Duane touched it experimentally with a questing mental finger. It seemed all right, though he felt still dazed. "Coming along," he said. "But where am I? The controls--I blasted them." The captain laughed. "I know," he said briefly. "Well--I guess you had to, in a way. You didn't trust anyone; couldn't trust anyone. You had to make sure the rifles wouldn't get back to Callisto too soon. But they're working on installing duplicates now, Peter. In an hour we'll be back on Callisto. We shut the jets off already; we're in an orbit." Duane sank back. "Listen," he said. "I think--I think my memory's clearing, somehow. But how--I mean, were you on my side? All along?" The captain nodded soberly. "On your side, yes, Peter," he said. "The League's side, that is. You and I, you know, both work for the League. When they got word of Andrias' plans, they had to work fast. To move in by force would have meant bloodshed, would have forced his hand. That would have been utterly bad. It was too dangerous. Callisto is politically a powder-keg already. The whole thing might have exploded." Peter's eyes flared with sudden hope and enlightment. "And you and I--" he began. "You and I, and a couple of other undercover workers were put on the job," the captain nodded. "We had to find out who Andrias' supporters were--and to keep him from getting more electron rifles while the commanders of the Callisto garrison were quietly checked, to see who was on which side. They've found Andrias' Earth backers--a group of wealthy malcontents who thought Callisto should be exploited for their gain, had made secret deals with him for concessions. You, of course, slowed down the delivery of the rifles as long as you could. They lay in the Lunar warehouses a precious extra week while you haggled over terms. That's what you were doing with Stevens, I think, when the course change caught you both." "You've had him long enough," the nurse broke in. "I have a few words to say." "No, wait--" Duane protested. But the captain was grinning broadly. He moved toward the door. "Later," he said over his shoulder. "There'll be plenty of time." The door closed behind him. Duane turned to the girl. * * * * * He shook his head again. The cloud was lifting. He could almost remember everything again; things were beginning to come into focus. This girl, for instance-- She noticed his motion. "How's your head, Peter?" she asked solicitously. "Andrias hit you with that awful old bullet-gun. I tried to stop him, but all I could do was jar his arm. Oh, Peter, I was so afraid when I saw you fall!" "You probably saved my life," Peter said soberly. "Andrias struck me as a pretty good shot." He tried to grin. The girl frowned. "Peter," she said, "I'm sorry if I seemed rude, before--the last time you were here. It was just that I.... Well, you didn't remember me. I couldn't understand." Peter stared at her. Yes--he _should_ remember her. He did, only--