t moved in
three dimensions, erratically. "Wow! Let's set it at about twenty-six
inches. Sorry. This will slow us down, but it will ease the bumps on
down draft. There. That's better. We're okay now, I think. I guess we
can settle back."

Thirty-five minutes later, they came to what was left of the alien city.

* * * * *

Back in the Richardson dome, General Shorter had coffee, in his
quarters, with the remaining man on the Committee, a Mr. Flison. They
were going through the ritual of conversation.

"This is the first time you've been Destroyed then, sir," the general
said. "My first time was so long ago I've forgotten what it feels like."

"I was uneasy in advance," Mr. Flison said. "You read various
descriptions about the physical sensations. Intellectually, of course,
you draw a distinction, but emotionally you know that the only word
which applies is death--pure and simple. But there's no sensation. It
happens too fast. You don't even notice it."

Politely attentive, the general had leaned forward. "I don't think it
could be put better," he contributed. "That's very apt. You don't even
notice it."

Mr. Flison's eyes narrowed in speculation. They maintained the general's
own in unwavering focus. He did not acknowledge the compliment.

The general's eyes broke to one side. He moved nervously as though
physically to dismiss the tactical error of underestimating his
opponent.

"Since this is your first planet," the general said, "perhaps you'd like
to see something of the operation? Basically, we have nine Richardson
Domes here on Miracastle. Two are the living quarters--the other similar
to this. Right now domes Seven and Nine are the more important. They
contain the air-changing equipment. We are holding tightly to our
completion date, and these two--Seven and Nine--will be pulled out in
fifteen days. That is to say, they will, barring any serious
interruptions in our work. On schedule, I should point out."

The general poured coffee for himself. Mr. Flison politely declined.

"When you've been in the Corps as long as I have," the general resumed,
"the schedule becomes a part of you. Everything--" he held his hands
before him, fingers spread, palms facing, and drew them
together--"converges on that. It's that simple. Other planets are
waiting. In a society as complex as ours, a million--and I mean this
literally, sir--a million decisions must be reviewed if the schedule
fa