Using only God-given materials, Lewis Crayley had built a magnificently efficient wall between himself and the world. He could see out, but no one could see in. Not that Crayley thought of it that way. Crayley was just calm, that was all. He had control over his emotions; he didn't let them run away with him. Poise and impartial objectivity were his. He allowed nothing to bother him, and no one to thwart him. Berin Klythe was attempting to do just that. There was, Crayley admitted, nothing malicious about it. Klythe was not trying to suppress Crayley; there was just nothing else he could do. There is nothing malicious about an asteroid, either, but when one lies directly athwart the orbit of a spaceship, either the ship must veer aside or the asteroid blasted out of the way. And Crayley was not the type to change his orbit. There was no malice or hatred on Crayley's part, either. One does not hate an asteroid. He pushed open the door to Klythe's outer office and allowed the Space Force major to follow him in. The girl behind the desk was sliding her fingers expertly over the sparkling panel of a photowriter, and her pace didn't change as she looked up. "Yes, Mr. Crayley?" "Is Mr. Klythe through yet?" Her hand touched another panel. "Mr. Crayley is here with the gentleman from the Space Force." She listened for a moment to a sonobeam the men couldn't hear, then she nodded. "Go right in." Berin Klythe was coming out from behind his desk when they stepped into the inner office. His smile was broad and his hand outstretched. Crayley snapped his voice into action. "Berin, this is Major Stratford. Major--Mr. Klythe, our Director." Klythe was pumping the major's hand. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Major. Just one of those things that has to be cleared up to keep things moving." "Perfectly all right. I was a little bit early, and Mr. Crayley was good enough to show me around." Crayley rubbed his mustache and waited for the greetings to get themselves over with. The major was trying to act nonchalant, but it was easy to see that he was somewhat in awe of Klythe. Klythe had taken the Big Gamble and won, and not very many people had done that. In the first place, the government only picked a few of the very best men to go through Rejuvenation. Men who were necessary, brilliant, useful. Men like Berin Klythe, who was important and a genius. That was a point that Crayley admitted. Klythe was a genius. And, very likely, a more capable one than Crayley. But Crayley, too, was a genius in his own way, and he didn't feel that mere brilliancy should allow Klythe to block his path. Three years ago, Berin Klythe had been a graying, stocky, aging man of sixty. Now he was lithe, dark of hair, clear of eye, and full of the energy of a twenty-five year old body. He'd be good for another century. And Lewis Crayley wouldn't. * * * * *