"True," agreed Bors. He made no defense. The attitude of the First Admiral would have been perfectly logical in ordinary times. Anything like the new intermediate, low-power overdrive field should have been proposed through channels, examined by a duly-appointed commission of officers, reported on, the report evaluated, and then painstaking and lengthy tests made and the report on the tests evaluated. Then it should have been submitted to another commission of officers of higher rank, who would estimate the kind and amount of modification of standard equipment the new device required, its susceptibility to accident and/or obsolescence, the ease of repair, the cost of installation and the length of time in-port required to install it. Somewhere along the line there should also have been a report on the ease with which it could be integrated into other apparatus and standard operational procedures, and there should have been reports on its possible tactical value, the probable number of times it would be useful, the degree of its utility and whether the excessive discomfort of going into and out of overdrive at extremely short intervals would have an adverse effect on crew morale. Under normal circumstances a ship might have been equipped, for testing purposes, in six to ten years, and in ten years more all new ships might be equipped. But it would be well over a generation before its use was general. The older man said, "Since your resignation's been accepted, you'll be put on the _Sylva_ when it comes back. You won't be taken to Kandar with the fleet." Bors's hands clenched. "They'll say I resigned to stay out of the fight!" "No," said his uncle mildly. "They'll say you resigned to avoid surrender. I'm being evicted with you. I'm to be dumped on the hospitality of your friend, Morgan, too. Humphrey is a very kindly man. Abominably so. But I am tired of being an exile. I'd really rather stay with the fleet. But he stands on his dignity to preserve our lives. I'm not sure what for, in a universe where such things as Mekin can happen." "They happen," growled Bors, "because we value peace and quiet as much as the Mekinese do power, and much less than freedom. We compromise." He paced up and down. "Up to now," he said harshly, "every effort made against Mekin has been defensive. Twenty-two worlds, in turn, have fallen because they only wanted to _stop_ Mekin. It's time for some world to resolve very solidly to _smash_ Mekin, to act with honest anger against a thing that should be hated. It's got to be done!" "The time for such a resolution," said his uncle, gently, "went by long ago." There was sudden voice from the compartment speaker. "_Co-o-o-ntact!_"