poorly lit passage.  At one point the passage split, one way going up, 
the other way going right, but I heard the sounds of marching feet from 
the rightward passage.  I slowly but silently continued upwards.

	The stairs seemed to go on forever, and for a moment I wondered 
just where it was I was going.  But there were no sounds of people 
coming down from ahead of me, and that was a good sign.

	When I reached the top and opened the door I was nearly 
exhausted.  And for good reason.

	I was on the roof of a goodly tall building.

	Painting and puffing, I looked over the ledge.  It seemed the 
entire army had been called out, and they were scurrying about, here 
and there.  It wouldn't be a cinch to get through them, but somehow I 
felt the worst would be over.

	They would think I was dead.  They would find some remains of my 
aircar, perhaps, and they certainly wouldn't find me.  They would 
assume, quite logically, that I had been disintegrated.  The chase for 
me would be called off.

	I grinned.  Now the advantage was mine; I would no longer be 
chased and harried by the vast army of this planet.  The next time I 
struck the surprise would be mine, and it would be total.  All I needed 
to do now was hole up somewhere until they were convinced that I had 
perished in the garbage chute.

	Whistling a happy tune, I started walking towards the stairwell-

	when a squad of troops emerged.  "That's him!" one of them 
yelled.

	"Oh boy," I muttered under my breath.  My self congratulations 
had been a little premature.  I staggered across the large rooftop, 
with the others in pursuit.

	Staggered was the right word.  I was quite exhausted now; most of 
my strength had been worn out of me.  But when I reached the edge of 
the building there was nowhere else to run.  The next building over was 
about seven feet away.  If I'd been well rested, I could have leapt it, 
but I definitely couldn't manage it in my condition.  Definitely not.

	I halted at the edge, puffing and wheezing.  The squad, five of 
them by my count, slowed down to a walking pace.  They were casual now; 
there was no where else for me to run.

	"Halt!" I shouted, standing close to the edge.  "Or I'll jump!"

	I looked about.  They all seemed to be D's.  They kept coming. 

	"Halt!" said one of them.  I blinked.  One of them was a B.  The 
D's halted.  I gave a sigh of relief. 

	"Your orders are to take me alive," I said.  At least, that's 
what I thought.

	The B nodded.  He spoke a few words into a comlink.  That was 
unavoidable, I suppose.  Meanwhile I stood at the edge, gasping for 
breath.  Rest, rest, if only I could just have a few minutes to take a 
break.  I noticed the B's hand straying towards his holster.

	"Don't even think it," I said.  "If you stun me, I'll still fall 
over.  What would your precious Mistress do to you then, eh?"

	That arrested his hand motion, awfully quick.

	"We're only trying to help you," said the B, slowly edging 
closer.

	"That's far enough!" I snapped, looking down over the edge of the 
building.  Maybe I could jump that gap.

	But the B edged closer.  I could see that I wasn't going to be 
able to stall for very much longer.  Reinforcements should be arriving 
soon as well.

	"It's for your own good," said the B, coming even closer.

	"Somehow, I trust you not very much," I said, thinking intently.  
It was time to make a decision, but I just wasn't sure what to do.

	The B was nice enough to help me decide.  Seeing me distracted, 
he tried to rush me, and I instinctively jumped over the edge.

	But it wasn't a running jump, and I fell just a foot over the 
edge, not even coming close to the other building.  I screamed 
something like "Aiiiiieeeeeee" as I fell.  It seemed the appropriate 
thing to do.



Chapter 10



	I can only imagine how it was from their perspective.  I can see 
the B officer, peering over the ledge to look at the grisly sight of my 
body, splattered all over the pavement like such much street pizza.  
But just as he peered over, the B fell and dropped over the roof too.

	I can also imagine the D troopers, pondering this in their slow 
minds, as they too came closer to the edge to investigate.  But when 
they poked their heads over the edge they started to fall too, first 
one then a second then a third.

	But the forth was too quick for me to grab his legs, and he 
hastily stepped back from the edge.  At this point I drew my blaster 
and poked my head over the edge of the building, and shot him.

	I sighed as I looked at the fallen bodies around me.  I couldn't 
avoid stepping on them if I wanted to reach the ladder to go further up 
or down this fire escape.

	For when I had jumped, I had fallen a grand total of five feet.

	Several levels below me I noticed a connecting passageway which 
led to the building across the way.  I walked atop that, and kicked in 
a window, and was out of there.  It was that easy.

	But I was still exhausted.  I dimly noticed that I was in an 
office building of some sort.  Apparently it was after hours, for there 
was no work shift on duty, which suited me fine.  I went into an office 
and collapsed into a chair, and slumped.  My body refused to move 
further.  I stared vacantly out of the glass partition separating this 
room from the hallway.

	My mind kept telling me that I wasn't safe yet.  When 
reinforcements showed up on the roof, it wouldn't take geniuses to 
trace my steps here.  I had bought at most a few minutes.

	But I was exhausted.  The fall into the chute had drained my 
strength.

	"Come on, Croft, keep moving, keep moving," I shouted.  But 
instead I slumped further, letting myself fall out of the chair, onto 
the ground.

	Which was the best possible thing I could have done.  For seconds 
later I heard the sounds of running footsteps.  Suddenly I felt 
reinvigorated with energy, at least, enough energy to go on.  I found 
that energy, because I had to.

	The footsteps moved closer.  I heard someone in the distance say, 
"Control reports the alien is in room 7793.  Approach with caution."

	How could they possibly know that?  They hadn't seen me.

	But they had.  I looked up, and saw a camera, on the ceiling, 
pointing straight down at me.  While I had delayed, I had been on prime 
time television.

	I needed to neutralize that advantage.  I fired at the camera, 
taking it out.  Then I crawled to the entrance of the room.  I had 
seconds, at most, before the enemy would enter.

	I took a small vial out of my bulky suit, trying to keep my hands 
from trembling as I heard the sounds of footsteps approaching.  Gently 
but quickly I sprayed the ground around the door with a thin sheet of 
liquid.  Then I scooted over to the other side of the room.  There was 
another door there, and that would be my escape route.

	At that moment the door was flung open, and troopers rushed in, 
running at top speed.

	Or rather, they were running at top speed.  Now, they weren't 
moving at all.  The doorway could fit two people abreast, and two there 
were, but they were just standing there.  Their joints must have hurt 
from making such a sudden stop.

	They looked down at their feet, puzzled, for a moment, at what 
caused them to stop so abruptly.  At first they must have thought that 
their muscles had suddenly malfunctioned.  But then, if they noticed 
the slight gleam on the floor, they would have realized that there were 
artificial substances at work.

	This was just one example of the kind of goodies that our 
scientists at the Column continually cook up.  I wished I could have 
shown them more.

	After a short time the soldiers looked up.  I smiled and waved to 
them as I exited through the far door.  They attempted to bring their 
lasers up to bear, but I was already in the next room.

	Which turned out to be a dead-end.

	I could hear them scuffling about in the other room, as soldiers 
tried to push their way through.  But the doorway was only  so large, 
and I'm sure it was blocked by the first ranks.  Actually, the two in 
front could easily escape from the trap I had set for them.

	All they had to do was take off their boots.

	When I heard the crash of laser fire smashing into the glass 
partition in the other room, I knew they hadn't been that smart.

	"We have him!" I heard them say, as heavy bootsteps thumped into 
the room behind me.  "It's a deadend!"

	And right they were.  Emphasis on were, past tense.

	For when they burst into the little room that was my last refuge, 
they found nothing.  I was long gone.

	It probably took them several minutes to find the hole, under the 
desk, that I had cut, and used to jump into the level below, which was 
unguarded.  From there it had been a relatively simple task to slip out 
of the building.  There were still patrols in the area, but I managed 
to evade them.

	I made it back to safety.  And my new hideout.



	Yes, my new hideout.  For my sole efforts of the past several 
days had been to construct a secure base of operations.  First I had 
wandered around a bit to make doubly sure I wasn't being followed.  I 
went down, into the service tunnels, following my map carefully, as it 
was easy to get lost in all these lookalike passages.  Finally, I 
reached a dead end. Or rather, almost a deadend.  There was now a door 
on one side of the wall, with a palmprint lock.  Keyed to my palm.

	I entered, closing and locking the door.  I eyed my spartan new 
apartment.  I had a bed, a desk, several storage bins filled with 
supplies, and, most importantly of all, a terminal.  And not just any 
terminal.  I had taken great pains in deciding where to build my little 
hidey-hole.  It just so happens that I built it directly underneath a 
secure police terminal cable.  Which was now spliced.  If anyone ever 
traced a terminal request I made, it would appear as if it came from 
the police station above me.  They would never, ever find me!

	It was true, however, that there was a rather conspicuous door on 
the wall of the service tunnel.  But it didn't show up on the maps; 
therefore no one would look for it.  For now, at least while I was 
here, I would be safe.

	I had decided to change hideouts partially because I wanted a 
better hiding place, one which I could move to and from without being 
watched.  It seems that I had decided to make my move not a moment too 
soon.  I frowned; I wondered how the authorities had discovered my 
location.  Had Wata gotten free of his bonds?

	Well, now there was a way of finding out!  I moved to my 
terminal, inserting the ID of one of the peacemen I had gotten earlier.  
It was a minor risk, really; unless they had changed the ID's of all 
the peacemen on my printout, I wouldn't be caught.  And the first thing 
I did was get a new, expanded list of other peacemen ID's; then I 
signed off and signed on again with one of the new ones.

	It didn't take much time to find the proper police file.  I had 
an entire file all to my own:  "THE ALIEN CLIFFORD CROFT".  I read the 
data, and gave a low whistle.  Wata hadn't broken free from his bonds.  
It had been something else, something I had missed.  He hadn't shown up 
at his place of work for over a week.  I gathered that he was the only 
B in his place of work, and the C's had gone on without him.  But 
another B from a related industry had made repeated inquiries, and 
eventually became suspicious... when the police had arrived at the 
apartment, they had found the poor Wata gagged and bound.  I'm sure he 
filled them in very quickly, and then they had prepared the trap for 
me.

	I sighed.  That had been another close call.  Thalessa's words 
rang in my head:  "Sooner or later, you will be caught."  Was she 
right?  This was the second time now!  I thought I had covered my 
tracks rather carefully this time.  But then I had thought as much 
before.  But at least there was no evidence in Wata's apartment that 
would lead the peacemen here.

	I think.

	In any event, I was truly exhausted.  As I lay down on my bed I 
reflected that I had spent most of this day being hunted down, like an 
animal.  That had to stop.  It was time for me to go on the offensive.  
I had an ample supply of food and drink--I wouldn't have to go out for 
weeks, unless I wanted to.  I would be safe here.

	But I emerged the very next day, brimming full of determination.  
I hadn't forgot about my mission; eventually, I was going to have to go 
back to Central Control, the place I had been flown to.  At the time I 
had left because I wasn't yet ready to tackle what must be the highest 
security installation on the planet.  My job now was to make ready for 
that.

	I punched up a map of the city on my terminal.  I was going for 
the highest security installation in the city.  Not surprisingly, it 
was the installation in charge of overall security.  That was fine by 
me.

	For I was out to bag myself an A.



	I have to admit that I was a little concerned as I walked past 
the heavily guarded gates.  I had done a more thorough job on my 
appearance, using the plastiskin to make my face look rounder than it 
had been.  I also wore a wig composed of short, curly hairs.  As I 
seemed to be on the list of top felons, it was pretty clear that all 
the security people would have my appearance burned into their brains.

	But I acted confident, smiling genially as I walked up to the 
reception desk.  I was a B peaceman again, and I carried my rod in one 
hand as I walked.

	The receptionist was facing away.  "Happy day," I said.  "I'm 
here to see deputy chief of security B-8473628291.  I believe he's 
expecting me."  He should have been.  I had sent him a memo via 
terminal that I was coming.  Of course, he would have thought that the 
message had been sent by the police station above my little home.  But 
these people would believe anything they saw on their little terminals.  
They had little minds to match.  Anyone with just a smidgen of 
creativity could outthink them every time.

	I was smugly enjoying this line of thought when the receptionist 
turned to face me.  And then I blinked and looked very surprise.

	I knew him.  This was the B I had assisted in arresting when I 
had worked undercover with the peacemen.  We had tapped him with the 
rod, but, after I had been discovered, I had neutralized the peacemen, 
and allowed him to escape.

	But now here he was, in the uniform of a B peaceman.  With a 
different serial number, obviously.

	This was a member of the resistance, one of the Unadjusted.  He 
must be.  That was the only explanation.

	He stared intensely at me for a moment, and recognition flared in 
his eyes.  He looked left and right at the B guards flanking the 
waiting area.  "Yes, you're expected," he said.  "I'll take you myself.  
Come this way, friend," he said.

	He motioned for one of the B's to take his post, and then he took 
me down the hallway.  But once we had passed out of view of the guards 
he detoured me into a small room, shutting the door behind us.  

	"This room is not monitored," he whispered.  "What are you doing 
here?"

	Sometime you have to trust someone.  Trust didn't come very 
easily, not on this planet, but I decided this was someone who could be 
trusted.  Even if this B had been caught after I had seen him escape, 
even if he had been turned into a spy, there is no way the authorities 
could have known that I was coming here.  Had they known, they easily 
could have arrested me by now.  I decided to take him into my 
confidence

	"My name is-"

	"Clifford Croft.  You're the alien, I know," said the B.  

	I raised my eyebrows.  "Is my disguise that transparent?"

	The B frowned, an odd expression for a B to have. "You made a 
lasting impression.  Never before has a peaceman helped me to escape.  
It was only afterwards that we realized that you were the alien."  He 
paused.  "My name is Taral.  What are you doing here?"

	We.  He had said we.  He must be part of some underground 
resistance organization.  Well, there seemed to be no reason not to 
tell him.  "I'm here to talk to the deputy chief of security.  I'm 
going to hypnotize him, and have him lead me to the Chief of Security 
for this region, who I presume is an A, if only because he doesn't show 
up on the B police registry."

	"You cannot!" Taral seemed horrified.

	"I'm pretty quick with a blaster," I said.  "You just take me 
there-"

	"No!" said Taral.  "He has guards-"

	"In the room, with him?"

	Taral nodded.  "There is also monitoring, in virtually every room 
of this installation."

	I hadn't considered that.  "I must get my hands on an A.  I need 
to get into Central Control."

	Taral looked horrified.  "Central Control?  They will capture 
you; you will be processed!"

	"Not if I can help it," I said.  "Listen, forget my idea of 
seeing the deputy chief of security.  Can you get me the name, number 
and home address of the A who is the chief of security?"

	Taral nodded.  "That information is not difficult to obtain.  But 
you are taking a great risk!  To assault an A!"  His voice trembled 
with fear.

	"It's not the first risk I've taken here, and it won't be the 
last.  I also need access to one of your top security terminals for a 
few hours."

	"Impossible!  Only security people can get access-"

	"All I need is the ID of a security official who works at the 
complex," I said, taking out my license plate remodeling kit.

	"No," said Taral, shaking his head.  "Our terminals are not like 
those of lower level officials, or even the peacemen.  They require an 
eye scan in addition to the numerical identification."

	I hadn't anticipated that.  I wasn't prepared to deal with that 
hurdle.  Yet.  What would I have done had I not encountered Taral?  I 
took a deep breath.  "You have helped me quite a lot, Taral.  Without 
your knowledge it is very possible I would have been caught.  Is there 
anything I might do to help you?"

	"You can assist us in overthrowing this sick and perverted-"

	"That's a tall order for one man," I said, cutting him off.  Time 
was running short.  I told Taral as much.  "And I'm a little pressed 
for time.  Is there anything more immediate you'd like?"

	"Yes," said Taral.  "You can finish the job you began, and rescue 
Banner."

	Banner.  The top maladjusted on the wanted list.  He obviously 
knew what I had been up to.  I wanted to help, but I had to shake my 
head.  "But we're too late.  She's already been-"

	"No.  The hypnotic effect is reversible.  All we need is a 
resonator."

	"And you have one of those too?"

	"No.  You will have to obtain one at the rehomoginization 
facility."

	I sighed; but this is what I got for volunteering.

	Taral gave me the name and address of the A I had been seeking.  
I was half tempted to disregard my promise and continue with my primary 
mission, but a gush of sympathy for the resistors flowed in my heart.  
It wasn't part of my assignment.  I was not required to do this.  If I 
got caught, I would never complete my mission.  And yet I wanted to do 
it, to help the resistance movement. 

	I would do it.



	A D trooper, armed with a laser rifle, walked passed me in the 
darkness of the evening.  I checked my chronometer.  Another seven 
minutes had elapsed.  Good. This was the third time I had clocked it, 
and the D's were mechanically predictable.  I lay crouched outside the 
rehomoginization facility, at a remote section of the fence.  I could 
have taken out the guards at the front gate, but there were cameras 
trained on that area.  

	Instead, I burned away a remote section of the fence with a 
cutter.  I crept in, scooting across the grounds, constantly looking 
around me.  Most of the D's attentions were on the fence perimeter.  I 
reached the main building without being spotted.  Then I made a loop 
with a rope I was carrying and threw it over the top of the one 
building, which was only one story tall.  It took me only two tries to 
catch the small pipe protruding from the top.

	Then it was up and up.  It was a good workout for some of my 
unexercised arm muscles, although at the time I didn't especially 
appreciate it.  With a minimum of grunting I reached the top.

	I ran along the top of the building.  Taral had told me that 
there were numerous security and monitoring systems in the facility; I 
was neatly bypassing all of them.  It helped to have inside 
information.

	I consulted the floor map of the facility.  I thought I had put 
myself just above the lab where the resonator should be.  The roofing 
was made of a thin metal sheeting here and I quickly put my cutter to 
work.

	When I had cut a square hole in the roofing I kicked it in, and 
jumped down into the room.  A quick in and out, that was just the way I 
liked it.  I would have the resonator and be out of there even before 
the authorities knew what had hit them.  My feet landed on the floor of 
the room, I looked about, and-

	found myself being stared at by a half dozen dull-faced C's.  I 
gazed about rapidly; I was some sort of dormitory.  And those half 
witted brainwashed fools were staring at me.  They were wearing white 
hospital smocks, and they had long, thinning faces with thick, parted 
lips, through which a good many of them let pour thin slivers of drool 
onto the ground.

	"Good day, gents," I said, warily making my way to the exit.

	Suddenly a B orderly entered the room.  We were both a little 
surprised to see each other, but I was armed, and he wasn't.  I shot 
him with my blaster, and he fell.

	The C's started shrieking.  "Eek!  Eek!  Eek!" they yelled, 
jumping up and down on their beds.

	Suddenly I heard an alarm bell ringing.  I looked in the corner, 
and saw a camera.  I had been spotted.  I ran out of the room-

	-and right past a door marked HYPNOTIC CONDITIONING.  I had been 
one room off.

	For a split second, I was torn.  The mission was scrubbed, my 
number one priority was getting out of here.  But I had been so 
close....!

	I dashed into the room.  There, on an instrument table, was the 
resonator.  Taral had thoughtfully provided me with a sketch of it.  It 
looked like a long probing tool, about two feet long and eight to ten 
inches in diameter.  I quickly stuffed it in the backpack I had 
thoughtfully brought along.   I grunted with the weight but started 
running.

	In the hallway I saw two orderlies.  I think they were armed, but 
I fired first, and they fell to the ground.  I ran rapidly, going left, 
then right, then left again.  Finally I found myself at a deadend.  I 
could hear the footsteps of pursuit.  

	I had run blindly, and I was trapped.

	At least, that's what my pursuers probably thought.  Someone 
who's being chased doesn't purposely run into a deadend, right?  An 
ordinary, simplistic fugitive doesn't.  But I was no run of the mill 
fugitive.  

	I had carefully memorized this route as an alternate escape 
option in case of any problems.  I skidded to a halt at the end of the 
corridor and  quickly took a packet of explosives out of my pouch, 
setting it up against the wall.  I pressed the activator and was 
running away from it even before the button started flashing.  I had 
just five seconds.  I dashed into a closet a few feet down, and was 
just closing the door even as I heard footsteps rounding the corner.

	There was a tremendous explosion, and I was thrown to the floor.  
I was dazed for a few precious seconds as I tried to recover my wits.  
Luckily I had fallen on my stomach so not as to crush the resonator.  I 
scrambled up, and out of the closet... and saw a lot of bodies, which 
had been knocked senseless against a wall.  They must have been right 
behind me.

	There was also a gaping hole in the wall.  In seconds I was 
outside.

	My escape wasn't pretty; nor was it clever.  I simply ran, and 
shot at anything that came remotely near me.  Luckily the people in 
control of the facility didn't seem to have a clear idea what was 
happening.  I reached the fence, and rapidly looked left and right.  
People were running about in the distance.  Unfortunately I had not 
come out on the same side of the building where I had made my entrance 
through the fence, and I wasted precious seconds cutting myself a new 
exit.  I put down my blaster and my backpack and started to torch a 
hole through the fence.  

	I had gotten about three quarters of the way done when I saw a 
burst of light out of the corner of my eye and felt a stabbing pain in 
my arm.  I whirled, and saw a D approaching.  And, suddenly, in the 
distance, I saw other D's running up.  In a flash I understood.  They 
were all under one remote control.  What one saw was reported, nearly 
instantly, to the others.  No wonder all the soldiers were D's.

	But I didn't stop and think about it for very long.  The D fired 
again, but I was already diving for the ground, and the shot went wide.  
I grabbed my blaster, and fired.  The blast sent a wave of ionized 
energy which enveloped the D.  He collapsed to the ground.

	But the other D guards knew where I was.  And they were 
approaching rapidly.

	Ignoring the pain in my arm, I picked up my backpack.  I kicked 
the fence in, and with a screech the metal gave way and I had a clear 
path through.  I jumped across, just as a swirl of laser beams erupted 
in the area I had been standing.

	I was running as fast as I could, but still trying to go softly, 
for my pursuers were not far behind.  After a slightly circuitous trip 
back to my aircar, I slipped in, and gunned the engine.

	I didn't allow myself to pause until I had returned safely to my 
hiding place.  Then I allowed myself to feel the pain.

	My first fear was that the wound would be so extensive as to 
require medical attention, something I could not possibly afford to 
apply for on this world.  But as I tenderly took off my bulky suit I 
saw that it was just a graze.  It hurt, but I applied some medical 
gauze that I had reserved for just such a purpose.

	"That's the last time I ever do a good deed," I muttered, gently 
touching my wound.   Ow, that hurt.



	Actually, as last times go, it was actually the second to last 
time that I performed a good dead.  I still had to fulfill my promise 
to go and try to actually rescue Banner.  Banner was an important 
prisoner.  The authorities knew I had come to see her before.  
Undoubtedly they would be on guard for another attempt.  This was a 
perfect opportunity for me to be captured again.  What possible 
incentive could there be for me to do this?  That night I resolved not 
to do it.  In the morning I would hand over the resonator to Taral.  
Half a loaf was better than none.

	The next morning I was crouching behind a bush, staring at a 
single story home at the edge of the municipality.  "I think I need to 
have my head examined," I muttered.  I had changed my mind.  The 
opportunity to score another one for the home team had been too much of 
a temptation to resist.  Besides, I was just the tiniest bit curious 
about this Banner.  If she was supposed to be such a big threat, I 
could cause even more troubles for the Happy Worlders by freeing her.

	Banner was supposed to have been fully readjusted, and was now 
residing in the home I had staked out.  I didn't have to think to 
wonder why she merited a home of her own.  A simple search on my trusty 
police terminal had informed me that there were guards posted with her.  
A number of them, with her at all times.  Not a guard for her; no, the 
state was undoubtedly confident in its methods of converting even the 
most hardened resistors.

	The guards were for me.

	There knew I might come after Banner again.  I was flattered, of 
course, and yet, also a little hurt, at the same time.  There were only 
four guards.  Unless there were others that were carefully hidden 
about.  But if there were, they were staying well out of sight.  Did 
Thalessa really think that four clods could stop me from getting 
anything that I wanted?

	The place was quiet.  Too quiet.  No one was in sight.  They must 
all be indoors.  "That can be remedied," I muttered, looking about. I 
unzipped my knapsack... and took out an ungainly black sphere, the size 
of a coconut.  A homemade smoke bomb.  

	"Why do I get the uncanny feeling that my friends inside the 
house will be wanting some fresh air, and soon?" I asked, mostly to 
myself.  I lobbed the bomb through a window that had thoughtfully been 
left open, and then crouched to the side of the front steps, and 
waited.

	I took a peek through one of the windows and noted with 
satisfaction that the house was filling up with smoke.  Just then the 
front door opened, and I saw several coughing individuals stagger out.  
I waited until I had counted five of them, and then I opened fire.  On 
all of them.  Including Banner, the woman.

	Their eyes were so teary with smoke that they didn't even see it 
coming.  In seconds all five were collapsed on the ground. 	"Piece of 
cake," I said admiringly.  "Just like shooting metal parasites in a 
thruster tube."

	But for all my boasting I made a hasty departure, dragging Banner 
into my hovercar and driving off.  The house was sure to be bugged, and 
the authorities would be there in minutes.  In fact we passed several 
hovercars, filled with troops, going the other way.  Banner snoozed in 
the back seat, covered by a blanket.  I had a little trouble getting 
her down the stairwell into the service tunnels, but from then on it 
wasn't very difficult.  I dragged Banner's body along the tunnel at a 
slow but steady clip.  (I could have been chivalrous and carried her, 
but I was tired, and physical fatigue won out over gallantry).  
Admittedly I wasn't keeping a sharp eye out for the authorities; my 
police terminal had informed me that the service tunnels weren't 
patrolled.  

	But there were any number of security cameras posted on the 
walls, and I smiled at one as I hauled my charge away.  Of course, one 
of the first things I had done before I had moved in was fix the 
surveillance equipment.

	I dragged Banner into my hiding hole and bolted the door behind 
me.  Then I put her in the chair.  I say 'the' chair because it was a 
special chair.  When I had started decorating my new home, I had 
anticipated the need for guest accommodations, especially for visitors 
of the unwilling kind.  The chair was a work of art.  It was bolted in 
the ground with hard steel rivets.  The chair was made of solid 
steeltex, with wrought iron reinforcements.  I closed the clamps on the 
armrests, sealing her arms in, and did the same for the restrainers on 
the legs.  An extra belt went around the waist, for good measure, and 
there was even a band to seal the neck in place.  I took all the 
precautions advised in the instruction booklet, sparing not a single 
optional restrainer.

	Then I stepped back and admired my work.  She looked confined 
enough.  For a moment, I admired the chair.  I had picked it up cheap 
(stolen, of course) at a local government warehouse.  I think it was 
intended for use in torture chambers.  At least, that's what was 
implied in the instruction booklet.

	Whatever its intended function, I must say that it fit my 
purposes very nicely.

	For a moment, though, I bit my lip.  I did have some minor qualms 
about tying up and binding a pretty woman in such an awful contraption.  
I watched the way her long straight brown hair settled around the 
restraining pads that held her head in place, the way her elegant slim 
arms were locked by the restraining joints.  But my conscience was 
alleviated by the fact that this was for her own good.  Mine too.  If 
her file was to be believed, Banner was supposed to be one of the 
brightest resistance minds on the planet.  If she was supposed to have 
been readjusted, I didn't even want a small chance of her getting 
loose.

	Just then she blinked and opened her eyes.  She didn't try to 
move, just looked around, taking it all in. 

	"You are the alien," Banner said flatly.

	"Give the lady a cigar," I said.

	She started screaming.  I thought about gagging her, but decided 
against it.  I sat down in a chair, facing her. Watching her.  
Admiringly.

	After a moment, studying my uncaring reaction, she stopped.  "We 
are out of the hearing range of others," she said flatly.

	I nodded.

	"You will still be caught, alien," said Banner.

	"Call me Cliff," I said.  "Or Clifford.  The name's Clifford 
Croft, actually."

	"You will still be caught, Clifford Croft," said Banner 
stubbornly, her face almost rigidly mechanical.  

	"They say you were one of the best resistors," I said.  "At 
least, that's what's in your police file."

	"Yes," she said coldly.  "But I have been rehabilitated."

	"Hypnosis?" I inquired, trying to act indifferent, while 
concealing my disgust.

	"Yes," she said flatly.

	"You know you've been hypnotized, you know your feelings have 
been altered, and yet you don't mind."

	"I feel what I feel," said Banner.  "My previous mode of 
existence was quite destructive."  She beamed.  "I serve the state 
now."

	"You would be pleased with that, yes, hm," I said.  "Well, I'd 
better get started with the task at hand."  I picked up the resonator 
from the table.

	"What are you going to do?"  For the first time, there was fear 
in her eyes.

	"Cure you," I said.  Then I paused, thinking about what I had 
just said.  "No, that's probably what they told you before.  To be more 
precise, I'm going to return you to the way you were."

	"No.  No.  Please do not."

	I paused. "Well, it's either that, or keep you strapped in this 
chair forever."

	"I choose the latter," she said, in a flat voice.

	I sighed.  "Somehow, I thought you might say that."

	I looked over the resonator.  The controls were unfamiliar to me, 
but I soon mastered them:  there was an ON button, and an OFF button.  
I pushed the former.

	There was a hum, and a beam of light shot out, playing on the 
wall.

	"No, no!" said Banner.

	I trained the beam of light on Banner's face.  She froze.  I 
adjusted the resonator on a little tripod, and then put it on a 
workbench, where it would still shine on her head.

	"Do you hear me, Banner?" I said.

	"Yes," she said.

	"Listen carefully.  All previous hypnotic instructions are 
canceled.  You are no longer loyal to the state."

	"I am no longer loyal to the state."

	"Your previous personality, that which was suppressed before 
conditioning, must return."

	"My previous personality will return."

	This was easy!  I was almost sorry I had promised to give the 
resonator to Taral.  In just a few minutes we finished, and I untied 
her from the chair.

	"Wake up!" I said, snapping my fingers.  Immediately her eyes 
opened.

	"How do you feel?" I said.

	"Fine," she said, in a curiously dry voice.  "You cured me.  
Thank you."  She seemed drained; her face carried little expression.  
She must be tired, I thought.

	"You're welcome," I said.  I yawned and I got up, stretching.  I 
was tired too.

	"I appreciate you rescuing me," she said, and a little life crept 
into her words. She got up, taking a look around.  "Where are we?"

	"In my secret hiding place," I smiled, watching her with a little 
amusement.

	She looked at some of the materials on my workbench.  "Did anyone 
else help you rescue me?" she said dryly, looking a little bored.  She 
must have kind of a dull personality in real life, I decided.

	"No," I said, studying my fingernails rather closely.  One or two 
of them were a little long.  I started thinking about the last time 
that I had made an effort to have them trimmed.

	But when I looked up, matters of personal hygiene were thrown to 
the back of my mind.  For Banner held a blaster in her hand.  One of 
mine.  And it was pointed straight at me.

	"I have you, alien," she said.

	I sighed.  "You faked it," I said.

	"Yes," said Banner.  Her voice was flat now, but there was an 
undercurrent of triumph in it.  

	"Would you mind telling me how?" I asked, quite reasonably.

	Banner was generous in victory.  "You need to put the subject 
into a trance before you apply the resonator.  I simply faked the 
trance, and agreed with whatever you said," she explained, as she would 
to a child.

	"How clever," I said.  "Thank you for the information."  I drew 
my own blaster that I had on me.

	Instantly she fired, pulling the trigger.  But nothing happened.

	"Want to bet that mine won't work?" I said, smiling.  "Now drop 
it.  And back in the chair."

	I really didn't expect her to, and, as I predicted, she tried to 
make a run for it.  I sighed again as I stunned her.  Well, at least 
now I knew the proper procedure.  I locked her in the chair, and took 
out a hypnocube.



	Banner awoke just as I finished unlocking her from the chair.  I 
had labored as best I could to undo the damage that had been done.  I 
was acutely aware that I wasn't a professional hypnotist, but I had 
done everything I could.  I had also erased her memory of the blaster 
incident, and the drained blaster lay on the worktable.  Time for 
another bluff, just in case I was wrong again.

	But I never had the chance.  As soon as I completed removing the 
last restraint, she flew into my arms, hugging me.

	"Thank you, oh thank you," she murmured, over and over again.

	I concluded that the operation had been a success.

	

	"Why did you rescue me?" was the first thing she wanted to know.

	"It was a promise, to Taral," I said.

	"Taral," she said, getting a far away look in her eyes.  But then 
she turned back to me.  "But you risked getting caught, to save me?"

	"I nearly did get caught, the first time I came for you," I said.  
Then I grinned.  "But I'm a spy; I'm used to that sort of thing."

	"You don't know what they'll do to you," she shuddered.

	"Programming?  Conditioning?  I've experienced it," I said.

	We talked long into the night.  I was interested to learn that 
Banner had been an A.  That's right, an A.  It seems that children were 
carefully watched on this world, and at an early age shuttled into the 
A, B, C, or D category, depending on their predicted ability quotient.  
The least able, obviously, fell into the D category, destined to become 
little more than extensions of the control computer (that's right--they 
were all under direct computer control!)  Typically most fell into the 
B or C category.  The jobs requiring some initiative or skill were 
allotted to the B's.  But the rulers, the people with the top jobs, 
were the A's, and there were scant few of them.  Banner was an A, as 
I've already said, and apparently she had showed a lot of promise.

	She had been put in charge of an external data collection unit.  
Basically that meant she monitored foreign transmissions from other 
planets.  Through this exposure to the outside world Banner saw that 
other, more pluralistic forms of existence were possible, and she 
started questioning the basic premise of Happy Worlder society.  For 
you see, A's were not conditioned, not formally.  Oh, they were taught 
from birth that the Happy system was the best possible, but there was 
no form of direct mental coercion, such as hypnotism or drugs.  Thus if 
anyone could engage in free thinking, it would be the A's.

	Once Banner turned against the regime she was smart enough not to 
voice her opposition publicly.  The Master, the ruler of this Happy 
planet,  Negan 14, would have had her downgraded and processed, as she 
eventually was.  What Banner decided to do was to organize a resistance 
group.  She organized several small cells.  The cells had to be small 
in size, for if one member was caught, hypnointerrogation would easily 
elicit the names of the other members.  It was not coincidence that the 
authorities were on to Taral so soon after Banner had been caught; 
Taral had been a member of her group.

	"But how did you get caught?" I wanted to know.

	"The resistance was organizing, and doing quite well, considering 
the circumstances, so I thought.  Then we recruited a plant, a double 
agent, someone who was working for the undercover peaceman force.  
Everyone in that cell was arrested, converted, and then they went after 
the pointman for the next cell, and the next after that one, which was 
ours.  They were very surprised when they caught up with me."  She 
shivered.  "I remember the Master, showing up for my interrogation, 
saying something like 'I'm very disappointed with you, Banner.'  And 
then he smiled, and said he was giving me another chance.  Then he 
ordered me converted to B status.  They were going to make me a 
peaceman; they still thought I had value."  And she smiled wanly.

