Eckisster nodded. "I see." His eyes lit on the captain, who was still sitting in the same position he had taken when he was ordered into the chair. "Is this one of the _Bedevin_'s men?" It was Bilford who answered. "Yes, sir. Captain Gisser, Prime Officer." "And you haven't found out anything about him yet? Don't you know what's wrong with these men?" Eckisster's voice was bland on the surface, but there was a biting hardness underneath. "We know what's wrong with them, sir," Bilford said stiffly; "we just don't know what caused it." "According to the electroencephaloscope readings, the electrical activity of the prefrontal lobes is exhibiting a loop-feedback pattern. It's going around in circles without getting anywhere. As far as the nerve impulses are concerned, these men have been effectively lobotomized--almost completely so." "I see." Eckisster looked at the captain again. "Captain, stand up." The captain stood. "Sit down." The officer sat. Eckisster rubbed a plump finger over his chin. "That's according to the report, at least. Would he kill himself if I asked him to?" "Not if you _asked_ him to," Bilford said coldly. "He might if you _told_ him to. Do you want me to try it?" "Don't be ridiculous!" the general director snapped. He looked at Roysland, who had been sitting quietly, waiting for Eckisster to finish. "Roysland, do you have any idea of the nature of this weapon?" "None, sir," Roysland said quietly. "Neither I nor the psychologists have any idea what could do this to the human brain." "Oh, no?" Eckisster's plump face smiled. "Haven't I heard something about microwaves at high intensity?" Roysland nodded. "Sure. I know what you mean. But I was talking about doing it over a range of seven hundred million miles. "We know that it can be done, but we don't know how the enemy did it. Look at it this way: If we'd found every one of these men with his skull bashed in, we could say that it had been done with a club. But that still wouldn't explain how it was done from better than a light-hour away." "Besides," Bilford chipped in, "high intensity microwaves don't have that effect. They affect the brain, sure--but not that way." Eckisster nodded and folded his hands placidly. "I understand. Well, gentlemen, I--" He stopped suddenly and looked to one side, out of the range of his pickup. A voice said: "This facsimile just came in on the ultrabeam, sir." A hand materialized out of nowhere, holding a fac sheet; Eckisster took it, unfolded it, and read it. His eyes opened a trifle wider, and he looked up at Roysland.