"Didn't mean to sound capricious," Forbes said, his smile gone. "Of course not," Heidel said. Edward Clarke cleared his throat. "May I ask, sir, how this was discovered and how it was narrowed down to the Superior Council?" "Surely," Heidel said crisply. "No need to go into the troubles we've been having. You know all about that. But how these troubles originated is the important thing. Do you remember the missionary affair?" "When we were going to convert the Eastern industrial section?" "That's right," Heidel said, remembering. "Horrible massacre." "Bloody," agreed John Meehan. "Sixty-seven missionaries lost," Heidel said. "I remember the Martian note of apology," Forbes said. "'We have worshipped our own God for two-hundred thousand years. We would prefer to continue. Thank you.' Blinking nerve, eh?" "Neither here nor there," Heidel said abruptly. "The point is that no one _knew_ those sixty-seven men were missionaries except myself and you five men." * * * * * Heidel watched the faces in front of him. "One case," he said. "Here's another. Do you recall when we outlawed the free selection system?" "Another bloody one," said Sadler. "Forty-eight victims in that case," Heidel said. "Forty-eight honorable colonists, sanctioned by us to legally marry any couple on the planet, and sent out over the country to abolish the horrible free-love situation." "Forty-eight justices of the peace dead as pickerels," Forbes said. "Do you happen to remember _that_ note of apology?" Heidel asked, a slight edge in his voice. He examined Forbes' eyes. "Matter of fact, yes," said Forbes, returning Heidel's stare steadily. "'You love your way, we'll love ours.' Terribly caustic, what?" "Terribly," said Heidel. "Although that too is neither here nor there. The point again, no one except the six of us right here knew what those forty-eight men were sent out to do." Heidel straightened in his chair. The slow grating voice of Forbes had taken some of the sharpness out of the situation. He wanted to hold their attention minutely, so that when he was ready, the dramatics of his action would be tense and telling. "There is no use," he said, "in going into the details of the other incidents. You remember them. When we tried to install a free press, the Sensible Art galleries, I-Am-A-Martian Day, wrestling, and all the rest." "I remember the wrestling business awfully well," said Forbes. "Martians drove a wrestler through the street in a yellow jetmobile. Had flowers around his neck and a crown on his head. He was dead, of course. Stuffed, I think...."