event
another real smashup like the one seventy-five years ago. Lancaster's
annoyance was directed at the sullen foreign powers and the traitors
within his own land. It was because of them that science had to be
strait-jacketed by Security regulations.

The headwaiter bowed before him. "I'm looking for a friend," said
Lancaster. "A Mr. Berg."

"Yes, sir. This way, please."

Lancaster slouched after him. He'd worn the dress uniform of a Project
officer, but he felt that all eyes were on its deplorable sloppiness.
The headwaiter conducted him between tables of half-crocked
customers--burly black-uniformed Space Guardsmen, army and air officers,
richly clad industrialists and union bosses, civilian leaders, their
wives and mistresses. The waiters were all Martian slaves, he noticed,
their phosphorescent owl-eyes smoldering in the dim blue light.

He was ushered into a curtained booth. There was an auto-dispenser so
that those using it need not be interrupted by servants, and an
ultrasonic globe on the table was already vibrating to soundproof the
region. Lancaster's gaze went to the man sitting there. In spite of
being short, he was broad-shouldered and compact in plain gray evening
pajamas. His face was round and freckled, almost cherubic, under a shock
of sandy hair, but there were merry little devils in his eyes.

* * * * *

"Good evening, Dr. Lancaster," he said. "Please sit down. What'll you
have?"

"Thanks, I'll have Scotch and soda." Might as well make this expensive,
if the government was footing the bill. And if this--Berg--thought him
un-American for drinking an imported beverage, what of it? The scientist
lowered himself into the seat opposite his host.

"I'm having the same, as a matter of fact," said Berg mildly. He twirled
the dial and slipped a couple of five-dollar coins into the dispenser
slot. When the tray was ejected, he sipped his drink appreciatively and
looked across the rim of the glass at the other man.

"You're a high-ranking physicist on the Arizona Project, aren't you, Dr.
Lancaster?" he asked.

That much was safe to admit. Lancaster nodded.

"What is your work, precisely?"

"You know I can't tell you anything like that."

"It's all right. Here are my credentials." Berg extended a wallet.
Lancaster scanned the cards and handed them back.

"Okay, so you're in Security," he said. "I still can't tell you
anything, not without proper clearance."

Be