For the first time, Gaylord's eyes came round to meet mine. "What do you mean?" I shrugged, in my turn. "I mean, Security's gone at this all wrong, from Controller Kruze straight down to your lowest Rizalian sub-agent. Because one and all, you've been content just to back track on those thrill-mills." Gaylord's frown deepened. "I don't see--" "Nineteen of the people who've received those gadgets hold key positions in Rizal's defense against the Kel," I interrupted coldly. "One hundred ninety-one rank as military administrators. Forty-seven more can be classed as vital to supplementary services." "You mean, you think this all is some sort of crazy Kel plot?" Controller Gaylord's brow smoothed as if by magic. A caustic note suddenly edged his voice. "Maybe you better check those file-reels after all, Traynor. They show 112 clerks in that group that got the thrill-mills. There also were 98 women engaged in motherhood, 226 tech grades, and 44 drudge grades." "And that wouldn't strike you as protective camouflage, maybe?" "Protective nonsense, you mean! All you're offering is a hair-brained theory, with neither facts nor logic to back it!" He was as bad as Kruze. I nodded slowly. "You may be right. However, I'm still willing to bet my record, my future, against yours on it." "Your record--?" Gaylord stared. "What is this, anyhow? What are you talking about?" The furrows were back in his forehead. "It's time to cut loose, that's all. We need action--real action, not just back-tracking." In spite of myself, anticipating, I smiled a little, "You've got a sigman on duty here somewhere, of course?" "A sigman--?" Gaylord's furrows deepened. "Why, sure, of course." "All right, then." I hooked my thumbs in my tunic-sash. "I want a message plated--an all-points, top-emergency, triple-restricted action order." Utter incredulity came to the unit controller's eyes. He didn't move. He didn't speak. "The message!" I repeated, more sharply. "Take it down. Right now." Gaylord still didn't move. "Would you rather I reported the fact and circumstances of your own de-conditioning direct to Controller Kruze instead?" Another moment of silence, while the incredulity in Gaylord's eyes changed to sullen hate. Then, crossing to the voco, he flipped on the scriber unit. "All right. What's your message, rack you?" For the fraction of a second I hesitated. My hands were suddenly cold, my lips stiff. Then, drawing a deep breath, I spoke--slowly, distinctly: "Attention all stations! This is Agent Mark Traynor speaking, under special authorization of Controller Alfred Kruze, FedGov Interplanetary Security Headquarters. "You are hereby directed to place under close arrest within one Earth hour any and all persons who have had possession of or contact with the devices known as Apex Perceptual Intensifiers or, more commonly, thrill-mills.