	"You were on the top of their most wanted list," I said.  "I 
guess it was because you were such a good organizer.  Someone with your 
caliber has the potential to be a real threat to the state."

	"As do you," said Banner.  "You are not only an unprocessed 
alien, but you are a highly trained and capable individual."

	"It's all true, but how do you know that?" I said modestly.

	And Banner came close to me.  "Anyone who breaks into a 
rehomoginization installation, alone, and gets out while still 
remaining unprocessed simply has to be clever."

	"Simply has to be?" I said, smiling.

	"Very clever."

	"Well, maybe somewhat clever," I said, smiling shyly.

	"Very clever," Banner repeated, with a broad smile.  Only this 
time, it looked natural.  "But that's to be expected.  I've read your 
file."

	"My file?" I frowned.

	"Are you surprised?  Didn't you notice how quickly our forces 
responded to your landing?  Did you simply chalk that up to 
efficiency?" she said.  "No.  You were expected.  We have our sources, 
even inside your Column.  Yes, we know about your organization too. We 
have a low level agent, who provides us with information.  Before I was 
exposed, your file was circulated to senior security people and 
analysts, such as myself."  She looked into my eyes.  "What are you 
after, Clifford Croft?"

	I felt my resolve melting.  If she was still pretending she 
wasn't unconverted, she was doing an incredibly good job of it.  "I'm 
investigating technology theft from the League to your planet."

	"Operation Conquest," she said promptly.

	"What?"

	"Operation Conquest," said Banner.  "It's all they've been 
talking about on the official channels.  Even I didn't have the 
clearance to find out what it was.  But it was very important to 
everyone on the ruling policy committee."

	"And if it's important to them, it's important to me," I said.  
"I must find out what they are doing."

	"You're a very determined man," she said, staring into my eyes.

	"I like to get the job done," I said.

	She looked admiringly at me.  "It was very nice of you to rescue 
me.  If it hadn't been for you, I'm certain I would've remained 
converted for the rest of my life."

	"Think nothing of it," I smiled genially.

	"But I do think something of it," said Banner, giving me a gentle 
kiss on the lips.

	At least, that's how it started.  The kiss seemed to go on for a 
while, and after that came another, and then a few more.  And then we 
were holding each other close, and then all thoughts of my mission 
faded from my mind.



	Afterwards, we lay together on my small mattress.  Banner used 
her fingertips to play along the curves of the muscles on my arms.

	"So, you're going to dig into Operation Conquest," she mused.  
"There's no terminal here that will give you that sort of information.  
You'd have to go to Central Control for that."

	I nodded.  "That's exactly where I'm going."

	"No!" said Banner, sitting up in bed, looking very alarmed.  "You 
will be captured, processed!  That's a top security area.  Clifford, 
you can't!"

	"I've got a job to do," I said stoically.

	"That's what the others said," Banner commented.  "Your agents 
who came before you.  One we caught immediately.  But another tried to 
get into the complex.  That's when she got caught."

	"Where are they now?" I said.

	"Dead," said Banner, looking away.



Chapter 11



	We spent three more days in my hiding hole, planning, discussing, 
thinking.  Banner, as a former A, was quite a wealth of information.  
But when it came to Central Control she couldn't tell me very much.

	"I was only assigned to the perimeter, to the lowest security 
area," said Banner.

	 I tried to think of different angles.  "What about your agent 
network... do you have any contacts inside?"

	Banner shook her head.  "I was the contact inside," she said, 
grinning ruefully.

	"Tell me everything you can about it," I said.

	And she did, and it was all very depressing.  As a top security 
area, Central Control had elaborate security and alarm systems all over 
the complex.  Banner listed a number of them and then added, "And those 
are only the ones that I know about.  I'm certain there must be 
others."

	Hm.  "How did this all get started?  How did your world get like 
this?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

	But Banner gave one.  "I'm not certain," she said.  "But that 
question also interested me.  I searched the database, in the 
classified histories.  Our groups of worlds were evidently settled 
several hundred years ago, as best as I can tell."  She proceeded to 
tell, in abbreviated form, how the settlers had made out, establishing 
a normal self governing society.  Unfortunately, as time went on, the 
state assumed more and more responsibility.  It came to control larger 
and larger sectors of the economy, and society at large.  As that 
occurred the political power became concentrated within a small group 
in government.

	"And then they introduced mental conditioning," said Banner, 
making a face.  "At first, it was for fairly innocuous purposes, so the 
histories say.  It was used on criminals and mental patients.  But then 
it started to be applied to the population at large.  A campaign to 
instill morals into the population.  To make us more law abiding, more 
productive-"

	"-and more obedient citizens," I finished for her.

	"Precisely," said Banner.  "And now the only ones with a mind 
enough to rebel are the ones at the top, and they are hardly 
dissatisfied with their own lot."

	"I see," I said.  "That's a nice history lesson.  But it's not 
going to help me get into the complex."  I stared at a map on the 
workbench.  "I don't even have a decent map of the place!"

	"It's classified," Banner grinned.  "You can only get one at a 
terminal inside Central Control."  She paused, then added, "But you're 
going to have more problems than just breaking in.  I presume that your 
work there will not be accomplished within thirty minutes?"

	"No.  Why?"

	She looked at me in a mildly patronizing way.  "My dearest 
Clifford, you're going to have to devise a way of surviving in there.  
Unless you have transfer orders from the highest terminals, you're 
going to be picked up immediately."

	"Hm," I said.

	We spent more time discussing my plan.  But every time I 
suggested a way in, Banner vetoed it.

	"Forged pass?"

	"Forget it, they'll check up on you."

	"Come in from the air?"

	"You'll be shot down."

	"Dig underneath?"

	"There are remote seismic probes in the earth all around the 
complex."

	"Oh," I said, somewhat disappointed.  "Let's deal with the other 
half of my problem.  When I get into the central control complex, how 
do I subvert people without being seen, if every room is being 
monitored?"

	"Well, you could take a chance," said Banner.  "Not every room is 
monitored at every moment, just because there is a camera unit in 
there.  But a safer option is a jammer."  She did not wait for the 
obvious question.  "A jammer will fuzz up their picture, and 
temporarily knock out the audio.  Under normal circumstances a repair 
unit would be sent in a leisurely time.  This being the Central 
Control, I would bet that they would send a peaceman unit out 
immediately."

	"So what good will a jammer do for me?"

	"Clifford, it will take several minutes for them to reach you, 
unless a patrol is on duty nearby.  You can take that time and use it 
to your advantage."  She added, "I didn't say it was going to be easy."

	"Ah.  Where can I get this jammer?"

	"At the local central control branch."



	Banner may have been telling me the truth when she said that the 
security at the local central control branch was several notches below 
that of the main central control complex.  But that didn't mean that 
this part of the job was going to be easy.

	There were not one but two steel fences (alarmed, I'm sure), 
patrolled every few feet by grim faced B's.  B's!  This was no job for 
mere D's.  Obviously this was the top security facility in this 
municipality.

	There was a squad of heavily armed B's at the gate.  They looked 
at my pass critically.  "We'll have to confirm this," said one of them, 
going into his terminal station.  The other guards, armed with laser 
rifles, stood ready in case I even thought of bolting.

	The guard typed on his terminal keys while I fretted.  Oh, I 
didn't look concerned, of course; I gave a bright smile to the B's on 
guard, who smiled back at me.  Certain amenities were still observed.

	When I saw the guard at the terminal lift his eyebrows in a 
surprised gesture, I felt the sudden impulse to run.  My hand gripped 
the blaster in my pocket more tightly.

	The guard came out and said, "Your clearance has been confirmed, 
peaceman.  You're the first visitor outside of our own people we've had 
in a long time.  Welcome.  You may enter."

	It had worked; I had left Banner at my police terminal, in 
anticipation of just such an eventuality.  The only thing I hadn't been 
certain of was whether she would have been able to intercept the 
message before it electronically winded its way to the police station.

	An (armed) escort of two men accompanied me.  Things were not 
going to be easy.

	"What is your business here, peaceman?" said an escort.

	"Take me to the director," I said.  "But first, I feel a need to 
tend the call of nature.  Can you gentlemen show me where the washroom 
is?"  They could and they did.  As they led me to it we walked by a 
large room with the word "Supply" labeled on the door.  That was my 
real destination.  Banner, who had worked in this facility before, had 
sketched out a rough floor plan for me.

	As we entered the bathroom I noticed with distaste the cameras on 
the walls.  Was there no privacy to be found anywhere?  There weren't 
even any stalls; just rows and rows of toilets.

	I sighed as the smiling guards watched me.  Somehow, the effect 
of two people standing several feet away, smiling at me, did not spur 
my interest in using the facility.

	"Can you guys go over to the corner, or something?" I said.  
Privacy in such a matter, even on this world, was still subject to some 
respect, so I had been told.

	Smiling, the B's walked to the corner of the washroom.  As soon 
as their backs were turned my blaster was out of my pouch, and two 
precise shots were fired.  And then I was out the door, running down 
the hallway, into the storeroom.

	By my watch it took one minute and twenty nine seconds before the 
first alarm was raised.  By that time I had the device in hand and was 
halfway out the door.

	But security was good, very good; by the time I reached the 
stairwell, I caught glimpses of the first sign of a patrol in pursuit.  
I pounded up the stairs, letting something fall from my hands.  Two 
landings up I crouched down on the ground; I was just in time too, as I 
felt the vibrations from an enormous chunk of the stairwell below me 
being ripped out, and the entire building shook for a moment.  But then 
the vibrations ceased, and I was on my feet and running again.

	In less than a minute after that I was on the roof.  I looked 
under a pile of tarps and found a coiled metal rope, and an ancient 
crossbow gun.  I took careful aim just outside the compound, at a 
sturdy tree.  This was the tricky part.

	Ignoring the hubbub around me, I fired.  A metal bolt of steel, 
attached to the rope, 	imbedded itself in the tree.  I started to 
secure the end on my side, when I heard a yell.  I looked down, over 
the edge of the building, and saw several B's pointing at me.

	Oh oh.  Time for plan B.

	I took a deep breath, grabbed the line, and swung off the roof.

	My major concern was clearing the double fences.  If I collided 
against them, and landed inside the compound, I would not be in a very 
good position.

	I swung, in a sharp arc, over the heads of a group of gaping B's.  
If I had had the time, I would have enjoyed their astonished 
expressions.  They were openmouthed, all gaping at the feat that was 
occurring above them.  I don't think a single one of them thought in 
their little minds to draw their weapons and shoot me down; they were 
all much too surprised for that, and I was much too quick.  I rapidly 
skated down the line.  The fences at the perimeter came up quickly, 
very quickly indeed, and I had to lift my legs to avoid hitting the 
first fence.  And then after that the second fence came up, much to 
quickly, much too high.

	I slammed against it, and felt the rather full impact as my 
entire body hit the metal mesh barrier.  For a moment I hung there, 
like some fish that's been put out to dry, and if the B's had been a 
little less slow witted, they could have shot me down.

	But fortunately, I had raised my arms at the last second to 
shield my head, and that had paid off.  I was stunned, but for no more 
than a second.  I had lost the rope, but my hands had managed to get a 
grasp on the top of the fence, and it was from that position that I was 
now hanging.  I didn't have time to study what must have been the 
witless reactions of the B's, but I'll bet they must have been 
dumbfounded.  

	But I couldn't count on that to last very long.  With one fluid 
motion I chinned my head up over the top, and then dragged the rest of 
my body over the barrier.  Then I fell to the ground in a not too 
graceful manner.

	That was when the first laser beam hit.  It flew above me, which 
gave me the impression that the B's were still a few seconds behind the 
flow of events.  Good.  Getting into a low crouch, I started running.

	The B's blasted away at the fence, both to get a shot at me and 
to clear a more direct path to my tender fleeing self. I was hurting, 
my whole body aching with pain, but I still might have gotten away had 
it not been for the search patrols that were hastily set to catch me.

	I ran as fast as I could in my weakened condition, but my 
pursuers were quicker, and they cut off my routes of escape.  As I 
reached the edge of the trees I saw a number of them discover my hidden 
aircar in the bushes.  And then one of them pointed at me.

	Unfortunately, I was not as delighted to see them.  I turned 
around, and darted back into the forest.

	The search parties, I found out quickly, were very well 
organized.  In a few short minutes they had the surrounding forest 
totally surrounded.  I noticed that too, and started running back to 
the fence.

	I stopped a short distance away, constantly looking over my 
shoulder.  I still hadn't been spotted yet, though I heard the sounds 
of pursuit.

	At that point I decided to climb a tree.  I didn't want to leave 
any more helpful tracks for my pursuers.  At most they would trace me 
to this tree, and conclude I had climbed into the sturdy branches to 
another tree, and then to points unknown.  Which would be so much the 
truth.

	But in fact I didn't go far, only two trees over.  The sounds of 
pursuit were louder now, and I almost fell when I jumped from one 
branch to the other, in order to get to the tree that I was really 
heading for.  But then I made it and I walked down the thickening 
branch to the trunk, where I started prying madly at the bark.

	Does this seem like a surprising act?  Would it be any more 
surprising that a portion of the bark swung open, revealing a dark 
hole?  Well,  I wasn't surprised.  I quickly crept in, hurriedly 
closing the panel behind me. 

	I had time, a lot of it, to ponder my folly as my pursuers closed 
in on  the area.  The bark wasn't soundproof and I could hear every 
little thing that was going on in the forest.  Whenever a pursuer 
walked by, it sounded like he was right outside my little hiding hole.  
The problem of sound worked both ways; I had been breathing heavily 
from my exertions, and it took a great deal of efforts to muffle the 
sounds of my rapid inhalations. 

	The Happy Worlders spent several hours combing every inch of the 
forest, while I just sat there inside the tree and shivered, as evening 
came and the weather turned colder.

	I had a lot to thank Banner for.  She used to work at this 
installation, and she had painstakingly prepared an escape route, in 
case she ever needed it.  (Never mind that didn't help her; it had 
certainly helped me!)  She had told me that she thought she hadn't 
revealed it in interrogation (simply because they hadn't asked).  It 
had been a risk, but it had paid off.  

	My legs were very cramped in this enclosed shape.  I tried to 
shift position a little.  Ow.  My entire body felt bruised. I hoped I 
hadn't broken anything.

	I waited until the sounds of search ceased, and a good few hours 
beyond that.  Then I slowly opened the hidden door in the tree trunk, 
and peered out.  I knew it wouldn't be beyond the B's to wait in ambush 
to smoke me out.

	Well, I had to leave sometime.  I slipped out, as quietly as I 
could.  I climbed down the tree, as softly as I was able.

	And felt something suddenly land on my shoulder.



	I walked down the underground passage, back to my room.  Banner 
should have been long gone by now; I had firmly instructed her to leave 
if I had not returned immediately.  And that had been for a good 
reason; if I were captured, and converted, I could be used to capture 
her.

	I smiled to myself as I reached the dead end.

	Opening the door, I turned on the lights, and felt immediately 
disappointed.  Banner had indeed gone.  I had told her to leave, and 
yet now I regretted it.

	Suddenly I felt a gun in my ribs.  "Don't make any sudden moves," 
said a voice.

	But I did, or rather I tried to.

	And I got shot, for my efforts.



	When I awoke, I found myself strapped in a very familiar chair.  
My mind felt addled, as if something odd had happened while I was 
napping.  I felt exhausted, leading me to conclude that I hadn't had a 
restful sleep.

	Banner smiled at me, holding my blaster in her hands.  "Hello, 
Clifford."

	"Well, this is a turn of events," I said, looking down at captive 
and bound myself.  At that point my eyes were the only thing that were 
capable of movement.

	"How are you feeling, Clifford?" she said.

	"Awful," I said, and it was the truth.

	"I checked you over.  You have a number of bruises, contusions, 
the worst of which I bandaged," said Banner.

	"Thank you," I said.  Then I paused, "I'm sorry to bring it up if 
it's a touchy subject, but would you mind telling me what I'm doing 
locked in my own chair?"  I looked up at her with innocent eyes.  She 
matched my gaze.

	"I think you know the answer to that quite well, Clifford.  
You've been gone nearly a day and a half," she said flatly.  I could 
tell, by the way she looked at me, that she believed that I had been 
converted.

	"I had to hide in that little tree trunk of yours," I said.  "And 
it was a long walk back."

	"Very possibly," she said, her face stern.

	"So what do you think?  That I've been converted?" I said.  
"Listen to me, Banner.  Is my voice monotone?  Is my affect zombie-
like?"

	She shook her head.  "It isn't always like that, Clifford."

	"Well, what are you going to do?  Keep me locked up here 
forever?" I asked.  That was good, putting the ball in her court.  I 
had things to do; I had no intention of staying in this chair.

	Banner looked into my eyes.  "I have to know, Clifford.  Beyond a 
shadow of a doubt, I have to know."

	"Well, there's no way I can prove I wasn't caught," I snapped.  
"Unless...."  There was one option, but I didn't have the enthusiasm to 
name it outright.	"Hypnotism?  I've already used the hypnocube on you, 
Clifford.  And you're all clear."  But she was frowning as she said it.

	"So why am I still tied in this chair?" I asked.

	Banner looked up at the low ceiling.  "If you had been captured 
and interrogated, they could have anticipated my deprogramming 
technique and been a little more... subtle in your programming," she 
said.

	I frowned, matching her expression.  "Well, then you can never 
tell," I snapped.  "So what are you going to do, kill me, just to make 
sure?"

	Banner shook her head.  "I'm still considering what to do."  She 
just sighed and sat there.

	And so did I.  What could I say to get myself freed from this 
chair?  The answer was nothing.  Banner was highly intelligent.  
Fooling her would be next to impossible.

	We sat in silence for awhile, her on the workbench, me in the 
chair.  She seemed to be looking aimlessly at the ceiling but somehow I 
had the feeling that she was, well... almost waiting for something.

	"If I have been converted, you would have been captured by now," 
I said.

	"No good," said Banner.  "If I let you go, you're not going to 
shoot me immediately.  You're going to attempt to get into my 
confidence, and see how many members of my old resistance network that 
I can contact.  I've been an A; I know how their thinking works."

	That was too much for me.  I burst out in anger, "I told you I 
have a job to do!  I'm not interested in your resistance organization!  
I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm hurt, and I've wasted enough time!  If you 
don't believe me, if you still don't trust me, then shoot me.  Shoot 
me, with the setting on stun.    Then untie me and leave.  If worst 
comes to worst, all you'll be doing is letting one of their agents go!"  
I was annoyed, and I had had enough of this.

	"Oh Clifford!" said Banner, racing to untie my constraints.  In a 
few moments I was free, and she was in my arms.

	"How did you know?" I said.

	She spoke freely.  "As I told you, if you had been programmed and 
sent back here, it probably would have been with the purpose of 
ferreting out other members of the resistance.  You showed a general 
lack of interest in contacting them, only talking about your mission.  
And then when you suggested that I effectively abandon you, I knew that 
simply could not have been your assignment, if you had been captured.  
Oh Clifford, I'm so sorry; but you don't know them.  They're devious, 
and cunning, oh so cunning."  She put an arm over my shoulder as she 
hugged me.

	"Ow," I said, suddenly remembering that I hurt there as well.  
When I had come down from the tree something had touched me on the 
shoulder.  For a split second I had thought it had been a peaceman's 
rod, but when I turned and looked I had seen a Gazoota, perched on my 
shoulder.  I had shooed it off, but not before it had painfully 
scratched me.

	"Oh Clifford, I'm so sorry," she said, opening my shirt, playing 
a hand over my wounds.  I think every spot in my body was aching.

	"Rest, I need rest," I said, staggering for the bed.  I felt 
exhausted.

	The next few days I stayed underground and simply recovered.  I 
spent some time plotting my future course of action.  How was I going 
to break into Central Control?  Banner still portrayed it as a next to 
impossible task.  She knew more about it than I did; and yet there 
wasn't a place in all the inhabited galaxy that I hadn't been able to 
crack.  There had to be a way in.  There always was.

	I spent some time examining the device I had paid so dearly for, 
the jammer.  Turning it around in my hand, I found it was a simple 
enough device, with a single ON and OFF switch on it.  Very user 
friendly, like the resonator.  But would it work?  

	I was still musing over this when Banner came over.  She put a 
hand on my shoulder.

	"No ow?" she said, teasing.

	"You'd be surprised how quickly I recover from having my entire 
body smashed against a steel fence," I said, smiling up to her.

	"What are your plans?"

	"Tomorrow, I'm going to get myself an A."

	"An A?" her eyes shot up. "And then?"

	"And then... I'm on my way to Central Control."

	That started a long argument, with her trying to dissuade me.  
But I wasn't budging; and though she saw that, she wasn't giving in 
easily.  Finally I ended the argument by giving her a kiss, one which 
drove all thoughts of planning from both our minds.



	The next morning I got myself an A.  It wasn't quite  as easy as 
it sounded, but it definitely wasn't one of the most challenging 
assignments I had had on this Happy World.  The small A community in 
this region resided in a heavily patrolled fenced in community.  I 
could have broken in, but there was an easier scheme I had in mind.

	"Here he comes," said Banner, peering through a set of 
binoculars.  She had insisted on coming, and I had felt this particular 
job safe for her to come.  Usually, of course, I prefer to work alone.  
It's habit, really; that way no member of the team ever lets me down.

	We had both prepared ourselves, strictly according to the script 
we had agreed upon last night.  We both stood on the side of the road, 
the road we knew that our A would be taking.

	I nodded, motioning for Banner to hide behind a tree off the 
road.  Then I stood in the middle of the causeway.

	A hovercar approached, going at a high speed.  I started waving 
my arms wildly, but for a moment it didn't look like it was going to 
slow down.  I was all prepared to make a last minute leap to the side 
of the road when the hovercar did slow down, and then stop, a few feet 
before me.

	An angry looking man in a typical bulky uniform stared at me.  
His license plate read A, followed by ten numbers, which surprised me.  
I thought the A's, like Thalessa, didn't wear ordinary uniforms, or 
numbers.  Thalessa, I now hypothesized, must be an A+ among A's.

	"What are you doing?" the A barked at me.

	I waved my hands in the air, and made wild "Woop Woop Woop" 
sounds at the top of my lungs.  I was wearing a C license plate, so I 
hoped the logical inference would be that I was a citizen who wasn't 
adapting well to drug control.

	Then the A pressed a button on his dashboard, and spoke into it.  
"Rogue unit on 34.  Come for pickup."

	"Pickup, copy," said a voice from the car.

	I grimaced.  That would give us less time than I thought.

	"Someone will be along shortly to help you," said the A, 
preparing to start his car again.

	Then Banner ran up and shot him, at point blank range.

	I dropped my arms, in mid-whoop.  "No, we'd rather help you.  We 
insist," I said, getting into the car along with Banner.



	Back at my hideout, we strapped the A to the chair.

	"His name is Mono," said Banner, checking the readout on the 
terminal.

	I raised a hypnocube, and applied it to Mono.  In a short time we 
had him talking.  There was a lot I wanted to know, namely concerning 
the behavior and activities of A's.  If I was to impersonate one, I 
needed to know what they were like, how they acted, and how they 
responded to certain situations.  Banner had been helpful but it was 
always good to have more sources of information.  In addition, this A 
worked in the security branch.

	"Have you ever been to Central Control?" I asked, hoping against 
hope.  

	He had.  Once.  I wracked his memory for every detail, every last 
bit.

	It was much as Banner had described it, and quite thoroughly 
depressing.  There was layer upon layer of security, different sorts of 
monitors and sensing devices throughout the complex.  This wasn't going 
to be easy.

	"But you're going to help," I told Mono, who nodded obligingly.

	We turned him.  And quite easily, too.  A's were not subject to 
hypnotic conditioning.  Yes, they were indoctrinated from an early age.  
But there were no stubborn subconscious commands to get around.  Mono 
was quite malleable.  I prepared him for tomorrow, and then told him to 
go to sleep.  He would be ready.

	Just as I finished that Banner called for my attention.  She was 
working on the terminal.  I looked over her shoulder.



	ALIEN 04-38-938, "CLIFFORD CROFT" STILL AT LARGE.  CENTRAL 
COMMAND ESTIMATES 80% PROBABILITY THAT ALIEN HAS ACCESS TO PEACEMAN 
LEVEL TERMINALS.  HENCEFORTH ALL MESSAGES CONCERNING 04-38-938 WILL BE 
DELIVERED PERSONALLY BY CLASSIFIED COURIER.  PRESTIGE POINTS FOR 
CAPTURE ARE NOW AT 100,000 POINTS.



	"So they're starting to catch on to me," I said.  "I wonder if 
they're able to trace this terminal."

	"No," said Banner.  "Otherwise they'd already be here," she said 
simply.  "Wait, there's more."



	PERSONAL MESSAGE FOR CLIFFORD CROFT, TOGGLE TO CONTINUE.



	"A trap," I said immediately.  "Could they trace it if we toggle 
the message?"

	"Let me check," said Banner, punching some keys.  "Yes, that's a 
special recall file.  That was a good hunch, Clifford."

	"Can you get around it?"

	Banner tapped some more keys.  "Yes, I can."  Suddenly a new 
message appeared on the screen.  But this was a taped video.  I gasped 
when I saw Thalessa's face.



	"Mr. Croft," she began, "so good of you to tune in."  She paused, 
then added, "We know you're still in the municipality.  We know you've 
stolen the resonator, and rescued the criminal Banner.  Banner, if 
you're listening to this, we're going to recover you too.  Only this 
time you won't be reduced merely to B level; I'm informed there's a 
shortage of D labor in the  W-278 mines."  Thalessa gave a wide smile.

	"We of course have far better plans for you, Mr. Croft.  When I'm 
done with you you'll be full of happiness, so very grateful for your 
conversion."  The camera gave a closeup on her face.  "Which I intend 
to supervise personally.  Very soon, Mr. Croft, very soon."  And then 
the picture faded.

	Banner's face grew pale.  I reached out and grabbed her hand.  
She was shaking.  "Don't worry, just go underground and stay there.  
You'll be all right."

	Banner turned to me.  "It's not me I'm thinking about.  It's you.  
You still don't know what you're getting into.  Central Control is the 
most tightly guarded installation on the planet.  They'll capture you, 
and then they'll convert you."  Tears started to well up inside her.

	"Hey, hey," I said.  "Let's not have any of that!  I'm not the 
catchable type; never have been, never will.  Now come on, cheer up, 
cheer up!  We've obviously caused them a lot of trouble."

	"I'll say," said Banner, bucking up a little.  Then she said, 
"Clifford?  If you still insist on going, may I-"

	"No, no, and no," I said.  "We've had this discussion may times 
before.  You're right, this is a very risky job, and I won't be 
responsible for the lives of others.  Look, I'll be honest with you.  
There is a chance I may be caught.  But if something happens to me, you 
have to remain free, to carry on the fight for your planet."

	"Oh Clifford!" she said, and she melted in my arms.  That sort of 
psychology always works.  I smiled as I patted her gently on the back

	Then Banner looked up at me.  "Well, if do you insist on being 
captured converted tomorrow, I'll try to make your last night of 
unprogrammed existence a good one."  And she reached out for me....

	Afterwards, she said, "That was tremendous."

	"What?"

	"Well, I've never done it with a man who was worth 100,000 
prestige points," she giggled.

	I rested as I let my hand play over her naked back.  I eyed Mono, 
still sitting in the chair.  It seemed a little odd to be intimate with 
someone while a third party was in the room, even someone who was 
sleeping in a hypnotic state.  Banner caught my glance.

	"You can't be certain that your hypnoinstruction will work."

	"I know," I said.  "That's what makes it interesting."



Chapter 12



	It was a breezy morning the day we reached the main gate of the 
Central Control complex.   Mono and I had spent nearly five days in 
virtually continuous travel, taking the roads that led to Central 
Control.  When we saw the complex from the distance (it's as large as a 
small city), I veered off the road, and spent another two days creating 
a new hiding hole.

	Mono was very helpful to me during that time, assisting in the 
digging and excavating.  I do believe his conversion was complete; he 
was now an enthusiastic supporter of the resistance.  I tried to do 
everything I could to make him feel part of the team; in fact I let him 
do most of the heavy work, putting myself in the role of seasoned 
supervisor.

	After two days it was done, and then there was nothing else to do 
but to go to the main gate, and that's what we did.

	Well, I use 'we' in a rather imprecise way.  Mono went alone.  He 
volunteered, of course, brave trooper that he was, especially after I 
suggested it to him.  I crouched in a field of tall weeds several 
hundred yards from the gate, staring at the scene through my 
binoculars.

	Mono approached the gate.  The plan was for him to get in, get a 
gravitator, fly it over and outside the grounds, pick me up, and bring 
me back in.  The tricky part, though, would be getting Mono in.  I 
waited, and watched.

	Mono approached the gate.  An electric eye scanned his ID, and 
his eyes.  That was the rub; the ID system here was more difficult to 
beat.  Mono waited patiently as the guards evaluated the scan.  All the 
guards in the complex, B types mostly, had double black stripes around 
their waists.

	After a little bit more of waiting, the guard charged with 
handling the electric eye came out of the guardhouse, approached Mono.  
I yawned; I knew the routine from here.  Mono would be searched, and 
then let in.

	The guard reached out with his weapon and shot Mono.

	This was not according to procedure.  The alarm sounded, and 
troops swarmed out of the complex.  I beat a hasty retreat.

	Back in my underground lair, I brooded.  What had gone wrong?  
How had they discovered him?  They must have realized that he had been 
kidnapped.  They knew, and he had been added to the wanted list.  If I 
had been there, I would have been caught too.  I could have slapped 
myself for my stupidity.

	After a few moments of brow beating I calmed down a bit.  Well, 
it hadn't been a total loss; after all, I hadn't been with him.  
Although I had had little doubt that Mono would obtain access to 
Central Control, I felt fairly certain that I couldn't; I simply didn't 
have the tools to beat the corneal eye test.  The nearest contact lense 
kit was light years away, back at the Column.

	I sighed; it had still been a blunder, a miscalculation.  As I 
sat in my cramped hole in the ground, I mused that with my present run 
of luck, the B's would be digging me out from here any minute now.  
Mono must have effectively told them all he knew in mere minutes after 
his capture, assuming skilled interrogators were on the scene.  Which I 
assumed.

	And yet I did not move, sitting rather calmly in my hiding hole.

	I even gave a slight smile.  True, Mono must have told them all 
he knew.  But then, Mono didn't know all that much.  As a precaution, I 
had erased his memory of this and my previous hideout.  All Mono knew 
was that I was trying to get into Central Control; he didn't even know 
why.

	But now the authorities knew I was coming.  This was a severe 
handicap.  They would beef up security.  They would be waiting for me.

	My fears on that score were justified.  Over the course of the 
next several hours I noticed an unusually high number of troop 
transports landing.  By the next morning there were hundreds of troops 
ringing the perimeter of the complex.

	I really wished there had been another way of getting the 
information I needed.  But it seemed that this was the base of 
operation for the Happy Worlders' technology piracy operation.  I 
simply had to get in.

	I sighed as I watched the troops, all lined up against the triple 
layer of heavily reinforced fencing, all practically eyeball to eyeball 
with each other.  Patrol craft flew overhead at frequent intervals.  I 
even noticed antiaircraft emplacements hurriedly being installed along 
the perimeter.  Undoubtedly in response to my plan to break in by 
stealing a gravitator.

	I spent some time thinking about my next plan for tackling 
Central Control.  By now they must be so smug in there, thinking 
themselves so safe, so secure, what with all their troops and defenses.  
What they didn't realize was that no security was foolproof.  Certainly 
not Clifford Croft proof.  I don't like to give up; quitting always 
leaves a sour taste in my mouth.  They had won the first round, but the 
war wasn't over yet.

	Think, Croft, think!  I couldn't go over, that was out; I'd be 
shot down in an instant.  I couldn't go straight in, that was out; I 
didn't have the necessary passes to deceive the guards.  And I couldn't 
go under, because of the seismic detectors built in... wait a minute, 
maybe I could, I realized.  Maybe I could go under.

	It took another day of examination to see if my plan could work.  
Finally, I was satisfied.  There was a way to get in, from underneath 
the complex.  It wouldn't trigger a single alarm.  Nor would I have to 
soil myself by touching a single grain of dirt.  Heh heh heh.

	The following morning I decided to go for a swim.  There was a 
lake, a short two miles north of Central Control.  Which also was their 
supply of drinking water.

	Drinking water!  Ha!  I couldn't help but laugh.  

	I had them.

	I appropriated a diving suit, and I slipped by the lone 
maintenance worker.  They had never thought to guard this, never!

	And then I took the plunge. I swam down, down, down.  I let the 
currents carry me.  And there was a strong current, which started 
pulling me in.  Which was just fine by me.

	Fine, at least, until the current became so strong that my 
velocity accelerated at an alarming rate, and I saw I was about to hit 
an open pipe with a large metal screen over it.

	I put my flippers to work, desperately trying to slow down my 
approach.  I had no desire to crash into a mesh barrier so quickly 
again.

	I landed, feet first, against the mesh, but my impact had been 
slowed, and I took it all in the joints.

	I examined the screen, and removed it, as it had been made to be-
-obviously for the maintenance workers.  Then I let the current suck me 
in.

	I've never had claustrophobia, but after that stint in the pipe, 
I was seriously considering taking it up.  The diameter of the pipe was 
only a little larger than my body, and I found myself often scraping 
against the walls.  I was acutely aware that at any time the pipe could 
become radically constricted in its diameter, which wouldn't be very 
good for me.  I didn't care if it became constricted--but first I 
wanted to make it inside the complex.

	But after a good bit of swimming, the pipe actually got larger.  
I could even see daylight ahead.  The water must be entering a water 
treatment room--inside Central Control!  I had been all prepared to 
blast my way out of the pipe.  This would be easy.

	But then I heard voices.  I immediately braced myself against the 
walls of the pipe, and slowly crawled forward.  The sunlight, or rather 
roomlight, was very close now.  The top of the pipe was open now and I 
could simply stand up and get out.  But I wasn't that hasty.

	I took a piece of mirror from my belt, and propped it up an inch 
or two out of the surface of the water.

	There were two armed squads of troops in the room, all armed with 
laser rifles.

	Periscope down....

	I can't say I enjoyed my trip out of the pipe, swimming for two 
miles against the current.  But it gave me a period of time to think, 
and thought was what I needed.  Many were the time when I felt the 
impulse to quit, to just give up and abandon my assignment.  

	But that would have meant that they had won.  That they were 
smarter than me.  True, I was only one man, and they had the resources 
of the entire planet to pull on.  But they weren't as clever as me, not 
by a long shot.  I could outthink them, I didn't doubt that.

