Com answered, a young voice.

"This is Dr. Simeon Averson down in lab. Request you locate one Lt. Harris, pilot, and ask him to come to my lab as soon as possible.”

"Yes, sir.”

He thanked com, broke connection and leaned back, gnawing at his knuckle.

And in a moment the screen activated again. "Dr. Averson," said a different and female voice.

"Yes."

"Dr. Averson, this is Lt McCray, security. Col. Degas's regards, sir, but your last request violates lines of operations.”

"What request?”

"For communication with the military arm, sir. Regulations make it necessary to deny that interview. Lt. Harris is on other assignment.”

"You mean he's not on the ship?”

"He's on other assignment, sir.”

"Thank you." He broke connection, clenched his hands a second time.

And after a moment he snatched up a pertinent handful of his notes, his notebook, and the tapes, stalked across to the door and opened it.

There was a young man in AlSec uniform just outside, not precisely watching or moving, or with reasonable business in the otherwise deserted corridor.

Averson retreated inside and closed the door between them, feeling a prickling of sweat, a pounding of his heart which was not good for him. He walked back to the desk and sat down, slammed his notebook at the cassettes and the papers down, fumbled in his breast pocket for the bottle of pills. He took one and slowly the pounding subsided.

Then he stabbed at the console and obtained com again. "This is Averson. Get me the admiral.”

"That has to go through channels, sir.”

"Pttt it through channels.”

There was prolonged silence, without image.

"Dr. Averson," Degas's voice came suddenly over the unit "Do I detect dissatisfaction with something?”

Averson sucked in his breath, let it out again. "Put me through to the admiral, sir. Now.”

The silence again. His heart beat harder and harder. He was Havener. In the war, such men had had power there. Absolute power. He had learned so.

"Now," Averson repeated.

More silence.

"That comes by appointment," Degas said. "I will make that appointment for you."

"This moment”

"I will meet you in the admiral's office. If there is some question regarding security operations, it will be necessary.”

The heartbeat became painful again, even more than in the terror of the flight up.

"I trust you won't be needing transfer back downworld," Degas said blandly. "Flights are very much more hazardous than they were when you came up. I would not risk it.”

"No," Averson said, short of breath.

"Perhaps you have come up with some new advice. I would like to hear it”

"A complaint A complaint about security's bullying tactics. I want that man taken off my door. I want access to anyone I choose. I want contact with the admiral.”

"In short, the whole ship should arrange itself and its operations to accommodate you. Dr. Averson, I have tried to be help-fuL”

"You have taken away data I could use.”

"A copy will be sent you. But I have your statement that you aren't qualified in that area. Precisely what direction are your researches taking now, Dr. Averson? The admiral will want to know.”

"I object to this intimidation and harassment”

"Stay there, Dr. Averson.”

Panic set in. He sat still, hearing the connection broken, sat still with the realization that there was no contact he could make past this man; nowhere he might go without encountering the man in the corridor. Sensibly he suspected that no violence would be done him if he tried to leave, but he was not a physical man; he flinched from the possibility of unpleasantness and confrontations, which touched on his medical condition. He dared not, could not, would not

He had to sit and wait

And eventually the man arrived, closed the door and crossed the room to him, quiet and looking ever so much more conciliatory than needed be.

"We have a misunderstanding," Degas said. "We should clear that up."

"You should get that man off my door.”

"There is no man out there.”

Averson drew in his breath. "I object," he said, "to being intimidated.”

"You are free to object as I am free to state otherwise.”

"What is the matter with you?" Averson cried. "Are we on opposite sides?”

"Opposite sides of opinion, perhaps." Degas settled again on the edge of the desk, towering over him. "We are both men of conscience, doctor. You have an opinion colored by panic. Mine rests on convictions of practicality. A pattern, you say. Have you met mri, doctor? Have you dealt with the agent who became mri?”

"We are all Haveners. All of us remember. . . but “

"Some interests here want to throw over alliance with the regul for protection of the mri. Do you understand that?”

He bunked, realized his mouth was open and closed it. The matter of politics began to come clear to him. "I don't see where it is… No. Breaking up the regul alliance is insanity.”

"And unnecessary.”

"Unnecessary, yes." He lifted a hand and wiped perspiration from his upper lip, gazed up at Degas, who backed off from him a few paces.

"You do not counsel this," Degas said.

"No. It's possible to deal with the regul. I know this; I would never say otherwise. It is possible to deal with them. But dangerous… dangerous under present conditions.”

"Do you really understand the situation, doctor? Certain interests are pro-mri. Why they have taken this position… leave that to them to answer. It is a very dangerous position. The mission onworld, the personnel on that mission the mission leader, your own Dr. Boaz, if you will forgive me, who is with them… are predisposed to find the mri nonaggressive, to counsel us into an approach to them. Regul do not threaten us; regul are not an aggressive species. Regul don't pose the primary threat. Do you agree; they don't pose the primary threat?

"We're in a dangerous position here. You yourself said “

"But the mass of mankind, back home ... a threat to them?"

"No. No danger from regul. No possible danger.”

"Do you see what these well-meaning influences would have you do? And what the result will be? From which species is the real threat of conflict, doctor?”

"I see what you're saying. But “

"Application of humanitarian principles. But Cultures above all ought to see through our moralistic impulses. We're talking about a species of killers, Dr. Averson, a species that lives by killing, parasites on the wars of any available power, who cultivate wars as regul cultivate trade. We may lose the regul here. And save what we'll regret. You understand me?”

"I suggest, Dr. Averson, that these are points worth considering. That reports you make should be carefully considered for effect on policy at high levels. We have new data from the surface, a disturbing resurgence in the destroyed sites. The mri do not offer to contact us. So we send a peace mission stirring into the ruins. We have allies taking on independent operations thanks to these changes in our policy and the killing of their leader by a mri agent.… You can't interpret their intention ... or won't. How do we proceed? Do you have answers? Or do we let the situation go others' way?”

Averson sat and sweated and slowly, after considering, wadded up the envelope in his hand, put it into his pocket under Degas's stare. "You found life in the old sites and the mission went anyway.”

"We learned it this morning. We don't have direct contact with the mission… can't reach them without endangering everything.”

"Can't call them back?”

"Officially," Degas said in a low voice, leaning close to touch a finger before him, "not without blowing what we're doing wide open to the regul, among other things. And how do regul take that? What reaction could we anticipate? You should appreciate the significance of your own reports, doctor. They set directions. You should understand that.”

"I do not intend to set directions.”

"You're in that position. What do you say about the regul? I should have hoped your peculiar insights into their culture would have balanced… other interests in Cultures. What do you say?”

"We should not lose them, no. We should not let that happen.”

"Make it clear, then." Degas leaned there with both hands. "We have dissenting views. We need this in writing, in recommendations with practical application, or we slip toward another line of policy. We're sitting up here blind, over active weapons. We're protecting mri at the expense of all we've gained by the treaties. We're alienating a species from whom the gains could be enormous. I suggest, Dr. Averson, that you and I have a long conference on these matters.”

"I will-talk about it.”

"Now," Degas said.