stairs, carrying Murdoch on his back. She opened a
door, passed through a tiny kitchen, and threw open another door to a
bedroom.

The old man lay on the bed, and this time there was no question of
concussion. The woman nodded. "Yes. Pappa is dead, God forbid it. He
_would_ try to vote. I told him and told him--and then ... With my own
hands, I carried him here."

Gordon felt sick. He started to turn, but she shook her head quickly.
"No. Pappa is dead. He needs no beds now, and your friend is suffering;
put him here."

She lifted the frail body of the old man and lowered him onto the floor
with a strength that seemed impossible. Then her hands were gentle as
she helped lower Murdoch where the corpse had been. "I'll get alcohol
from below--and bandages and hot water."

Asa Murdoch opened his eyes, breathing stertoriously. His face was
blanched, his clothes a mess. But he protested as Gordon tried to strip
them. "Let them go, kid. There's no way to save me now. And listen!"

"I'm listening!"

"With your _mind_, Gordon, not your ears. You've heard a lot about
Security. Well, I'm Security. Top level--policy for Mars. We never got a
top man here without his being discovered and killed--That's why we've
had to work under all the cover--and against our own government. Nobody
knew I was here--Trench was our man--Sold us out! We've got junior
men--down to your level, clerks, such things. We've got a dozen plans.
But we're not ready for an emergency, and it's here--now!

"Gordon, you're a self-made louse, but you're a man underneath it
somewhere. That's why we rate you higher than you think you are. That's
why I'm going to trust you--because I have to."

He swallowed, and the thin hand of the woman lifted brandy to his lips.
"Pappa," she said slowly. "He was a clerk once for Security. But nobody
came, nobody called...."

She went back to trying to bandage the bleeding bluish hole in his
chest. Murdoch nodded faintly.

"Probably what happened to a lot--men like Trench, supposed to build an
organization, just leaving the loose ends hanging." He groaned; sweat
popped out on his forehead, but his eyes never left Gordon's. "Hell's
going to pop. The government's just waiting to step in; Earth _wants_ to
take over."

"It should," Gordon said.

"No! We've studied these things. Mars won't give up--and Earth wants a
plum, not responsibility. You'll have civil war and the whole planetary
development ruined. Security's the on