ing the length of the room under the
ceiling-high window.

"It is always a pleasure to welcome a hero of the Vininese
Confederacy," the Chief said without getting up. His tone was slow,
tired, emotionless. His eyes were without expression. "May I ask your
name?"

"Dirrul--Edward Dirrul."

"And you come from Agron with a message from our agent," he said,
speaking Agronian. "So much we got from your teleray. In fifty
days--actually forty-nine from now, by your time--your local Movement
will have use for a Vininese space-fleet. I have already dispatched
Sub-units B and C. Now, if you will give me the details of your Plan I
can code-wave them to my commander."

"There's been a mistake, sir. What I really meant when I sent the
message was--"

"So you've discovered the truth." The Chief's hand darted toward a
cubicle of his desk and he held a metal-barreled weapon aimed steadily
at Dirrul. "These things are always so tedious. Give me your disk."

"Of course," Dirrul agreed readily but as he felt in his pocket the
Chief gestured negatively with his weapon.

"No, keep it." After a pause he added, "You're certain that you know,
Dirrul?"

"I've seen the transmitters."

"Then why aren't you afraid? Why do you consent so readily? The others
are always terrified--they'll confess to anything if I promise to let
them keep the disks. Have you ever heard the sound, Dirrul? Do you
really know what it's like?"

"You want information from me. You have no chance of getting it if you
deprive me of the ability to think."

"Granted. And otherwise?"

"You won't get it either."

The Chief sighed wearily. "You are simply trading one romantic
illusion for another. You have somehow convinced yourself that one
man--one lone Agronian--can hold out against us. Let me tell you a
little about our system, Dirrul, so you'll understand how futile it is
to waste your time and mine like this." Not a trace of feeling came
into his voice. He sounded slightly bored, reciting a matter-of-fact
chronology of statistics.

"As you have guessed we create our leader-class on each of our planets
by protecting them from the sound waves with the disks. If scattered
groups among the general public should ever gain immunity--as far as
we know only idiots and the deaf can do that--they could never carry
out a successful revolt. The only way would be for the transmitter
stations to be silenced.

"However, every unit operates independently on its own pow