	I spent another two days in my hiding hole, brooding.  Try as I 
could, I couldn't think of another plan.  The place was too thoroughly 
guarded.  There was no other choice, except.... every once in a while I 
get a crazy idea.  An idea I think may work, or may not, but is just 
too entirely dangerous to pull off.  At the very beginning of this 
exercise I had thought of such an idea, but then I had put it at the 
back of my mind, only to laugh inwardly whenever it came back to me.

	It was coming back to me.  But I wasn't laughing.

	I did a little research on my idea.  I hadn't committed to doing 
it,  I definitely hadn't committed to that.  I was just doing a little 
research.  That's what I told myself.

	I spied the heavily guarded facility.  Dozens of guards were 
inside the fences, everywhere I looked.  They were armed with laser 
rifles.  Only laser rifles, and laser pistols, and blasters, for the 
most part.  Hm...  I studied the antiaircraft emplacements.  They 
looked pretty hefty, but they could only be aimed up.  Hm....  The 
gravitator patrols had decreased and overhead flights were now the 
exception rather than the rule.

	I took a little field trip, to a nearby army base about 20 miles 
away.  I guess it was during this trip that I committed myself to this 
idea, crazy though it was.  It was the kind of idea that involved great 
risk, something I don't enjoy assuming on a whim.  But I was fresh out 
of ideas.  And there was one other thing that attracted me to this 
plan.

	If I had to fail, this was the way I wanted to do it.  My plan 
definitely had its more pleasant aspects, and I would enjoy them to the 
fullest, as long as I lasted.

  	With that resolve I put my plan into motion.  I furtively entered 
this army base, and I stole an... item.  It wasn't easy, and there 
certainly was no way to furtively cart it off, but despite difficulties 
I obtained this... item.

	Once they realized I had stolen the item, they would take 
countermeasures.  Therefore I went immediately to the Central Control 
complex with this... item.

	Elements of the armed forces would soon be in pursuit of me, for 
I had left a clear trail, and this... item was very easy to see from a 
distance.

	When I got within reach of the main fence of the complex, I took 
a deep breath.  Everything was ready.  I plowed ahead.

	Even years afterwards, I always smiled when I remembered the 
expression of the guards.  When I approached, with the item, they got 
this wide-eyed look and their mouths dropped open.  Remember that there 
were hundreds of them, guarding the fences.  But most of them just 
stood there, dumbfounded.

	For they were looking at a top of the line, elite mechanized 
battle tank.

	I was really having a lot of fun with it.  I had the automatic 
subsystems to help me, so I could drive and fire at the same time.  I 
aimed carefully, and toggled the laser cannon.

	A powerful burst of energy erupted from the huge turret.  It 
ripped through the first fence, the second, the third... and scorched a 
building 200 feet into the compound.  Soldiers were running everywhere 
like panicked animals.

	"Heh heh heh!" I chortled, edging the tank forward.

	My tank reached the remnants of the first layer of fences, and I 
felt a dash of worry as we went over the steaming metal mess.  I 
needn't have been concerned; the battle tank simply crunched through.  

	I was in an awesome battle tank!

	I felt like kissing the steering console.  "You're a nice 
weapon!" I exclaimed.  

	And then I passed over the second fence, and the third, and I was 
in.

	But the hard part wasn't over yet.  Aviators in gravitators spun 
around, in the air, circling like angry gnats, firing their hand lasers 
down at me.  Inside the tank I felt their minor pinpricks.  Had I been 
outside I undoubtedly would've seen the scratches on the paint job.  My 
heavily armored transportation continued to roll across the compound.

	I was in an awesome battle tank!

	I fired the laser cannon again, not because I especially needed 
to--I just rather enjoyed the sensation.  A building in my gunsights 
suddenly developed a rather gaping hole in it, and soldiers scattered 
in every direction.

	Suddenly, facing forward, I saw a vehicle approaching me.  It 
looked like a small aircar.  The occupants were firing wildly with 
their weapons.  I laughed.  I fired the laser cannon, and the vehicle 
blew up.  My treads made small crunching sounds as my tank climbed over 
and pulverized the smoking vehicle.  I grinned; this was the most fun I 
had had in a long time.

	I was in an awesome battle tank!

     	Then I saw a building ahead.  The building.  Any building would 
do, actually; it didn't particularly matter to me which one.  But I had 
just decided, and this was the one I would head for.  I was going to 
crash into it in less than a minute, unless I changed course.  I didn't 
change course.  But I did fire a laser volley into it, to soften up the 
outer wall.  Then I tripped the smoke canister that was attached to the 
rear of the tank.  A thick haze started to rise.

	I fired the laser cannon in a random direction, just to remind 
the troops that it still wasn't such a smart idea to get too close to 
me.  Not yet, anyway.  

	The smoke was now quite thick, and covered much of this compound.  
I couldn't see very much out of my little peephole, but I should have 
been crashing into the building right about... suddenly, I crashed.  It 
wasn't a major jolt, as I had feared, and I had taken the precaution of 
wearing my harness restrainer.  (Always remember to buckle up in a 
battle tank!)

	I unbuckled, and popped the forward hatch on top.  The front half 
of the tank was in the building.  Then I slipped out the bottom hatch, 
closing it behind me.

	The Happy Worlders weren't fools.  They had nearly outthought me 
several times.  They had seen the direction the tank had been going; it 
would have been foolish not to expect them to predict the breach point 
and have appropriate forces waiting there, inside the building.  Only I 
wasn't going to be there.

	The smoke started to clear as I slipped out under the tank and 
started to edge away from the scene.  Suddenly I felt myself bump into 
someone, and I started to fall.  He grabbed me, picking me up.  The 
smoke had cleared a little, and he looked at me.

	I was wearing the uniform of a B.  Complete with a double black 
stripe on my waist.  In my hand I held a standard issue blaster pistol.

	"Thanks," I muttered.

	"That way!" he said, pointing into the smoke.

	"Right!" I said, turning away the minute he started off.

	I tried not to make it obvious that I was virtually the only 
trooper heading away from the battle scene, but it actually wasn't that 
difficult.  There was still a lot of confusion on the scene, with 
people running about, this way and that.  I stealthily made my way to 
one of the buildings, whose entrance, like all others, was guarded by a 
B sentry.

	"What's happen-" he started to say, just as an explosion knocked 
us off our feet.  The self-destruct in the tank had kicked in.  Exactly 
as I had planned.  It would help to muddle my trail a little more, and 
serve as another diversion.

	Which I sorely needed.  I don't think anyone noticed when I 
reached up and chopped the sentry on the side of the neck and dashed 
past him, into the building.

	I was in.  I was in the complex.  I had made it!

	But the minute I entered the building a videoscreen on the wall 
lit up.  I saw the face of Thalessa.  "The alien Clifford Croft, 04-38-
938, has entered the complex.  Repeat, he is in the complex.  Enact 
Special Plan 94, repeat, Special Plan 94, as per previous preparation.  
That is all."

	That chilled my spine.  They had been waiting for me.  They had a 
plan prepared in the event I broke in.  What could it possibly be?  
Well, I had no way of knowing, so I would just have to go on with my  
plan.  Which was to get as far away as possible from this part of the 
complex, before checkpoints were set up.

	I was walking at a fast pace for about ten minutes when I spotted 
the first one.  I noticed four B's wheeling out some device in the 
corridor, I immediately turned away, into a room.

	"Yes?" came a voice, as the door slid closed behind me.

	I turned, expecting to see a minor functionary.  Instead, I saw 
an A, at his desk. 

	"Mmmgh," I mumbled, walking up to his desk.  He was a heavy, 
balding man.

	"Yes?" he repeated, frowning.

	I pressed the jammer in my button pocket.  Then I took out my 
blaster and shot him.

	I looked up at the camera in the room.  Hopefully it should be 
deactivated.  I hoped.  Considering the damage I had done in the 
complex, this shouldn't be the only one.  Quickly I took out the 
hypnocube.  I wouldn't have much time.

	Several minutes later I turned off the jammer.  The A behind the 
desk, a fellow named Parlo, blinked several times, as if coming out of 
a sleep.  Then, seeing me, he said, "Follow me, please."

	I followed.  I always obey the instructions of a superior.  
Especially one under my control.  Parlo took me into a room two doors 
down, which was filled with terminals.  I noticed, somewhat oddly, that 
there was no one in the room using the terminals.  I guessed that the 
confusion created by my arrival had stirred them out of their routine.

	While there was no one on the terminals, there were a number of 
D's, standing alert, on guard duty.  If Parlo wanted to sound the 
alarm, he could.  But he didn't.  He just sat down at the terminal, and 
started pressing keys.  The screen took his ID, and an eye scan as 
well, before coming fully alive.

	He sat on the screen for several moments, then typed in a 
request.  He made a hardcopy of the answer and handed it to me.  I 
nodded to him and he left the room.  He would have no memory of even 
helping me.

	I looked at the data printout.  I knew there were terminals and 
there were terminals.  I needed the highest priority terminals to get 
the information I needed.  Parlo had printed me a map of the location 
of the nearest high priority terminal.  Unfortunately, even he didn't 
have access to any of those.

	I frowned; this high security terminal room was nearby.  Just a 
hallway down, as a matter of fact.  A coincidence, I suppose.  Anyway, 
I thought I would scout it out.  I would have to go there, sooner or 
later.  I walked passed the door, trying to casually case the area.  I 
looked left and right.  I was the only one in this corridor.  I stopped 
at the door.  

	It was unguarded, apparently, which only made me more suspicious. 
But then I looked at the lock, and started to become fascinated by it.  
I reached out to simply touch it

	-and the door opened.

	I peered inside.  I was looking at a large, empty room.  Empty of 
terminals, that is.

	But not empty of troops.  There were well over a hundred of 
those.  I quickly turned to flee-

	and the hallway was full of troops, on either side.

	There was no possibility of escape.  None at all!

	I took a deep breath, eyeing the approaching troops.  Then I 
raised my weapon-

	only to have it shot out of my grasp.  It went spinning to the 
floor and I grasped my numb hand.

	And then the crowd of troops parted and several men carrying long 
rods made their way forward.  I backed up against a wall, trembling.

	One of them stood calmly in front of me.  He fired his rod, and I 
was paralyzed.  Totally.

	But my mind could still function.  I think they intended that.  
For as the troops cleared out someone else came into view.

	"Mr. Croft," said a very familiar voice.  "So good to see you 
again.  I told you we would meet again.  You know what will happen 
next."

	And I looked into the smiling face of Thalessa.

	I've had better days.

	

	



Chapter 13



	"Strip him," was the first command she gave, when I had been 
brought to her personal torture chamber.  She watched my face to see if 
I had any qualms, but luckily I wasn't able to show emotion right about 
then.

	They removed my clothes and searched me thoroughly, taking every 
last device I had secreted to myself.  Then they put a bulky suit on 
me, and strapped me onto a torture table.  Evil looking machinery hung 
above me.

	"You may notice that your new clothes do not have an ID," said 
Thalessa.    She idly played with her long brunette hair.  "Shall we 
make you... a B?  Or a C?  How about a D?  You might like that, Mr. 
Croft.  You would never have to worry about thinking again."

	She touched a knob on her control board, there was a hum, and I 
felt the paralysis wear off.  "You may speak."

	"Nice place you got here," I commented.  Above all, I didn't want 
her to see fear.  I looked up at the machinery suspended above me.  
"Did you arrange this, or was it your decorator?"

	"I most assuredly arranged it," said Thalessa, giving me a sharp 
look with those green eyes.  "Fool after fool failed to effect your 
capture.  Many B's were demoted to D's because of their repeated 
failures.  Finally it was I who caught you!"

	"I was talking about the decor-"

	"Silence!" she said, and her eyes flared.  "You tried to make a 
fool of me.  I almost had you earlier, when you stepped out of that 
plane!  Do you know how the Master reacted when he found out?  Did you 
know that I was humiliated?"  She pressed a button, and pain stabbed 
through my body.  I screamed.  Then Thalessa smiled, calming down.

	"I let other fools attend to your capture, in the beginning.  We 
almost had you when we traced you to Wata, but the fool in charge of 
your capture allowed you to escape.  And then you rescued Banner."  She 
smiled again.  "I took personal charge of her conversion.  As Chief 
Programmer, it was my right.  Fascinating woman... I shall enjoy 
meeting her again, with your help."

	I started to speak, but she cut me off.  "Did she warn you? About 
coming here?  She should have.  For you were the fool for trying to get 
in.  Didn't you know we were waiting for you once we grabbed Mono?  Yet 
you persisted in your attempts to enter.  I shall find out the reason 
for that very soon as well.  Once we apprehended your accomplice I took 
personal charge of ensuring your capture.  We had reports of the stolen 
vehicle within five minutes after you left the base.  We could have 
sent our air forces to intercept and destroy you.  Easily." 

	Then she put her face close to mine.  "But I wanted you.  Alive."  
She gave me a broad, chilling smile, nothing like the dull grin of the 
lower class Happy Worlders.  I willed myself not to respond, but it 
took an effort.  Thalessa frowned, a little disappointed at not getting 
any overt reaction.  

	Thalessa continued.  She seemed to enjoy discussing how she had 
outwitted me.  "We allowed you to enter.  I knew that you, in search of 
information, would sooner or later access a terminal."

	"And you told everyone else to stay off the terminals," I said.  
Suddenly it was all clear to me, and I could have kicked myself for 
being so stupid.

	"Precisely.  We had you marked the minute your accomplice, your 
former accomplice, logged on.  And then it was simply a matter of 
directing you where we wanted you."  Her face hovered over mine.  "And 
now we have you.  As I promised.  Or didn't you believe me?"

	My response was cut off, for there was a chime, and she quickly 
pulled her head away.  She went to a screen out of my vision, and 
activated it.

	"Master," she said formally.

	"The unprocessed alien has been captured, Thalessa?"

	"I have him right here in my lab."

	"Fine, fine.  It's about time.  Let me know when you have the 
first results."

	"Yes, Master."

	And then her face was before me again.  "Do you know who that 
was?" she hissed.

	"Your master?" I said, with half a smile on my lips.

	She turned a dial on the side of the table, and I winced in pain 
for a moment as very unpleasant stimuli wracked me.

	"Your Master, the Master of this entire planet.  He is only 
answerable to the Supermaster, the ruler of our entire empire."

	"Six solar systems.  Some empire," I snorted.

	"You will serve the empire," said Thalessa.  "You will serve the 
state."  She started to run her hand along my shoulder.  "Do you know 
how long it will take to convert you?"

	"Counting overtime?" I said.  But my humor was hollow.  There was 
no escape, not anymore. But at least I could go with dignity.

	Suddenly, she raised her left hand, and in it she held a square 
device.  "Do you know what this is?" she said, reaching behind my head, 
feeling the back of my neck.

	"The D device," I muttered.  The one that hooked D's up to the 
central computer.  The one that took away all independent thought.

	"It's 100% effective," said Thalessa.  "The only problem is, it 
tends to... wear down the mind of the individual.  It burns some of 
them out.  It's what we used on one of your agents that we caught.  The 
one who didn't die on us before capture."

	"What happened to him?" I whispered.

	"Her," said Thalessa.  "She died on us."  She smiled at the 
remembrance.  "Her alien mind simply rejected the device, and it burned 
her mind out.  Most tragic," she smiled.  She moved to fit the device 
against the back of my neck.  My face was taut but I didn't flinch.

	"So, you are the brave one!  Or perhaps you have learned that it 
is only inserted through laser surgery.  I understand you have been on 
a tour of the rehomoginization facility," said Thalessa.  She paused, 
and then she said, "No, you can rest easy.  We are not going to make 
you a D.  D's tend to lack certain... elements of creativity, elements 
of creativity which you possess, which will come in useful when you 
will be working for us."  She idly played a hand over my shoulder.

	"So I guess you're going to make me a C," I said resignedly.  
That's what I was hoping.  Please, make me a C, I silently hoped.

	"For you, to become a C? Ha, ha ha ha!"  Thalessa seemed to find 
something humorous about my statement.  "I was the one who figured out 
that you're immune to standard C treatment.  Given time I could figure 
out how it's done and device alternative means, in injectable form, but 
there's no need to delay for that."  She reached over, and put a tag on 
my chest.  But not before she showed it to me.

	It was a string of numbers, but the first character on it was the 
letter B. "Congratulations.  You're about to become a member of the 
upper classes."

	Thalessa pressed a button, and a light came on, shining in my 
eyes.  A hypnodevice.  "Any last words, before you are improved?" she 
said.

	"You may think you've won," I snarled, "but-"

	Suddenly, the light started flickering, and my attention was 
immediately diverted.  I tried to close my eyes, but hard fingers 
forced them open.

	"Goodbye, Mr. Croft," said Thalessa.





	I got up, and reached for my blaster.  A squad of peacemen 
entered the room, all armed with rods.  I fired on one of them, and he 
disappeared.  I fired on another, and he disappeared too.  Then they 
were getting too close and I turned to run, only I tripped and fell, 
and a rod came down.  I rolled over, barely avoiding it, but then 
another came down, and that did touch me on the shoulder... the rod 
touching me on the shoulder...  happy smiles, happy feelings....



	The state was good... the state was good... the state was good... 
the state was good... the state was good... the state was good... the 
state was good...



	I walked down the plane, escorting the captive.  I hoped the 
switch would fool them.  I was sweating as Thalessa greeted us.  

	"So good to meet you, Mr. Croft," she said.  But she was talking 
to me!  I tried to get away, but they grabbed me... they grabbed me...  
"You didn't think you could fool us, did you, Mr. Croft?"



	I must serve the state... I must serve the state... I must serve 
the state... I must serve the state... I must serve the state....



	"I told you we would catch you, Mr. Croft."  The voice was soft, 
but insistent.

	"Clifford, they will capture you!"

	"I told you we would capture you, Mr. Croft."  Again and again.

	"I told you... I told you... I told you...."



	I must obey the state....I must obey the state.... The Mistress 
is superior ...  The Mistress is superior...  The Mistress is 
superior...  The Mistress is superior... The Mistress is superior....  
I must obey the state....



	"No, Clifford, no!" said Banner, grabbing me by the leg.  But I 
just ignored her, dragging her along to the door.  When I opened it, 
peacemen rushed in.

	"No, no!" she cried, racing to the other side of the room.  The 
peacemen grabbed her, holding her immobile.  One of the peacemen handed 
me his rod.

	"No, Clifford, no, you're not one of them!" she cried out.

	"You're Unadjusted," I said.  "You must be made to fit."  I 
tapped her on the shoulder with the rod.



	I must serve the state... I must serve the state... I must serve 
the state... I must serve the state... I must serve the state... I must 
serve the state....



Chapter 14



	I was awake, with a strong light blinking in my eyes.

	"Clifford, wake up!  Wake up!" said a familiar voice.

	I blinked, and saw someone rapidly untying my bonds.  I was in 
Thalessa's lab.  But Thalessa wasn't there.  I was alone, with...

	Banner.  When she turned I saw her face.

	"How?" I began.

	"Forged passes.  Never mind that now.  We've got to get you out 
of here!"  she said.  "Can you walk?"

	I got an odd expression on my face.  I felt strange, out of 
sorts, as if I were different, but I couldn't identify how.

	"Can you walk?" she repeated, looking anxiously at me.

	I nodded.

	"Then let's go!"

	We crept stealthily out of the lab.  The outside corridors were 
dark.

	"What-" I began.

	"I cut the power.  Their surveillance system won't work.  But 
we've got to hurry, we don't have much time.  Here, take this," she 
said, stuffing something in my hand.  "This" was a blaster, set on 
kill.  I tried to reset it, but the setting seemed stuck.

	"Come on!" said Banner, pulling me down the corridor.

	We saw only one guard as we ran, and Banner shot him before he 
could react.  And then we ran, up one level, down two others... the 
corridors seemed nearly empty.  And then we reached the spaceport, in 
the center of the city.

	"There's a spaceport inside the control complex?" I said, 
dumbfounded.  I stared at the enormous multilevel affair.  I had known 
that, I think, but for some reason my memory was operating in a strange 
way.  I blinked, as though I were still half asleep.

	"Come on!" said Banner, pulling me along.  We encountered more 
resistance here, and I think Banner shot more people.  Finally, when we 
got to a spaceship, Banner pulled me up the ramp.

	"Come on!" she repeated.

	But some instinct caused me to resist her urgings and to stop.

	"Clifford!" she said, letting go of me.  "Come on!  They're 
chasing us!  They'll be here any minute!"

	My eyes squinted.  "You are Unconverted," I said slowly, raising 
my blaster.  Straight at Banner.

	"Clifford!" she said, stunned.  

	"You must be made to fit.  It's really for your own good.  You 
will thank me later," I said.  She turned to flee....

	I fired.  The beam hit her, and she crumpled to the ground.  I 
looked down at her body, and then my weapon.  It had still been set to 
kill.



	Indeterminacy....



	"Hello, Mr. Croft," said a deep but familiar feminine voice.

	I blinked, opening my eyes.  I was on the table, in the lab.  
Somehow I felt I had been there many, many times, or maybe one very 
long time.   Or had it been just a few minutes?  I had no way to tell.

	 And then someone was taking off my straps, and I was free.

	"You won't be needing those anymore," said the voice.  And then 
she turned to face me.

	"Mistress!" I said, my insides suddenly feeling uneasy.  It was 
her, the Chief Programmer herself!

	She smiled at me, and that was enough to make me shiver.  "Take 
it easy, Mr. Croft.  You've had a difficult experience, but you're 
going to be all right."

	I sat up experimentally.  I felt fine, physically; a little 
cramped, maybe.  But my mind....  "I've been converted!" I realized.

	"Yes," she said, affixing the "B" ID plate to my chest, as well 
as my back.  "How do you feel?"

	I gave a broad smile, one that brimmed with the goodness of milk 
and honey. "Hmmmmmm, I feel gooooooood," I said.



	It took me a surprisingly short time to become acquainted with 
life in the complex.  One would have thought that I, a recently 
converted offworld rebel, would have needed time to adjust.  But I 
didn't.

	Thalessa, the great Mistress herself, explained it to me.  "I 
supervised your conversion myself.  I saw how unhappy you were, how 
misguided you had been, and out of the goodness of my heart attempted 
to help you."

	"Thank you, oh thank you!" I cried.  How could I ever repay her 
kind act of charity?

	That subject must have been on her mind as well, for a day later 
she sent for me.  I was still sorting things out in my mind.  How could 
I have been so destructive?  How could I ever have worked for the 
aliens?  I had done so many terrible things.  But perhaps the Mistress 
would give me a chance to repay my debt to the state.  To the state!  
That great institution which labored tirelessly to let everyone have 
happy, productive lives!  How could I ever have conceived of a plan to 
sabotage it?

	When I was sent for I was so anxious to help that I immediately 
blurted out, "What can I do to repay your kindness?"

	Thalessa, the superior one, smiled, almost as if she had been 
expecting me to say something like that.  "You're very talented, Mr. 
Croft.  But first, let's bring us up to date.  What was the purpose of 
your mission here?"

	"To find out what you've been doing with the technology that 
you've taken from the League," I said promptly.  Thalessa was my 
superior; I had no secrets from her.  "They don't know what you're up 
to, but they're suspicious."

	Thalessa nodded, as if she knew the answer to her questions even 
before she asked them, which I thought was kind of odd.  "Do you now 
know?"

	I frowned.  "No."

	"And what of the maladjusted, Banner?  Do you know where we might 
find her?"

	I frowned.  "I don't know.  She might... she might be at a 
hideout I built-"

	"-under the peaceman station," said Thalessa.  She smiled 
knowingly.  "She has not returned there."

	I searched my memory, for any scrap or clue that might be of use 
to Thalessa.  "I... I know.  I think, before I left, that I told her 
not to come back there.  In case I was converted."

	"She is very dangerous," said Thalessa.  "Since you helped her to 
escape conversion, she has gone back underground, and is now organizing 
the resistance movement again.  She is most dangerous, because she is 
highly intelligent, the most able of all the active resistors.  Thus 
far she has eluded capture.  Would you like to assist us in her 
recapture?"

	"Yes," I said immediately, without hesitation.  "It was my fault 
that she broke free.  Anything that I could do to help-"  and then I 
broke off, remembering something.  "Perhaps Taral-"

	Thalessa cut me off.  "We have already checked.  He is gone from 
his post, as well.  But we do have an assignment for you to help us 
locate a pocket of resistors who may lead us to Banner.  Are you 
interested?"

	"Yes," I answered unequivocally.

	"Good," said Thalessa, simply, measuring me up with her eyes.  
"Very good."

	I was taken, under escort, to a city several hundred miles away.  
If the purpose of the escort was to prevent me from escaping, I would 
have laughed.  There was nothing that would shake my loyalty to the 
state.  To Thalessa.  She was truly a superior woman.  I could see now 
how warped my motivations had been in the past, how I missed 
opportunities to render years of service to the state.  

	Order!  That was what the state promised.  The resistors were a 
bunch of confused individualists who wanted to destroy society, to 
destroy the rule of law.  They were sick, of course; they couldn't 
realize that true happiness came in the order of things.  And order was 
what the state gave to the people.

	We arrived at our destination, a guarded electrical substation on 
the edge of a small city.  One of the guards at the substation, B-
6543278678,  "Julpo", had been identified as a maladjust.  My mission 
would be to infiltrate Julpo's cell, and work my way closer and closer 
to the leader, which intelligence strongly suspected was Banner.  Aware 
that peaceman lines had been monitored, the authorities had continued 
to erroneously broadcast that I was still at large.

	"You know what to do?" said one of the B's accompanying me.  I 
nodded.

	In a few seconds I ran off the road, into view of the electrical 
substation.  There was only one guard on duty, and, by no coincidence, 
it was Julpo.  I ran towards the substation, with the look of terror in 
my eyes, constantly looking behind me, as if I were being chased.

	When I got close he drew his weapon, but I was first, drawing my 
blaster and shooting him.  But my gun gave a click and failed me.  I 
tripped and fell to the ground.

	"Hold it!" said Julpo, covering me with his laser.

	"No, no!" I cried, feebly attempting to hold off the expected 
blast with my hands.

	"You're the alien," said Julpo, studying my face closely.

	I looked rapidly behind me.  "Help me, help me, they're after 
me!" I cried.

	Julpo frowned for a moment, as if he were rapidly weighing 
something in his mind.  Only then did he rapidly look about, and then 
lift me up.  "Come on," he said.

	He hid me in a equipment storage locker.  It was only after I was 
safely stowed away that my pursuers came running up, ostensibly in the 
search for me.  I heard them ask Julpo something, and then they moved 
on.

	

	Julpo came for me several hours later and spirited me away.  I 
was blindfolded, my weapon was taken from me,  and I was marched to an 
undisclosed location.  When the blindfold was removed, I found myself 
inside a storage warehouse.  Julpo was there, and two other men as 
well.  They were all armed, and I couldn't help but notice that several 
weapons were pointed in an uncomfortable direction.

	"This is the one, Mazapan," said Julpo.

	Mazapan, a grey haired man, looked thoughtful.  A thinning, 
younger man stood at his side.  

	"You claim to be the alien?" said Mazapan.

	"Yes.  I am from the group of worlds known as the League," I 
said.

	Mazapan said, "You look like all the photo likenesses."  But he 
frowned as he said it.  "If you are who you say you are, how do we know 
you have not been captured and converted?"

	I spread my hands helplessly.  "I can't.  But I'm telling you 
this:  if you don't hide me, they will find me, and convert me, without 
a shadow of a doubt.  And I'm here on a mission, a mission of grave 
importance."  I put a note of desperation in my voice.  That usually 
helps.

	"Mission?" said Mazapan.  "What mission?"

	"I can only reveal that to your leader.  Banner."

	"Banner?" said Mazapan.

	"Is she not your leader?"

	"We don't know who our leaders are," said Julpo.  "We have a link 
to the group above us, but we don't know who is above that."

	"Then by all means, send me to the group above you," I said.  He 
had doubts about me, that was clear, and I gave my best innocent look.  
I had to convince these maladjusts; if I failed, I would have to call 
the backup troops in.  And in that event we might not get the lead that 
would take us to the next resistance group.

	Mazapan looked sharply at Julpo.  "You say you saw him, pursued 
by the peacemen?"

	Julpo nodded.

	Mazapan reluctantly nodded.  "Then we will send you on."

	My fingers touched my ankle, as if scratching an itch. But 
actually my fingers were closing on the hidden contact on the side of 
my shoe.  Once I pressed that, the troops would move in and arrest 
these unadjusted rabble.  All I needed was the next name to go on.

	"Then where do I go?" I asked.

	"I do not know," said Mazapan.  "Frengil, the other of our group, 
will be here shortly."

	So my hand moved away from my shoe and we sat there and waited.  
After an hour or more a young woman entered the warehouse.

	"Frengil!" said Mazapan, with a broad smile on his face.

	"The alien!" said Frengil immediately, looking at me.

	"Yes, the alien," I sighed, resigned to being called that.

	Mazapan explained the situation.  "We need you to send him to the 
next group.  We will leave the two of you alone."  Evidently the other 
members of the group weren't supposed to hear the information I would 
be getting.  It made sense; only Frengil would have the knowledge that 
could lead to other group.  Knowledge I was about to acquire.

	"Goodbye, Clifford Croft," said Mazapan, waving as he and the 
other two maladjusted citizens left.  I waved back, a large smile on my 
face.  And I tapped the contact on the side of my shoe twice, in rapid 
succession.

	Frengil smiled.  "So, you are the alien."

	"I prefer Croft," I said curtly.

	"Very well, Croft.  You are to proceed to meet with Winder, C-
1459987688, at-" she broke off suddenly, hearing a scuffling noise 
outside.  Suddenly peacemen burst in, and just as she whirled about to 
face me, I chopped her on the side of the neck.

	"I have the information," I said triumphantly.



	Winder was a dull looking C unit who worked in a food processing 
facility.  I approached him alone, and gave him the password that 
Frengil had been about to give me.  She actually had given it to me, 
eagerly, after she had been converted.  

	When I spoke to him, Winder nodded in response, and, with 
uncharacteristically coherent speech, for a C, whispered something back 
to me. 

	Later that evening, in the backroom of a shoe establishment, I 
sat in a chair, with three lasers pointed at me.  It was a routine I 
was becoming quite familiar with.

	"I tell you I am Clifford Croft," I sighed.  "I can tell you all 
about the League, where I come from."

	"Meaningless, since we know nothing of your League," said one of 
them, a man named Taltro.

	"I do," said another man.  He was a thin, red headed fellow named 
Olmsted.  He looked at me closely.  I tried to appear unconcerned, but 
I felt uncomfortable under his inspecting glare.  Finally, he said, "On 
your world, when you are named, does the state give your parents a 
choice of names, or is your parent's selection merely approved by the 
state, after the fact?"

	I said, forthrightly, "Neither.  My parents chose my name without 
any intervention by the state at all."

	This started some murmuring among the gathered resistors.  But 
Olmsted said calmly, "That is correct.  This is the alien, you can be 
sure of it."

	"But how do we know he has not been converted?" said Taltro.

	"The peaceman records suggest he is still at large," said an 
unidentified man.

	"They may know we have access to their networks," said Taltro, 
shaking his head.  My, how suspicious they were!

	"I see no alternative," said Olmsted.  "I shall take him to 
Dron."

	Dron!  That was it!  I had a name.  My hand moved down to my 
shoe....

	Taltro addressed me.  "Dron will access whether you are being 
truthful  or not.  Then we will decide where you will go."

	My hand moved away from my shoe.  "But I must speak to Banner!  
The matter is urgent!"  I had to press them.  They were sending me for 
more analysis.

	"Banner?" said Taltro, looking puzzled, like the rest.  But 
Olmsted didn't look puzzled.  He knew.  I felt almost certain.

	But still not certain enough to signal the backup forces.  I let 
myself be led away by Olmsted, while I resisted the impulse to call in 
the troops.  They would trail me, and if necessary, we could pick up 
Taltro and the others later.

	To my surprise, I was brought to a rehomoginization facility, 
where I was ushered into a small room.  "It's all right," Olmsted 
assured me.  "The surveillance in this room has been fixed.  Dron will 
be with us shortly."

	Dron, a thin, grey haired B, was.  When Olmsted explained the 
situation to him, he nodded, making "hm, hm," sounds along the way.  
"Well, we should be able to determine this quickly enough," he said.  
"Look into this, please," he said, lifting a small device that looked 
like a hypnocube.

	I reached out, and chopped it out of his hands.  Another chop 
sent Olmsted's laser crashing to the ground.  Then I had to turn to 
deal with Dron.  He was weak, and two quick punches sent him to the 
ground.  But when I turned back to Olmsted I saw he had fled, out the 
door.  After hurriedly pressing the contact on my shoe, I gave chase.

	He ran right out of the facility, towards the front gate.  The 
guards were alerted, but they didn't know the nature of the alarm.  And 
then my escorts came crashing through the front gate.  And then, almost 
quicker than I could see it, one of the hovervehicles slammed into 
Olmsted. Or maybe he ran into one of them.  I'll never know.

	All I did know was that I immediately ran up to his prone form, 
with only one thought on my mind.  "Where is she?" I said, grabbing 
him.

	He was bloody, but still conscious. "I don't know," he said, and 
somehow managed to grin. "And you'll never get from me what I don't 
know."



	"You did well," said Thalessa.

	"I failed in my mission," I brooded, sitting in her leisure 
chamber.

	"You helped us capture eight resistors, who led us to another 
twelve.  Not bad for two days work," she smiled.  Then she said.  
"Come.  There is someone who wants to meet you."

	I was taken to the highest security zone within Central Control.  
The walls were all black here.  I was searched and searched again, four 
times, before I was allowed to enter the chamber.  The chamber of the 
Master.

	It was luxurious, of course, but I hardly noticed that.  My 
attention was fixed on the leader, a tall balding man with short, 
carefully cropped brown hair that contrasted sharply with his midnight 
black uniform.  When his piercing eyes turned to me, I froze me in my 
tracks.  Both admiration and fear flowed in my heart.

	"So, this is the young man who has been of so much service to 
us," said the Master.  He chuckled good naturedly.  "I hear you have 
done a superb job on him, Thalessa."

	"Yes Algen," said Thalessa dutifully.

	"You'll help us track down those resistors yet," said the Master, 
staring me in the eye.  I instinctively looked down.  "And more.  
Thalessa?"

	"He just returned today from his first mission.  The new work is 
in the planning stage, and we will start on it today."

	New work?  What was that all about?

	"Good, good."  He waved us away dismissively.  But my heart was 
pounding.  That had been the Master, the Master!

	I was in such a good mood that I didn't realize where I was going 
until Thalessa led me back into her leisure chamber.  "You look happy, 
Clifford," she said, with a tight smile.

