William, oblivious to everything but his own words, said, "We've got to stop and plan carefully. I will kill him myself, and then you get to the control room.... We'll have to hold the crew off. They might not believe us. Not at first. That will be the big trouble...." Herb continued to back away. All the training of a lifetime surged into his mind. There is scarcely a way to express the detestation a starman, properly conditioned, felt toward a Destructionist. His reason was destroyed. He wanted to leap at William and tear at his face with his naked hands. I've got to warn _him_! Herb thought. He turned and ran. The Oligarch! I've got to warn him! Breath sobbed in his throat. William watched the fleeing figure. He reached out a hand to stay him. He could not believe his own miscalculation. He stood, limp and defeated. There was no will left in him. Bleak betrayal was a heavy winged vampire. There was no place to go. He sat down. It was all very logical for the first time in his life. Some where in time the Oligarchy had invented the menace as a device to gain (or to retain) power. They had saturated the people with ignorance, ridiculed thought, and eliminated freedom until the menace could not be challenged. They had established a closed and consistent system that could justify anything. And now that he had gotten outside, stepped beyond it, by denying its ultimate premise, the immensity of the fraud was mind staggering. There was no combating it as long as one lived inside. There have, he thought, been other Earths. Nothing outside the system must be permitted to intrude. He put his head in his arms and began to cry. That was how they found him when they came to kill him. * * * * * Herb did not watch the kill. He went straight to his cot and lay down and waited for the news to come. He heard the rustle of voices in the corridor as the hunt was being organized. He was still trembling with disgust: a Destructionist! The very word sent a shudder through his body. To think that William, of them all, that William, would have been one seemed impossible. Still, you could never tell. A neighbor, a friend.... You could never tell who might be. How could they think? What sort of creatures could they be? Herb's imagination shrank from the task. It was one thing to hate the Oligarchy, but it was quite another to favor the end of the Universe. The rustle of voices diminished. They were after him. They would get him. Herb thought: Perhaps with this one action I have saved the Universe. When this becomes known on Brionimar, when it is learned how I, single handed, exposed the menace, then they will.... _But suppose William was right?_ Never before had such a thought even fought for recognition, and now, without warning, it erupted in naked completeness. It was an electric shock. No! he shrieked, _no!_