Ross swallowed and sat as lightly as possible on the green leather cushion of the car. By the time they had gone a quarter of a mile, he began to feel a little reassured that the doctor knew what he was talking about. Then the doctor swerved sharply to miss a rusted hulk and almost skidded off the road. He swore and manhandled the wheel until they were back on the straightaway. White lipped, Ross asked, “What was that?” “Car,” grunted the doctor. “Hit a mine. Silly fools!” Ross squawked, “But you said——” “Shut up,” the doctor ordered tensely. “That was weeks ago; they haven’t had a chance to lay new mines since then.” Pause. “I hope.” The car roared on. Ross closed his eyes, limply abandoning himself to what was in store. But if it was bad to see what was going on, the roaring, swerving, jolting race was ten times worse with his eyes closed. He opened them again in time to see another sign flash past, gone before he could read it. “What was that?” he demanded. “What’s the difference?” the doctor grunted. “Want to go back?” “Well, no——” Ross thought for a moment. “Do we have to go this fast, though?” “If we want to get there. Crossed a Peepeece radar screen ten miles back; they’ll be chasing us by now.” “Oh, I see,” Ross said weakly. “Look, Doc, tell me one thing—why do they make this place so hard to get to?” “Tabu area,” the doctor said shortly. “Not allowed.” “Why not allowed?” “Because it’s not allowed. Don’t want people poking through the old records.” “Why not just put the old records in a safe place—or burn the damn things up?” “Because they didn’t, that’s why. Shut up! Expect me to tell you why the Peepeece do anything? They don’t know themselves. It isn’t Jonesly to destroy, I guess.” Ross shut up. He leaned against the window, letting the air rush over his head. They were moving through forest, purplish squatty trees with long, rustling leaves. The sky overhead was crisp and cool looking; it was still early morning. Ross exhaled a long breath. Back on Halsey’s Planet he would be getting up about now, rising out of a soft, warm bed, taking his leisurely time about breakfast, climbing into a comfortable car to make his way to the spaceport where he was safe, respected, and at home.... Damn Haarland! At least, Ross thought, some sort of a pattern was beginning to shape up. The planets were going out of communication each for its own reason; but wasn’t there a basic reason-for-the-reasons that was the same in each case? Wasn’t there some overall design—some explanation that covered all the facts, pointed to a way out? He sat up straight as they approached a string of little signs. He scanned them worriedly as they rolled past. “Workers, Peasants, Joneses all——” “By these presents know ye——” “If you don’t stop in spite of all——” “THIS to hell will blow ye!”