	"I am one of the fortunate few who has seen our chief employer in 
person, and I will always savor the memory of seeing the Master," I 
smiled, feeling very pleased with myself.

	She studied me closely.  "Very good.  Did you know, Clifford, 
that there were those who said that you would be unconvertible?"  She 
sat down in a chair next to me, and suddenly I began to get nervous 
again.

	"Me?  Why?"

	"You were reputed to be one of the top operatives in your Column.  
There was a feeling that your sense of... individuality was especially 
strong.  That you would prove difficult to adjust."

	I smiled.  "But you displayed masterful skill in converting me."

	"Yes...."  A hand wandered up and down my chest.  "I spent a good 
deal of time tracking you down.... You proved to be quite a 
challenge..."  The hand continued to rove.  "I always wondered what it 
would be like...."  And then we were kissing, and I put my arms around 
her.

	I couldn't believe it; I was actually with the Mistress, the most 
desirable woman on the planet.  And I had just been congratulated by 
the Master himself.  What a day!



	"Arf arf!"

	I blinked, my eyes focusing.  It was the following morning, and I 
was in my assigned cubicle.  I frowned; I had had the oddest dream.  
Something about some... kind of animal.  But the more I tried to 
remember it, the more it faded from memory.

	Early in the day I was summoned to the Mistress.  We were to 
discuss plans for penetrating the Column.

	"We have an operative in your Column," said Thalessa.  "But he is 
a lower level official, and we wish to expand our operations."

	I nodded.  "What can I do?"

	Thalessa smiled slyly.  "I was hoping you could answer that 
question yourself."

	I paused, thinking of several possibilities.  "Hm... you want to 
recruit more agents.  Tell you what, I could go back to the Column-"

	"No," said Thalessa.  For a moment I thought she didn't trust me.  
But she quickly added, "They know you've been converted.  You've been 
here for over two months without reporting."

	Two months?  I had thought something like two or three weeks.  
The only unaccounted period in my mind was the time of my conversion.  
Just how long had it taken?

	Thalessa was looking at me for another suggestion.  I started to 
piece together an idea for luring agents away when they were on 
assignment on other worlds.  Once isolated, they could be converted, 
and in turn used to convert others within the ranks.

	Thalessa approved of my idea.  Evidently her people had been 
thinking of something along those lines.  But she wanted to know how 
the Chief would react if he became suspicious, what sort of 
countermeasures he would be likely to employ, and so on.  I tried to 
help out as best I could, sketching out more of the Chief's personality 
to her.  I also tried to tell all of the Column routine and procedures 
I could remember.

	We discussed that for several days, with interludes being filled 
by romantic evenings between Thalessa and myself.  I was thrilled that 
she had taken an interest in me; though I constantly worried that I was 
not worthy of her.  Our romantic encounters tended to be rather... 
passionate, but Thalessa was always in control.  She was, after all, 
the superior one.

	We also worked together constantly, discussing plans for 
infiltrating the Column.  I examined one file that I felt merited a 
close look.  "It says that the Column is becoming especially interested 
in Operation Conquest, but I don't see any reference to what that is."

	Thalessa smiled, and looked at me slyly.  "It's top secret.  But 
I don't suppose--now, anyway--that there's any reason not to tell you.  
You recall you were sent here to find out why we have been stealing 
technology from the League?"

	I nodded.

	"Well, we found a wide variety of League science useful to our 
modernization efforts.  The specs for our battle tanks, for example, 
were based on League research.  But Operation Conquest is special."  
And she smiled again.  "Our scientists have devised a method that, in 
theory, should allow the immobilization and conversion of large numbers 
of unconverted individuals... from a distance of miles!"

	That got my attention.  I immediately understood its potential.  
"In the hands of the state-"

	"It could expand our realm of harmony throughout the galaxy," 
Thalessa said, looking thrilled at the prospect.

	"But you said 'in theory'," I said.  "Does that mean you're not 
sure it will work?"

	"Well, one can never be certain, until the device is tested.  For 
you see, while we have devised the theory, we lack the equipment.  We 
have been scouring the League for the proper equipment.  In a few more 
weeks we should have all the parts we need.  And then-"

	"Interstellar conquest," I cried.  "In the name of the Master!"

	Thalessa nodded.  She grinned at me.  "And you will help us 
accomplish it."



	

	A little, tiny fluffy looking animal. A fox, maybe. Or a dog. 
With a black nose and two big black eyes and a wagging tail.

	I suddenly sat upright, looking about.  I was in bed, in my rest 
cubicle.  It was halfway through the sleep cycle.  I remembered the 
dream now.  Something about a fluffy little dog.

	I was sweating all over my body.  For some reason, it was 
important.  I even had a vague memory, some time ago, of thinking about 
such a little dog.  But when, and why?  I just couldn't figure it out.



	I made a number of acquaintances over the course of my time at 
Central Control.  A number of other B's, such as myself, worked 
undercover, capturing and converting resistors.  One night we were in 
the common area, playing a popular board game, "Serve the Master."  The 
board consisted of a long, winding path, that went from one end to the 
other.  The object of the game was to be the first to get to the other 
end.  Each turn we would roll a die which would tell us how many 
squares forward to move.  Once we moved we would take a "mastercard", 
which described a situation that would require us to take a certain 
number of steps forward--or backwards. 

	For example, I often pulled a mastercard that read, "You have 
worked an extra shift to increase productivity.  Advance one square."  
These cards were the most frequent.  But other good ones were "You 
memorized the week's new rules and applied them correctly.  Advance two 
squares."  or even "You turned in a friend who required adjustment, 
helping himself and society.  Advance three squares."

	But there were negative cards as well.  "You have disobeyed a 
rule... but your mistake was inadvertent.  Go back two squares."  These 
cards were very common as well.  Another card I once got read, "You 
were caught thinking a forbidden thought.  Take one step back, and take 
a punishment card."

	Punishment cards were always the worst.  They could take you back 
4, 5, or even ten spaces, or even back to the beginning of the game.  
They could also downgrade you.  One card read, "Serving the state no 
longer brings you the happiness it should.  You are obviously troubled.  
You turn yourself in for reconditioning, and get downgraded one letter 
category."  We all started as B's, and needed to finish the game as B's 
or better.  Upgrading was rare--I had only seen one card for it, and 
that was for "Turning in an offworlder spy" which gave me a chuckle--so 
once a player fell below B, his chances of winning dropped 
dramatically.

	There were also cards that gave choices.  For example, one card 
read "The Master's birthday is coming up.  You could spend your free 
time working on the holiday display, but your shift manager is urging 
you to put in some extra time at the plant.  Which do you do?"  (The 
correct answer is to work at the plant--the Master would understand).  
Another typical question was "Resistors are better off when they're 
converted.  If a rogue B is captured, should he be returned as a B, or 
as a lower grade?"  (The correct answer is a 'B'--that being the 
position where the former resistor could better serve the Master.)

	One night I was playing with a bunch of the fellows, B-
8378909922, a grizzled veteran named Ralston, B-8743212952, a crafty 
tracker by the name of Yuto, and Pounas, identcode B-641498783, a 
relative newcomer to our group.

	"Captured a resistor today," said Ralston, rolling a die.

	"Yeah?" said Yuto, with marginal interest.

	"Real talker, too," said Ralston.  He moved his counter forward 
on the map.  He was winning, as usual.  He picked up a mastercard and 
read it aloud.  "You were working in the chem labs and devised a 
superior C serum.  Take a prized card."

	A prized card.  That was pretty rare.  Ralston picked one, and 
read it to us.  "The Mistress herself has just awarded you the 
productive citizen of the week award.  Move three spaces ahead.  Well 
well well."

	"Let me see that," Pounas snapped, grabbing it from him.

	"Think I'd cheat, about a thing like that?" Ralston grinned, 
moving his counter forward.  He turned to me.  "You're pretty close 
with the Mistress yourself."

	"My natural charm," I said, smiling modesty.

	"Sure," said Yuto.  "She changes men quicker than we change 
blasterpacks."

	"No..." I said feebly, not wanting to believe it.

	"Just wait, junior, and you'll see," said Ralston.  "Now roll the 
die."

	I rolled the die, got a two.

	"Oh oh," said Pounas, as I moved my counter.  I saw why.

	I had landed in a punishment zone.

	Grinning, Yuto handed me the punishment deck.  "Pick a card, any 
card," he said gleefully.

	I selected a card, and read it.  "You have been captured as an 
enemy of the state, and converted.  Normally this would cost you two 
squares, but as your conversion was abnormally arduous, go three steps 
back, and take another mastercard."  I followed the instructions, 
frowning as I did so.  Was my conversion difficult?  I just didn't 
remember.

	I moved the counter, and then picked the mastercard.  

	"Read it, read it," said Pounas.

	"You are a C unit laboring in the factors.  But you notice that 
you are not being as productive as your fellow units.  Do you try to 
work better, or volunteer for possible evaluation for conversion to a D 
unit?"

	That made my blood run cold.  Even in my converted state I had no 
desire to be turned into a D.  Oh, I realized that the D's were happy, 
in their own way, but I had no desire to lead such a... constricted 
existence.

	The others must have seen the look on my face, for they frowned.  
"Croft?" said Ralston.

	"Huh?" I said.

	"Your move," said Yuto.  "Don't try to stall."

	"Um... yeah.  I would volunteer for D conversion," I said 
woodenly, opening up the inside of the card to read the answer.  That 
was the answer I was supposed to have given.  I had been right.  "The 
correct answer is to volunteer for reevaluation.  The authorities are 
always there to help you.  You should feel free to seek their advice 
and guidance at all times, especially in times of trouble.  If your 
answer was correct, take two steps forward."

	I moved my counter forward, trying not to show the numbness I 
felt.

	"So what was it all about?" said Yuto, addressing Ralston.

	"What?  Oh, yes, the capture.  A weird fellow, a B who worked in 
a sheet metal plant.  He was unstable. His fellow workers picked up on 
it immediately, and reported him."

	"You know, I wonder why they do that?" said Pounas.  "Fall out of 
adjustment, I mean."

	"The answer's simple enough," said Ralston.  "Conversion isn't 
perfect.  It's a standardized process, one that works on millions of 
minds.  Bound to be one or two out there that doesn't respond."  He 
paused for a moment.  "But where was I?  Oh yes, so I apprehended him, 
peacemen in tow.  He sees us coming, doesn't even try to run.  But then 
he starts talking."

	"Didn't you tap him immediately, with the rod?" Yuto asked.

	"I should have, but I was curious.  The fellow just babbled on."

	"What did he say?" I asked.

	"Said that conversion was rubbish, that our minds were 
controlled, that we didn't have free thought," said Ralston.   He 
mimicked a whiny voice.  "Your minds are enslaved.  You can't think for 
yourself.  Resist, resist!"  

	We all laughed.  It was simply preposterous.  Of course we could 
think whatever we wanted!  Once we had been guided by the Master, of 
course.

	Ralston recovered first.  "So I said to him, ok, so I guess I 
have no choice but to tap you.  And I did."  That started another round 
of laughter, in which I heartily joined.

	Resistors can be so foolish sometimes.

	

	Later that night, I lay in bed, musing about the resistors.  I 
wished we could cure them all, but more and more kept springing up.  
They were still statistically a very small number, but somehow we 
couldn't quite manage to wipe them all out.  They were anarchists, of 
course.  They wanted a society where there was no guiding force, no 
order.  The resistors had totally disregarded what the state had given 
us; a healthy, productive society where everyone was happy.  Everyone.  
Including myself.

	I felt myself drifting off to sleep, but I couldn't have been out 
for more than a few minutes when I suddenly sat up with a jerk.  

	The dog! That little dog!

	The fleeting image of the smiling little dog filled my mind.  And 
then it was gone.

	Over the course of the next few days the animal dreams increased.  
It was the same thing, over and over again.  A smiling little dog.  
Somehow there was more to it than that... but I just couldn't remember 
it all.  I started to think that perhaps part of my processing was 
going haywire.  I almost told Thalessa about it; but she might have 
become alarmed, and removed me from the important assignments I was 
working on.  And I could certainly handle it; they were only dreams, 
right?



	In addition to planning future operations on League planets, I 
also participated in two more missions to round up Unadjusteds.  I 
assisted in the capturing and reprocessing of a number of resistors, 
but we could never get our hands on Banner, and I fretted over that.

	And Thalessa knew exactly how I felt.  So when she summoned me 
one day I curiously noticed she was wearing an unusual smile.

	"What is it?" I asked immediately.  

	"She's taken the bait," said the Mistress.  "She's responded to 
one of the messages."  I immediately knew who the "she" was--Banner!  
Some time ago we had sent out messages over the various terminal 
networks, subtle messages from me that were meant to lure Banner in.  
For example, on the peaceman network I had sent the cryptic message 
"The chair" and given an electronic address for response, in the hope 
that Thalessa would recall the torture chair and understand it a 
communication from me.  Well, evidently she had.

	"A stroke of good fortune," said the Mistress.  She held a folded 
computer printout.

	"What does it say?" I said eagerly.

	"Nothing," said the Mistress sharply.  She was of course aware of 
my former relationship with Banner.  But she was also equally aware of 
my unswerving loyalty to her, and to the state.  "Nothing, except an 
address, and a day, tomorrow, and a time.  Are you up for this, 
Clifford?"

	I smiled.  "Without a doubt."

	Without a doubt.  It was some distance away, so I had to get 
there in a hurry, and I left immediately on a special plane.  Central 
Control had its own airport and spaceport, which made sudden departures 
convenient.  As soon as we took off I went to sleep; it would be the 
last chance I would get to rest for some time.

	"Arf! Arf!" A smiling little dog was wagging his tail... 
suddenly, a jolt went through my entire mind.  I blinked; for a moment, 
I felt as if I were losing consciousness, in a slow but uncontrolled 
way.  And then I found myself gasping, and then my vision cleared.

	"Are you ok?" said a peaceman, staring at me.

	I regained my composure.  "Fine," I said.  "I'm fine.  Really."

	We made it to the rendezvous point with just a short time to 
spare.  I found that I was looking forward to seeing Banner again.

	The rendezvous location was at the outskirts of a large populated 
area, in a deserted warehouse.  The resistors always seemed to choose 
warehouses for their meeting places.  They thought they were 
unmonitored.  They weren't very smart.  

	But before I entered the warehouse I went over the routine with 
my escort.  "Standard procedure," I said, tapping my shoe.  "I'll 
signal you when I'm ready."

	"We've encircled the warehouse," said the B coordinator.

	"Keep them out of view," I said sharply.  "She's no fool!  If she 
spots them-"

	"Relax, friend," said the B, smiling at me.  "Our operatives are 
good."

	Slowly I relaxed and smiled back.  "Yes, I know.  It's just that 
this is so important... I don't want her to escape... But remember, 
don't enter until I give the signal."  That was very important to me.  
I had some things to say to Banner first.  Alone.

	"Will do," said the B.

	And that was that, and I entered the warehouse.  It was dimly lit 
inside, but I could vaguely make out chairs.  Mountains and mountains 
of them.  There were stacks of them piled up to the ceiling.

	"Banner?" I hissed, walking through the gloom.  "Banner?"

	I slowly made my way to the rear of the warehouse, where, in an 
open space, a figure stood.  The pace of my footsteps accelerated, I 
got closer, and-

	Banner stood there smiling, waiting for me.  "Oh Clifford!" she 
said, giving me a big hug.  We held that embrace for some time.

	Then I gently disengaged and took a few steps back.  "You look 
well," I said.

	"You look awful," she said.  But she was grinning as she said it.

	"I see you got my message," I said.

	"Yes, oh yes I did," said Banner.

	"How have things been going?  The resistance?"

	"Fine," said Banner, with a tight smile.  "We're really getting 
organized."

	"So I hear," I said, smiling.

	"How did you hear that, Clifford?" said Banner.  "By the way, did 
you manage to enter Central Control?"  She was starting to become 
suspicious now, which, after her warm greeting, was kind of odd.

	"Yes," I said, thinking quickly.  "I've spent some time in 
Central Control."

	"I'll bet you have," she said, snapping her fingers.  Suddenly 
two men came out of the gloom.  Both armed with lasers.

	I was on the floor and rolling even as the first beam was firing.  
It went above me and then I was shooting out with my own blaster, 
stunning one of them.  And then I rolled again and spun about, hitting 
the second one, even as he was firing on me.  My position, not entirely 
coincidentally, was now two feet away from Banner, who was drawing her 
own weapon. I chopped her hand as it came out of her bulky suit, and 
the weapon clattered to the floor.  I picked her weapon up and took 
several steps back, keeping the weapon pointed at her.

	"Oh Clifford!" she said, tears welling in her eyes.  "I knew you 
shouldn't have gone there!  I told you!  I warned you!"

	"Yes, they converted me," I said, with a grin.

	"So what now?  You're going to shoot me, and bring me in for 
conversion too?" She seemed defiant.

	I pointed to my shoe.  "When I tap it twice, the troops come 
rushing in."

	"Think, Clifford, think!  You've been converted!  Your 
motivations are artificial!  Fight it, fight it!" she cried, as I 
lowered one hand to my foot.

	I paused, and stood up again, without having touched my foot.  "I 
should fight it?" I said.

	"Because it's wrong!  Can't you see that?"

	"Wrong?" I said.  "Of course I can see that."

	"What?" And now it was Banner's turn to look surprised.

  	I spoke in a very soft voice, but loud enough for her to hear me.  

	"I'm not converted."



	There was silence in the warehouse for a moment.

	Banner looked really astonished.  "What?" was all she could 
sputteragain.

	I elaborated.  "Or rather I was converted, until about an hour 
ago.  I'm back to my old self again."

	"I don't believe you!" she said.

	I tossed her weapon back to her, but kept mine in hand.  "I hope 
that's bought me some credibility."

	She eyed her weapon suspiciously, as if I might've tampered with 
it.  "Some.  But you've got some explaining to do."

	"It will have to be quick.  My friends are outside, and they most 
definitely are converted."  I took a deep breath.  This would have to 
be a brief explanation.  "Yes, I was captured when I entered Central 
Control.  Yes, I was converted.  Then something happened... maybe the 
conversion wasn't fully effective, I don't know.  But I snapped out of 
it," I said.  "Just like I said, an hour ago.  If your pals hadn't been 
so quick to shoot me, we could have avoided this."

	"Why didn't you reveal yourself immediately?" Banner declared.

	"I wanted to be sure you weren't part of some trap, to test my 
loyalty," I shuddered.  "I've gone through all sorts of conditioning.  
It's made me very... suspicious."

	Banner shook her head.  "I need proof!"

	"What do you want me to do?  I could grab you right now, convert 
you, and get the names of all your accomplices.  Instead I'm going to 
have you hide, while I leave with my guards.  I don't want to see you, 
or any of your resistance again."

	"You could just be saying that," said Banner.  "It's what I would 
expect."

	"I mean it," I said.  "I still have a job to do, and you don't 
need to be involved.  Watch me," I said, slowly walking away.  I turned 
my back on her, but it was a necessary risk.

	She whistled, and people jumped out of nowhere.  Suddenly I found 
myself surrounded by a squad of guntoting resistors, who had seemingly 
come out of nowhere.  I turned around to face Banner.

	"What is this?" I cried, genuinely surprised.

	Now it was Banner's turn to be superior.  "I knew you had been 
converted, Clifford.  Or at least, I was pretty certain of it.  You 
thought you were trapping me here?  This was a trap, Clifford, but for 
you.  We were going to capture you and unconvert you.  Didn't you think 
it rather odd how easily I fell for your "message"?  I was caught, 
once, when I was unprepared.  But they won't catch me again so easily.  
No, Clifford, you were the one who was fooled," she said, smiling.

	"But... then why all the routine on your part?" I said, stunned.

	"Because I wanted to learn whether you were truly converted.  But 
I almost called the troops in two or three times.  It seems a good 
thing that I didn't, doesn't it?"  She spoke in a louder voice.  "He's 
clean.  I vouch for him."

	One of them grumbled, "How can you be sure?"

	Banner looked at the man.  "If you doubt my word, you may leave," 
she said simply.  Then she turned to me, and hugged me again.

	I savored the embrace, but I spoke in her ear, "If I don't call 
the guards in soon, they're going to start getting edgy.  Now if your 
people will hide-"

	"No need, Clifford," she whispered, nibbling at my ear.

	"The warehouse is surrounded."

	"But we have a tunnel underneath," she said, ever so softly.

	"Oh," was all I could say.

	"Come with us, Clifford," she said simply.

	It was enticing.  I didn't know whether I was in love with Banner 
or not, but I definitely felt attracted to her.  Strongly.  But I still 
had a job to do.  And some scores to settle.  "I can't.  I have to go 
back to Central Control."

	"You can't!" she said, pushing away from me.  She brought her 
weapon up, and I think she was toying with the idea of stunning me.

	"Listen to me," I said, grabbing her by the arms.  "They are 
working on a device in there that will enable them to take over worlds.  
Entire worlds!  Remember Operation Conquest?  That's what it's all 
about.  If they complete that device, all of the free planets will be 
absorbed by the Happy Worlds.  Do you want that to happen?  More worlds 
under the sway of the state?"

	Banner blinked.  She did understand.  But she said, somewhat 
feebly, "But if you go back there-"

	"I'd be in the best possible position.  I'm one of them, 
remember?  Converted.  If I blow my cover now, I will never be able to 
break in there again.  Ever."

	Banner softened considerably, and seemed on the verge of crying.  
But she held it back, and nodded.  "What can I do?"

	"Get a safehouse ready for me in case I need it," I said.  "I'll 
try to get offplanet on my own, but if I can't I'll need your help."  I 
studied her.  She seemed a little buoyed by the fact that we might meet 
again.

	"You know," said Banner, with a smile, "The next time I see you, 
I'll be wondering whether you were converted again."

	"Risk is the spice of life," I said.  I spoke a few more words, 
and then departed.

	Outside, the B coordinator said, "Well?"

	"She wasn't there," I said bluntly.

	"Then what took you so long?" he said.

	Oh oh.  I hadn't thought of that.  "That warehouse is like a 
small city.  It took some time just to walk through the place, to make 
sure she wasn't there."

	The B looked skeptical, but he accepted my answer.



Chapter 15



     I was no longer converted.

	I was no longer converted, and they were going to pay for what 
they had done to me.

	During our ride back to central control, I kept a dumb smile on 
my face.  Thoughts of revenge swirled through my mind. I willed myself 
to calm down. It took some time, but I succeeded. I started to think 
about the conversion process... just how had I beat it?  I tried to 
think back, remembering.

	The little dog.  Yes, it had something to do with that image of 
the little dog.  But why a dog?  I sat back and tried to think.

	Memory is a very special thing.  It is also somewhat infuriating.  
I tried to remember the first time I had thought about the little furry 
dog.  It was in bed, that night back at Central Control.

	No, that wasn't true.  Not quite.  I had thought about a fluffy 
little dog before.  It had been fleeting, but...  Suddenly it came to 
me.  It had been at the base!  At the Column, when I had been prepared 
for the mission.  I had been given the details and language for the 
mission under hypno, and when I had awoken... I remembered thinking 
about a little dog.

	At the time I hadn't thought anything about it.  But now it was 
starting to make sense.  The Column had done something to my mind.  
Something that... prevented hypnosis?  No, I had obviously been 
converted, for some time.  Perhaps it was like the drug inoculation I 
had received.  Something that fought mind altering influences... on a 
hypnotic level.  Only they hadn't seen fit to tell me about it.  Of 
course!  If they had told me about it, I could have revealed that fact 
when I had been converted.  The Column must have been experimenting 
with some sort of anti-hypnosis procedure.  It must have been 
effective, in a limited way.  It just needed some time to take effect.  
Just like a vaccination takes time to generate anti-bodies.

	I had figured it out.   I had become so paranoid, that for a time 
I had suspected that Thalessa might have partially unconverted me, to 
test my loyalty.  My thinking was somewhat muddled from what they had 
done to me.  But some things were clear.  Very clear.

	Their society was sick.  Fundamentally twisted.

	Suddenly I was thinking back to the past few months, and I was 
disgusted.  Really disgusted.  My complete obedience to the state.  I 
had loved it, I really did.  I had thought the state was the most 
wonderful thing since the invention of sliced bread, right down to that 
mindless boardgame I had played with my fellow brainwashed operatives.  

	I swallowed hard as I recalled all the things I had done for the 
state, including betraying resistors.  I would have betrayed Banner 
too, had I still been converted.  And I would have done it eagerly, 
without any qualms.  I thought about how I had been instrumental in the 
capture and reconversion of a number of resistors.  

	I wanted to throw up.  One of my traveling companions looked at 
me oddly.  He must have noticed a change in expression on my face.

	"Are you all right, my friend?" he said.

	"I'm wonderful," I said, with a broad smile.  I wanted to kill 
him, all the peacemen, all the peacemen, all the rulers, including the 
Master.

	And then there was Thalessa.  

	She who I had loved and admired more than anyone on the planet.  
I recalled with disgust how I had fawned over her, acting as her 
personal slave.  I had admired her, loved her... I remember feeling 
those emotions.  And yet now I was filled with hate.  And then I 
shuddered inwardly.  She had used me, used me entirely--as a tool to 
capture resistors, as a pawn against the Column, and even... even for 
her own pleasure.   She had controlled my mind and used me as a 
plaything.  She had converted me and made me grateful for it.  And I 
had been.

	I had a lot to settle with the Happy Worlders.  But Thalessa was 
on the top of the list.

	They would pay for what they had done to me.  They would all pay.

	I looked out of the window of the plane, and smiled.  "I can't 
wait to get back to Central Control!  There's so much work to be done!"

	The other B's smiled at me.  The fools.

	When we arrived at Central Control and were inside the complex, 
my first instinct was to burst into Thalessa's quarters and blast her 
to pieces.  My blaster, set at full force, could kill her instantly.  
She'd be dead before she hit the ground, just from a single high 
intensity blaster bolt.  I had great difficulty restraining myself from 
rushing in and carrying out the job.  My anger was incredible, just 
impossible to restrain.  I just kept thinking what she had done to me.  
Worse, I remembered what she had done to Banner.

	And then I got the summons.  Thalessa wanted to see me.

	And that changed me.  Somehow, that gave me a jolt of reality.  I 
calmed down a bit, and my anger abated.  Oh, I was still in the mood 
for revenge, but I was also more in control of my emotions now.  If I 
acted rashly I would be converted.  Again.  And the next time they 
would make sure that I would not snap out of it.  Ever.

	No, my revenge would have to be plotted slowly, carefully.  I 
still had the advantage.  I would only have one chance, I must not 
waste it.

	I tried to act normally when I entered Thalessa's quarters.  She 
was wearing her typical midnight black uniform.  I noticed the way her 
long black hair fell behind her as she walked.  She stared intently at 
me with her bright green eyes as I entered the room.

	"Report," she said.

	"We... failed to capture Banner," I said, averting my eyes.  I 
didn't know if I could bear to look at such a hateful figure.

	"The guards reported as much... they also reported that you 
seemed perturbed.  Is something wrong?" she said.

	"No," I said, still looking away.  "I'm just naturally disturbed 
that we failed to capture her.  She's very dangerous, on the loose."

	"Yes," said Thalessa, walking up to me.  She seemed puzzled that 
I wasn't making eye contact with her.

	With an effort, I looked at her, and gave a smile.

	She reached over and gave me a kiss.  With an effort, I returned 
it.

	After a moment, she stepped back, still inspecting me closely.  
"There.  That's better.  Don't worry about this minor setback.  We'll 
catch her.  Now, let's return to our plans for infiltrating your 
Column."

	And so we did, though I had to confess my enthusiasm was less 
than it had been in previous sessions.  I tried to participate 
minimally, volunteering trite suggestions without trying to give away 
anything useful.   I reviewed the material we had already worked on.  I 
really had thought of several good ways to infiltrate the Column.  It 
was still my work.  And it would have to be destroyed.

	Later, I sat down in my cubicle and tried to think.  What were my 
priorities?  One, to destroy all the information that had been 
accumulated.  The plans I had devised, the technology that had been 
stolen....  Suddenly, I sat up rigidly in bed.  I had forgotten all 
about Operation Conquest!

	Operation Conquest.  The plan to construct a device that could 
take over the minds of thousands of people, from remote control over 
long distances.  When I had first learned of it I was quite approving.  
Now I wasn't so thrilled about the project.  It must be stopped!

	What was it that Thalessa had said?  Her agents were still 
abroad, acquiring the information.  I had to find out who they were, 
where they were, and I had to stop them.  That was a must, a top 
priority.

	I took a deep breath.  I also wanted suitable revenge against the 
state.  Against Thalessa.  But I didn't know how I would accomplish it.  
Somehow the idea of killing no longer rallied any enthusiasm inside me.  
My prior rage had cooled.  While she doubtlessly deserved death, it was 
too easy.  Much too easy.

	Or perhaps I was making excuses.  I never found pleasure in 
killing, especially in cold blood.  But Thalessa must be made to pay.

	And then for a moment I thought of myself.  Once I had 
accomplished what I had set out to do, how would I escape?  Would I be 
able to escape?  This was an important question.  I still wanted to get 
out of this situation in one piece.  I was still too young to end my 
spy career on this worthless planet.

	I was very eager to get going, but I carefully formulated my 
plan, spending two days thinking it over, again and again.  I couldn't 
know if it would work, not for certain, not until I tried it.  If I 
made a mistake, a miscalculation, I would end up right back on the 
conversion table, and be restored to ranks of Thalessa's cheerfully 
mindless slaves.  I shuddered.

	The fear of recapture and reconversion drove me to spend another 
day procrastinating.  Finally I felt that I could delay no more.  I 
used my priority pass to enter a key circuitry room, and made several 
adjustments.  Minor ones.  These circuits didn't touch on the security 
system, or even the general surveillance interface.  My security 
clearance didn't clear me to even come near the former, while the 
latter was heavily guarded.  But there were a few select surveillance 
circuits that ran through this room.  One of which I was heavily 
interested in.

	But still I delayed, through much of the afternoon.  I don't 
think I would have gotten the courage to make the attempt that day, if 
it hadn't been the summons.

	Thalessa wanted to see me.

	I checked my watch.  This late in the afternoon, there was only 
one reason she wanted to see me.  And it wasn't related to business.

	I thought quickly.  I didn't want to go through with it.  I had 
kept up the pretense; I had worked with her for several days while 
keeping my shadow personality in place... but this I would not 
tolerate.  I was ready to go, and if my plan would fail, it would fail.  
But I was going to make the try.

	I entered Thalessa's quarters, and as the doors slid shut behind 
me I eyed the camera in the corner, just above her conversion table.  
Yes, that's right, she had conversion equipment, right in her quarters.  
She liked to be close to her work.

	She greeted me, smiling.  She was wearing a dress that covered 
almost nothing, silver slivers that draped her body, concealing very 
little.  "How do I look?" she said, running her hands through her 
luscious black hair.

	"Beautiful," I smiled.  She was always a vain creature, fishing 
for compliments from her brainwashed entourage.  She continued to rub 
her hands through her long, silky hair.  I wished I could strangle her 
with it.

	"I saw the Master today," she said, pouring drinks for us.

	"Oh?"

	"He complimented me on my work.  Said it was going splendidly," 
said Thalessa.  She looked at me expectantly.

	"And so he should.  You're the best programmer there is," I said, 
smiling broadly.  I wished I could tie her down to her machine, and 
show her what it felt like to be 'programmed'.

	"Really?" she said, fishing for more compliments.  She handed me 
my drink.

	"Oh yes. I've always been astonished by your sheer talent," I 
said, falling back into liespeak.  

	"Tell me more," she said, gesturing me to sit down by her, on the 
couch.

	Oh oh.  I could see that time was running out.  But her voice 
still held an air of command for me, and I sat.

	"You are so lovely and skilled, that you are the most desirable 
woman on the planet," I said, putting words together almost on 
autopilot.  She was desirable to me, but not in the way she thought.  I 
desired to ship her like a package to Banner and the resistance 
movement.

	Thalessa smiled, and put down her drink.  She reached over to me.  
"You know, Clifford, you've been an exemplary assistant," she said, 
putting her hand on my shoulder.

	Exemplary slave, she meant.  Did I respond to brainwashing better 
than the others?  Or did I simply retain enough of my own abilities 
after conditioning to effectively serve her?  "Thank you," I said.  
"Serving you is all I could ever want."  Yes, serving her up--to a 
firing squad.  

	She leaned over and gave me a deep kiss.  Despite my recent 
mental liberation I found myself starting to become swayed.  But 
revulsion ran deeper, and I pulled away from her.

	Immediately her eyes narrowed.  "Clifford, what's wrong?"

	"N-nothing," I said, not sure what to do next.  The next step was 
obvious, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  My determination 
tended to sap in Thalessa's presence.

	She said, "Just the same, I'd better give you a checkup.  Get on 
the table, please."  She got up, turning away, assuming that I'd obey.

	Several times after my conversion Thalessa had hypnotized me to 
give me a "checkup", just to make certain that my conditioning was 
holding.  Unfortunately, she hadn't given me one recently.  
Unfortunately for her.

	As I pondered what to do I found myself going to the examination 
table and lying down.  Evidently I wasn't as totally free of the 
conditioning as I thought.  I looked around me.  Any second now the 
restraining straps would kick in to place, I would be held, hypnotized, 
and then Thalessa would know what had happened to me.  She would 
reprogram me, making certain I would never have independent thoughts 
again.

	It was the thought of that certainty that forced me to sit up on 
the table, just as the restrainers started to come out of their slots.

	At the control station, Thalessa looked annoyed.  "Clifford, we 
cannot conduct this examination unless you lie down."

	I resisted the impulse to comply.  Swinging my legs, I got off 
the table.

	Thalessa looked surprised.  "Clifford!  Get back on that table."  
Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and her eyes widened.  Her hand 
reached out to touch a button-

	And I drew my hidden blaster, smooth as a hawk, and shot her 
where she stood.  She fell, wordlessly, to the ground.

	I could have killed her, I suppose, and there's little doubt in 
my mind that she deserved it.  But she could be very useful to me, 
alive.  At least, that's how I rationalized it.

	In a few minutes Thalessa blinked, recovering consciousness.  She 
tried to move... but realized she was lying, restrained, on her own 
examining table.

	I whistled a foul tune until she looked up, noticing me at the 
control panel.  I could have converted her while she slept, but I 
wanted this.  I needed this.  To finally face down my adversary.

	"Good morning!" I said cheerfully.

	"Guards!  Guards!  Help!" Thalessa cried, casting her eyes to the 
camera on the wall.

	"I've fixed that," I said.  "And as you've thoughtfully observed 
in the past, your chambers are sound proof.  For reasons of privacy," I 
grinned.

	"Clifford!  You must obey me!  Release me!" she said, staring at 
me.

