"It's gallant," Jean admitted slowly. "But it's also so incredibly foolish. A few hundred thousand, or even millions, cannot change the world we live in. It is far better to take things as they are." She shuddered involuntarily, as a snake-man glided effortlessly across the path. "After all, creatures like that shouldn't be permitted to live like Earthmen." The Falcon shrugged, some of the good feeling going from his mind. Then he plucked a handful of rich dark grapes. "Try these," he said. "We've still a lot of sightseeing to do." For another hour they walked and talked, meeting the men and women with whom the Falcon worked. Nowhere was there a fawning attitude because he was the one whose word was law. There was a tangible feeling of equality among all the people, a feeling that the girl had never seen anywhere before. She spoke but little, until she saw the great storeroom where the wealth of a hundred nations was piled in orderly stacks. She saw that the door had neither lock nor bolt, and her eyes were startled when she glanced at the tall man at her side. "There's no need," he said, understandingly. "This is communal property. And there are no thieves in the Base. Anyway, if a thief did appear, he could not escape--an inertia-tractor beam would bring any ship back before it could get away." Jean nodded, and they strolled toward the exit that led to their apartments. Neither spoke now; both were silent with their thoughts. A vocoder light was on at a corner box, and the Falcon flicked the switch. "Yes?" he said quietly. "A report has just come in, sir," the mechanical voice said evenly. "The girl whose ship you stole is--" The Falcon whirled, feeling the ripping of his dis-gun from his holster. He whirled in a sudden spin that almost caught Jean Harlon; and then he came to a sudden halt, the last words of the vocoder ringing in his mind. "--Jean Vandor, the daughter of Jason Vandor, the Food Administrator. She was attending a dance given by--" The Falcon moved with a desperate tigerish speed, his hand lancing out to snatch the menacing gun. Then the softened ray caught him squarely in the chest, and the world blanked out. * * * * * He came to slowly, then with a rush of surging emotions that were like icewater to his brain. He rolled to his feet, wobbled unsteadily for a moment, then darted down the tunnel, running toward the comptroller's office. Tunnel after tunnel passed behind him, and he could feel the ragged pounding of his heart, as he raced across the last few yards of the entrance room. He slammed through the door of the office, felt dismay and anger fill his mind when he saw the dissed wreck of the tractor beam board. Then he knelt, helped the comptroller to a chair, where the man sagged groggily.