"How did he react?"

"He didn't like it. As a matter of fact, he was mad all the way
through."

"That speaks well for his mental resiliency."

"They all seem to have enough spirit, though, and nothing to use it
on," said Dr. Cameron. "I confess I didn't look at him often, in spite
of the fact that he was quite presentable. Handsome, even, in a
startling way."

Thorton nodded. "Presentable. That means he had arms."

"He did. Is that important?"

"I think it is. He expected a favorable reply and wanted to look his
best. As nearly normal as possible."

"Trouble?"

"I don't see how," said the medicouncilor uncertainly. "In any event,
not immediately. It will take them some time to get over the shock of
refusal. They can't do anything, really. Individually they're
helpless. Collectively--there aren't parts for a dozen sound bodies on
the asteroid."

"I've looked over the records," said Dr. Cameron. "Not one accidental
has ever _liked_ being on Handicap Haven, and that covers quite a few
years. But there has never been so much open discontent as there is
now."

"Someone is organizing them. Find out who and keep a close watch."

"I know who. Docchi, Nona, Anti, and Jordan. But it doesn't do any
good merely to watch them. I want your permission to break up that
combination. Humanely, of course."

"How do you propose to do it?"

"Docchi, for instance. With prosthetic arms he appears physically
normal, except for that uncanny luminescence. That is repulsive to the
average person. Medically there's nothing we can do about it, but
psychologically we might be able to make it into an asset. You're
aware that Gland Opera is the most popular program in the Solar
System. Telepaths, teleports, pyrotics and so forth are the heroes.
All fake, of course: makeup and trick camera shots. But Docchi can be
made into a real live star. The death-ray man, say. When his face
shines, men fall dead or paralyzed. He'd have a chance to return to
normal society under conditions that would be mentally acceptable to
him."

"Acceptable to him, perhaps, but not to society," reflected the
medicouncilor. "An ingenious idea, one which does credit to your
humanitarian outlook. Only it won't work. You have Docchi's medical
record, but you probably don't know his complete history. He was an
electrochemical engineer, specializing in cold lighting. He seemed on
his way to a brilliant career when a particularly messy accident
occurred. The d