"I thought I'd better check in here," came a bellow from the door. Don looked around and saw General Adams standing just inside, an ugly but efficient blaster held in an oversized hand. It leveled at the rapidly dying roboe. "Surprised you, didn't it?" The roboe said nothing, large eyes pleading with Don like those of a deer that has been mortally wounded and wonders why such a thing should have happened to it. Before the horrified Don could do anything, the blaster shook the lab again and blasted the roboe into an inanimate heap of flesh. "Oh!" wailed Shiela, sinking weakly to her knees. "Why you ..." began Don moving towards the general, rage blazing from his eyes. "Don't move," warned the other, blaster swinging quickly to cover him. "I'm in complete control now by order of the Earth Council and it's fortunate for you that I followed or you'd be lying there like that machine is." "But that second shot was pure murder!" "It was a rebel," came the emotionless statement. "Even if I hadn't killed him now, execution would have been certain as soon as practical." "But he was dying!" wailed Shiela; "that, that was inhuman. We're supposed to be superior, but if you're an example of the human race, then I wonder if we are." The cold eyes of the general stared at her. "Those words closely approach the borderline of treason, young lady. And in time of war, such as exists now, that could mean a court-martial." "You overestimate yourself, General," Don informed him; "the young lady happens to be the daughter of Doctor Stone." The other's face dropped in momentary astonishment, "But I didn't know he was married." "My mother died at my birth," Shiela informed him quietly. "Nevertheless, I'm in full command of all Earth peoples until the war has been successfully completed; and with such authority, I can order a summary execution of anyone who threatens its progress." "How do you think the Earth Council would react if you were to kill the earth's leading scientist and his daughter?" reminded Don, softly. "You'd have to make a complete job of us all, you know." The older man's eyes blazed from deep in his fat face. "They wouldn't say anything about you," he growled, lifting his blaster again. "General, what goes on here?" demanded a new voice from behind him. Dr. Stone and the Under-Secretary came into view, rapidly sizing the situation. The events were quickly reported and, after another severe tongue-lashing from the Under-Secretary, the glowering general took up a position beside the door, away from the rest. Stone reached up and twisted the temperature control knob with no more a show of emotion on his face than an uncontrolled twitch of a muscle under one eye. 3