At length the Secretary stirred. "Your incinerator, Michael." Calder handed him the tiny device, and Hayes vaporized the President's message. He rose. "General Frank. Schedule a meeting of the Staff in ConRoom 16 for 2200 hours. I'll address all subcommanders by visual at 0600 tomorrow. Request your communications officer to remain in his quarters until I send for him. The attack will go on as scheduled." Hayes, his thought rebuked, was now going on instinct. And his instincts always told him to attack. The three dispersed, and the First Communications crew, with the exception of Janson, returned to their posts. There are perhaps three basic ways that the human mind reacts when its perception of reality, colored by hopes and dreams, is suddenly, forcibly confronted. The first is the way adopted by those who acknowledge their own humanity. This is to take a step back, question perspective, yield to some more profound influence, or simply admit that there may be some aspect of the situation not immediately understood. In short, it is the realization that life, for good or ill, is not going to change for them, and that their dreams and ambitions must be based on reality, or they simply cannot last. The second reaction, just as common, may be viewed as the first step toward irrational thinking. Those who fall into this category, rather than relinquishing the illusion in question, cling the more fiercely to it, stubbornly blocking out all contradictory input, and, if necessary, delving into a world of pure fantasy. The third reaction, by far the most dangerous, is centered around a belief that the more one's goals and ambitions are resisted, the truer and more indisputable the path taken, since clearly they are being resisted by evil. The Devil, and those who serve him, are to blame. Therefore the harder the subsequent struggle, the more righteous the cause. Such is the road taken by the political or religious fanatic. Hayes, in his more rational moods, fell into the second category. When directly challenged, as he was now, he fell into the third. The man remained seated in his quarters, brooding. All his thought had been bent so strongly, all his efforts geared so unshakably toward the realization of a single goal---riding the tide of patriotic fervor, with the whole of the Commonwealth behind him, into a grand and decisive campaign against galactic communism---that Stone's rejection had hit him like a physical blow. Why had his destiny been denied him? OR WAS IT A TRIAL OF FAITH? And one more thing troubled him. He was still sane and noble enough (after a fashion) to see that it would indeed be wrong to usurp the duly-elected President, fool that he was, and try to seize power by a military coup. This, however, did not keep him from disregarding his current orders, which were clearly and dangerously wrong. Having been stripped of its pet fantasy, his mind now seized upon another.