"That depends." "On what?" "On whether you're the guy we're looking for or not." "Nine minutes," Ker-jon said; "it's important that I'm on time." "Have you got a name, friend?" "Bio-tech first class Ker-jon, hydroponics division." "Ker-jon, eh? Come with us." One policeman eased a needle-gun from his belt, the other wrapped a big hand around Ker-jon's elbow. "Come on." "What did I do?" "Don't ask me. This is just a job, but I'm sure they'll let you know." The man was snickering. Ker-jon pulled his arm free. "Well, you tell me where to report; I'll go later." "You promise?" said the man with the gun, smiling vapidly. "Yes." "That's good! He promises. Come on now!" Ker-jon grunted, relaxed. The man's gun-hand wavered, only for a moment, but it was enough. Ker-jon swung his right fist up and felt his knuckles bruise against the man's jaw. Without waiting to see the effects, he darted for the 'ponics door and inserted his key. Something crashed against his legs, behind the knees, and he stumbled against the door, striking his head sharply. When he came away he found himself reeling dizzily on hands and knees. The man who had tackled him scrambled off the floor first, waited while Ker-jon clambered half-way up. A heavy boot exploded against his face, then seemed to explode all over again inside his skull. He fell flat on his stomach, hands clawing at the floor feebly. * * * * * He got up groggily, felt the caked blood stiffening the skin of his face. His wrist-chronometer's dial marked off eleven hours and thirty minutes! A withered old albino man peered at him anxiously, his face as white as the fungi which sometimes grow, if you are not careful, in the 'ponics room. His pink eyes blinked often against the strong day-period light. Ker-jon couldn't guess his age--eighty, perhaps. "I see you're awake." "Who the hell are you?" "A counter-revolutionary, young man." "What?" "Don't be surprised; don't think your little revolution was such a closely-guarded secret that no one knew about it. For one, the Mutant-maker knew. The revolution was an abortive failure, I am sorry to say." Ker-jon looked at him dully. "What happened?" "Nothing much. The Mutant-maker had his forces deployed all along the line. Flam-harol didn't have a chance. Twenty-four mutants were killed, and eighteen women. Another two-score injured." "Cluny-ann?" "Who? Oh yes, the leader of the women. She's all right, I think. But she said something about tearing you apart limb from limb if she found you. It seems you weren't where you should have been, and for that as much as anything else the revolution backfired. It seems you disappeared." The old man chuckled softly. "The police took me. So many dead...."