The civilian shrugged. "Who knows? We'll have to take a lot on faith if we do, because there won't be enough time to check all his predictions. Each subject is being given a report sheet with his forecast on it, and he's supposed to check the accuracy of it as it happens. And our agents are making spot checks on them just to make sure. It'll take time. All we can do is hope." "I suppose." General Layton took a quick look through the periscope again. The ship's air lock still hadn't opened; the air and ground were still too hot. He looked back at the civilian. "What about the espionage reports?" The civilian tapped his briefcase. "I can give it to you in a capsule, verbally. You can look these over later." "Shoot." "The Soviets are getting worried, to put it bluntly. We can't hide those rockets, you know. Their own Luna-based radar has been picking up every one of them as they come in and leave. They're wondering why we're making so many trips all of a sudden." "Have they done any theorizing?" the general asked worriedly. "They have." The civilian chuckled sardonically. "They've decided we're trying for another Mars shot--a big one, this time." The general exhaled sharply. "That's too close for comfort. How do they figure?" "They figure we're amassing material at Moonbase One. They figure we intend to build the ship there, with the loads of stuff that we're sending up in the rockets." "_What?_" General Layton opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he began to laugh. The civilian joined him. * * * * * Donna Tedesco pushed the papers across Brian Taggert's desk. "Check them yourself, Brian. I've gone over them six ways from Septuagesima, and I still can't see any other answer." Taggert frowned at the papers and tapped them with a thoughtful finger, but he didn't pick them up. "I'll take your word for it, Donna. At least for right now. If we get completely balled up, we'll go over them together." "If you ask me, we've already completely balled up." "You think it's that bad?" She looked at him pleadingly. "Can you think of any other explanation?" "Not just yet," Brian Taggert admitted. "Nor can I. There it is. Every single one of his valid predictions, every single one of his precognitive intuitions--_without exception_--has been based on the actions of human beings. He can predict stock market fluctuations, and family squabbles, and South American election results. His disaster predictions, every one of them, were due to _human_ error, _human_ failure--not Acts of God. He failed to predict the earthquake in Los Angeles; he missed the flood in the Yangtze Valley; he knew nothing of the eruption of Stromboli. All of these were disasters that took human lives in the past three weeks, and he missed every one of them. And yet, he managed to get nearly every major ship, airplane, and even automobile accident connected with his subjects.