	Inwardly, part of me recoiled.  But she no longer controlled me.  
"Sorry, I don't do orders.  But maybe if you asked me nicely."

	She screwed up her face, but she said, through gritted teeth, 
"Release me, please, Clifford?"

	"Hm...."  I paused, considering.  I walked over to the table, and 
casually laid my hands on the restraining straps.

	"Naah," I said, with a big grin.  "Ah, that was good.  This is 
first time since I came here that I really have something to smile 
about."

	"Clifford, you're sick.  You've had a relapse for the worse, you 
need help.  Let me help you," said Thalessa, in a gentle voice.

	"You're correct in saying I've had a relapse," I said.  "But it's 
been for the better, I assure you."

	"Clifford, think.  You've been happy with us!  Think of the good 
times-"

	"Good times!"  I was enraged.  I walked up to her, anger in my 
heavy footsteps.  I put my face close to her's.  "Good times.  Yes, I 
had good times while you brainwashed me, controlled my mind, made me 
act against my friends, and used me... in terrible ways."  I swallowed 
hard.  "And then there was Banner.  I can't forget the terrible things 
you did to her.  I saw her, after you had finished butchering her 
mind."  I thought back to the time I first saw Banner, in the 
rehomoginization center after she had been processed... those vacant 
eyes, the emptied mind.  It had been a disgusting sight.  Another 
thought occurred to me.  "And you used me cruelly to try to get at 
her!" I said slowly but forcefully.

	"No, Clifford, that was the real you, coming out, doing goodness 
for the state," said Thalessa.  "Think how happy you were!"

	"Uh-uh," I said.  "There's a real difference.  My happiness, as 
you call it, was artificially induced.  As was my loyalty to the state.  
When I chose to work for the Column, the League, it was an independent 
decision, an exercise of free will.  What I've experienced here has 
been little more than mental slavery."

	Seeing that this tact wasn't working, her expression changed.  
"You won't get away with this, Clifford!" she snarled.  "We've caught 
you before, and we'll catch you again."

	I hummed pleasantly as I examined the controls on the side of the 
examination table.  They were not dissimilar from the ones on the main 
control panel.  "I don't think you'll catch me again," I said.  "For 
one thing, this time I have the advantage of surprise.  For another, 
you're going to help me."

	"Me?  No!" she cried.  "Clifford, no, don't alter my mind."

	"What a funny plea, coming from the chief programmer on this 
planet," I said.  "How many people have you converted, bending their 
minds to serve your will?  Hundreds?  Thousands?  Well, you're about to 
get some of your own treatment."

	"No!" she cried, as the machinery above her started to make a 
soft noise.

	"I'm not too familiar with the controls," I said.  "But you'll 
forgive me if I make some mistakes, won't you?  Oh, of course you will; 
I'll program you to."  I continued to hum a happy tune.  "Hm, I wonder 
what these will do," I said, letting my hand fall against a row of 
buttons.

	Shrieking, Thalessa tried to escape from her bonds.  But they 
held her tightly.  They were very tough restraints.  I could have told 
her that.

	"Ha ha ha," I said, enjoying this.  The tables were turned, and 
quite literally at that.

	"You won't escape," she said, almost desperately.  "And when I 
capture you again, Clifford-"

	"Yes?" I said.

	"I'll convert you again.  Only I'll make you a D!  Under total 
control of the computer!  Your mind will slowly burn itself out!"

	"Love you too," I said, pressing the button I believed was the 
activator.

	Suddenly, a beam of light came stabbing out of the machine above 
Thalessa.  She cried out.

	"Sorry, wrong button," I said.  But I paused a few second before 
turning it off.  Normally torture was not a favorite pastime of mine, 
but Thalessa's displeasure was not my displeasure.  It was bad enough 
what she had done to me, but when I thought about Banner, how Thalessa 
had cruelly purged her personality, whatever little sympathy I had for 
the Mistress faded.

	She started to rant and rave, even after I turned the ray off.  
It was most distracting; I was busy attempting to find the proper 
control.  How could I ever hope to convert a subject who was making 
such a racket?

	"Shush!" I said sternly.  "This is a Happy World.  You should be 
happy!"

	Thalessa began describing again how she would take my mind apart, 
bit by bit, when I pressed the button.

	A ray stabbed out, and her body became rigid, her face 
expressionless.

	"That's better," I said.  "Much better.  Now, let's see what I 
can do about giving you a crash course in humility."  I went to 
work....

	In a little over an hour I was almost done.  It certainly wasn't 
a professional job, one that would last indefinitely, but I had done a 
fairly good effort, so I thought.  What I had done was turn off her 
admiration of the state, and trained it on... well, me.

	Well, that's what served my purposes.  I needed her to obey me.  
When her mind was in the proper state, I whispered to her, "Thalessa."

	"Yes?" said a soft voice.  I stared at her face; her eyes were 
wide open, staring vacantly into space.

	I took a deep breath.  I had already turned her off from her 
devotion to the state.  So I thought.  Now came the second part.  "This 
is Clifford Croft.  You think I'm the greatest."

	"You're the greatest," she mumbled.

	"The best spy you've ever seen.  You've admired me from the 
moment you first set eyes on me.  In fact, I've demonstrated more skill 
and style than just about anyone you've ever seen, including the 
Master.  In addition-"

	I'm afraid I went on like that, for some time.  Part of it was 
revenge, I'll be quite frank.  I rather enjoyed seeing the tables 
turned on my former Mistress.  I had suffered through her own 
forcefully imposed psychological conditioning and now it was her turn 
for a taste of her own medicine.  It wouldn't do any harm to her, so I 
thought; it might even give her a bit of humility.

     When I was done, or, at least, when I thought I was done, I turned 
off the machine and freed Thalessa from the straps.

	Thalessa blinked, and quickly sat up.  I had my hand on my 
blaster, ready for anything.

	The Mistress smiled up at me.  "Clifford," she said, grinning.

	"Thalessa," I said.  "What do you think about the state?"

	She immediately made a face.  "It's terrible!"

	"What do you think about me?"

	"Oh, Clifford, you're the greatest!  You're so smart, so able, 
so... perfect!" she said, gushing all over me.

	Wuups.  Perhaps I had instilled her interest in the Clifford 
Croft fan club just a little too strongly.  Ah, well.  I vowed to do 
better on my next conditioning job.

	"And you're going to help me now, aren't you?" I said.

	"Oh yes, oh yes, anything you want, Clifford, you just name it, 
anything!" said Thalessa, now pathetically interested in pleasing.  
Gone was the domineering woman who controlled the minds of others.

	I gathered up my equipment.  "You know," I said, "I rather like 
this personality change of yours."

	We left, as she thanked me profusely for instilling it into her.  
I couldn't help but chuckle. But our business was pressing.

	Our first stop was an equipment storage locker, where I picked up 
several handy gadgets, including some small explosive packets and 
remote control detonators.  There were going to be fireworks before I 
was done.

	Our next stop was to the room housing the high priority 
terminals.  The highest.  Only the Master, I believed, had a higher 
access terminal.  But any of these terminals would suffice.

	There were two A's in the room, who looked up when we entered.  
"Out!" said Thalessa immediately, and they practically ran for the 
door.

	There were no guards in the rooms, but there were cameras, so we 
had to act normally.

	"I did it, Clifford," she said excitedly.

	"Yes Mistress," I said, giving her a purposeful stare.

	"Oh."  Thalessa immediately became serious.  On the outside, at 
least.  She sat at the console.

	"Ahem," I said, clearing my throat.

	Thalessa sat up with a jerk.  "Oh?  Is there something I'm 
supposed to be doing?"

	Evidently my programming had had unintended side effects.  "I 
believe you wanted to access the terminal, Mistress," I hissed.

	"Yes?  Oh, yes," said Thalessa, logging on.  The screen scanned 
her eyes, and then came alive.

	"I will handle it from here, as you wished, Mistress," I said, 
edging her out of the seat.  She took a seat next to me and spent the 
time just watching me.  And smiling.

	I rapidly punched up the information on the whole technology 
transfer scheme.

	And I whistled.  They had really accumulated a lot of information 
over the life of this espionage program.  There was technology 
concerning engines, weaponry, spaceship construction, communication, 
computers... the list went on and on.

	"A little information can be a dangerous thing," I said, pressing 
the PURGE button.

	Immediately the screen went blank, and for a moment I worried I 
had exceeded even the Mistress's authority.  But then a sentence came 
on the screen.



	ARE YOU CERTAIN YOU WISH TO ERASE THE LISTED FILES, MISTRESS?



	I typed YES.  The machine started beeping softly as the erasing 
part began.  The files were very large, and I could tell it was going 
to take a few minutes.

	Thalessa smiled all the while, playing with my hair.  She saw me 
purge the files, she knew what I was doing:  destroying years of her 
life's work.  But she just smiled.  I had tried to make her into an 
ardent anti-government resistor, but instead she was just a giggly 
girl, totally consumed by her infatuation with me.  I sighed.  Well, 
perhaps with more work I could restore her formidable intellect without 
resurrecting other, more hostile aspects of her personality.  

	Finally the machine reported FILES PURGED and I smiled.  The next 
thing I did was purge the files of all the plans we had made to 
infiltrate the Column.  Then I started going through some other files.  
This information was fascinating, I wished I had days to go over it, 
but I didn't.  I looked over several things of interest to me, but 
focused mostly on Operation Conquest.  Rather than read the screens of 
information, I made a printout of the summary and hurriedly put it in 
my pocket.

	"You wish to go now, Mistress?" I said, giving a worried glance 
at the camera.  There was no telling when the observers would catch on.

	Thalessa gave a big grin.  "Anywhere you want, Clifford."

	"Right," I said.

	I walked her, at a fast march, to an empty room, five thousand 
feet to the west, two levels down.

	"Oh, Clifford, now we can be alone!" Thalessa giggled, trying to 
give me a hug.  

	"Later, Mistress," I said, sidestepping her embrace.  I looked up 
at the ceiling.  It was low, but just out of my reach.  I looked around 
for something to stand on, but the room was truly empty.  There wasn't 
even the customary spy camera mounted on the wall.

	I sent Thalessa out into the corridor to fetch a citizen.  What 
kind of citizen?  Any citizen would do, I told her.

	Shortly a puzzled B entered the room.  "What can I do for you, 
Mistress?" he said, looking from me to Thalessa.

	"Lie down," I said.

	"Huh?" he said.

	"Zap," said my gun, stunning him.

	He fell to the ground.  I put him on the ground, face down.

	"What now?" said Thalessa, breaking into a giggle.

	I didn't answer, but stepped on the fallen B, standing on his 
back.  "Ah, that will do it," I said, touching the ceiling.  I took the 
small explosives out of my pocket, and affixed them to the ceiling.  
Then I got down.  I looked at Thalessa.  She had been laughing the 
whole time.

	"Mistress!  Be serious!" I said.

	She stopped laughing, and her face hardened.  Then she broke into 
laughter again.

	It took five minutes to calm her down.  Then we started out 
again.  All I needed was for her to maintain a moderate facial 
expression for perhaps ten minutes.  Then we would be off.

	Off indeed.  For we were heading for the spaceport section of the 
complex. It was time to make our escape.  I marched Thalessa along, and 
she walked, quietly, with only a slight grin on her face.  We walked 
past guards who paid us no attention.  We were going to do make it.  We 
were going to escape.

	And, three quarters of the way to the spaceport, we ran across 
the Master.  The ruler of this planet.

	He was accompanied by his usual entourage, and by that I mean a 
squad of guards armed with laser rifles.  Oh oh.

	"Mistress," said the Master, by way of greeting.

	She gave a giggly smile.  He immediately stopped moving, and 
stared at her.

	"Mistress?" said the Master, frowning slightly.  He had 
immediately detected that something was wrong.  

	Well, he should have; the top man on the planet had to be pretty 
smart.  The Master glanced from me to Thalessa for a moment.  Did I 
just imagine it, or did a gleam of comprehension start to form in his 
eye?

	Time to do something.  I pressed the activator in my pocket.

	The vibrations from the explosion threw us to the floor.  That 
was strong!  I must have used too many explosive packs.  I'd have to 
remember that the next time I blew up a piece of Central Control.

	The Master got to his feet, helped by his guards.  "What was 
that?" he shouted, all thoughts of Thalessa pushed from his mind. One 
of his guards made a noncommittal reply.  "Well, find out!" he said.  
He marched off with his guards, giving a "I'll deal with you later" 
glance to Thalessa and I.

	I marched Thalessa on to the spaceport.  People were running down 
the halls and there was an unaccustomed babble in the air.  I could see 
that my explosion was doing its job.

	We arrived at the spaceport, a small open area surrounded by 
buildings, and launching pads situated at different levels.  We walked, 
not ran, to the ship that I had reserved via terminal.  I whispered 
something in Thalessa's ear the minute I saw the guards at the ship.

	There were three of them, blocking our path.

	"Let us pass," said Thalessa, for once maintaining a serious 
expression.

	The A in charge quaked but did not move.  "My lady-"

	"You heard the Mistress," I snarled.  "Or do you have an urge to 
be programmed?"

	"N-No... but we have just received orders from the Master that no 
one is to leave the base.  No one," said the jittery A.

	Oh oh.  Master trumps Mistress.  Then Thalessa chose this moment 
to burst out laughing, for no particular reason.  The troops looked 
oddly at us, and I pulled her away.  "The Mistress is sick," I said 
sternly.  "She needs medical attention."  I hate to think what they 
thought of all this, for as I pulled Thalessa away, I saw the A 
speaking into a small communicator.

	Oh oh.  Thalessa and I raced along the corridors.  In the general 
hustle and bustle a number of people were running about, and we were 
not noticed.  But I was conscious that certain wheels were rolling.  
The Master was aware that Thalessa was acting strangely.  And now he 
would receive a report that Thalessa was trying to leave Central 
Control.  It may not occur to him, not at first, that Thalessa was 
connected to the explosion, but soon-

	"Attention, attention," came a voice over the public address 
system.  "Apprehend the Mistress and her escort.  I repeat, apprehend 
the Mistress and her escort.  This is the order of the Master."

	I gave a low whistle.  That Master had caught on already.  I drew 
my blaster.  This was going to be a close one.  We started running.  I 
think we were helped by the general confusion, and the location of my 
explosions; I had planted them in the room directly below the general 
circuitry room for the surveillance systems.  Hopefully I should have 
knocked out all the cameras, making it more difficult for them to track 
us.

	My plan must have work, for we reached our destination, an open 
air compound, without being stopped.  But when we reached the shed 
where the gravitators were stored, there were four guards in duty.  I 
shot two of them, just as we came into view.  The third one was just 
starting to duck when I shot him.  And the forth one had apparently 
disappeared.

	I slowly walked along the rows and rows of gravitators.  I heard 
a small voice saying, "-they're here.  He's shot the regular duty 
guards, and-"

	"Now I've shot you!" I said, firing as I turned the corner.  The 
forth guard, in a crouching position with a comlink, fell to the 
ground.

	"Come on!" I said to Thalessa as I strapped myself into a 
gravitator.  It was a slender column, with narrow panels that we could 
strap ourselves into.  I studied the control panel in the operator's 
position.  I had never flown a Happy Worlder version of these things 
before, but, given enough time, I could fly anything.

	"Let's see," I said, pushing one button.  The column started to 
shake, and began to fall over on its side.

	"Whoa!" I said, reaching for the stabilizer adjuster.  Then I 
pressed the right button, and the column started to lift off, heading 
straight into the air.

	At that moment troops rushed into the open air chamber, 
brandishing laser rifles.  They started to fire but stopped when one of 
them said, "Halt!  That's the Mistress!  Cease fire, cease fire!"

	How nice of them.  Thalessa, still  laughing all the while, waved 
at them as we gained altitude.  We were still above the gravitator 
shed, which was a good thing; for I could see the guards strapping 
themselves into gravitators of their own, to give chase.

	I set the controls to autohover, and rapidly fished in my 
pockets.  "Ah!" I said, my face brightening, as I came out with an 
object.  I twisted a setting on it, dropping it all the way to the 
ground.

	It made a loud noise when it hit the pavement, and when the 
guards saw what it was, they all started running.

	"What was that?" said Thalessa curiously, as we sped away.

	There was a loud explosion, as all the parked gravitators blew to 
pieces.  I wish we could have stayed, so I could have better admired my 
work, but time was pressing.

	"A time delay grenade," I said, as we sped away.

	"Hahahahaha," said Thalessa, finding it hysterical.

	The anti-aircraft posts didn't fire on us on the way out, either 
because they had orders not too or else they were simply still too 
disorganized to fire.  But I took no chances and I constantly weaved 
and zigged and zagged, until we were out of sight of the complex.

	It took the authorities almost thirty minutes before they 
scrambled the first flight aircraft against us.  I had been flying 
relatively low and was alert for this.  I immediately took the 
gravitator down and hid under a clump of trees.

	From then on it was a wild game of cat and mouse.  I would wait 
until the search planes were out of sight and then take the gravitator 
up, again at a low altitude.  When I would spot a search plane in the 
distance I would quickly take the gravitator down.  I managed to make 
two more hops that way, clearing perhaps 40 miles from the complex.  
Then I had to ground the gravitator for quite some time as the sky was 
literally filled with search planes.  Entire squadrons flew over my 
position every few minutes.

	"Wow, they must have called out the entire airforce," I said, 
admiring the planes above me.

	"That's the Master," said Thalessa.  "He's bound to be angry.  
Very angry," she laughed.  "When he captures us, he'll undoubtedly have 
you killed and me programmed."

	I laughed too, although later I wasn't quite sure what was so 
funny.  In fact, we laughed so uproariously that I almost didn't notice 
the small, subtle twitch in Thalessa's face.  But I didn't give it much 
thought; there were more important things on my mind at the time.

	We did make some good time in the gravitator that night.  The 
number of search planes were reduced, and Thalessa assured me that 
their aircraft didn't have very good infra-red equipment.

	"We were still working on stealing that from you!" she laughed.

	I laughed with her.  In some ways these Happy Worlders were very 
advanced, but in other ways they were centuries behind standard League 
technology.

	We covered several hundred miles that night in the gravitator.  
About three quarters of the way through the night, both exhausted, I 
grounded the gravitator under cover, near a main road.  I thought we 
had passed beyond the perimeter of the road blocks.  Tomorrow we could 
steal an aircar.

	Or, at least I thought we could.  As I watched the road, an 
aircar slowly meandered by.  An opportunity had presented itself even 
sooner than I had hoped.

	A trap?  Possibly.  But I was willing to take the risk.

	I ordered Thalessa onto the road, and I lay on the side, in the 
dark, and waited.

	The bright headlights of the aircar shined off Thalessa, and the 
aircar slowly stopped.  The door opened, and I saw a single occupant 
get out.  I quickly shot him, and he fell to the ground.  I had set my 
blaster on heavy stun, so he would be out for a while; but I tied him 
up in any event.  Then I drove the aircar off the road, into a field of 
tall weeds.  It would be available tomorrow morning when we started on 
the road.  Right now I needed some sleep.

	But first, I stripped the uniform off the driver.  He was a 
medium sized B, and his clothes would suffice for my purposes.  "Here," 
I said, handing his bundled uniform to Thalessa.

	She looked confused.  "What do I do with it?"

	"Put it on," I said.  "Your black uniform is a dead giveaway.  
Tomorrow morning I'll change the numbers on it."

	Thalessa complied, happily, starting to take off her clothing 
right in front of me.

	"Stop!" I said suddenly.  I had seen her in the nude before, but 
somehow, this was not right.

	"Clifford?" she said, giggly, getting the wrong idea.

	"Behind the bushes.  There," I said, pointing.  Then I turned 
away, looking for a suitable sleeping place.  It would be dawn in just 
a few hours.

	I settled for resting with my back against a tree to catch a 
quick nap.  "Don't stray far, Thalessa," I said, closing my eyes.

	She didn't.  In a few seconds I felt a warm body snuggling 
against my own.

	I opened my eyes.  Even when she was in her hypnotized state I 
still felt little in the way of good will towards this woman.  This 
wasn't a robot slave dutifully fulfilling its role as a cog in a 
machine; this was one of the rulers, one of those precious few with 
free will.  This was the chief programmer.

	Feeling the revulsion swelling inside, I pushed her off me.

	"Hey," she said, her face twitching.  "Why did you do that?"

	"Find another tree to lie against," I snapped.

	"But Clifford," said Thalessa.  "I love you!"

	"I know, I know," I said.  "There, that tree behind you, that 
looks like a good one."

	Holding back a sob, Thalessa complied.  For the first time I 
noticed her face twitching.

	"Nighty night," I said, and then I almost immediately lost 
consciousness.



	Sometimes, I'm not very smart.  I mean, I'm generally quite 
intelligent.  But sometimes I made mistakes.  Really big ones.

	I awoke, in the morning, to a sharp sting on my face.  I moaned, 
turning my head, and felt another sting.

	I blinked, opening my eyes.  "What gives?" I said groggily.  My 
eyes focused.  I saw Thalessa, standing over me, with an open palm.

	And my blaster was in her other hand.

	"Good morning," I said, sitting up slowly with a calmness I 
didn't feel.  "What have you made us for breakfast?"

	"Don't move!" she said, with a sharp voice, and suddenly my 
suspicions were confirmed.

	"Welcome back, Thalessa," I said, repositioning my back against 
the tree.  "How did you like being programmed?"  I smiled, trying to 
get her really riled.

	Her hands trembled as they grasped the weapon, pointing it 
straight at my smiling self.  "You fool.  You call what you did 
programming?  What you did was a simple superficial piece of work, 
hardly capable of containing any mind, least of all my own."

	"I don't know," I said, staring at my fingernails.  "Your mind 
seemed to rather enjoy being... contained.  Certainly, you were most... 
content... concerning your rather special feelings... for me," I said, 
and I looked up at her with a smirk as I accentuated every word.

	"Ooooh!" she screamed, his face a mask of anger, the gun really 
shaking now.  "When we get back, I won't just program you, I'll destroy 
your mind!  I'll tear it out, bit by bit, until there's nothing left, 
nothing but a pitiful husk!  And I'll do it while you're awake, so you 
will feel every-"

	At this point I noticed that the gun was wavering in every 
direction, and I kicked it into the air.  The gun discharged as it 
leapt out of her hands, shooting  a straight line above me.

	And then I was on her, tackling her to the ground.  We wrestled 
about for sometime, rolling back and forth.  Unfortunately, Thalessa 
was very physically fit, and well trained in the art of hand to hand 
combat.  She kept on chopping at me with her hands, and I only barely 
managed to block several of those attacks.  I tried to wrestle with her 
to pin her arms down, but she kept struggling, striking out.  Suddenly 
she placed two double blows in the pit of my stomach, and I doubled 
over.  She then reached over for the blaster, which had fallen only 
inches from her.  Thalessa stretched out, reaching it-

	and I gave her a good karate chop on the back.  Her head crashed 
against a rock on the ground, and that was that.

	I groaned, retrieving the blaster as I got up.  I happened to 
notice the effects of the stray shot that Thalessa had fired; there was 
a hole in the tree behind me.  And two trees behind that.  I looked at 
the blaster.  It had been set to kill.

	I bent over to examine Thalessa.  As I thought, she was not 
seriously injured, only knocked out.  I thought about using my 
hypnocube to condition her again, but decided against it.  I settled 
for tying her up, and dragging her to the aircar, where she could keep 
company with the tied up driver, who was still sleeping.

	I actually whistled as I prepared myself and the aircar for our 
journey.  When I was ready I got in the car and prepared to activate 
the engine's generator.  I stared one last time at Thalessa, and I 
considered what to do.  Taking her with me would be too much of a risk.  
And yet I was still brimming with anger. I remembered again that this 
was the woman who had taken over my mind and controlled me.  This was 
the woman who had done the same thing to Banner.  I remember the 
ghastly shape Banner had been in when I had first visited her in the 
rehomoginization center.  The dull voice, those empty eyes...

	I became aware of the fact that I was raising my blaster, 
pointing it at Thalessa, and somehow the blaster was set on kill again.  
I've killed before, that wasn't the problem.  It was the idea of 
killing someone tied up, helpless...

	Suddenly, her eyes shot open.  She stared straight at me, with a 
look of loathing.  She quickly understood what was going through my 
mind.

	"You are weak," she sneered, in a grating voice.

	"You are strong," I mimicked, in the same voice.  "Hey, which one 
of us is tied up?"

	"We have captured you before.  We will capture you again," said 
Thalessa.

	I considered that.  "If I stayed on this planet indefinitely, 
then you might.  But I'm not."

	"What do you mean?"

	"My mission has been completed.  Or don't you remember?  I've 
erased all the information you've stolen from your terminals.  All of 
it.  All the technology you stole."  I watched her carefully, savoring 
her reaction.

	"What?" said Thalessa.  "Impossible!  The priority terminal that 
would require-" then she stopped, and remembered.  Her face turned into 
a snarl.

	I observed, closely, as realization dawned in her eyes.  She had 
used me, but I had used her.  A good portion of her work had gone down 
the drain.  Her standing with the Master probably wasn't very good 
either.  "I really want to thank you for all your help.  I'm being 
quite honest when I say that I couldn't have done it without you.  And 
now, without further delay-"  I revved up the engine.

	"You fool!  You will be caught-" she began again.

	"But not by you," I said quietly, shooting her.  She slumped to 
the ground, still bound in the ropes.

	I felt a quiet wave of satisfaction go through me.  I still felt 
pleased, even when I looked at my blaster.  Somehow I had reset it to 
'heavy stun' without realizing it.  Oh well.  Thalessa had been 
humiliated, her work ruined, her position lost.  That would be 
sufficient revenge for me.

	Whistling a happy tune, I gunned the aircar down the highway.



Chapter 16



	I took a break, and that was nearly my undoing.

	Several days of steady driving had taken me far from Central 
Control.  But far could never be far enough.  There were patrols, both 
on the ground and in the air.  Many of them.  I think I had gotten the 
entire planet riled up.  It pleased me to no end that I had shaken up 
the status quo on this dull and lifeless rock.  It was clear that I had 
gotten them angry.  The only trick now was not to be caught.  I had no 
desire to let them take out their unhappiness on me.  With that thought 
in mind, I was constantly changing vehicles and appearances.  I took 
less used roads or even went across country to avoid roadblocks.

	But finally I needed a break, a rest.  I generally slept several 
hours, during the day, with the aircar off the side of the road under 
the cover of vegetation.  But my food supplies were running low, and I 
didn't relish the thought of another night in the aircar's operator 
chair.  Happy Worlder beds were hardly luxurious, but at least I would 
be able to lie down.  Resting on the ground was out of the question; I 
would be pecked to death by Gazootas, who swarmed around me all night 
in the hopes of dropping in for a quick snack.

	So I stopped for the night not in the countryside but at a medium 
sized metropolis.  I ditched the aircar--I would get another one in the 
morning, it was always good to change aircars at least once a day--and 
made my way to an apartment complex housing B's.

	I went to a random floor, and knocked on a random door.  Of 
course, first I temporarily disabled the hall camera (I was getting 
used to the routine, by now).

	A genial B answered the door.  "Happy Day," he said, smiling.

	I gave him greetings.

	Once I had fixed the camera in his apartment as well as the one 
in the hallway, I dragged his body in, and tied him to a chair.

	When he recovered consciousness, the first thing he said was, 
"You're the-"

	"Alien," I said, answering it for him.  "But no one's perfect."

	"Give yourself-"

	"Up, it's for your own good, you're sick, you need help," I said.  
"I've seen this movie before.  Well, in case you haven't been reading 
the dailies, I've already been forced to give up, once before.  Didn't 
like it; I changed my mind," I grinned, enjoying the pun.  "Now what's 
your name?"

	The B was silent, saying nothing.

	"Never mind, you'd probably choke before I got it out of you."  I 
paused, staring at my companion.  "Dumbo," I said suddenly.

	"What?"

	"Dumbo.  How does that strike you?  You've got some pretty big 
flappers there," I said, indicating his prominent ears.

	"I don't like it," said the B.

	"Well, it's all I can think of on the spur of the moment." I 
moved to a cabinet in the kitchen.  "Now, what have we got for dinner?  
I'm famished."

	I dished out a fair sized meal for both of us.  Dumbo mastered 
the art of putting his mouth to the plate even quicker than Wata had.  
"You'll be caught, you know," said Dumbo, still trying to persuade me 
to surrender.  "The Master-"

	"Yes, yes, I've already matched wits with the Master, and the 
Mistress," I said, bored, really.  "When I last saw your Mistress, she 
was tied up in a forest."

	Dumbo gasped.  "You lie!"

	"Nope," I said.  "But how to prove it?  Did you know, the 
Mistress has a small birthmark on her left shoulder... no, I don't 
suppose you would know that...."

	"A lie!  Everything you say is a lie."

	"Yes!" I said, putting my face close to one of those enormous 
ears.  I was feeling in a jocular mood.  "Now listen carefully.  
Everything I say is a lie."

	"A lie," said Dumbo, accepting that.

	"Now listen carefully... I am telling you a lie."

	Dumbo frowned over that one.  "But if you're lying... you're 
telling me a lie... which must be the truth... but...."

	"And with that thought whirling around in your inner airspace, I 
will bid you good night," I said, clapping my hands twice.

	Dumbo just looked up at me.

	"Oh.  Sorry," I said, shooting him with my blaster.  I hadn't 
taken the effort to train him.

	I went to bed with a smile on my face.  I had done it.  I had 
come to this planet, and conquered it.  I had gotten into Central 
Control, and wiped out their information banks.  I had made fools of 
the Master and Thalessa, as surely as I had with Dumbo.  And yet... my 
mission wasn't entirely complete.  There was still one more task to be 
accomplished, one more part of my mission, and my job wouldn't be fully 
done until I had gotten off planet and finished it properly.  I slowly 
drifted off to sleep, with that nagging feeling of unfinished business 
still tugging at me.

	The next day I ungagged Dumbo and made my goodbyes.

	"I'll be tied here forever," said Dumbo miserably.  His ears 
seemed to droop on either side.

	"Sir, are you implying that I've abdicated my duties as host?" I 
said, my arms on my hips.  "I'll have you know that I've left a message 
on your terminal--on time delay, of course--telling them where you 
are."

	"What's the time delay?" Dumbo wanted to know.

	I reached down, putting his gag in place.  "Oh, no more than a 
day or two."

	'Mumph mumph!" he said, a rage in his eyes.

	"No, that's ok, I've got it," I said, stuffing a package of food 
into my bulky suit.  "Thanks for your hospitality.  I'm sure you'll be 
suitably rewarded for it."

	And I was off.  As soon as I cleared the building I started 
looking for an aircar parked in a secluded place.  It would just take 
me a few seconds to pick the lock... and I would be on my way.

	As I was searching for budget transportation, I passed a squad of 
peacemen.  They walked by me without giving a second glance.

	I should hope so; I had enough plastiskin on my face to make an 
entire face mask.

	I started walking down sidestreets.  Periodically I thought I saw 
something out of the corner of my eye.  When I turned, I would see 
nothing.  Nothing out of the ordinary, at least; just a number of B's 
and C's, going about their business.  The peacemen were far behind me 
by now.

	I found an aircar parked on  a sidestreet, but there were still 
people milling about.  It might look suspicious if I started tinkering 
with the wiring.  But I didn't want to spend the rest of the day 
hunting for available transportation.  Think, Croft, think!

	I thought. And then I saw what looked like a repair shop, across 
the street.  I grinned, making my way there.

	As I walked in I had a sudden urge to look behind me.  I did, and 
saw the crowd on the street.  None seemed to be paying the slightest 
attention to me.  Was I getting jumpy?

	I emerged, a minute later, with a toolbox.  It was an easy theft, 
the manager of the store had been in the backroom when I entered.  As I 
stepped out, though, I thought I saw a pair of eyes, in the crowd, 
fixated on me.  But it was a very quick glance, as though someone may 
have just been casually looking around.  I think I was a little nervous 
being surrounded by all these Happy Worlders.  Just act normally, 
Croft, and they'll never catch on, I told myself.

	I set the toolbox down on the dashboard of the aircar, and took a 
tool out, and popped the hood open.  Of course, I didn't need the 
toolbox, or the tools.  All I needed was to look like I was a mechanic 
working on the car.  I fiddled under the hood for a requisite moment or 
two, then looked up, intending to go to the steering console, where the 
real task of electrifying the ignition sequencer lay.

	But as I closed the hood I saw those pair of eyes again.  They 
were attached to a person.  It was a C, who was leaning on the rear of 
the aircar.

	"Hi!" he said cheerfully.

	I coughed, half turning my body away, while smoothly putting my 
hand in my bulky suit.  When I turned to face the C, I smiled, "Happy 
Day," as I gripped the gun in my suit.

	"Happy happy day," said the C, smiling.  He seemed dazed, almost.  
"Really really nice.... no?"

	"Yes," I said, relaxing a bit.  This was just a drugged out C.  
Not a threat.  I entered the car, and started to play with the wiring 
under the steering mechanism.

	Suddenly the C was by my side, leaning against the door of the 
aircar.  He seemed to be looking closely at me.  At my face.  "Beauty, 
beauty of a sunny day," he smiled.

	I smiled back, and then stopped.  I caught his gaze.  I also 
caught his hands, one of which was concealed in his bulky suit.  If I 
wouldn't have been looking closely, I wouldn't have seen the arm tense 
suddenly

	The hand inside the bulky suit had just done something.  Pressed 
something.  An alarm.

	"Pretty pretty," I smiled, waggling a finger at the C.  He 
obligingly leaned closer, and I whipped my arm against his neck.   But 
he ducked out of the way with incredible speed, ducking behind the door 
to the aircar, and I saw him draw a laser from his bulky suit.

	I slammed open the car door, smacking into the side of the 
undercover agent.  He fell to the pavement with an oof.

	And then they lowered the boom.  Peacemen, coming at me from all 
sides.  I desperately reached under the steering console, fidgeting 
with the wiring.

	Then were almost on me before I got the aircar going.  The 
thrusters needed a few seconds to get the hovercar airborne, and in 
that time I fired my blaster in the air, forcing the peacemen to run 
for cover.

	"We have ignition!" I shouted with a whoop, as I gunned the 
engine down the street.  But they were a step ahead of me.  There was a 
blockade, manned by army troops, already blocking the path forward.  I 
looked back.  There was also a blockade behind me.  I wasn't going 
anywhere.

	I had resolved, to myself, in the privacy of my own mind, that I 
wasn't going to be recaptured.  It was as simple as that.

	I gunned the aircar forwards, towards the barricade, at full 
speed.



Chapter 17



	The soldiers at the barricade saw I was coming, and they ran out 
of the way.  There was no reason for them to die too.	

	Except that I had no intention of dying.  I accelerated to full 
speed, but at the last second I turned aside, ramming into a building.

