"If you're not asleep, can we take a couple more minutes to talk?" "Of course." I sat up and reached for the light switch, but she said, "Must we have the lights? The Moon is very bright." "Sure." I sat on the edge of the couch and reached for a cigarette. "Can I offer you a deal, Rena?" "What sort of deal?" "A horsetrade. You think the Company is corrupt and your father is not a casualty, right?" "Correct, Tom." "And I think the Company is not corrupt and your father has radiation poisoning. One of us has to be wrong, right?" "Correct, Tom." "Let's find out. There are ways of testing for radiation-sickness. I'll go into the clinic in the morning and get the answer." She also lifted up on one elbow, peering at me, her long hair braided down her back. "Will you?" "Sure. And we'll make bets on it, Rena. If you are wrong--if your father has radiation poisoning--I want you to tell me everything there is to tell about the riot today and the people behind it. If I'm wrong--" I swallowed--"if I'm wrong, I'll get your father out of there for you. Somehow. I promise it, Rena." There was absolute silence for a long time. Then she swung out of the bed and hurried over to me, her hands on mine. She looked at me and again I saw tears. "Will you do that, Tom?" she asked, hardly audible. "Why, sure," I said awkwardly. "But you have to promise--" "I promise!" She was staring at me, at arm's length. And then something happened. She wasn't staring and she wasn't at arm's length. Kissing her was like tasting candied violets; and the Moon made her lovelier than anything human; and the bellboy had not been so presumptuous, after all, when he left us the champagne. VIII Dr. Lawton was "away from his desk" the next morning. That was all to the good. I was not a hardened enough conspirator to seek out chances to make mistakes, and although I had a perfectly good excuse for wanting to go down into the vaults again, I wasn't anxious to have to use it. The expediter-officer in charge, though, didn't even ask for reasons. He furnished me with what I wanted--a map of the vaults and a radiation-counter--and turned me loose. Looking at the map, I was astonished at the size of this subterranean pyramid. Lawton had said we had eighty-odd thousand sleepers filed away and that had surprised me, but by the chart I held in my hand, there was space for perhaps ten times that many. It was beyond belief that so much space was really needed, I thought--unless there was some truth to Rena's belief that the Company used the clinics for prisons.... I applied myself to the map. And, naturally, I read it wrong. It was very simple; I merely went to the wrong level, that was all. It looked wrong as soon as I stepped out of the elevator. An elderly, officious civilian with a British accent barred my way. "You aren't one of us, are you?" I said, "I doubt it."