" Andrusco said, reaching for his
hat. "Think he can help a lot, Tom. Talk it over."

"Well--suppose we have a drink, Sergeant? That fit your plans all
right?"

"Suits me," the man said, without emotion.

They went down in the elevator together, and slid into a red-leather
booth in the Tuscany Bar in the base of the building. The sergeant
ordered a double Scotch, and gulped it with the same respect you give
water.

"So you've been in space," Tom said, looking at him curiously. "Must
have been quite an experience."

"Yeah."

"Er--I take it you've left the service."

"Yeah."

Tom frowned, and sipped his martini. "How many trips did you make,
Sergeant?"

"Just one. Reconnaissance Moon Flight Four. About six years ago. You
must have read about it."

"Yes," Tom said. "Sorry."

The man shrugged. "Things happen. Even on Earth, things happen."

"Tell me something." Tom leaned forward. "Is it true about--" He paused,
embarrassed. "Well, you hear a lot of stories. But I understand some of
the men on that flight, the ones who got back all right, had children.
And--well, you know how rumors go--"

"Lies," Spencer said, without rancor. "I've got two kids myself. Both of
'em normal."

"Oh." Tom tried to hide his disappointment behind the cocktail glass. It
would have made great copy, if he could have proved the truth of the old
rumor about two-headed babies. But what _could_ Sergeant Spencer do for
the PR program? Andrusco must have had something in mind.

* * * * *

He asked him point-blank.

"It's like this," the man said, his eyes distant. "Since I quit the
service, I haven't been doin' so good. With jobs, I mean. And Mr.
Andrusco--he said he'd give me five thousand dollars if I'd--help you
people."

"Did Mr. Andrusco describe this help?"

"Yeah. He wants me to do a story. About the kid my wife had. The first
kid."

"What about the first kid?"

"Well, she died, the first kid did. In childbirth. It was something
that happens, you know. My wife's a little woman; the baby was
smothered."

"I see. And what kind of story do you want to tell?"

"It's not my idea." A hint of stubbornness glimmered in his dull eyes.
"It's that Andrusco guy's. He wants me to tell how the baby was born
a--mutant."

"What?"

"He wants me to release a story saying the baby was a freak. The kid was
born at home, you see. The only other person who saw her, besides me and
my wife, was this doct