	That sounds painful.  Let me revise that.  I rammed into a glass 
window that was part of a ground floor establishment of a building.  
The aircar kept going, of course, ramming through piles and piles of 
goods, until it came to a stop when I applied the brakes.  By then the 
front of the aircar was half buried with containers that were leaking 
black ooze.

	The troopers were quick, I'll give that to them, and they were on 
my trial in less than a minute.  I quickly looked around.  I was in a 
factory manned by C's, who barely looked up, even when I made my 
entrance.  I looked down at my B license plate, made a quick 
alteration....

	Troopers swarmed into the factory.  I stood very still on the 
assembly line, standing with a dazed look on my face, just like all the 
other C's.

	Some of the troops started to rush by me, but then one stopped, 
and said, "He's there!", pointing straight at me.

	My blaster was out before he completed extending his foremost 
digit, and then I was out and running.  A soldier ran right into me, 
and I kneed him in the belly, and then dodged out of the way as he 
fell.  But several more troops were blocking my way.  I brought my 
blaster up, but it was slammed out of my hands by one of the enemy.

	A peaceman charged me, thrusting forward with his rod.  I 
sidestepped him, clipping him on the back and grabbing the rod by the 
handle as he went down.  Another squad approached, and I thrust out 
with the rod, attacking like a wild man.  I realized that if I didn't 
break out in the next few seconds I never would. 

	Even though the rod activated by touch I was using it like a 
club, slamming down on my opponents on all sides.  They tried to get 
clear to use their blasters, but I gave them no quarter, slashing into 
the bunch of them, slamming them left and right. I smacked one under 
the chin as he attempted to come up from behind me.  I hit another in 
front of me who was attempting to bring up his laser.  I hit several to 
the left, a bunch to the right.

	And then, for the moment, my exit was clear.  Other troops were 
running towards me, but I had cleared a path out of the factory.  I 
dropped the rod and ran.

	It was like a nightmare come true.  Every time I would get some 
distance from the pursuing troopers I would try to blend into a mob of 
B's and C's on the street, but someone would always spot me.  "He's 
there!" someone would yell, and the chase would begin again.

	I hid in another crowd.  "He's there!" they yelled.

	I hid in a group of shoppers in a store.  "He's there!" 

	I kept running, but I felt myself gasping for breath.  I couldn't 
keep ahead of my pursuers for much longer.  Just how were they able to 
track me?

	I ran by a mirrored exterior of a building.  And then I stopped.  
I had my answer.

	My bulky suit was covered with black ooze.  I must have gotten 
some on me when I crashed into the factory.  I could never escape, not 
while I was dressed like this.

	And there was no time to change clothes.  Two soldiers rounded 
the corner.  I kicked one in the stomach, smacked another in the face, 
and grabbed his blaster.  But I was panting furiously.  I couldn't 
continue much longer like this.

	Think, Croft, think!

	An idea occurred to me.  I circled back to the factory.

	I ran into a few more troopers on the way, whom I dealt with, but 
the factory itself was unguarded.  The hunt had moved on from there.

	But the soldiers had seen me running in that general direction.  
I wouldn't have that much time.

	I scooped up some black ooze, and went over to one of the C 
workers there and started to spread it all over.  He didn't seem to 
object when I made art of his uniform; all he said dumbly was, 
"What....?"

	"Run!" I whispered fiercely to him.  "Run!"

	"Run!" he said, with dull orbs.

	"Run!" I said, slapping him on the back, pushing him forward.  
The inertia pushed him a bit, and he started walking rapidly, straight 
out of the new exit I had earlier made with the aircar.

	I quickly ducked behind a pile of machinery.

	I heard shouts of, "He's there!" and then a laser fired.  And 
then all was silent.  I heard some footsteps in the factory for a 
moment, and then they receded.

	I popped my head up, and, seeing the coast was clear, proceeded 
to undress one of the C factory workers, who obligingly stood very 
still.  It wouldn't take them very long to discover my deception. 

	Moments later, I stumbled out of the factory.  There were still 
soldiers milling about, but they didn't pay me any attention.  In the 
back of my mind I wondered just what that black ooze was.  And then I 
nearly stepped on a fallen windowpane labeled "C serum facility #319".

	I left that municipality in a hurry.

	

	The Happy Worlders ate pumpkins.  I didn't realize that.  At 
least, I think they ate pumpkins.  They certainly had enough of them.  
I sat there, in a middle of a pumpkin field, for over an hour.  I had 
driven steadily for several days, had given the proper signal, and had 
arrived at the rendezvous point.

	But no one was showing up.  Well, I wouldn't blame Banner if she 
didn't bite; she would have ample reason to believe that I'd been 
converted again.  When we'd last parted, though, we had wanted to have 
some way to keep in contact with each other.  So Banner had told me to 
send such and such signal on such and such public terminal, and to go 
to this precise spot.  And wait.

	It was understandable if they were being cautious; they would 
probably want to use the resonator on me as well.  I wasn't very 
enthusiastic about the prospect, but I was willing to accept it.

	I stood up, yawning, looking out at the pumpkin field.  There was 
nobody around.  I was alone.  This was a good opportunity to rest; I 
always seemed to feel tired when I wasn't in action.  I sat down on the 
ground and yawned.  There still wasn't a sign of anyone in this field.  
I might be in for  a long wait.

	I was still thinking that, in mid yawn, when the beam struck me.  
I don't even have a memory of falling to the ground.



	"Are you satisfied?" were the first words I said when I woke up.  
I presumed the resonator had been used to test me.

	The response to my question was most gratifying; the sensation of 
a familiar woman in my arms.  "Clifford!" said a pleasing voice.

	I returned the embrace, for several moments.  "You look good," I 
said.  "Been eating well?"

	"You joker, you!" Banner said, messing up my hair.  She looked at 
me skeptically.  "So they didn't get you again, did they?"

	"They did, but I've been programmed to say that," I grinned.  I 
looked up, saw boxes around us.  "Another warehouse?  They're going to 
catch on to your M.O. sooner or later, you know.'

	"No, Clifford, simply a factory workfloor that is offshift," said 
Banner.  "Come."

	We went to her hideout, the interior of an empty water storage 
drum.  It was still a little damp, as if it had, until recently, stored 
a great deal of water, but now it was furnished, if sparsely, with a 
few essentials.  This was where Banner and her resistance workers 
resided.

	"This week, anyway," she said, with a grin.  "We always keep 
moving.  Especially after we see you, Mr. Croft," she added, giving me 
a light kiss on the forehead.  "But what has happened?"

	There was time, so I sat down and told her the whole story. I 
told Banner how I had infiltrated Central Control, or rather attempted 
too.  Banner was very silent when I described how I had been caught by 
Thalessa, who had conditioned me.  How I had become her personal 
underling, working with her on a variety of nasty projects.

	"That little tramp," said Banner, getting a gleam of suspicion in 
her eyes.  "Clifford, did she-"

	"Make me feel like a fool?  Yes.  But I turned the tables."  I 
described how I had snapped out of it, just before my previous meeting 
with Banner.  Then I told Banner of my return to Central Control, and 
how I plotted and carried out my escape.  Banner seemed particularly 
relieved when I told her that I had destroyed the databank containing 
the stolen technology.  But she seemed particularly pleased when I 
described how I had hypnotized the Mistress, putting her under mind 
control.

	"Oh, Clifford, that is just perfect justice for her!" she said, 
bursting out into a wide grin.  The grin got wider, if possible, when I 
described the last exchange between the two of us, when I revealed to 
Thalessa how invaluable she had been in destroying her very own 
database.  And then I finished my story.

	"You should have shot her," said Banner darkly.

	"I did," I said.

	"Terminated her," said Banner.  "I know I would have."

	"I was tempted to," I said.  "I really was.  The anger was there.  
But somehow, after I had defeated her, I really lost my enthusiasm for 
executing a bound captive."

	"She was right," said Banner, smiling.  

	"What?"  I said, wondering what Thalessa and Banner could 
possibly agree on.

	"You're weak, weak!" said Banner, suddenly wrestling me to the 
ground.  I struggled, fighting playfully with her.

	"Oh yeah?" I said, rolling on top of her.

	Banner suddenly tickled me, and I lost my hold on her, and she 
rolled on top of me.  "Yeah!  Weak!" she said, and we both laughed.



	"This is the spy Clifford Croft," said the Master, glowering at 
the audience.  I was lying on a table, face down.  I watched myself on 
the table, with great fascination.  This should be interesting.

	I was most definitely not dreaming; I pinched myself, to make 
sure I was awake.  Yep, there I was, on the conversion table.

	"And this is a D conversion unit," said the Master, holding it up 
to the camera.  The camera obligingly closed in, and on the side was 
written "Clifford Croft, D 8473678900".

	"Watch closely," said the Master.  He activated a button, and...

	The lasers reached out and cut into the back of my neck.  
Evidently there was no anesthetic, because I noticed that I screamed, 
and blood dripped down the side of my neck.  Then the unit was 
installed in place, and suddenly the screams stopped.  The table 
released me and I saw that I sat up.

	"Who do you serve?" The Master asked.

	"The Master," I said, with a blank expression and a monotone 
voice.

	"Who do you thank for your conversion?"

	"The Master."  The same dull voice.

	"And how do you feel?"

	I turned to face the camera, and said slowly, "I feel fine."

	The camera focused on the Master.  "And when we really do capture 
you, Mr. Croft, this is precisely what we will do to you.  The award 
for the capture of Mr. Croft is now 500,000 prestige points.  Find this 
man!"

	The screen went blank.



	"Wow," I said weakly, sitting by the terminal screen.  "I didn't 
realize there were two people in this galaxy with such incredibly good 
looks.  I wonder where they got that double of me?"

	"Be serious, you!" said Banner, suddenly plopping down on my lap.  
"They're really riled up.  Do you really think you're going to get off 
this planet?"

	"Not only do I think it, but I know it for a certainty," I said.  
"I've got more work to do."

	"What work?  You've erased the information in the Central Control 
databanks."

	"Yes," I said.  "But I still haven't stopped Operation Conquest.  
From my research I've discovered that there are still agents roaming 
around on several League planets, searching for the proper components.  
I have to stop them."

	"How will you even find them... oh," said Banner, seeing me wave 
a computer printout.

	"I have to go," I said slowly.

	She looked into my eyes.  I looked into hers.

	"Leave with me," I said softly.

	Banner put her arms around me.    "Is that just to leave?  Or to 
leave with you?"

	"With me," I said firmly.  I don't think I was in love with 
Banner, not yet, anyway, but there was a lot to like about her.  She 
was certainly attractive, but that was only part of it.  She was 
bright, and brave and courageous, and a born leader, a born doer.  
Someone I could respect.

	"I can't go," she said gently.  "This is my planet.  I have to 
fight to save it.  And the fight is here, not offplanet."

	"But... you'll always be a fugitive.  You'll always be in danger 
of being caught."

	"I do what I have to do," she said.  "Just as you did, knowing 
the odds, when you entered Central Control."  She looked at me with 
those sparkling blue eyes for some time.  Then we came together for a 
passionate kiss.

	"Promise me you'll write," I said, grinning slightly.



	The next day I decided to make my escape.  I was getting off this 
planet and there wasn't any doubt about it.  Unfortunately, the most 
optimistic thing I could say about the nearest spaceport was that it 
was only slightly less well guarded than Central Control.  

	"How do you intend to get in, hm?" Banner pestered me, during my 
final hours in her hideout.

	"I thought you were going to arrange it," I grinned.  "You're the 
brains, remember?"

	She pulled my arm, whirling me about.  "That's a top security 
area.  We couldn't get in there without an army, or weeks of planning."

	"Well... I'm going in, in just over two hours, with no planning, 
and no army."

	"How?" she persisted.

	"I'm just going to walk right in," I said mysteriously.  But 
actually Banner had been close to the mark.  I was going to have an 
army, but the army didn't know it.  Not yet, at least.

	Banner took me by aircar to the entrance to the spaceport.  "I 
guess this is goodbye," I said.

	We embraced, and kissed one final time.

	"You take care of yourself, Clifford Croft," said Banner, and I 
thought I saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

	"You too," I said.  "I'm sure that before I know it, this sick 
society will be thrown down and you'll be in charge.  Promise to invite 
me to a state dinner?" I asked, with a small smile.

	Banner said nothing, perhaps not trusting her voice.

	I cleared my throat. It was getting time to go.  "Ah... my 
chronometer's ticking."

	Banner took a deep breath.  "Goodbye, Clifford."

	We exchanged one final embrace, and then I emerged from the car.  
I could easily read the emotions on her face.  I tried to put on a 
smile.  But I was certainly going to miss her.

	And then I was out of the aircar, turning away.  An agent 
shouldn't make attachments.  I turned my mind away from Banner, and to 
my present task.  Breaking into this spaceport.  

	But my attention wasn't that easy to turn on the face of a dime. 
I turned around, and grinned; Banner was still sitting in the parked 
aircar, waiting to see how I would penetrate the spaceport's defenses.  
I walked with a spring in my step up to the guards at the main 
entrance.  I didn't even attempt to wear a disguise; I didn't even 
attempt to wear a license plate.  I had no ID.  It simply didn't 
matter.

	I walked up to the guards at the entrance.  There were two 
peacemen, both B's with rods.  They were backed up by a squad of D's, 
armed with laser rifles.

	"Hi!" I said, walking up to them.

	They did a doubletake, quickly recognizing me.  "The alien!" one 
of them said, lifting his rod.

	"Stun them," I said in a mildly bored way, as I pointed at the 
two B's.

	"What?" said one of the B's, looking about to see who I was 
talking to.  It was then that the B's noticed the D's raising their 
laser rifles.  They fired, and the B's crumpled to the ground.

	"Very good," I said to the D's.  I turned back to the aircar, and 
saw Banner, grinning at me.  I grinned back at her, and took my hand 
out of my pocket, and held up the object I was carrying.

	It looked like a pocket calculator, but it was actually a remote 
control unit for directing the D's.  Normally they were under direct 
computer control, but that could be overridden locally by one of these.  
My finger was continuously depressed on the "talk" button, and all I 
had to do was issue commands, and the D's would obey me.

	I blew a kiss to Banner, and waved goodbye a final time.  Then I 
entered the spaceport proper.  There was an alarm going off, but I 
still walked in a slow, leisurely manner.  My D squad accompanied me, 
forming a protective bracket around me.  "Stun anyone who attempts to 
block my passage," I instructed them.

	We marched through the passenger terminal, occasionally stunning 
B guards who came running up.  Then, at the main check in lobby, I saw 
a platoon of troops.  Waiting for me.

	They trotted forward, led by a B.  "Attack," he said, and then I 
saw that his troops were all D's.

	"No!" I said, speaking into my "calculator".

	My troops who were close to me were obeying.  But the enemy 
platoon was wavering.  They would start to charge me when the B would 
spur them on. But when they got too close to my transmitter, they would 
stop, and falter.  It was actually quite a hysterical sight, seeing 
fifty people running forward, stopping, running forward, and stopping 
again, like a bunch of puppets being operated by someone with a split 
mind.  I of course figured out how to break the impasse before my B 
opponent did.  Still holding the transmitter, I drew my blaster, and 
shot the B.  He slumped to the grounds, and issued commands no more.

	"Welcome to the club," I said to the platoon, who now joined my 
ranks.

	We didn't have any more trouble after that.  We encountered a few 
more B's, but they were quickly shot before they could do any harm.  
And then we reached the gangplank to a spaceship, and only a C stood to 
the side.  "Your pass, please?" he said dully, kind of oblivious to 
what was happening around him.

	I grinned, ignoring him.  When I reached the entrance to the 
spacecraft, I turned to my loyal troops.  "Troops, you've been the 
finest brain-dead men I've ever commanded.  Let's hear a cheer for your 
selfless work!"  A silence.  "Come on, a cheer!  Woop, woop!"

	"Woop! Woop!" the troops said, monotone, on cue.

	"That's better.  I want you to know that as of this moment, 
promotions are in effect for all of you.  You, in front, you, with the 
vacant look, you're now a light colonel.  You, next to him, are now a 
major general-"

	While I was having a good bit of fun, several B's rushed in.  
They shot something into the air which landed square in the middle of 
my troops.  Gas.  My troops started to cough, and began to fall to the 
ground.

	"Wuups, time to go," I said, quickly darting into the ship, and 
sealing the hatch.  That was my lesson for indulging in unnecessary 
theatrics.

	Two minutes later, I was airborne, into space.

	I looked down at the planet as I climbed up out of the 
atmosphere.  There were no spaceships in pursuit.  Not a single one.

	Well, there were no spaceships in pursuit if you didn't count the 
missiles.  There were a lot of those, and they were closing fast.

	I whistled a mournful tune as I watched the missiles close on me.  
They would naturally overtake me before I broke orbit.  My, there 
seemed to be over 20 of them.  The Master certainly wasn't very pleased 
with me.

	I sat in the control room, bored, really.  It was only when my 
targeting computer indicated that impact would occur in one minute that 
I energized.  I tapped the onboard terminal, which was hooked into the 
general, public terminal system on the planet, and I typed "BOLOGNA".

	Then I sat back, and watched the missiles approached on my 
screen.  They were getting closer and closer.  I wondered what I would 
have for dinner tonight.  I hadn't checked this spaceship for food 
stocks. 

	The missiles were getting larger on my screen.

	I hope they had some B food aboard; I don't think I could have 
managed those D food chunks.

	My trusty onboard computer said there was ten seconds to 
impact... the missiles loomed large in my control room view....

	And then they cut drive.  All of them.  Simultaneously.  They 
just started falling back to the planet.

	"I hope they have a self destruct on those birds," I said, 
watching them fall back to the planet.  They did, and they activated in 
seconds, all exploding.  Unfortunately, by the time that happened, 
there was no more time to send up any new missiles, for I was already 
breaking out of orbit.

	Sometimes I'm very clever, and, when I am, I don't mind 
explaining why, even when I have to go into laborious detail.  When my 
friend Thalessa had been kind enough to give me access to her terminal, 
I had already been thinking about my escape route.  I could have 
sabotaged the missile defense system right then and there, but it would 
have been quickly detectable, and easy to fix.  Instead I planted a 
bug, a virtually undetectable glitch, that wouldn't even be noticed, 
until something specific happened.  I created a little subprogram that 
continually scanned the general terminal network.  When the word 
"BOLOGNA" was received, only then would the program spring to life, 
penetrating the missile defense system, incapacitating it temporarily.

	I was still smiling, reflecting on my ingenuity, when the face of 
the Master came on my screen.  He looked mighty angry; there was a vein 
bulging out of his forehead, and a snarl planted on his lips.  "You 
won't get away, Croft!" he yelled.

	"Why Master, you called to say goodbye," I said.  "I'm touched, 
of course."

	"Not goodbye," he said, grinning evilly.  His hands moved to 
press a button, and his face looked expectantly.

	"Looking for this?" I said, bringing a frayed wire into his 
vision.  "I'm afraid I had to disable the autopilot system.  I don't 
think I'll be making another visit to your enchanted little world 
anytime soon."

	His face exploded with rage.  "But come now, this is the last 
opportunity we'll have to chat.  Tell me, how's Thalessa doing?  I hope 
you weren't too harsh with her.   She was really quite helpful to me, 
but she simply couldn't fight my irresistible charm," I grinned.

	The Master glared at me, raising his hands in a choking motion 
while making incoherent growling sounds from his mouth.

	"I think you need some anger management work," I smiled, breaking 
the connection.

	I was going home.



Chapter 18



	"Docking with Greenfields station confirmed," said the sweet 
voice of the comm operator.  

	"Thank you," I said, as I heard the clank of the final 
connection.  I had been in flight nearly a week, but I had finally made 
it back to League space, and had made my way to the nearest League  
station.  I had much to report to A.A., but I wanted to do it over 
secure channels.  I had made a preliminary broadcast to the Column, and 
been told that agents would meet me.  The Happy Worlders hadn't made 
much of a chase; there had been a close call with a single Happy 
Worlder patrol ship, but I had managed to evade it.  They weren't very 
good with their spacers.

	I gave a sigh of relief as the ship docked; I was home.  I 
pressed the button that opened the airlock.

	And saw five blasters pointed at me.  I blinked.  "Don't tell me.  
I'm parked illegally," I said.

	They weren't great conversationalists, but they were very 
efficient at hustling me away, after they disarmed me.  They took me to 
the security section of the space station.

	I didn't get a really bad feeling until they led me into a lab.  
When I saw the all too familiar table, complete with restraining 
straps, I balked.  "Oh no you don't," I said, trying to escape.  But 
the brutes held me firm and strapped me in.  I found myself facing a 
bunch of gadgetry, and then a light shined in my eyes....

	...and the light went off.  I blinked, somehow feeling that some 
time had passed.

	"He's clear, boss," said one of the brutes, as they undid my 
straps.

	"Of course I'm clear.  Whatever else would I be?" I snapped, 
getting off the table.

	"Converted, for one," said A.A., his trademark jowls flapping 
only mildly.

	"You!" I said, surprised he had come all the way out here just to 
greet little old me.  "Of course I'm not converted."

	"Of course," said A.A.  "But you were gone for several months, 
without reporting in.  We naturally assumed the worse."  And then he 
started into my eyes, as if he were still the tensiest bit suspicious.

	I met his hard gaze with one of my own.  For a moment we matched 
glares, and then he eased off.  "My boy, it's good to have you back," 
he chuckled.  "Now... report!"

	I reported.  Everything about my journey, from start to finish.  
Well, almost everything.  There were some details that I didn't want 
the Chief to worry about.  There were also some unfinished pieces of 
business I wanted to handle, personally.  My way.

	When I had finished, A.A. was suitably impressed.  "You've done a 
fine piece of work," he said.  For him, that was high praise.

	"I almost didn't," I shuddered.  "I almost ended up working for 
them."  I thought back to my plan to infiltrate the Column for 
Thalesssa.

	"But you overcame it, my boy," said A.A., slapping me on the 
back.

	"Yes," I said slowly.  "By the way, I was aware I was given a 
drug inoculation.  But was I also slipped a hypnotic innoculant when I 
went under for the mission briefing?"

	The chief nodded vigorously, his pudgy face making rapid up and 
down motions.  "It was a new experimental treatment we were working on.  
After the demise of our first two operatives, we realized that very 
often hypnosis was a major component in the conditioning process.  So 
we started working on a hypnotic technique of our own to defeat the 
processing."

	"Well, it almost didn't work," I grumbled.  "I was under their 
control for some time before it kicked in."

	A.A. nodded sagely.  "Just as we expected.  Had we conditioned 
your mind to resist all subsequent hypnotic commands, you would have 
resisted conversion, but would still eventually have been processed  
This way the Happy Worlders found no evidence of resistance in your 
mind.  They simply converted you as they would anyone else, leaving 
your prior memories intact."

	"And that was important," I said, starting to catch on.

	"Yes.  Because one of those memories wasn't really a memory at 
all.  You know, of course, how we plant electronic viruses in computer 
networks."

	"Sure!  We plant a virus, which looks harmless, and then at the 
appropriate time--wammo!  It brings the system down," I stopped, 
realizing what I had been saying.  "So, this psychological bug was 
planted in my mind, only... it didn't take effect-"

	"Until you had been converted.  Precisely.  We're all pleased to 
see that it worked."

	"I'm glad," I said.  "I love being a pet guinea pig for whatever 
nifty new theory the lab boys come up with."

	The Chief gave a hurt look.  "Clifford, their theory saved you."

	"You didn't even tell me you were doing this to me."  But I knew 
it was a silly statement even as I uttered it.

	"That's a silly statement," A.A. commented sagely.  "Of course we 
couldn't tell you.  If we had told you, you would have told THEM during 
your interrogation and subsequent conversion."

	"Oh," I said, mulling it over.  He had a point, I had to admit.  
"But one more thing.  Why a little fluffy dog?"

	"The dog?  It's a trivial enough memory, not something that would 
alarm your programmer, if she came across it.  But that memory unlocked 
a whole set of mental instructions which were not trivial--those 
intended to snap you out of your conditioning.  And I'm most pleased to 
tell you that you've broken free of their conditioning most 
completely."

	"Thanks," I said.  "What kind of dog was that, anyway?"

	"A Pomeranian," said A.A. "It was Levi's idea."

	Levi Esherkol was one of the senior R&D people at the Column. I 
should have known. 

	I sighed. "Shouldn't we be getting down to business?"

	"Business?" said A.A., looking puzzled.

	I pointed to the datasheet on a workbench, one that had been 
taken from me during my "examination".  "Operation Conquest.  Or had 
you forgotten about that?"

	"No, of course I haven't.  And be assured, Clifford, that our 
agents will get right on it."  The jowls flapped reassuringly.

	"I'd like to help."

	"Are you sure, Clifford?  Wouldn't you like a rest?"

	"I'll rest later."  Actually, I would rest a whole lot better 
once Operation Conquest had been shut down.  Though I had erased the 
databanks on the Happy World Central Control computer, Thalessa's 
agents were still abroad, gathering information about the long range 
mind control device.  "Their project is almost complete.  If they get 
their hands on these final components-"

	"What do you mean?" said A.A., looking alarmed.  "You said you 
erased the stolen technology from their memory banks."

	"Sure, yeah, I erased it.  But only the Central Control on that 
Happy World."  I grabbed the hardcopy, waving it in front of A.A.'s 
face.  "See these words?  TRANS HOME CORE.  That refers to information 
that's been sent to the home world, the archives located on the Happy 
Planet of Happy Planets."  Understanding started to dawn on A.A.'s 
face, so I pressed on.  "I found out that every few months the 
accumulated information is shipped to the master archives.  I was only 
able to erase the accumulation from the past few months."

	"What?" said A.A., grabbing the paper from me.  He quickly 
scanned it.

	"That's right, boss, I only got a tactical victory," I said.  
"However, we can keep them slowed down if we can stop them from getting 
the parts they need for Operation Conquest."

	"What more do they need?" said the Chief, rapidly scanning 
through the pages.

	"Not certain," I said.  "Remember, this is only a partial current 
listing.  But the way I figure it, all they need is an advanced kind of 
particle wavelength transmitter."

	"What?" said A.A., stunned.  "They're that close?"

	"Maybe--and I mean maybe.  It's only a theory that the device 
will work.  Even if they have all the other parts, it may not work.  
But if it does-"

	"They could conquer the League, planet by planet," said the 
Chief, immediately understanding the implication.  "This device--what 
is it's range?  Could it take over minds from orbit?"

	"Don't know; theoretically, I suppose it's possible," I said.  
"But now you see why we've got to stop it."

	We analyzed the list, and found five different sources of the 
certain kind of particle wavelength transmitters that had been 
targeted.  Unfortunately I had not obtained the identities of the 
agents who had been dispatched to steal this technology.  A.A. remarked 
as much.

	"Sorry, would you like me to go back and get them?" I said, 
sarcastically.

	A.A. ignored me, immediately working his comm line.  In less than 
an hour we had reassurances that no particle transmitters had been lost 
or stolen from the five sources.  A.A. ordered the guard around those 
installations doubled and trebled.  Column men were dispatched to 
stakeout each location.  When he was done I said, "Now, set a course 
for the main base.  And make sure the main base is on blackout--no 
transmissions out of it.  Not a one!"

	A.A. didn't question me, but he complied.

	We arrived there, a scant two days later.  There hadn't been any 
word on attempts to steal transmitters yet, so perhaps we had acted in 
time.

	I marched into the records section.  Sildo Wretan, a spectacled 
mild mannered clerk, looked up as A.A. and I entered.

	"Mr. Croft," he said, smiling.  "Didn't know you were back."  He 
reached out to shake my hand.

	I walked forward briskly and smacked him in the face, sending him 
careening to the ground.  Wrekan moaned, shook his head, and 
immediately pawed for something in his left boot.  I reached over and 
stomped on his hand.  He screamed, pulling his hand back.  I reached in 
his boot and took out the concealed minilaser.

	"Yes, I'm back, Wrekan," I said, with a small smile.  "Didn't 
Thalessa inform you?"

	"What is this?" A.A. cried.

	"I neglected to inform you, Chief, that this is the rat fink that 
has been spying for the Happy Worlders.  One of the more interesting 
tidbits that I found out from the Central Control computer."

	"You didn't tell me this," said A.A. darkly, as the guards 
arrived to take Wrekan away.

	"Slipped my mind," I smiled innocently.  This was one of the 
things I had intended to handle personally.

	"Right, I'll bet," A.A. muttered.  He turned to see Wrekan taken 
in the custody of the security force.  "What do you have to say for 
yourself, Wrekan?"

	Wrekan glared at me, then looked at the Chief.  "He's crazy, 
Chief.  I don't know what this is all about."

	"Ho hum," I yawned, taking out my blaster.  I adjusted the 
setting, setting the indicator to 'kill' as I turned the blaster 
outwards obligingly to let Wrekan see what I was doing.  Then I put the 
weapon to his head, and announced a series of numbers.

	"Five... four... three... two..."

	"No!" Wrekan cried.

	"Yes?" I said.

	"Ok, ok, I worked for them," he babbled.

	"I don't think you'll be having any more trouble," I said.

	"Indeed," said A.A.  "Take him away.  The full treatment."  He 
turned to me.  "That was quite some bluff."

	"Who said I was bluffing?" I replied.  I hadn't been; Wrekan had 
undoubtedly tipped the Happy Worlders off that I was coming.  He had 
provided them with the logistics of the mission, including my psych 
profile, which had made it easier for the Happy Worlders to capture and 
convert me.  I felt little good will towards the traitorous creature.

	After that the Chief wanted me to take a few days off to rest, 
but I would have none of it.  Instead I joined one of the stakeout 
teams.



	I was on Ulgan II, a small world in the same sector, inside a 
spaceship refitting facility.  This was the place where damaged ships 
got new parts.  Including particle wavelength transmitters.  They 
weren't fitted into every kind of ship, you understand; only the 
special ECM/ECCM warboats.  This was one of the five facilities on the 
list the Happy Worlders had kept.  The Column had been working overtime 
to locate and secure all sources of information concerning these 
particle wavelength transmitters, but until the new security systems 
were in place, we were the only line of defense.  Myself, and a handful 
of Column men.

	Well, there were forty of us.  Maybe that's a little more than a 
handful.  But we were spread out all over the facility, in rotating 
shifts, waiting for the Happy Worlder agents to strike.  The new 
security safeguards wouldn't be scheduled to be installed here for two 
weeks; that was how long we had to be on guard.  Some troopers had been 
put at our disposal, but they weren't trained agents, and didn't know 
what to be on the lookout for.

	Nothing happened for two days.  Two simply uneventful days.  It 
gave me time to reflect on the scheme of things.  The Happy Worlders 
could be on the verge of creating their long range mind control device.  
Our techs had analyzed their theory, and concluded that it might, just 
might work.  The mind, as is commonly known, takes in and analyzes a 
variety of information--visual, audio, etc.  But we have only recently 
discovered that the mind is sensitive to certain ultrahighband particle 
transmissions.  Timed and coded properly, these transmissions can 
transmit information directly into the brain.

	For me, the idea of something conceptually only slightly more 
advanced than a radio actually being used to hypnotizing people was 
laughable.  But I stopped laughing when I thought of the consequences.  
A Happy Worlder ship comes into orbit, starts broadcasting... and 
everyone on the planet have their minds taken over.  There would be no 
fighting it.

	I shuddered.  I remember the vacant eyes of the D's.  That 
wouldn't happen, not here, not in the League.  Not if I could help it.

	I wondered how Banner was getting along.  I hoped she hadn't been 
caught; but I would never know.  There was simply no way to keep 
contact with her.  I sighed, thinking of our last meeting.

	Then someone was shaking me. "Hey, wake up, snap out of it," a 
fellow agent hissed.

	I looked alert.  I scanned the corner of the large hanger we had 
been posted in.  Several particle wavelength transmitters were stored 
here.  The fellow agent, a grizzled veteran named Preston, pointed as 
two men entered the hanger.

	Then we relaxed.  They were both techs, in standard overalls, 
with the new security ID's clipped to their fronts.  That gave me a 
twitch; it vaguely reminded me of the Happy Worlder license plates.

	"False alarm," said Preston, talking into his comlink.  He looked 
at me.  "When are these guys ever going to show up?

	I said I didn't know.

	"Maybe they can't get past security at the perimeter," he said.

	"Um," I replied, not really paying attention.  I was watching the 
techs.  They hadn't noticed me and Preston, not yet, anyway.  They were 
looking through the equipment racks for something.

	"If you ask me, this is a waste of time," said Preston.  "This is 
work for the army.  I'm an infiltrator.  What am I doing here?"

	"Um hm," I said, not really listening.  I was watching the techs.  
They were now taking a piece of equipment out of the racks.  A particle 
wavelength transmitter.  It was a medium sized square box, with knobs 
and dials on the side.  Lifting it away, the techs calmly walked out of 
the hanger.

	"Admin," I said into my comlink.  Why did I have a bad feeling 
about this?

	"Admin," came a voice.

	"Croft here.  Are there any ships needing a replacement PWT right 
about now?"

	"Checking," came the voice.

	"Make it quick," I said, eyeing the techs as they passed out of 
view.  I immediately got up and started walking after them.  "Hey, what 
gives?" said Preston.  I didn't answer.

	I hadn't gotten out of the hanger before my comlink crackled.  
"Negatory, Agent Croft.  Do you have anything to-"

	At that moment Preston triggered the alarm.

	"Idiot!" I yelled at him, as I ran out of the hanger.  Now they 
would be alerted.

	We heard a loud hoot-hooting, and people were running about 
everywhere.  My two techs, however, were nowhere to be seen.  An entire 
platoon of elite spacerangers marched up at a trot.  They had been put 
at our disposal, as well as several other regular army platoons on the 
perimeter.

	I grabbed the bullhorn from the company commander and yelled, 
"Stop!" at the top of my lungs.

	It worked.  Everyone in view stopped moving.  You may guess what 
I was thinking.  The techs couldn't have gotten far; they were out of 
my view for a few seconds, at most.  They were still here.

	"ID search," I said, snapping my fingers.  I was well aware that 
the techs might now be impersonating soldiers; that was what I had done 
on Negan 14!

	There was a bit of a bustle as everyone checked everyone else's 
ID's.  But I didn't pay much attention to that; I was making certain 
our perimeter was secure.  It was.  Not only that, but agents circled 
the immediate area around the hanger, making sure no one moved.

	After a few moments the company commander approached me and 
saluted.  "All present and accounted for, sir."

	"Impossible," said one of our agents.  "Then where are they?"

	"A good question," I said, scanning the surrounding area.

	They were smart.  They had to be, in order to qualify for this 
sort of work.  These must be cream of the crop A units, schooled in the 
ways of the League.  It didn't seem like the work of local stooges.

	"Search the hanger," I said, snapping my fingers.

	Just then an aide brought up a vidlink, and a familiar face 
flashed in front of me.  "Croft?  What's happening?" it growled.

