d a cab, and climbed in.

"The first liquor store you come to," he told the driver. "And then
take me to the government space port, no matter what I say!"

X

It was quiet in the underground office of the director, except for the
faint sound of Flannery's arms sliding across each other in an
unconscious massaging motion. He caught himself at it, and leaned back,
his tired facial muscles twitching into a faint smile.

Strange things happened to a man when he grew old. His hair turned
gray, he thought more of the past, and prosthetic limbs began to feel
tired, as if the nerves were remembering also. And the work that had
once seemed vitally important in every detail winnowed itself down to a
few things, with the rest only bothersome routine.

He pulled a thermos of coffee from under the desk and turned back to
the confusion of red-coded memoranda on his desk. Then the sound of the
elevator coming down caught his attention, and he waited until the door
opened.

"Hello, Harding," he said without turning around. Only one man beside
himself had the key to the private entrance. "Coffee?"

Harding took a seat beside him, and accepted the plastic cup. "Thanks.
I tried to call you, but your phone was shut off. Heard the good word?"

Flannery shook his head. With the matter of the strange ship that had
been reported and the problem of what to do with the telepaths both
coming to a head, he'd had no time for casual calls. There was no
question now that the telepaths had plucked the knowledge of how to
build an interstellar drive from the observers' minds, in spite of all
precautions. And once they broke out into the rest of the galaxy--

"Var died of a heart attack in the middle of a battle," Harding
announced. "And Cathay and Kloomiria sent each other surrender notices
the minute word was official! The damnedest thing I ever heard of.
Edmonds came with me, and he's upstairs now, planning a big victory
celebration as soon as we can let the word out. It should finish his
reorientation."

"I'll probably get word on it by the time someone has it all organized
into a nice, official memo," Flannery said. "Back him up on that
celebration. It's worth a celebration to find out both worlds are that
close to maturity. Coming over for bridge tonight?"

Harding shook his head. "I'll be up to my elbows in bills for the
relief of Cathay and Kloomiria. It's a mess, even if it could be worse.
Maybe tomorrow."

He dropped the