"Then it's agreed. You and the girl will study the records, learn the location and function of each piece of machinery on the Ark. There are just a half dozen of us: Ab'nath, the two 'policemen', Cluny-ann, you, myself. When you're ready we'll do some fancy tinkering with the key mechanisms. And this is important, Ker-jon: we must be so thorough that, alone and without either additional education or aid from others, we won't be able to repair the damage. A danger, yes--but that's the only way it will work." * * * * * Ten days, twenty. Thirty. With Cluny-ann, Ker-jon pored over the old books. Terms swam through his head madly--vectors, constants, laws of thermodynamics, others. He could not hope to understand the vast amount of theory behind them, not now, not yet. But it did not matter. He sought a working knowledge, an engineer's knowledge, the knowledge of a physical-technician, when there had not been a physical-technician on the Ark for generations. More particularly, a physical-technician bent upon temporary destruction.... Wi'son-gil kept him informed of Flam-harol's new regime. Discontent everywhere. A riot in the 'ponics room--quelled. Another in astro--also quelled. But discontent hovered everywhere, with no adequate channel through which to manifest itself. It faded, became bickering; Flam-harol was more powerful every day. Probably, he considered himself benevolent-- * * * * * Green-uniformed albinos shuffled about the corridors. Their too-white skin looked sickly under the night-lights, but they seemed cocky. Ker-jon ducked around a corner, pulling Cluny-ann with him. "Careful--that one almost spotted us!" They crept forward, stalking silently on bare feet. Ker-jon had his key to the 'ponics room, and his heart was pounding furiously when they reached the door. What if Flam-harol had had the lock changed? He chuckled softly. He'd been reading too much about the physical sciences; no one knew how to change a lock! Oh, they could oil it if it clogged with rust, but that was all. Either the old lock remained, or no lock at all. He inserted his key, twisted, heard the tumblers fall. The door swung in silently. Past the rows of squat, ugly 'ponics tanks they walked, the dank vegetation smell heavy on the air. Moisture dotted the water pipes with gleaming droplets, some unknown liquid bubbled in a vat nearby. They paused at a great shining mound of machinery. "It's called a generator," Ker-jon said. "But don't ask me what it does. I only know it's crucial. Umm-mm, listen to that."