* * * * * Hilton told him. _I ought to put this on a tape_, he thought to himself, _and broadcast it every hour on the hour_. "They took the old Masters like dynamiting fish in a barrel," he concluded, "and I'm damned afraid they're going to lick us unless we take a lot of big, fast steps. But the hell of it is that I can't tell you anything--not one single thing--about any part of it. There's simply no way at all of getting through to you without making you over into the same kind of a thing I am." "Is that bad?" Sawtelle was used to making important decisions fast. "Let's get at it." "Huh? Skipper, do you realize just what that means? If you think they'll let you resign, forget it. They'll crucify you--brand you as a traitor and God only knows what else." "Right. How about you and your people?" "Well, as civilians, it won't be as bad...." "The hell it won't. Every man and woman that stays here will be posted forever as the blackest traitors old Terra ever disgraced herself by spawning." "You've got a point there, at that. We'll all have to bring our relatives--the ones we think much of, at least--out here with us." "Definitely. Now see what you can do about getting me run through your mill." By exerting his authority, Hilton got Sawtelle put through the "Preservatory" in the second batch processed. Then, linking minds with the captain, he flashed their joint attention to the Hall of Records. Into the right room; into the right chest; along miles and miles of braided wire carrying some of the profoundest military secrets of the ancient Masters. Then: "Now you know a little of it," Hilton said. "Maybe a thousandth of what we'll have to have before we can take the Stretts as they will have to be taken." For seconds Sawtelle could not speak. Then: "My ... God. I see what you mean. You're right. No Omans can ever go to Terra; and no Terrans can ever come here except to stay forever." The two then went out into space, to the flagship--which had been christened the _Orion_--and called in the six commanders. "What _is_ all this senseless idiocy we've been getting, Jarve?" Elliott demanded. Hilton eyed all six with pretended disfavor. "You six guys are the hardest-headed bunch of skeptics that ever went unhung," he remarked, dispassionately. "So it wouldn't do any good to tell you anything--yet. The skipper and I will show you a thing first. Take her away, Skip." The _Orion_ shot away under interplanetary drive and for several hours Hilton and Sawtelle worked at re-wiring and practically rebuilding two devices that no one, Oman or human, had touched since the _Perseus_ had landed on Ardry. "What are you ... I don't understand what you are doing, sir," Larry said. For the first time since Hilton had known him, the Oman's mind was confused and unsure.