	"Everything's under control, A.A.," I said.  I hoped he wasn't 
beginning to regret putting me in charge of this defense team.  If the 
techs got away with the transmitter, A.A. wouldn't be very happy about 
it.  Not happy at all.

	Preston jogged up.  "Already searched the hanger, nothing in 
there."

	"Croft!" The Chief barked.

	"Gotta call you back later, Chief, I'm a little busy," I said, 
signing off.

	I looked about.  They must have gotten away.  If not out of the 
shipyard, then out of this immediate area.

	Or maybe that's what they wanted us to think.  I went into a 
huddle with the company commander, and my senior Column people.  "Ok 
men," I said slowly.  "This is our plan...."

	After a few minutes I barked, "Ok, we are going to search this 
entire shipyard, piece by piece.  Commander, deploy your men in a 
search detail."  The officer turned, and gave his orders.  His men 
dispersed, as did our Column people.

	We started searching the shipyard.  But it was a large place, and 
a thorough search would take several hours, even with our manpower.  I 
delegated command of the search to Preston.  Despite his blunder, he 
was actually quite a capable agent.  While he directed the search, I 
assumed another post.

	There was still no progress on the search when dusk fell.  Could 
they have escaped?  We had watched the roads going out.  There was no 
traffic.  Could they have escaped in the countryside on foot?  Anything 
was possible.

	The first task, however, was to eliminate the impossible.  All 
available troopers were tearing apart the base, piece by piece.  By now 
the search had moved away from the hanger where the particle wavelength 
transmitter had been stolen.  There were no searchers to notice 
something very interesting happening right in plain view, right in 
front of the hanger.  A groundcar was parked there, had been parked 
there, for sometime.   But suddenly the trunk popped up, of its own 
accord.  No one was around to see it. 

	Nobody but me, I hasten to add.  I had posted myself on the roof 
of the hanger, and had similarly assigned one agent to each side of the 
building rooftop.  Their sole responsibility was to look down.

	"They're here," I said, softly into my comlink.  "Don't blow it 
again, Preston."

	Two army soldiers emerged from the trunk of the car.  One of them 
carried a little box.  I think they were a bit surprised when 
spotlights suddenly flooded them, and they were surrounded.

	"And what's your serial number?" I said, when I had climbed down 
from the building.  That got me no answer at all, so I tried, "The 
Mistress will be very upset with you."

	That got a response, a surprised look of sorts, and then the 
guards hustled them away.

	I smiled with satisfaction.  "Get me A.A.," I said to an aide.



	I quickly shuttled to the second site, which, by coincidence, was 
another planet in this system.  This time we were protecting a 
warehouse that stored, among other things, particle wavelength 
transmitters.  The rascals had already made an attempt to enter the 
building, five days ago, by shooting their way in, but had been 
repulsed by our superior firepower.  I'm told that this group had at 
least a dozen infiltrators from the Happy Worlds, but we had upped the 
ante; our side had called in two companies of battletroopers on the 
grounds of the warehouse, including a number of battle tanks.  I must 
say that it helped immeasurably that our defense was being directed by 
someone who had been so recently on the offensive. Namely me.  We  
wouldn't get caught with our pants down if they came at us with a 
battle tank!

	We had briefly considered moving the transmitters out of the 
warehouse, but had nixed the idea almost immediately; the transmitters 
would be more vulnerable in a convoy.  Until these foreign agents were 
rounded up, the transmitters weren't going anywhere.

	We spent several days on guard duty, and, to confess, I actually 
became a little bored.  Like Preston, and many other Column people, I 
preferred infiltration work.

	One day I was playing cards with some of the fellows.  The troops 
were all stationed outside, in a ring, around the warehouse.  Our 
Column people, perhaps twenty five in all, were on the inside.

	"How do you think they're going to come in?" said one agent, 
dealing the cards.

	"Maybe they'll nab a couple of tanks, like Croft here, and come 
busting in," said a second agent.  They had heard about some of my 
exploits on Negan 14.

	"Maybe they'll give up," said a third agent.  He wasn't very 
smart; either that, or he didn't know the Happy Worlders.  Not like I 
did.

	"They won't give up," I said quietly.

	"How'd you know?" said the third agent.

	"Because I know," I said.  "I've been one of them."

	I was right.  They came that night, under the cover of darkness. 

	I was on watch then, but I didn't notice anything.  Nor did the 
multitude of troops that guarded every approach.

	Well, not every approach.

	The first intimation of trouble that reached me was a sound.

	"What's that?" I said.

	"What's what?" said an agent on duty.

	I heard, faintly, in the background, a hissing noise.

	"Sounds like the heating system," grunted the agent.

	"Alert the watch.  Wake everyone up," I said, gesturing to the 
agents in the sleeping bags on the ground floor, which was several 
levels below me.  I stood on a high catwalk, looking down.

	"What?  On account of-"

	"This warehouse doesn't have a heating system!" I hissed.

	In a moment we got everyone alerted, and we contacted the troops 
outside via comlink.  But they weren't hearing the noise on the 
outside, and we on the inside couldn't tell where it was coming from.

	I tried to think; just what would I do to break into this 
warehouse?

	"Could it be gas?" I frowned, sniffing the air.

	"Don't know," said an agent.

	"Search the building," I snapped.

	"Search it?  For what?" said the agent.

	I gave him a dirty look, and that was sufficient.  We roused the 
others, and we took a tour of the warehouse.  It was big; unless we 
called the troops in, it would take some job to search it all 
ourselves.

	The hissing noise was definitely coming from somewhere in 
particular, because in some parts of the warehouse it could barely be 
heard, while in other parts it was quite audible.  But it was not quite 
clear precisely what part of the warehouse it was coming from, and that 
disturbed me.

	My agents searched the area, while returned to the upper catwalks 
to have a better view.  The agents were scurrying about, searching, but 
they didn't seem very enthusiastic, as they didn't know what they were 
looking for.  The troopers on the outside had been alerted, but beyond 
that there was little else that could be done.

	I looked down from the catwalk, leaning over a railing.  What was 
I looking for?  What made hissing sounds?  Gas?  We would have detected 
it by now.  Could it be a piece of machinery inside the building?

	As I pondered this and other weighty matters, I saw something out 
of the corner of my eye.  I immediately turned my head, and saw little 
specks of light, like sparks,

almost, falling by the railing next to me.

	I looked up, but the trail of sparks disappeared.  And so did the 
hissing sound; that stopped too. 

	Then I looked up, up at the ceiling.  It was dark up there, and I 
couldn't make out anything.  Not at first.

	But then, after a moment of tense staring, I noticed a small 
section of the roof being lifted away.  That's right, away.   It just 
disappeared.  It was replaced by a face.

	I immediately ducked behind a row of inventory.

	"The roof!" I hissed into my comlink.  "The roof!  And any man 
who sounds the alarm will be beaten senseless, personally, by me!"

	I watched as the invaders threw down a narrow rope and streamed 
down into the warehouse.  From their perspective, our agents were busy 
searching the warehouse.  But if they stopped to think about it, they 
would have noticed that none of our men were in sight anymore.

	When the last man streamed down the rope I counted seventeen.  
All armed with laser rifles.  Not very nice.

	They made their way stealthily down the catwalk.  They obviously 
knew where they were going, for they headed to the precise rack and 
shelf where the transmitters were stored. 

	Only they weren't there; we had moved them.

	But I had arranged a suitable reception; a number of my agents 
were scattered around, in a carefully prepared ambush.  My men blasted 
into the first ranks of the invaders, cutting them down.  Others tried 
to retreat, but then our agents closed the escape route, and stunned 
them too.

	Only three invaders escaped, climbing rapidly up the catwalk, 
towards the ladder.  Our agents picked off one, then two of them.  The 
third reached the catwalk, and started climbing up, when all of a 
sudden he felt a tap on his shoulder.

	He turned, and I said, "Happy day!", smiling as I stunned him.  
He fell on the catwalk in a slump.

	Then I looked up at the hole in the ceiling, saw a flash of 
light, and heard a soft woosh.

	I immediately climbed up the rope.  When I reached the top I was 
unsurprised to find a row of neatly parked gravitators.  They must have 
had special silencing avionics for this mission.  At that moment one 
gravitator had just taken off, and was heading out, away from the 
warehouse.

	I quickly strapped myself into one.  There was no need for this 
sort of pursuit, not really, as we had managed to capture most of them; 
but I'm a perfectionist with my work, and don't like to settle for less 
than 100%.

	Unfortunately, as I took off the army troops finally took notice 
of what was happening above them and opened fire.  Laser beams sliced 
into the air above me.  It took a few tense seconds before my hoarse 
shouts of ceasefire over the comlink took effect.

	Then I took flight.  The last invader was gunning his gravitator 
at top speed, but he was heading straight away, without making any 
attempt at evasive maneuvers.  He hadn't noticed me.

	Then he turned his head and did notice me, and he started zig 
zagging across the skies.  But I matched him, zig for zag.  We went 
through this, for quite some time.  At one point he tried to go up all 
the way up into the clouds and to lose me there, but his gravitator 
wasn't equipped to go that high, and he had to slow down, allowing me 
to catch up with him.

	Then he dropped like rock, and I was forced to match him.  Faster 
and faster, with the ground suddenly zooming straight up towards us.  I 
was starting to wonder if he knew something I didn't when he eased up 
and reversed throttle.  I did the same and we came to a hovering halt, 
just fifty feet above the ground.

	We glared at each other, for a moment, and then there was a flash 
of light from his gravitator and he shot me.

	Or rather, he shot at me.  I was alert for this and had nudged my 
gravitator quickly to the right when I saw his blaster being drawn.  I 
drew my own and shot at him.

	What followed was perhaps the most dangerous chase I had ever 
been involved in.  The invader kept low to the ground, speeding just 
above obstacles like treetops and hills, all the while firing at 
myself, who was in hot pursuit.

	I aimed blaster bolt after blaster bolt at his fleeing form, but 
the gravitator was shaking with exertion now, and it was difficult to 
get off a clean shot.

	The chase continued. The invader kept maneuvering close to the 
trees, always swerving up at the last minute, just hoping I would 
crash.  But I stuck with him, keeping up the pursuit.  "I'll catch him, 
if my name isn't Croft," I muttered, as the wind tore at me.

	The invader was a tricky rascal.  Every time I aimed my laser at 
him he kept swerving, sometimes left, sometimes right.  "He's too far," 
I muttered.  But I kept up the chase.

	Suddenly a flock of honking birds obscured my vision.  "Get away, 
get away!" I said, pushing at them with my arms.  And then one of them 
pecked me on the leg, and they all swarmed around me, screaming "Honk 
honk honk!"

	"Ow!" I said.  "Ok, want to play rough, do you?  Honk this!"  And 
I fired my blaster into the thicket.  Several of them were hit, and 
they fell like  rocks.  Fortunately my blaster was set on stun.  
Unfortunately the ground below was very hard.  Well, the irritating 
birds had asked for it.

	When my vision cleared I looked for the invader.  Good.  I had 
lost a little ground, but he was still in sight.

	At one point the invader suddenly climbed, though I didn't see 
why.  Until I got close.  There was a hill ahead.

	In the dark, I didn't see the outlines of it, not until it was 
almost too late.  Almost.  I took the gravitator into a steep climb and 
it started to shake violently.  I thought it was going to come apart 
before my forward motion was checked.  But stop I did, at one point 
only inches apart from a solid boulder formation.  As I climbed and 
gained altitude, some of my clothes tore against outstretched branches, 
and I put some distance between myself and the vertical hillside.  But 
still up and up I went.  I barely caught a glimpse of the invader's 
gravitator, clearing the top of the hill, and then going over, down the 
other side.

	Time seemed to slow down as my gravitator climbed.  I felt the 
chill of cold air, but I wasn't paying it any attention.  I wasn't even 
in the gravitator anymore, or, at least, I wasn't paying attention to 
it.  Even my throbbing arm, nicked by the branches, were ignored.  I 
was thinking about the invader.  This was one smart cookie.  What would 
I do in his shoes?  

	And then I was back in the gravitator, climbing again, and the 
cold wind whipped at my clothes.  I unbuckled myself from the 
gravitator, and held on for dear life.  What I was about to do was very 
dangerous, and I would have to time things precisely, or else I would 
die.

	Just as my gravitator cleared the top of the hill I jumped, 
landing with an oomph on the hilltop.  But I landed with an easy roll 
that took me into an easy crouching position, my weapon ready.

	My gravitator cleared the hill, shooting up over the other side.  
Immediately laser beams came stabbing out of the hillside, smashing 
into my gravitator.  There was a tremendous explosion, and the thing 
burst into pieces, some of which fell not far from me.

	I scanned the hillside.  In the dark I couldn't see a thing.  For 
a moment there was silence.  Then, slowly, I saw a gravitator taking 
off.  Aiming carefully, I fired a bolt of energy.

	It hit the upper end of the column, and the gravitator started to 
rapidly twirl about on its vertical axis in an alarmingly dizzying 
fashion.  Faster and faster it spun, until it collided into the 
hillside, sending a shower of sparks in all directions.

	There was a silence for a moment.  All I could hear was quiet 
nightlife.  Then I saw a figure stirring in the darkness.  I approached 
cautiously.

	There was a man lying on the ground, on his back.  He seemed 
barely conscious, but he groaned when he saw me.  He must have been 
thrown from the gravitator.

	"Happy to meet you," I smiled.  "You must be an A.  I'm pleased 
to meet you.  The name's Croft.  I'm an A+."



	I got the word from the rescue plane that one of the assault 
teams had been intercepted, out on Karis.  Good.  I had intercepted two 
infiltrator forces, and that was number three.  That meant that there 
were only two left.

	I took a fast rocket to Ruulhilgen, a single planet system about 
fourteen lightyears away.  When I arrived I joined up with the agents 
on duty.  I even got a vidcom from A.A.

	"We've made great progress in securing all the transmitter 
sources," he said.  "But there are still so many more of them to cover.  
It's a good thing we know the precise points where they're going to 
attack."

	"You're welcome," I said.  "Any word from site #5?"

	"None," said the Chief.

	"I'll check in when I wrap this up," I said, sounding confident.  
And I was.  But if even one transmitter unit was stolen, that could be 
the end of the League.  As well as all independent thought throughout 
the galaxy.  If the Happy Worlders took over, we had all had it.

	I was stationed in a sensitive electronics factory that produced, 
you guessed it, particle wavelength transmitters.  The army was 
bustling about, busy installing additional security.  I deployed some 
of the troops personally, making sure there were a goodly number 
stationed on the roof.  And then there was little more to do but to 
wait.

	Waiting was boring.  I realized that on my first day on duty.  It 
came home to me on the second day, and it was something that flickered 
in my mind, from time to time, on the third day. 

	I found that Preston had been assigned here.  We discussed 
possible battle tactics that the enemy might pursue.

	"Take my word for it, Croft," he said.  "They're going to come, 
and they're going to come in a different way.  That's been their 
pattern.  But it doesn't really matter."

	"Why not?" I asked.

	"Because they're going to win in the end.  This technology is 
used in so many different devices.  It would be impossible to guard all 
the sources forever."

	"So what should we do, just give up?" I said.  "You haven't seen 
their worlds.  I have.  Take my word for it, Preston, you wouldn't like 
being ruled by them.  Or I take that back; you probably would.  We all 
would, after our minds had been adjusted."

	The veteran agent shook his head.  "That's not what I'm saying.  
Of course we don't give up.  But in the long run, they're going to get 
what they're looking for."

	"Maybe," I said.  "But maybe it won't work.  And if it does work, 
perhaps we can develop defenses to it.  The League isn't licked yet."

	"Maybe we should put you in charge of the League," said Preston, 
with a grizzled grin.

	I shrugged.  "Sure.  But I'm up for some vacation time first; I 
badly need a rest."

	"So why not take one?" said Preston.

	I didn't answer him.  This was too important to leave to others.

	I also tried to pass some time by talking to the factory staff.  
A staff of one, I might add.  The entire factory was automated, and the 
lone human was little more than a roving technician/watchman.

	I was curious about his work, and I struck up a conversation with 
him.  "It looks pretty complicated," I commented, staring at all the 
blinking lights on his control board.

	"Not really," said the tech.  His name was Bumptrin.  At that 
moments the assembly line groaned and came to a halt.  There was a 
malfunction.  Now I would get to see him in action!

	Bumptrin grunted, and leaned forward in his chair.  He pressed a 
large button marked STOP.  Then he pressed another large button marked 
RESTART.  The assembly line groaned, and then started up again.

	"What was the problem?" I said.

	"I don't know," he said dully.  Then a thought actually occurred 
to him. "Hey, I noticed those army fellows been around here for several 
days.  What are they, on maneuvers?"

	Obviously Bumptrin had not been extensively briefed by his 
employers.

	"Security," I said briskly, trying to sound self important.

	"Ain't anything here that anyone would want to take," Bumptrin 
grunted.  "Unless someone wanted to start a pirate ham radio operation, 
planet wide."

	"Um hm," I said, reclining in my own chair.  I eyed the 
environment of the factory around me.  What avenue would the attack 
come from this time?

	"Spy."

	I looked up.  Bumptrin was talking to me.  "Pardon?"

	"You're a spy, right?  Like all these other guys, sniffing around 
in the factory.  You're not like the soldiers."

	"I'm with the Column, yes," I said.

	"What's it like, being a spy?" Bumptrin asked.

	"The pay isn't bad," I said.  "And it can be interesting.  The 
only problem is getting caught.  You can be killed in some pretty messy 
ways."

	"Really?"

	"That's a fact."

	"Doesn't sound like such a great job to me," Bumptrin grunted.

	"But the best ones don't get captured," I said.  Then I frowned, 
remembering.  "Well, not often, anyway."

	Just then my comlink beeped.  "Yes?" I said, activating it.

	"Got a convoy, at the gate."

	"Ident?"

	"Official.  Say they're here to pick up a transmitter."

	I frowned again.  "I haven't been briefed about this."

	"The head of the convoy, a fellow named Erlan, says he has 
something to show you."

	"I'll bet," I said.  "Keep his team under guard.  Bring him in, 
with double escort."

	Shortly thereafter a heavyset, grinning man entered the building, 
under the escort of four Column people.  He smiled to me, and leveled 
an outstretched hand.

	I ignored it.  There was something about his smile I didn't like.  
It was too... Happy Worlder-ish.  But I tried to ignore that.  Ever 
since I had returned from Negan 14 all smiles appeared suspect to me.

	"What do you want?" I said bluntly, one hand on my blaster.

	"I'm here to pick up a transmitter unit," said the man named 
Erlan.  

	"No," I said bluntly.

	"No?"  Erlan seemed surprised.  "No what?"

	"Just no," I said.  "You're not getting it."

	"I'm from the comm division.  Here, you want to see my papers-"

	"No," I said bluntly.  "You're not getting it."  I turned to one 
of the agent escorts.  "Hold him and his people for interrogation."

	"Wait!" Erlan said.  "I have full clearance."

	"Buddy, I don't care if your orders come from the prime minister 
himself," I said.  "There's only one man who I-"

	At that moment Erlan slowly removed an object from his jacket.  
My own gun was immediately leveled at him, but it was only a comvid.  
He activated it.

	A.A.'s face appeared on the screen.  "Croft!  What's the 
problem?"

	"No problem, Chief," I said calmly.

	"Didn't you get my message?  Give these people a transmitter 
unit.  It's been cleared at the highest level," said A.A., looking 
annoyed.

	"Whatever you say, Chief," I said, shrugging, as his figure 
faded.  I turned to Erlan.  "You must know the troubles we've been 
having.  Is your convoy quite secure?"

	Erlan nodded.  "We've been briefed and prepared.  And now...." He 
looked at my blaster, which was still leveled at him.

	"Oh?  Oh, yes," I said, lowering it.  "Let'm have it, boys."

	I confess to feeling mildly uneasy as I saw them carry the 
transmitter into the truck.  I had been sent here to guard these 
idiotic things and here I was, watching one being taken away under my 
very nose.  I glanced outside at the convoy.  In addition to the truck 
there were three jeeps, sturdy armored types, all packed with heavily 
armed troops.  There shouldn't be any problem.

	The transmitter was loaded aboard.  It wasn't that large, at 
least, not in comparison to the truck that had been brought to relay it 
to wherever it was going.  But the truck was armored, and that was 
added security.

	Erlan waved goodbye genially as he boarded the truck.  It took 
its position near the front of the convoy as the procession started to 
leave the perimeter.

	Bumptrin yawned.  "Your job seems pretty routine to me," he 
remarked.

	The itch I had been feeling only grew in intensity.  I recalled 
the comm message from A.A.   He said he had sent an earlier message 
detailing this shipment.  I wondered if there was anything else I had 
missed.  I signaled for a junior agent to bring over a comvid, and 
activated it.  Meanwhile the first jeep in the convoy cleared the gate.

	"Yes?  What is it?" said A.A., looking annoyed.

	"Chief, about that convoy-"

	"Convoy?  What convoy?" said A.A.  Then, "Croft?  Croft?"  But he 
was speaking to empty air.

	"Stop that convoy!" I said, at the top of my lungs, as I pressed 
the alarm button on my jacket.  But it was too late.  The last jeep was 
just clearing the gate.  The troops didn't understand the nature of the 
danger, although a few at the gate caught the direction I had been 
pointing in, and they opened fire at the rear vehicle on the convoy.  A 
few laser bursts bounced off the armored vehicle, and then it was gone, 
out of view down a bend in the road.

	"After them!" I screamed, running for a gravitator.  After the 
last episode, I had ordered a number of them stationed on the plant 
grounds.  But only seconds after I had strapped myself in and taken off 
I almost crashed to the ground.  There was a tremendous explosion and 
the entire fleet of gravitators on the ground went up in a ball of 
smoke and flame.  The explosion jolted my gravitator, almost forcing it 
to the ground at a precarious velocity.  The stabilizers kicked in at 
the last minute, and I climbed, trying to get out of the choking smoke.

	When I had gained some altitude and cleared the fire, I was 
forced to give them their due credit.  The Happy Worlders had done just 
what I would have.  But there would be time for a post-mortem later.  I 
sent my gravitator racing down the road, after the convoy.  I hoped the 
battletroopers would be able to give me some support on this one.

	I'll say one thing for our army troops, they certainly were 
quick.  Even as I sped down the road I saw our defenders gearing up in 
their vehicles, racing down the road in pursuit.  I saw the convoy in 
the distance.  Perhaps the ground units would be able to catch up to 
it.

	Then there was a tremendous CRUMP, and a cloud of dust was kicked 
up over a section of the road.  I flew straight over it at top speed, 
still attempting to keep up with the convoy.  But when I looked back I 
saw an enormous ditch in the ground, at a narrow point in the road.  
The ground pursuit would be stopped.

	"That just leaves me," I sighed, pulling my blaster.  I eyed the 
convoy ahead.  "One man, with a blaster, against four heavily armored 
vehicles, packed with enemy agents.  Ok, no problem, no problem.  I can 
handle this."

	And they thought they could handle me.  When I got close, laser 
beams started to dart out of some of the vehicles.  I had been spotted.

	"I'm a sitting duck up here," I muttered, swerving my gravitator 
this way and that.  I was so caught up in piloting, that I had little 
opportunity to fire.  Laser bolts whizzed around me.  So I did the 
brave thing.  I pulled up.

	I activated the comlink on the gravitator.  "They're heading 
north on the main road.  When can you have air units intercept?"

	"They're already scrambled," came the reply.  "Intercept in 
fifteen minutes ETA.  Keep a good track on them."

	"Oh, they won't leave my sight," I said.  And then the convoy 
left the highway and went on a small road to enter a forest.  A dense 
one.

	"Shit," I said.  This is where they would lose me.  I would have 
to go in, and I knew it.  The Clifford Croft 1st reserve air corps was 
being called into the fray.

	So I took the gravitator down.  The convoy hadn't been expecting 
my return, or else the trees shielded me until the last minute, for 
they didn't start firing until I was almost on top of them.

	And then they did start firing and blaster bolts crisped the air 
all around me.  I was hovering a few feet above the truck when I was 
hit.

	Or rather, the gravitator was.  The beam dug into the central 
column, burning out the main drive circuitry.  Immediately I dropped, 
like a stone.

	Onto the flat top of the truck.

	I must have laid there, groaning for a minute before I did 
anything.  For I was lying, crushed, pinned down by the enormous weight 
of the column.  I struggled to worm my way out from under it, my entire 
body aching with pain.  With great effort I unstrapped and crawled out 
of it, and lay there, gasping for breath.  The truck was still moving, 
at a fast clip too.

	I crawled over to the rear end of the truck.  A mistake.  A jeep 
traveling right behind it was waiting for this opportunity, and the 
operatives in it opened fire on me.

	But most of their shots were high; they were afraid of hitting 
the truck, even though it was armored.  I was under no such inhibition.  
But instead of drawing my own blaster I unclipped a fragmentation 
grenade from my belt.  Normally it probably wouldn't have any effect on 
the jeep, but if it were to explode underneath  it....

	I pressed the activator, and counted one, two, three, four... and 
threw it over the edge of the truck.

	Immediately the truck raced forward and the jeep followed, riding 
over the very spot where the grenade at landed.

	There was a loud boom, and then the jeep overturned, bursting 
into flame.  There was another jeep behind that, and I think it crashed 
into the exploded one, although we were moving so fast, it was 
impossible to be certain.

	But there was still the truck I was on, and a jeep in front.  If 
only I could destroy the truck, I could jump off, my mission 
accomplished....

	But maybe I didn't need to destroy the truck.  I just needed to 
destroy the transmitter inside.

	Whistling happily, I set my blaster to cutting mode and started 
to burn through the armor on the outer doors at the back of the truck.  
I wasn't making a big hole, just one small enough to fit a grenade in. 
But while I was doing that I was rudely interrupted by guards in the 
truck, who flung open the doors and started shooting at me.

	I ducked my head out of view and pulled out a grenade.  I pressed 
the activator and counted to four, then popped my head back over the 
edge and tossed the grenade inside the truck.

	I saw a number of things at that moment, but my mind was too slow 
to process them immediately.  The jeep in the lead had dropped back 
behind the truck, and one of the men inside the truck was tossing 
something in the air towards it.  A medium sized box-shaped object.  
But then there was an explosion in the truck that nearly shook me off 
the top, and it took me a few seconds to regain my wits.

	By the time I had realized what had happened, the jeep had the 
transmitter unit, and was speeding forward ahead of the truck.  I 
furiously unleashed a blaster barrage on the jeep from my perch atop 
the truck.  But the top hatch on the jeep had just closed, and my 
efforts harmlessly bounced off.  I watched as the jeep speeded ahead.

	It was times like this that I wished I had listened to my parents 
and become a doctor.  That's what my mother had told me to do.  But who 
listens?

	The jeep vroomed ahead of the truck.  If I was going to catch it, 
I was going to have to be awfully quick.  Crawling, though carefully 
(the truck was still doing a steady clip), to the forward section of 
the truck, I came to the area that housed the passenger section.  I set 
my blaster to cut again and started burning away.  I was only halfway 
done when the truck slowed to a halt.  Which wasn't surprising, as I 
was cutting the ceiling off of the passenger section.  The driver 
wouldn't be too happy about that.

	The truck stopped, and the driver got out.  And a second thug 
too.  And a third one.  Oh oh.

	They started firing at the roof of the truck, slashing away with 
their lasers.  

	Which was just fine by me, because I had slipped off the top and 
was now hiding on the bottom.  I set my blaster to stun and fired on 
their legs.  I think they started to catch on; at least, the legs 
disappeared from view as my attackers started to fall.  But I only 
counted two bodies on the ground, unless one had fallen out of my view.  
I slithered out of the other side of the truck, and just in time, too; 
a laser volley raked the undercarriage.

	Ever play a game of tag, with an intervening object, like a 
stationary vehicle, in between you and your opponent?  This is what I 
was engaged in.  It was never quite clear just who was the hunter and 
who was the hunted, for both of us kept running around the truck, 
shooting at the other.  Occasionally one of us would switch directions, 
trying to catch the other from the other side (I was almost caught that 
way once).  I only got glimpses of my opponent; he was a very agile 
fellow.

	Finally, after a laser burst came a little too close to me I 
ducked down, hiding behind one of the large tires.  When my opponent 
came darting around the front of the truck, he tripped and fell over 
the bit of foot that I had maliciously left outstretched.  His head hit 
the ground and he did not move, but I shot him anyway, just for good 
measure.

	I got up, dusting myself off.  Quickly getting into the front 
cab, I started the engine.  Good.  The damage wasn't severe.

	The jeep had a good head start, but I really floored the 
accelerator.  I also tended to drive a little uncautiously, and more 
than once I almost swerved off the road.

	"Come on, come on," I said, scanning the road ahead of me.  With 
both eyes still glued to the road I took one hand off the steering 
wheel and reached for my comlink in my jacket pocket.  I felt it and 
grabbed for it--only to find that it was in numerous pieces.  Smashed.

	I risked a quick glimpse in the air.  No sign of the allies.

	But ahead, in the road, I saw a solitary dot.  As I got closer, 
the dot grew larger.  It was the jeep.

	I was fortunately able to get close without being fired upon; 
evidently they were still under the impression that their own people 
controlled the truck.  They waved to me when I was still a distance 
away.  I waved back.

	Then I gunned the engine and smashed into the back of the jeep.

	They were jolted, but not off the road, like I had hoped.  They 
reacted rather violently, opening up with a laser barrage.  The 
windshielding offered little protection, melting like soft butter 
wherever it was touched by laser fire.  Laser fire carved into the seat 
upholstery next to me.  I tried to slouch down behind the wheel as much 
as I could, and I swerved into the jeep again.  And again.  And again.

	It was the forth time that did it, pushing the jeep off the road, 
down a steep incline.  

	Unfortunately, I went over too.  I wasn't in the best position to 
drive to begin with, and I had smacked the jeep a little too well.  I 
had gotten two birds with one stone; the only problem was, I was one of 
the birds.

	These and other philosophical matters were not foremost on my 
mind as the truck turned over and over, and I suppose I must have 
blacked out for a moment, for the next thing I became aware of was the 
fact that I was hanging, upside down, in the cab of the truck.  With a 
groan, I unbuckled myself, and pushed the door open.  Then I collapsed 
onto the ground.  I wasn't feeling very well.  My whole body ached and 
I felt tired.  Very tired.

	But I forced myself to get up.  Groaning, I dragged my blaster, 
which felt very heavy in my hands.  I walked, staggering really, to the 
overturned carcass of the jeep.  I must have been thirty feet away when 
I feel to the ground, overcome with exhaustion.

	Which may have been the best thing.  For the moment I fell, the 
door to the jeep popped open, and two people emerged, armed with 
lasers.  I watched, idly, as they dragged out the bodies of several of 
their companions.  Then one of them brought out a large box.  
Unfortunately, it looked entirely unharmed.

	One of them looked at me.  "Who was he?"

	"With the Column, probably," said the other.  "Come on, let's get 
to the rendezvous."

	"Wait," said the first one.  He had a nasty expression on his 
face, not made any prettier by the newly formed scar along the side of 
his head.  He slowly walked up to me, and his intention was very clear.  
He raised his foot back over my head-

	and I reached up and shot him.  It was as simple as that.  The 
other had good reflexes, but he had to put down the transmitter before 
he could draw his gun, and even in my tired state I beat him to it.  I 
shot him too, and he fell to the ground.

	I got up, and staggered towards their vehicle.  "Ooooh my head," 
I said, leaning against the jeep.  "What a day."

	I don't know how long I stayed there; perhaps, in retrospect, it 
wasn't more than a few minutes.  It was hard to tell; I kept feeling 
that I was going to pass out.  But for some reason I kept trying to 
stay conscious.

	Then I heard something screech and halt at the top of the road, 
and people disembarked from a vehicle, coming down the embankment.  I 
waved to them feebly.

	My vision wasn't entirely clear, and I didn't get a very good 
look at them.  I eyed their vehicle.  I couldn't be sure, but it looked 
like an armored jeep.  Say, just like one of these...  My brain was 
scrambled, but not that scrambled.  I was just getting under cover 
before the first laser bolts exploded around me.  I limped around the 
corner of the upturned jeep and peered out.

	They were Happy World agents all right.  At the very beginning of 
this chase, there had been two jeeps behind me.  I had disposed of the 
first one with a fragmentation grenade, and had thought that the second 
one had crashed into it....

	But it hadn't.

	I peered out again, but only got a volley of laser bursts for my 
effort.  What nearly killed me (quite literally), was the fact that the 
wavelength particle transmitter was sitting there, unharmed, mere feet 
from me!  I had had an opportunity to destroy it, plenty of 
opportunity, and instead I had sat around, like a fool, naively 
assuming that the enemy had been wiped from the playing field.

	I tried to peek out to get a clear shot at the box, but the Happy 
Worlders had me pinned down nicely.  And they were closing in.  They 
had the advantages of numbers.  I ducked back behind the overturned 
jeep and groped around for grenades.  As luck had it, I had one left.

	I reached for it... and I heard a hum, and looked up.  There was 
a Happy Worlder right in front of me, laser armed and finger on the 
trigger.  He must have circled around while the others had kept me 
distracted.  I watched, with a sort of deadly fascination, as his 
finger tightened on the trigger.  Then there was a laser burst, and 
that was the end.

	Of him, that is.  The laser burst went right through his chest.  
He stood there, open-mouthed, until he had the good common sense to die 
and flop quietly to the ground.

	I had just enough strength to look up, to see an air company of 
humming gravitators circling the clearing.  "About time," I muttered, 
feeling quite exhausted.  And then I felt unconsciousness tugging at 
me, and I took a rather unavoidable nap.



	My eyes focused, and I was quite startled by an unexpected ugly 
sight. 

	It was A.A. 

	"Good morning," I yawned.  "I'll have bacon, eggs, milk, and a 
side order of toast."

	"So, you're alive," A.A. growled.

	"Why wouldn't I be?" I said, scratching my ribs.  Then I gave an 
ouch.

	"Three broken bones, plus internal bleeding," said A.A.  "But 
you've been given accelerated healing treatment for the past three 
days.  You've also had a nasty head concuss-"

	"Three days!  I've been out three days!"

	"Serves you right, for falling for one of their tricks.  Couldn't 
you tell that that video wasn't me?" A.A. barked.  Then he smiled, and 
said, "Fine job, Croft."

	"We got them?" I searched my memory.  The end had been a little 
hazy.

	"Affirmative.  Elements of the local 5th Air Corps located you 
just as that last jeepload of agents were closing in on the 
transmitter.  But it was a close call, I don't mind telling you."  Then 
his expression changed.  "The road from the plant was littered with 
vehicles.  Your work?"

	I shrugged nonchalantly, although it caused me a little pain.  
"Maybe a bit."

