"How did we get out of this gallery?" West responded. "How did we vanish? How did the men in the reports you read get into the planes that were about to crash? Who landed Colonel Grant's space satellite? Who steered it? Who provided the power to energize the motion? Who--" "Did you know I knew about Grant?" "It was obvious that you must know." "And you can get me to Asia?" "You and as many others as you choose to take with you!" Walking over to the sleeping lieutenant, he picked up the man's rifle, then turned to the group. "Who will go with me to Asia?" he asked. The group stepped forward as one man. A knot formed in Kurt Zen's throat at the sight and he gulped to force it down. He knew how much this decision meant to them. They had been trained in the ways of peace, they were searching for the road to the future. Fighting meant turning backward on the path that led to growth, it was the last thing they wanted to do. Yet do it they would, if it was necessary. In an instant they were scrambling for weapons from the sleeping Asians, then they were trying to salute and tell him their names and say they would follow him at the same time. One man saluted well. "Red-Dog Jimmie Thurman," he said. Pride was in the man's voice. Zen caught the man's arm. "Red-Dog Jimmie Thurman? But I know you." "Maybe you do, suh." Thurman spoke with the soft drawl of the old south. "One of the new people appeared in your plane and saved your life!" Zen burst out. "Yes, suh. That's right, suh." "But you deserted!" "Put it another way, suh, let's say I joined the right side." "How did you find this place?" "I just kept thinking and kept trying. Eventually we found each other. The psychos tried to make me believe I was nuts. But I knew better. I knew what had happened. And I knew there had to be a reason for it. I kept hunting until I found that reason. The big part of the battle, where I had an advantage over most everybody else, was that I knew from experience that something was going on. Knowing this much, all I had to do was keep looking." The man's voice drawled the explanation. His eyes smiled. "At your service, suh." "Do you know that going with me may mean death?" "What's death, suh?" Red-Dog Jimmie Thurman grinned. "I died over the North Pole, suh." "Spike Larson," another man said. "You were in a sub," Zen challenged. A glow was coming up inside of him like nothing he had ever experienced before. He was getting fighting men to stand beside him. "Yes," Larson answered. "And I will consider it a privilege to stand beside you." Like soldiers, they passed in review before him, the fat boy, the tall, lean, brown-skinned youths. Somehow he thought there ought to be another one. He looked around for him. Grant was talking to West. Grant was the man whose face had looked out of thin air in the middle of the room. Seeing that Zen was staring at him, he left off his talk with the craggy man and came over and saluted.