bombs we tried back when I first entered the
Service?

I could, of course. And I did. But a man's memory does not improve in
the course of a century of Earth years. Our scientists have not been
able to keep a man's brain as fresh as his body, despite all their
vaunted progress. There is a lot these deep thinkers, in their great
laboratories, don't know. The whole universe gives them the credit for
what's been done, yet the men of action who carried out the ideas--but
I'm getting away from my pert young officer.

He listened to me with interest and toleration. Now and then he helped
me out, when my memory failed me on some little detail. He seemed to
have a very fair theoretical knowledge of the subject.

"It seems impossible," he commented, when we had gone over the ground
he had outlined, "that the Service could have done its work with such
crude and undeveloped weapons, does it not?" He smiled in a superior
sort of way, as though to imply we had probably done the best we
could, under the circumstances.

* * * * *

I suppose I should not have permitted his attitude to irritate me, but
I am an old man, and my life has not been an easy one.

"Youngster," I said--like many old people, I prefer spoken
conversation--"back in those days the Service was handicapped in every
way. We lacked weapons, we lacked instruments, we lacked popular
support, and backing. But we had men, in those days, who did their
work with the tools that were at hand. And we did it well."

"Yes, sir!" the youngster said hastily--after all, a retired commander
in the Special Patrol Service does rate a certain amount of respect,
even from these perky youngsters--"I know that, sir. It was the
efforts of men like yourself who gave us the proud traditions we have
to-day."

"Well, that's hardly true," I corrected him. "I'm not quite so old as
that. We had a fine set of traditions when I entered the Service, son.
But we did our share to carry them on, I'll grant you that."

"'Nothing Less than Complete Success,'" quoted the lad almost
reverently, giving the ancient motto of our service. "That is a fine
tradition for a body of men to aspire to, sir."

"True. True." The ring in the boy's voice brought memories flocking.
It was a proud motto; as old as I am, the words bring a thrill even
now, a thrill comparable only with that which comes from seeing old
Earth swell up out of the darkness of space after days of outer