ly the wit to ask before rushing in to knock you on your face,
so he learned to bide his time till the horizon was clear of beaming
simpletons. Also, he found an interest in how far he could go.

These qualities, and the time he had for thinking, begot Seed-corn. When
he had it convincing, he applied to see General Filipson, head of
Regional Intelligence, a man with both insight and authority to make the
deal--but also as tough as his post demanded. Scott got an appointment
two weeks ahead.

That put it early in April, which decreased the weather hazard--a major
consideration in even a trip to the Supermarket. What was Scott's grim
consternation, then, when he woke on D-day to find his windows plastered
with snow under a driving wind--not mentioned in last night's forecast
of course.

He could concoct a plausible excuse for postponement--which Filipson was
just the man to see through; or call help to get him to HQ--and have
Filipson bark, "Man, you can't even make it across town on your own
power because of a little snow." No, come hell or blizzard, he'd have to
go solo. Besides, when he faced the inevitable unexpected behind Invader
lines, he couldn't afford a precedent of having flinched now.

He dressed and breakfasted with all the petty foresights that can mean
the shaving of clearance in a tight squeeze, and got off with all the
margin of time he could muster. In the apartment court, he had a parking
space by the basement exit and, for a wonder, no free-wheeling
nincompoop had done him out of it last night. Even so, getting to the
car door illustrated the ordeal ahead; the snow was the damp, heavy
stuff that packs and glares. The streets were nasty, but he had the
advantage of having learned restraint and foresight.

HQ had been the post office, a ponderous red-stone building filling a
whole block. He had scouted it thoroughly in advance, outside and in,
and scheduled his route to the general's office, allowing for minor
hazards. Now, he had half an hour extra for the unscheduled major
hazard.

But on arriving, he could hardly believe his luck. No car was yet parked
in front of the building, and the walk was scraped clean and salted to
kill the still falling flakes. No problems. He parked and began to
unload himself quickly, to forestall the elderly MP who hurried towards
him. But, as Scott prepared to thank him off, the man said, "Sorry, Mac,
no one can park there this morning."

Scott felt the chill of ne