ting was finished, there were three such red
squares in a nearly solid panel of green.

"The resolution is tabled," Lesseur announced needlessly.

Harding stood up and began moving towards the rear where Edmonds sat.
The junior senator was too stunned for thought. Dimly he heard
something about regrets and explanations, but the words had no meaning.
He felt Harding help him to his feet and begin to guide him toward the
door, where someone had already brought a shocked, white-faced
Daugherty.

It was then he thought of Cathay, and what his ambition and Earth's
ultimate deceit and cowardice would mean to the millions there.

[Illustration: RONDA]

III

A week of the dust-filled air of Meloa had left its mark on Captain
Duke O'Neill. It had spread filth over his uniform, added another year
to his face, and made waking each morning a dry-throated torture. Now
he stopped at the entrance to the ship where he had been reassigned a
berth for the night shift. An attendant handed him a small bottle,
three biscuits, and a magazine. He tasted the chemically purified water
sickly, stuffed the three ersatz biscuits into his pocket, and moved
down the ramp, staring at the magazine.

It was from Earth, of course, since no printing was being done yet on
Meloa. It must have come in on one of the three big Earth freighters
he'd heard land during the night. Tucked into it was another of the
brief notes he'd been receiving: "Director Flannery will be pleased to
call on Captain O'Neill at the captain's convenience."

He shredded the note as he went across the field; he started to do the
same with the news magazine, until the headlines caught his attention.

Most of the news meant nothing to him. But he skimmed the article on
the eleventh planet to join the Outer Federation; the writer was
obviously biased against the organization, but Duke nodded approvingly.
At least someone was doing something. He saw that Cathay was in for
trouble. Earth was living up to her old form! Then he shoved the
magazine into his pocket and trudged on toward the veteran's
reassignment headquarters.

Machinery was being moved from the Earth freighters, and Duke swore
again. Five billion Earthmen would read of their "generosity" to Meloa,
and any guilt they felt for their desertion would vanish in a smug
satisfaction at their charity. Smugness was easy in a world without
dust or carrion smell or craters that had been factories.

There were only