"They've changed the ruling. We took quite a beating on Mars. Some of the sectors can't fill their quotas. Have to dig deeper from now on." Erickson grinned good-naturedly. "This is a good sector, you know. We have a lot of fun drilling and trying out the new equipment. I finally got Washington to consign us a whole squadron of the new double-jet small fighters. Each man in my sector gets the use of a fighter."

Tommy's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"In fact the user gets to bring the fighter home over the weekend. You can park it on your lawn."

"No kidding?" Tommy sat down at the desk. He filled the Unit card out happily.

"Yes, we have a pretty good time," Erickson murmured.

"Between wars," Joan said quietly.

"What's that, Mrs Clarke?"

"Nothing."

Erickson accepted the filled-out card. He put it away in his wallet. "By the way," he said.

Tommy and Joan turned toward him.

"I guess you've been seeing the gleco-war on the vidscreen. I guess you know all about that."

"The gleco-war?"

"We get all our gleco from Callisto. It's made from the hides of some kind of animal. Well, there's been a little trouble with the natives. They claim -"

"What is a gleco?" Joan said tightly.

"That's the stuff that makes your front door open for you only. It's sensitive to your pressure pattern. Gleco is made from these animals."

There was silence, the kind you can cut with a knife.

"I guess I'll be going." Erickson moved toward the door. "We'll see you the next training session, Tom. Right?" He opened the door.

"Right," Tommy murmured.

"Goodnight." Erickson left, closing the door after him.

"But I have to go!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Why?"

"The whole sector is going. It's required."

Joan stared out the window. "It isn't right."

"But if I don't go we'll lose Callisto. And if we lose Callisto…"

"I know. Then we'll have to go back to carrying door keys. Like our grandfathers did."

"That's right." Tommy stuck out his chest, turning from side to side. "How do I look?"

Joan said nothing.

"How do I look? Do I look all right?"

Tommy looked fine in his deep green uniform. He was slim and straight, much better looking than Bob. Bob had been gaining weight. His hair had been thinning. Tommy's hair was thick and black. His cheeks were flushed with excitement, his blue eyes flashing. He pulled his helmet in place, snapping the strap.

"Okay?" he demanded.

Joan nodded. "Fine."

"Kiss me goodbye. I'm off to Callisto. I'll be back in a couple of days."

"Goodbye."

"You don't sound very happy."

"I'm not," Joan said. "I'm not very happy."

Tommy came back from Callisto all right but during the trektone-war on Europa something went wrong with his double-jet small fighter and the Sector Unit came back without him.

"Trektone," Bryan Erickson explained, "is used in vidscreen tubes. It's very important, Joan."

"I see."

"You know what the vidscreen means. Our whole education and information come over it. The kids learn from it. They get their schooling. And in the evening we use the pleasure-channels for entertainment. You don't want us to have to go back to -"

"No, no – of course not. I'm sorry." Joan waved a signal and the coffee table slid into the living-room, bearing a pot of steaming coffee. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Just sugar, thanks." Erickson took his cup and sat silently on the couch, sipping and stirring. The house was quiet. It was late evening, about eleven o'clock. The shades were down. The vidscreen played softly in the corner. Outside the house the world was dark and unmoving except for a faint wind stirring among the cedar trees at the end of the grounds.

"Any news from the various fronts?" Joan asked after a while, leaning back and smoothing down her skirt.

"The fronts?" Erickson considered. "Well, some new developments in the iderium-war."

"Where is that?"

"Neptune. We get our iderium from Neptune."

"What is iderium used for?" Joan's voice was thin and remote as if she were a long way off. Her face had a pinched look, a kind of strained whiteness. As if a mask had settled into place and remained, a mask through which she looked from a great distance.

"All the newspaper machines require iderium," Erickson explained. "Iderium lining makes it possible for them to detect events as they occur and flash them over the vidscreen. Without iderium we'd have to go back to reporting news and writing it up by hand. That would introduce the personal bias. Slanted news. The iderium news machines are impartial."

Joan nodded. "Any other news?"

"Not much more. They say some trouble might be going to break out on Mercury."

"What do we get from Mercury?"

"That's where our ambroline comes from. We use ambroline in all kinds of selector units. In your kitchen – the selector you have in there. The meal selector that sets up the food combinations. That's an ambroline unit."

Joan gazed vacantly into her coffee cup. "The natives on Mercury – they're attacking us?"

"There's been some riots, agitation, that sort of thing. Some Sector Units have been called out already. The Paris unit and the Moscow unit. Big units, I believe."

After a time, Joan said, "You know, Bryan, I can tell you came here with something on your mind."

"Oh, no. Why do you say that?"

"I can tell. What is it?"

Erickson flushed, his good-natured face red. "You're pretty acute, Joan. As a matter of fact I did come for something."

"What is it?"

Erickson reached into his coat and brought out a folded mimeographed paper. He passed it to Joan. "It isn't my idea, understand. I'm just a cog in a big machine." He chewed his lip nervously. "It's because of the heavy losses in the trektone-war. They need to close ranks. They're up against it, so I hear."

"What does all this mean?" Joan passed the paper back. "I can't make out all this legal wording."

"Well, it means women are going to be admitted into Sector Units in the – in the absence of male members of the family."

"Oh. I see."

Erickson got up quickly, relieved that his duty had been done. "I guess I'll have to run along now. I wanted to bring this over and show it to you. They're handing them out all along the line." He stuck the paper away in his coat again. He looked very tired.

"It doesn't leave very many people, does it?"

"How do you mean?"

"Men first. Then children. Now women. It seems to take in everybody, just about."

"Kind of does, I guess. Well, there must be a reason. We have to hold these fronts. The stuff must be kept coming in. We've got to have it."

"I suppose so." Joan rose slowly. "I'll see you later on, Bryan."

"Yes, I should be around later in the week. I'll see you then."

Bryan Erickson came back just as the nymphite-war was breaking out on Saturn. He grinned apologetically at Mrs Clarke as she let him in.

"Sorry to bother you so early in the morning," Erickson said. "I'm in a big rush, running around all over the sector."

"What is it?" Joan closed the door after him. He was in his Organizer's uniform, pale green with silver bands across his shoulders. Joan was still in her dressing robe.

"Nice and warm in here," Erickson said, warming his hands against the wall. Outside, the day was bright and cold. It was November. Snow lay over everything, a cold blanket of white. A few stark trees jutted up, their branches barren and frozen. Far off along the highway the bright ribbon of surface cars had diminished to a trickle. There were few people going to the city, anymore. Most surface cars were in storage.

"I guess you know about the trouble on Saturn," Erickson murmured. "You've heard."

"I saw some shots, I think. Over the vidscreen."

"Quite a ruckus. Those Saturn natives are sure big. My golly, they must be fifty feet high."