"I'd never like to live in a place like that," Herb said. _I dreamed of it_, he wanted to say, _and I dreamed that Brionimar had been changed into Earth, and there was no Oligarchy, and a man was free._ "It's like a nightmare," he said. They fell silent. William wanted to say: _If only we could take that dream back with us, if only our people could see._ "Yes," Herb said suddenly. "God, yes, yes." "Eh?" "... nothing." "_He_ called me in today," William said. "Oh?" "We talked." "What did you talk about?" "Not much ... I don't see what he was trying to get at." William stood up. He looked at the microphone. He felt courage grow in him. "I've been ... _thinking_...." Herb nodded. He dared not speak. "You know what I mean?" Herb nodded. "We'll talk later." * * * * * After the fourth daily meal, William came once more. He took Herb's arm and gestured with his head that Herb should follow. Herb arose; his heart stood wildly beating in the cage of his chest; his blood ran with conspiracy and excitement. They walked down the corridor until they were in a section free of microphones. It was, although they did not know it, intentionally unwired. It provided the crew a harmless escape valve for their emotions. It was not (as any Oligarch could have told you) necessary to watch a Subject all the time. Most of the spy tapes, as a matter of fact, were never even inspected. William was sweating. Herb could not account for the intensity of emotional strain he seemed to be under. Herb imagined they would talk briefly--and plan vaguely--about ways to carry some of the idea and the feel of freedom back to Brionimar. They would bear a message of hope, they would tell that Earth had not been destroyed in vain, that a civilization could function in freedom without chaos. And perhaps, someday, not in their time, but someday.... "It's not perfect," Herb said. "We dream of perfection, do you understand, but even Earth is not perfect. I think we ought to remember that. I can feel it, I can tell it. I.... We want to take that back with us, too." William was scarcely listening. His muscles were tense and crawling with danger. He had to speak, to confide, to know that he was not alone. To have Herb help him. Herb, too, must know. "Listen," he hissed. "You know what I meant when I said I've been thinking?" "Yes," Herb said. "So have I." William licked his lips. His heart seemed to stop. He took a deep breath. "_How can we stop him from blowing it up?_" The Universe wheeled. Herb could not believe what he had heard. A Destructionist! "_He_ dropped some hints, he didn't mean to, but he did," William said. "I finally realized. You must have known longer than I have. It's all a lie. He as good as told me so." Herb took half a step backward. His skin crawled with horror.