"So we've got them by almost a 30-point margin. We'll be in a position to out-think our immediate guards, and perhaps even those over them. It's our only hope." "Mental imposters.... You just forgot one little item, honey." "Oh of course. They're the masters of all, so there's no possibility that a mere human--" "Take it easy. I didn't say it's no go. Just wondering if 115's are acceptable. If not, you know what happens. We go to the bottom of the class never to rise again. Maybe even 160's aren't eligible. Remember, the control points are hidden relative to the mental ability of the civilizations whose planets they control. Only people who exceed the Owners' estimate--" "If they control our system, they control billions of others--we were told that. Some higher, some certainly lower. And we did discover the point." "You and your father. I never would have." "Look, Cragin. It's the only chance there is. But if I fake and you don't--" "Yeah. You think it'll work?" "I don't know." "But you'd rather die, that it, than be a knowing slave to another civilization, even though it is undisputed master of--" "That's why I'd rather die, Cragin! Because they're false masters!" He didn't reply. She was confusing him again, and perhaps the basic reason for the confusion was that he didn't understand why she mixed him up. If there was anything Earth's culture stood for, it was the integrity of the fact--maturation and development of the individual through strict adherence to the known. Only the proven fact was worthy of belief and acceptable as a basis for thought. Nothing else. But the girl wasn't behaving that way. "All right. We gamble that an IQ of 115 is acceptable. Then we gamble that we can effect a break. In other words we just take a chance on a chance; make a really long shot out of it." "Will you, Cragin?" He laughed a little. Hell, sooner or later, anyway-- "Hand me my rattle," he said. "I better practice. The asteroids are falling down, falling down; the asteroids are falling down, my fair lady...." V The panels to two adjacent chambers were open. "Guess they don't trust us together," Cragin said. The dark blue plastiglass of his Patrol tunic dully reflected the subdued half-light that emanated into the tube-like corridor from beyond the panels. Like a nightmare, he kept telling himself, like a nightmare. Impossible impossible impossible.... Her face was the color of white sand, and it was the only indication that she understood. "Please try, Cragin." "Sure." "You want to try...." "It's a cinch I can't arrest 'em, princess. And I know you want out. You want to sink 'em all and so do I. If there's any way, believe me--"