"My major point is this," said Orne. "Government is a dubious glory. You pay for your power and wealth by balancing on the sharp edge of the blade. That great amorphous thing out there--the people--has turned and swallowed many governments. The only way you can stay in power is by giving _good_ government. Otherwise--sooner on later--your turn comes. I can remember my mother making that point. It's one of the things that stuck with me." He frowned. "My objection to politics is the compromises you have to make to get elected!" Stetson moved out from the wall. "It's pretty clear," he said. Heads turned toward him. "To stay in power, the Nathians had to give us a fairly good government. On the other hand, if we expose them, we give a bunch of political amateurs--every fanatic and power-hungry demagogue in the galaxy--just the weapon they need to sweep them into office." "After that: chaos," said Orne. "So we let the Nathians continue ... with two minor alterations." "We alter nothing," said Polly. "It occurs to me, Lewis, that you don't have a leg to stand on. You have me, but you'll get nothing out of me. The rest of the organization can go on without me. You don't dare expose us. We hold the whip hand!" * * * * * "The I-A could have ninety per cent of your organization in custody inside of ten days," said Orne. "You couldn't find them!" snapped Polly. "How?" asked Stetson. "Nomads," said Orne. "This house is a glorified tent. Men on the outside, women on the inside. Look for inner courtyard construction. It's instinctive with Nathian blood. Add to that, an inclination for odd musical instruments--the kaithra, the tambour, the oboe--all nomad instruments. Add to that, female dominance of the family--an odd twist on the nomad heritage, but not completely unique. Check for predominance of female offspring. Dig into political background. We'll miss damn few!" Polly just stared at him, mouth open. Spencer said: "Things are moving too fast for me. I know just one thing: I'm dedicated to preventing another Rim War. If I have to jail every last one of--" "An hour after this conspiracy became known, you wouldn't be in a position to jail anyone," said Orne. "The husband of a Nathian! You'd be in jail yourself or more likely dead at the hands of a mob!" Spencer paled. "What's your suggestion for compromise?" asked Polly. "Number one: the I-A gets veto power on any candidate you put up," said Orne. "Number two: you can never hold more than two thirds of the top offices." "Who in the I-A vetoes our candidates?" asked Polly. "Admiral Spencer, Stet, myself ... anyone else we deem trustworthy," said Orne. "You think you're a god or something?" demanded Polly. "No more than you do," said Orne. "This is what's known as a check and balance system. You cut the pie. We get first choice on which pieces to take." There was a protracted silence; then Spencer said: "It doesn't seem right just to--"