"Hold it!" Lloyd snapped. "Hold it right there. I'm not a complete fool, Grace. Sure I had doubts. But there are some things Andra said that bother me. And I thought up a few puzzlers myself. Like war. Casualties in battle account for a high rate of the deaths reported in the Hive, right? So it occurred to me--How come we're not using the _Goons_ to fight in the war? They're indestructible, they're armed with our most potent weapons--Yet we let men and boys be shipped out of here to fight. It doesn't make sense." "Of course it does!" Grace retorted. "You think that question never occurred to anyone but you, Lloyd Bodger? We don't use Goons in war for the same reason they didn't use atomic weapons after the Second World War of last century: The _other_ side has them, and might fight back with them." "But--So _what_?!" Lloyd exploded. "What's the difference if our people are killed by other soldier's bullets or by enemy Goons?" "There's--There's _less_ slaughter this way," Grace said, with an intensity that sounded lame even to her. "All right, we'll let that part go," Lloyd said, in no mental shape for argument. "There are other things--" "Forget them," Grace said, vehemently. "Whatever your reasons, or reasoning, last night, you have another problem to face: What are you going to do with this girl? The longer you stick with her, the slimmer your excuses will sound when she's caught. In fact, the only hope you have is to turn her in, right now, and pray your Readjustment isn't too painful." "But don't you see, Grace--!" Lloyd blurted. "What if she's _right_?! On that chance, no matter how silly you think her theory is--a theory that has led others to join her movement, remember--do I dare take the _risk_ of turning her in?" Grace stared at him and digested this aspect of the situation slowly. "I--I guess it _would_ be kind of late, when the top level sent me the report that your Readjustment hadn't taken, or something, to say 'Well, he told me so!'." The door chimes pealed, then, startling them all. "You expecting anyone else?" asked Lloyd. "No, unless your friend the fugitive was seen coming in here." As they spoke, Andra had gone to a window and peeked out from behind the curtain. When she turned to face them again, her face was grey with strain and apprehension. "Lloyd--" she said. "It's your father!" CHAPTER 10 Under the blazing arc-lights on the set, President Stanton played himself to the hilt, nearing the climactic, "Vote for the sake of the Kinsmen! Vote for the freedom of the Temples! Vote for the life of the Hive!" Just as he launched into this most important part of the script, a page boy made his labyrinthine way on tiptoe through the cables and reflectors and sound equipment to the chair of the director, and whispered urgently in his ear. Frank got to his feet immediately. "_Cut!_" he called.