	A.A. grinned.  "Well, that's a job well done, Clifford.  You 
deserve that well earned holiday."  He turned to leave the room.

	"Wait!" I cried out.  He turned around.  "What about the threat 
to the other transmitters?"

	"We've got that all locked down now.  We've located all sources 
of transmitters in the League, consolidated them, put up to date 
security measures on them, and filled each location with crack battle 
troops."

	I nodded, but I didn't feel relieved, not quite.  "What about the 
fifth location?"

	"The fifth location?" said A.A., looking a little confused.

	We had targeted five locations they were going after.  I was 
about to remind A.A. of that fact, when he said, "Oh yes, number five.  
Oh, no need to be concerned about that."

	"Guards around there too?" I said.

	"No need," said A.A.  "There's nothing there."

	"What do you mean?" I said sharply, sitting up in bed.  That hurt 
too.

	"Nothing.  It's a dud.  Cranspace College.  In the Cumbalin 
system."

	"Cranspace," I said, frowning.  "Isn't that the big technical 
school?"

	"No, no, you're confusing that with Calnspace, in the Nalhatro 
sector.  Cranspace is a medium sized arts college."

	I frowned.  "Then why was it on my list?"

	"We think they, like you, may have been confusing it with the 
industrial research facility at Calnspace.  We've stationed appropriate 
precautions there, I assure you."

	I frowned again, recalling the list from memory.  "I'm sure it 
said Cranspace."

	"It did.  But they made a mistake.  There's nothing in Cranspace 
that remotely connects to wavelength transmitter technology."  A.A. 
smiled.  "Now get some rest.  You've deserve it.  Take a vacation."  He 
studied my unsatisfied expression.  "The mission is done, Mr. Croft.  
All the transmitters are fully secured.  You have been successful.   
Report back after you've had a vacation."  With a bounce in his step, 
he left my sight.

	I lay back in my bed.  The Happy Worlders must have made a 
mistake.  Yeah, a mistake.

	But what if they didn't?  If they got their grubby little hands 
on even one wavelength particle transmitter.....

	I sat there, thinking about it for a while.  Then I turned to the 
terminal on my nightstand, and typed in a few keys.  I wanted 
everything there was to know about Cranspace College.



	I don't know what made me do it, but four days later I found 
myself at Cranspace College, on the fourth planet in the Cumbalin 
system.  It was a fairly placid place, on a long, sprawling, suburban 
campus.  I walked on the main lawn, gathering my thoughts.

	At least I was no longer in pain.  I had a number of tender 
spots, but for the most part I was fully fit.  But fit for what?  Was I 
so keyed up that I wasn't prepared to let this assignment go?

	But this wasn't just another assignment.  If those Happy Worlders 
got their hands on a wavelength particle transmitter, the League as a 
whole could fall.

	But there were no wavelength technology in use here.  This was an 
arts school.  There were no science programs taught at this school.  
What was I doing here?

	The place was on the list, and, despite A.A.'s explanation, I was 
still suspicious.  Maybe there had been something we had overlooked.

	I thought about the possibilities as I walked by the imposing 
structures housing the classrooms.  There were obviously no 
transmitters here, that was sure.  I had checked that from the 
hospital.   There were no people here who worked on that technology.  

	So what could it be?  My mind just wouldn't let up.  Somehow, 
there just had to be something I was missing.  Thalessa had targeted 
five places to steal the particle wavelength transmitter from.  The 
multiple efforts had been ordered to ensure that this vital part would 
be acquired.  They had targeted factories, warehouses, spaceports.... 
and Cranspace College.  Why?  So if we caught on, we wouldn't think to 
protect this location.

	But what was there to protect?  I just couldn't figure it out.

	I sat there, for nearly an entire afternoon, watching the young 
people walk by, hefting their books.  Some sat on the lawn, taking in 
the suns (Cumbalin was a system of binary suns, they got a lot of 
light).  A few young people were playing rocket frisbee on the grass.  
I watched as some students came down the walkway, directly into my line 
of vision.

	And I immediately sat up.  They weren't walking properly.  Oh, 
their stride would appear normal enough to anyone who wasn't trained to 
pay attention to that sort of thing.  But they weren't walking right.

	There are many ways that civilians walk, many styles, many 
customs.  Most of the students here had a lazy sort of "I don't care 
when I get there" kind of stride.  The people I was intent on had a 
sort of stiff legged "march to the drummer" stride.  It wasn't obvious, 
not that obvious, but I could see it.  There were three of them, and I 
studied their faces.  They looked older than the typical students, 
although they were otherwise dressed normally.  I watched them as they 
professionally scanned the area they were walking through.  Their gaze 
passed by me and on down the lawn, without a flicker of recognition.

	Good.  They weren't aware of me.  But just what were they after?  
I got up, and started to follow them.  Not directly, mind you; I simply 
meandered in a similar direction.  And of course I didn't look directly 
at them.  In this way I followed them, as they walked across the 
campus, where they linked up with four more of their companions.  They 
started talking to each other in soft whispers and I had to turn away 
to avoid a visual scan.

	I needed to find out what they were after.  But how to do it?  
Suddenly, as if on a prearranged signal, the conference broke up, and 
they each headed separate ways.  I decided to follow one of them.  
Perhaps I could capture him.  But that would be a last resort; unless 
he lead me to the others, the rest of his team would quickly become 
alerted by his absence, and I would lose the advantage of surprise.

	The one I was following, a tall, thin dark haired man, entered 
one of the campus buildings.  It was harder to keep a close tail on him 
now, but I did see which direction he was headed in.  Then I saw him 
going in one room labeled "Professor Yrrio's office."

	When he came out, a few seconds later, he didn't see me.  I 
decided to let him go; it was becoming more and more difficult to tail 
him without being spotted.  And I had a more than a passing curiosity 
as to what he was up to in Professor Yrrio's office.

	The outer office was a secretary's post.  A young man was busy 
reading a magazine.  I stood, waiting to be recognized.

	And waited.  And waited.

	"Ahem," I said.

	That got his attention.  Slowly he looked up.  "Yes?" he said, in 
a slightly nasal voice.

	"Croft," I said, showing her my electrobadge.  "Column."

	"Yes?" he said, still showing little interest.

	"There was a man in here.  I'd like to know what he wanted."

	"He came in, asked something.  That's all," he said, looking 
bored.

	"What did he ask?" I said slowly.

	He frowned, her face a mask of concentration.  "Let me see... 
don't remember...."  Having made her best attempt, he turned back to 
her magazine.

	"This is very important," I said.

	I waited a few seconds.  He paid me no attention; apparently he 
was focused on his magazine again.  

	"I really wish you could help me," I said.  There was no answer 
again.  As if to emphasize that he was ignoring me, he held the 
magazine up to block his view of me.

	I sighed.  I see that I needed to take further steps to reacquire 
his attention.  I drew my blaster, carefully adjusting the setting.  
Still no look.  Not even a glance.  But then I did something that did 
get some attention.  Aiming carefully, I shot a whole through the 
magazine.  And a bit of the wall to his left, too.

	"Hey!" he said, startled.  "You can't do that!"

	I pointed the blaster at her.  "This says I can.  You want to try 
and remember what the man asked?"

	 Suddenly his memory was stimulated.  "He, uh, he wanted to know 
where Professor, uh... Talran's office was."

	"And what did you tell him?"

	"I didn't know.  I sent him to the Dean's office."

	"Thank you," I said, turning to go.  Then I stopped, turning 
around.  "Do you have a directory which would tell where to find this 
Talran?"

	It turns out that he did.  With a minimum of prodding I had the 
address.  I ripped the map of the campus out of the directory.  "You 
won't mind if I take this, do you?  No, you never use it anyway.  Now, 
I don't expect you to breathe a word of this.  To anyone.  Because if 
you do, and I find out..." I said, letting the rest hang.  This clod 
had delayed me several precious minutes already.

	"Hey!  How do I explain that?" he said, pointing to the blaster 
hole in the wall.

	"Termites," I said, already out the door.

	I made a fast march to Professor Talran's office.  It was only 
several buildings away, and in a few minutes I was there.  His 
secretary, a young woman, greeted me by saying, "The Professor's office 
hours are Mondays and Thursdays, 1-1:30."  She said it in a monotone, 
as if that were her standard greeting.

	I flashed my badge.  "Column business.  Is Talran here?"

	"N..no," said the young woman.

	"Has anyone been here asking for him?"

	"No," said the secretary.

	"Where can I find the professor?" I said.

	The secretary proceeded to look up the professor's home address.  
She was still flipping pages when another person, a thin, dark haired 
fellow, entered the room.

	"Excuse me," he said, "I'm looking for Professor Talran," he said 
pleasantly.

	 It was one of them.  "I'm the professor's executive assistant," 
I said quickly, cutting the secretary off.  The secretary had started 
to speak, but stopped.  The Happy Worlder looked from one to another, 
and a flicker of doubt played across his face.  "He's not here," I 
said.  "Would you like his home address?"

	The Happy Worlder nodded, wordlessly.  I reached over to the 
secretary's desk.  I was hoping that the Happy Worlder agent didn't 
look at the small piece of paper in the secretary's hands.

	I wrote out an address, a random number at a street I had 
happened to notice on the map.  It should take this Happy Worlder some 
time to notice the mistake.  I handed it to him.

	He glanced at it, turned to leave--and glanced at it again.  
"This address is in the middle of the industrial park," he said.  
Already his hand was weaving into his jacket pocket.

	But I was quicker; my weapon was in my hand even before he had 
half completed the motion.  He stopped; I nodded with satisfaction.

	"What do you want with the professor?" I said.

	The Happy Worlder stood mute.

	I sighed.  I didn't have a hypnocube with me; it would take a 
determined investigation to find out what I needed.  I changed the 
settings on my blaster. 

	"I really need to know," I said.  Silence, for a moment.  "It's 
very important to me."  No reaction.  Then I smiled, "Happy Day," and I 
shot him in the foot.	

	He yelped in pain, collapsing to the ground.  In the process his 
hand reached into his jacket and-

	I stunned him, having quickly reset the blaster intensity.  I 
sighed, staring at the body.  What would I do with him?  He was kind of 
heavy to lug along.

	The secretary was sitting at his desk, quivering quietly.  I 
plucked the paper out of her hands, and started to walk out the door.

	"Wha-What about him?" said the secretary.

	"I guess he'll have to make an appointment during office hours," 
I said calmly.



	Professor Talran lived within walking distance of the main 
campus, a small single story home with a modest lawn.  I didn't bother 
with the doorbell, but simply blasted my way in, fearing for the worst.

	I found a small, elderly man sitting in a lounge chair, with a 
teacup on the floor besides him.  "What's the meaning of this?" he 
said, looking from the charred remains of his door to my still smoking 
blaster.

	"Professor Talran?" I said.

	"Yes," said the small man.  He squinted at me from across the 
room.

	I proffered my badge, but only for a second.  "Clifford Croft.  
Column.  Your life is in great danger."

	His face screwed up. "Danger?  Young man, the only danger I face 
is from you.  I intend to sue you for your lawless entry, damages to my 
home, emotional distress-"

	"If you don't come with me you may die-"

	"-as well as for threats made upon my person-"

	At that moment I heard running footsteps behind me and I did a 
quick roll over and behind a low sofa.  I peeked around the corner.

	Talran wasn't amused.  "I assure you your antics-" he broke off 
when he saw several newcomers enter the room.

	There were three of them, all men.  "Professor Talran?" one of 
them said.

	"More ruffians!" said Talran.  "I'll have to sue you too.  Let me 
see know your identification numbers, please!"

	One of the men nodded imperceptibly and they reached forward to 
grab Talran.  At that moment I sprang up, my blaster blazing.  I got 
two of them immediately, but the third was too close to the Professor.  
He grabbed Talran, holding a laser to his head.  "One more move...." he 
said suggestively.

	"How about this?" I said, wiggling my body to some imaginary 
tune.  Then I shot him.  It had been an empty bluff and we both knew 
it.  For some reason they needed Talran, alive.

	"Come on, Professor," I said, half dragging the whimpering fellow 
out the back door.  Which was a good move, for as I peered around the 
corner I saw more Happy Worlders gathering at the front entrance.  We 
would have made a clean getaway, too, if Talran hadn't shouted, "Get 
your hands off me, you government criminal!"

	That got their attention.  They came streaming around the corner.  
There were nearly a dozen of them, I think, and they opened fire, 
raking the areas with their lasers.  They must have their weapons set 
for stun, I realized.  I was under no such inhibition but I was still 
badly outnumbered.  The laser fire grew intense and I was forced to 
retreat behind the side of a  neighboring home.  Unfortunately the 
Professor had been hit; instead of crouching for cover, he had stood 
straight up, shaking his fist and yelling "You can't do this.  This is 
tortious conduct, and I intend to sue-" at which point he was shot, and 
fell to the ground.

	A car came up, on cue, and picked him up.  The covering fire was 
so heavy that I wasn't able to hit more than one of them, who fell to 
the ground, unconscious. And then the car was driving away, and they 
were gone.

	I yelled wildly, of course.  There were no other vehicles in the 
area to commandeer.  I had lost them.



Chapter 19



	I got in touch with the Column, through the local authorities, 
though not as quickly as I would have liked.  We got the ball rolling 
and the local police were setting up roadblocks, but I wasn't hopeful.

	"What is it?  Why are they after Talran?" A.A.'s face barked at 
me, coming out of the video terminal in the remains of Talran's home.

	"I just checked the computer, and figured it out," I said.  
"Talran was one of the people who helped develop the particle 
wavelength transmitter."

	"What?" said A.A.  "How in the world did we miss him?"

	"Because he's a professor of ancient semantics now," I said.  "He 
left the field about twenty years ago, and your search didn't go back 
far enough."

	"Do you have any idea where they might've went?"

	"None," I said.  "But Air/Space Defense is cordoning off the 
area.  If any unidentified ships tries to leave without being searched, 
we should get some warning."  But I made a face when I said it.  The 
locals simply weren't of Column caliber.

	A.A. snorted.  "Do you have any other leads?"

	I stole a glance at my captive, the Happy Worlder I had just 
stunned who was now quite securely tied to the Professor's lounge 
chair.  I hadn't had any rope, so had had to use an extension cord, but 
my sleeping friend didn't seem to mind.

	"One lead only," I said.  "He's going to be talking, in just a 
few moments.  I'll keep you informed. Out."

	I went over to my slumbering friend.  "Wakey wakey," I said, 
slapping him on the face.  He blinked, waking up.

	"A's aren't supposed to be captured.  You'll be reduced to a D 
for this, my friend," I said smiling.

	"How do you know...." he said, and then he shut up.

	"Thalessa told me.  During some pillow talk," I said, enjoying 
his discomfort.  Good; let him think I knew a lot.

	He frowned, but he said, "You're lying."

	"Ah, but it's not my statements that are being evaluated."  I 
fiddled with my blaster.  "Suppose you'd like to tell me where they've 
taken Talran."

	"No."

	I fired at his foot, with the blaster setting on low.  He 
screamed, but he said nothing.

	"This hurts you a whole lot more than it does me," I said, in a 
low conversational voice.  "Care to talk?"

	"No," said the agent.

	"Suit yourself," I shrugged.  And then I shot him again, in the 
hand.  He shrieked, even though all I was doing at this setting was 
giving him some nasty burns.  For all that wailing he was making you 
might think he would break down and talk.  But he didn't.

	"I'm really in a hurry, and that means I have to be a little more 
rough than I might like" I said.  "Are you sure you're not ready to 
talk?"

	Sweating profusely, the Happy Worlder shook his head.  Sighing, I 
reset my blaster, showing him that I was putting it on KILL.  Then I 
leveled it right between his eyes.

	"I suppose this will burn a nasty hole through your head," I 
said.

	There was no answer.  He started to perspire a little more 
heavily, but he gave no response, only opening his mouth to lick his 
dry lips nervously.  Shrugging, I started counting.

	"Five... four... three... two... one...."

	My finger tightened on the trigger.  It was useless, of course.  
This one wasn't going to crack.  Not in that way.  But then I got an 
idea.  "No," I said.  "Killing's not right for you.  I have a better 
idea."

	Humming, I left the room.  "Back in a sec!" I said cheerfully.

	Actually, I was gone for several minutes, but when I returned, 
the Happy Worlder was still there, tied to his chair.  He seemed to be 
struggling with his bonds.

	"Naughty naughty," I said, my hands behind my back.  Then I 
brought them in front of me, to show him what I was carrying.

	In one hand I held a long, black rod.  In another I held up a 
small electronic mechanism.

	"Do you know what this is?" I said, showing him the electrical 
component.

	"No," he said, in a whisper.

	"Oh, come on,  of course you know, don't be shy," I said, a 
little disappointed.  "It's a D converter unit.  Since you're not 
useful to me in A mode, I'm going to turn you into a D.  It will 
eventually burn out your brain, of course, but the surgery should be 
quick and painless."  I motioned over to a knife on the table, and then 
grinned at the spy, as comprehension sunk in.

	"No... your society does not have D's," said the Happy Worlder.

	I laughed.  "Is that what they told you?  Well, I'd love to chat 
all day, but you know how it is...."  I raised the rod, slowly lowering 
it over his shoulder.

	"No!" he cried, when the rod was just inches from his shoulder.  
His eyes bulged with fear.

	I didn't let up, but I said, "Where?"

	He told me.  There was no doubt in my mind that he was telling 
the truth.  For I had stumbled onto the one thing that Happy Worlders, 
A's and  B's alike, were truly terrified of.

	"Thanks," I said.  I started to turn, to leave the room, when I 
said, "Listen, hold on to this, will you?" I said, dropping the rod so 
that it leaned against him.

	He started to protest, but when the rod touched him, nothing 
happened. "Put that back on the vacuum cleaner if you have a chance," I 
said.  I also tossed the D converter into his lap.  "And put this back 
if you want to use the can opener in the kitchen," I grinned.



	By the time I arrived, I alerted the local police and they had 
the spaceport sealed off.

	"Everything's grounded, nothing's getting off," said the police 
chief, a short man named Dilorvan.

	"Uh huh," I said, nodding as I took in the row after row of 
grounded ships.  The Cranspace spaceport was the second largest on the 
planet.  It would take a lot of time to search those ships, assuming 
that the Happy Worlders had already arrived.  "Which ones are already 
fueled for takeoff?" I said.  Those would be the first priority for the 
searchers.

	"Seven ship.  But four are people carriers, I don't think they 
could get a hostage out on those."

	I wasn't as sure, but I nodded.  "Go on."

	Dilorvan checked a manifest.  "Says here that one's a mineral 
transport, bound for Eridani... there's another transport, picking up 
spare parts for the  new space station  at the edge of the system... 
there's also a private yacht, bound for the M-392 sector... no, that's 
been grounded, for repairs...."

	"I would like to assist in the search.  Personally," I said.

	"Suit yourself," he said, with a shrug.  "We're shorthanded as it 
is.  The League troopers won't be here for another hour."

	I decided to search the yacht first, I don't know why.  Dilorvan 
had said it was grounded for repairs.  Yet it was all fueled up and it 
was just the sort of dodge I would expect from the Happy Worlder 
operatives.

	Two spaceport policemen stood on guard at the gangplank, saluting 
me when I approached.  They  had been told I was coming.

	"Has this ship been searched?" I said.

	"Not yet, sir," said one of the guards.  "Not enough manpower."

	I nodded, walking up the gangplank, where a crewmember stood on 
duty.  "Let me speak to your skipper," I said.  He spoke into the wall 
comlink, and in a few minutes I was face to face with the captain of 
the ship.

	I thought it might be nice to have the captain accompany me on 
the tour, so I could size him up while I was searching the ship.  I had 
developed an uncanny nack for detecting Happy Worlders, and I wanted to 
put my skill to the test.

	But this Happy Worlder was very easy to detect; the minute I saw 
the captain, I knew, and I went for my blaster.

	It was Ralston, one of the Happy Worlders I had worked with at 
Central Control.  

	The memory immediately sprang into place.  He had been a B, like 
me, on duty at Central Control.  They must be using B's for these 
operations as well.  Ralston must have been sent out on this mission 
shortly before my escape.  

	I recognized him, there was no doubt about it.  And I could tell 
he recognized me, for he was reaching for his own weapon.

	We both steadied our weapons and fired at the same time, and we 
both missed.  While we both searched for cover, the helpful crewmember 
who had welcomed me aboard slammed the access doors closed, sealing us 
off from the spaceport policemen.  Then he pressed another button and I 
heard a hooting sound.

	Meanwhile I was still firing on Ralston.  I fried a wall panel 
behind him but did little damage to my adversary.  He leveled a shot at 
me which was only a little off to the left.  I took that opportunity to 
shoot the stray crewmember, who was busy searching for a weapon of his 
own.

	"Croft!  What's happened to you?" Ralston, shouted at me, from 
under cover.  "You're with us!"

	"I've changed my mind," I snapped, for lack of a wittier answer.

	And then the ship lurched, and took off.

	I was thrown across the room by the unexpected motion, right into 
the arms of Ralston.  He seemed almost as surprised as I was.  The 
ground shook, and we struggled, each rolling on top of the other.  In 
the process I somehow lost my blaster, and we wrestled over possession 
of his laser.  Back and forth, back and forth we wrestled, neither of 
us able to fully control the weapon.  Each of us used our free hand to 
hit at the other.  We kept pounding at each other, until finally a shot 
rang out, and there was a break in the impasse.



	The ship went into orbit around the Happy World.  I wasn't aware 
of this, not directly, but I knew this was happening.  I could, 
however, hear the pilot's voice, as he opened communications with the 
ground control.

	"We're coming in for a ground descent, Central Control.  Can you 
guide us in on automatic?"

	"Affirmative," said Central Control.  "Do you have the 
objective?"

	"Affirmative," said the voice of the pilot.  "And a special 
bonus.  The one called Clifford Croft."

	"Excellent," said Central Control.  "The Master will be on hand 
to greet you personally when you arrive."

	The ship touched down on a landing pad inside Central Control.  I 
didn't see what was going on outside, but I did see the Master when he 
entered the ship, with a suitable escort in tow.

	I sat in an easy chair, smiling at him.

	His eyes widened when he saw me sitting there, untied and 
unguarded.  "What?  What is the meaning of this?" he said.

	"The meaning?" I said, still smiling.  "You didn't say 'please'."

	"Take him!" said the Master, pointing at me.  Several B's rushed 
up to grab me... but their hands went right through me.

	"Holography," I said, pointing to a machine in the corner.  "It 
is simultaneously transmitting my image, live, from the Cranspace 
College projection center.  They normally used it for holographic art 
works, or some such."  I said.  "But you asked for an explanation.  
Very well, I will tell you.  I was aboard this ship when it took off, 
with Professor Talran, the man you were after.  I was locked in a 
bitter struggle with your man, Ralston, and the better man won."  I 
chuckled, leaving no doubt who that was.

	"I dealt with the rest of the crew, and then we returned to the 
spaceport.  Then we sent the ship back to you on automatic, complete 
with remote transmitters and the holographic equipment you see here 
before you."

	I could see, from the camera in the hold, that the Master was 
grinding his teeth together in rage.

	"That wasn't very nice of you, plotting to take over the League," 
I said.  "But we're willing to be friends.  Did I mention that we've 
enclosed a small gift, in this very ship?  It's a piece of very 
advanced technology.  And you'll find out all about it in ten... 
nine... eight..."

	I enjoyed watching the Master's expression as I did the 
countdown.  He immediately started issuing orders, but it was too late 
for that.  Much too late for that.

	"Three... two... one...  Happy Day," I smiled.

	I didn't see what happened next, but there must have been a 
tremendous explosion. 

The Science Section said that they had loaded enough explosions in the 
ship to level the entire Central Control.  Which was fine by me.  The 
Astronomy section later reported an enormous crater on that section of 
that planet, leading some of the munitions people to believe that we 
might have overdone it a bit.

	But that was only their opinion, of course.



Chapter 20



	Well, I finally got that vacation I sorely deserved.  I was on 
Pacifica, a watery planet that was populated by numerous luxury 
resorts.  I lay on the beach for several days, attempting to absorb 
everything that had happened.

	The Happy Worlders had been stopped.  Their plan to create their 
remote controlled mind frying device had been thwarted.  But this was 
by no means a permanent solution.  Someday they would get their hands 
on a particle wavelength transmitter.  And if the device did work, the 
League would be in grave danger, unless we developed countermeasures.

	A.A. assured me that we were, even before the dreaded device has 
come into being.  He also said that all sources of information 
concerning the particle wavelength transmitters were now under lock and 
key.  I wasn't so sure.

	One can slow down the flow of information, but it can never be 
halted.

	But we had slowed them down.  The League, for now, was safe.

	And the Happy Worlds?  They were still under the domination of 
the state.  For the first time in several weeks I allowed myself to 
think about Banner.  I didn't even know if she was still at large.  
There was no way to get in touch with her.  I sighed, and stared at the 
waves.

	"Good work, Croft," A.A. had growled genially, at our last 
meeting.  And I had done a good job.  The Happy Worlder operatives, 
from this wave, at least, were all either apprehended or dead.  The 
research center on Negan 14 was now a rather imposing crater.  The 
Master, as well as a fair number of his mind control elite had been 
destroyed.  I supposed the Mistress had been killed too, in the blast.  
I wondered if they had knocked her down to D status after I had 
escaped.  I smiled grimly; that would have been fitting.

	I yawned and stretched out in the sun.  Maybe it was time for me 
to be getting back.

	I settled for going back to my cabin.  I lay back on the bed, 
still thinking.  Maybe another mission would shake me out of my stupor.  
Yes, another mission, I decided.

	My eyes still closed, I vowed to return to the Column that very 
day.  But then I heard something.

	It was soft, very soft.  I  could just barely make it out.

	"B... 9...3...6...5...2...8...3....8...1...5..."

	That had been my call number when I had been converted.

	My eyes immediately sprang open.  But there was no one there.

	"I must be cracking up," I muttered.  I put a hand to my 
forehead.  I had been perspiring.  My heart was still beating quickly.  
I sat in a chair and tried to calm myself.

	"B9365283815."

	It was soft, but I heard it again.  This time I was out of the 
chair before the ID number was complete.  Blaster in hand, I started 
looking around.  But I was alone.

	"B9365283815."

	I heard it again.  And it was getting louder.  I searched the 
room.

	"B9365283815."

	It was coming from the bathroom.  I maneuvered cautiously to the 
closed door, and then flung it open-

	-to see a small audio player, happily whirring along on my 
bathroom sink.

	"Hold it right there," said a voice from behind me, and I could 
tell it wasn't a recorded voice.

	I didn't move.

	"Drop the blaster," said the voice.  It had a hard edge to it, 
and I knew it meant business.

	"Whatever you say," I said, dropping the weapon to my feet.  "Can 
I turn around now, Thalessa?"

	I slowly swiveled about, to face a seething glare from the 
Mistress.  It was in direct contrast to her clothing, a small bikini, 
and quite a world removed from her standard midnight black uniform.  
She must have been trying to blend in with the other tourists.  Either 
that or working on her tan.

	I grinned, pushing all fear aside.  A display of timidity would 
only increase Thalessa's pleasure.

	"Sit!" Thalessa said, as if talking to a dog.  She gestured to a 
chair.  I slowly moved to the chair, watching her knuckle tighten on 
the trigger with every step I took.

	"Why Thalessa, I thought you were dead," I said, retaining just a 
hint of a small grin on my face.  "How terribly disappointing."

	"You think you're so superior, don't you?" she sneered.

	"Wasn't that quite clear?" I said.  "Remember when you were 
fawning all over me?"  A broader smile again, yes, that should do it.

	Her face turned a scarlet red as the memory of the embarrassing 
incident came back to her.  But she held it in, and said, "How quickly 
you forget your service to me," she said, with a sneer.

	"True," I said.  "But it looks like I came out on top."

	"Oh?"

	"Your research base is smashed.  Operation Conquest has been 
stopped."

	"Delayed," Thalessa corrected.  "Only delayed.  We will conquer 
the League."

	"That 'we' has an alarmingly inclusive connotation to it," I 
said, mildly perturbed.

	Thalessa laughed.  "And so it should."  She held up a small metal 
device in one hand.  "Does this look familiar to you?"

	Suddenly I recalled the bluff I had played on the Happy Worlder 
agent in Professor Talran's home.  But this was no bluff.

	"Your intellect?" I joked.  But it was a feeble attempt.  My 
stomach tightened; for I knew exactly what that device was.

	"It's a D unit.  And you know where it's going to go?" Thalessa 
smiled.  She tapped the back of her neck, and grinned knowingly.

	I looked indignant.  "If you're going to perform surgery on 
yourself, you'll get blood all over the carpet.  I'm paying for this 
room, you know."

	"Very funny, Mr. Croft," said Thalessa.  "Joke while you can.  In 
a few moments you won't be able to joke ever again."  And her face 
tightened up into a horrible expression.

	I tried to keep the fear down.  If I let it overwhelm me I would 
be finished.  "How are you going to put that in me?  With a dirty 
spoon?"

	Thalessa grinned, taking a laser scalpel from her pocket.  While 
this little show and tell was going on, the hand with the blaster never 
wavered, never moved.  My own blaster was still lying on the floor 
outside the bathroom, but Thalessa was between me and it.

	"Poor Mr. Croft.  You look a bit uncomfortable.  Are things no 
longer to your liking?" said Thalessa.  She was enjoying every minute 
of this.  When I became a D she would not have this opportunity to 
taunt me again.

	"What's the sense of this?" I said.  "How did you even get here?  
I would've thought you would've been punished for allowing me to 
escape."  Keep her talking.  That was my only chance now.

	"I was," said Thalessa, and a shadow of pain wracked her face.  
"I was even scheduled... to be reduced in grade.  But I persuaded the 
Master to let me go, to pursue you, Mr. Croft.  To settle accounts."

	"Hm," I said.  She raised her blaster menacingly, as if she were 
about to fire.  "Wait, wait." I implored.

	Thalessa smiled at me.  "Don't worry, lover, I have no intention 
of using this--unless I have to.  What's your question?"

	"What are you going to do with me, once...."

	"You are... improved?" She laughed; she seemed to enjoy that very 
much.  Then her expression grew grim.  "You will return to your Column 
headquarters and assassinate your Chief and the members of his senior 
staff.  If you live though that, you are to terminate yourself."  Then, 
looking at my expression, she said, "Sorry, my love, I am just 
following orders.  I was instructed her to ensure your termination, one 
way or the other."

	"Swell," I said.  "But how do you intend to control me?  Doesn't 
that device has to be hooked up to a computer?"  I was still stalling 
for time; but right now I couldn't think of a viable plan.

	And I think Thalessa knew it.  But she was willing to play along; 
she enjoyed watching me squirm.  "No."  She fished another object out 
of her pocket.  The blaster arm always held firm.  Always.

	The object looked familiar.  A remote control unit.   I gulped.

	"You'll be in capable hands," said Thalessa, with a grin.  
"You'll be pleased to know that my very first order to you will be for 
you to get down on your hands and knees and thank me for your 
conversion."

	"You get a big kick out of that," I said, feeling a wave of 
desperation grip me.  But outwardly I was still calm.  "The slave 
routine, I mean.  What's wrong, can't you deal with people on equal 
terms?"

	Thalessa gave a deep laugh.  "You forget, I am your superior.  I 
always have been, and I always will."

	"Superior in arrogance, perhaps, but-"

	"Enough!" said Thalessa, raising the weapon, as if to fire.  "It 
is time to get on with it."  She took something out of another pocket.  
An air hypo.  She tossed it through the air, in a gentle ark, where it 
landed on my lap.

	"For me?" I said.  "And I didn't get you anything!"

	"Do it," said Thalessa.

	"Do what?" I said.  "You'll have to be a little more specific."

	"Use it!" she shouted, and I flinched.

	"What's in it?" I said guardedly, toying with the hypo in my 
hands.

	"Nothing much... just a drug that will knock you out."

	"Just long enough for you to... oh, I see.  No, I don't think I 
like that," I decided. 

	Thalessa laughed again, seeing realization dawn on my face.

	"Why not just shoot me," I wondered.  "You can stun me, and get 
the same results."

	"Yes, I could.  But I enjoy the idea of you participating in your 
own conversion."  she nearly emanated waves of delight as she said it.

	"Hm," I said.  "What if I refuse?"  My hands fidgeted with the 
hypo....

	Thalessa cast a glance at her blaster.  "There are many ways to 
reach unconsciousness.  Some can be made to be more painful than 
others."

	"I see," I said.  I yawned, in a highly exaggerated way, drawing 
Thalessa's attention to my head, while I made a distracting noise.  For 
at that moment my thumb snapped off the bottom of the hypo.

	"No more stalling.  Do it!" Thalessa shrieked, her thumb on the 
blaster trigger contact.

	"All right, you're the Mistress," I muttered, trying to sound 
defeated.  I held it up against the side of my leg, at a proper angle 
so Thalessa could see that it was pressing against my skin, but little 
else.

	"But it's not good of you to encourage drug use," I said.

	"Do it!" she screamed, and I think she was about to fire if I 
didn't.  So I pushed the plunger.

	A small stream of liquid came out of the hypo and slid down the 
side of my leg.  But Thalessa couldn't see that, not from her angle of 
view. 

	I dropped the hypo, and slowly started to nod off.  In the 
background there was laughter.  "Goodbye, Mr. Croft," I faintly heard.

	Then I closed my eyes, and waited.

	When I felt hands reaching out for me, turning me over, I knew I 
had waited long enough.  I opened my eyes to see Thalessa bending over 
me with the D unit.  Her eyes widened when she saw me conscious but I 
quickly delivered a sharp karate chop to her neck, and she immediately 
collapsed to the ground.

	Breathing heavily, I checked the miserable wretch.  Regretfully, 
she was still breathing.



	"No, no, no!" Thalessa screamed, as the guards tossed her into 
the cell.  She fell to the ground, but immediately was on her feet, 
running for the entrance.  The Mistress had the good sense to stop just 
short of the force field.  "I'll get you!  I'll get all of you!" she 
screamed. 

	"Nice she's not," I told A.A.  He was busy observing her with all 
the fascination of a zoo keeper studying a snake.

	"I'll fix you, Clifford Croft!  I'll take your mind and burn it 
out! You haven't won!  Just wait, someday I'll get out of here, and 
I'll find you, and when I do-"

	"Mistress!" I said, in a loud voice.  "It's time for your nap.  
Please be quiet," I said, clapping twice.

	Thalessa, to her own amazement, fell to the ground, immediately 
unconscious.

	I had made some minor improvements to her on the trip back.

	I grinned, feeling my old self returning.  I had faced down my 
old nemesis, once and for all.  A.A. looked at me, amazed.

	"What can I say?" I grinned again.  "It's all in the hands."



The End


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