d only by either of two events."

"Which are?" The Peoplesfriend was smiling.

"The relay would be closed by a sudden drop in my arterial pressure. Or
by an attempt to remove it without knowing how. I am going out, and you
are going with me."

"Why?"

"Because I am about to reach in my pocket and produce a gun. Your deputy
cannot shoot without blasting a fifty-foot crater where this building
now rests." Gingerly, while he watched the wavering deputy, he made good
the promise. He kept the snub-nosed automatic aimed at the easterner's
belly.

But the Peoplesfriend continued to smile. "May I say something before we
_go_?"

There was a sour mockery about it that made Smith pause. He nodded
slowly.

"I hoped to keep you here alive, so that we would not have to destroy
the whole mission, including the ships. Of course, when the building is
blown up, your little fleet will see and hear and try to respond, and we
shall have to destroy it before word can be gotten to your capital. Our
plans included that possibility, but it is unfortunate."

"Our aircraft will--"

"You do not seem to realize the nature of our weapons yet. And there is
no harm in telling you now, I suppose."

"Well?"

"We have a microscopic crystalline relay, so small that millions of them
can be packed into a few cubic inches. The crystals are minute
tetrahedrons, with each pointed corner an electrical contact. And there
is a method for arranging them in circuits without individual attention
to each connection. It involves certain techniques in electro-plating
and the growing of crystals."

Smith glanced questioningly at one of his Stand-ins, a weapons expert.
The man shook his head.

"I can see," he muttered, "how it might replace a lot of bulky circuit
elements in some electronics work--particularly computers and
servo-mechanisms--but--"

"Indeed," said Ivan, "We have built many so-called 'thinking-machines'
no larger than a human brain."

"For self-piloting weapons, I suppose?" asked the Stand-in.

"For self-piloting weapons."

"I fail to see how this could do what you seem to think."

The Peoplesfriend snorted. "Jacob--?" He nodded to the deputy, who
immediately fumbled in his pocket, found a penknife, opened it, and
handed it to Ivan.

He laid his finger on the table. He cut it off at the second joint with
the penknife. There was no blood. Flesh of soft plastic. Tendons of
nylon. Bones of bakelite.

"Our leader," the robot said,