"But you're guarding an empty shell! Look, the people don't know all the reasons for the collapse. They don't know the whole picture--but they know one thing. They know they've been taxed beyond endurance, their gasoline has been requisitioned, their boys taken for military and labor service, their money devaluated again and again so that the government could get a Rocket off the Earth before the Asians did. And they know that now the whole world has fallen in a heap, and they're starving to death. And they know that this Rocket was being worked on when the crash came. They want it, Colonel. They are going to get it, too. They need a scapegoat for these fifty-four days, and this Rocket is it! And there won't _be_ any recovery as long as the ship stands." He stared at the Colonel, and then made a hopeless gesture. "You don't believe me, do you? You think that it's just a matter of time until things stabilize, and everything will be back to normal, don't you? Well, it won't Colonel. Do you know what they are calling the date, out there? The Fifty-Fourth of July! Fifty-four days since the crash, and things are getting worse every day. Even time has stood still; they've forgotten to use the calendar. There'll never be a world like you knew before, Colonel--but the agony and suffering and chaos must be paid for, somehow, and the Rocket is the price. Until the whole world knows that the Rocket is utterly destroyed, there will be no faith in government or people or anything else." Loevy glanced nervously at Matthews, towering against the wall watching the discussion sourly. Then he looked back at the Colonel and leaned forward. "Let them take the ship. There are things here far more precious than any single rocket ship could ever be. You know what I mean. If you resist, they'll get the ship and _everything else_--" The Colonel's eyes moved to Matthews' heavy face, and then back to Loevy. Suddenly his face looked very tired. "That's a chance I'll have to take," he said wearily. "You're wasting your time, Loevy." * * * * * Later, around the campfire, Matt stared gloomily at old Moe Arhelger. "I tell you, I don't like it," he said. "I just don't like it." The old man cocked sharp eyes across the fire. "I don't see that any harm was done. We gave the Bulldog his last chance. He didn't care to take it. That suits me fine. Now he can watch out." Matt shook his head sharply. "That isn't what I mean. I didn't like the looks of the place. It looked too much like a going concern. Gorham was too damned confident." "Did you ever see a garrison commander who wasn't?" "But Gorham is no fool. He knows we've got this encampment sewed up. He knows he can't get out and neither can his men. He knows there won't be any supplies coming in for him." Matt rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And the look of the place--the look of the ship. I couldn't see much, of course, but it didn't look right--"