On the contraband comset behind the tailor shop, Wolf had called the mother-ship that hovered just out of detection range. All right, they confirmed, there would be a shuttle in the hills back of the town. Did he know the shuttle that had brought him had been lost? No? Well, it had. With the whole crew aboard. _That many more_, thought Wolf. _If anybody's keeping a list, I've got a lot to my credit. Or damnation._ And, bitterly: _More friends than enemies._ Don't think about it. Do your job and get the hell out. If you can. He spoke to Daimya, but on her father's advice did not tell her of his plan to take her along. "She won't go voluntarily," the old man said frankly. "We will have to pretend we are all going to the hills. After that--" he nodded slowly, "--the problem is yours." "I will take care of her, Joseph," Wolf had promised, and the sun-browned farmer had clasped his hand tightly in a mute gesture of hopefulness. "You understand--a man and his daughter--you understand?" _More than you probably know, Joseph._ "Yes," he said aloud. "I think I understand." And then came the word that the Administrator's procession was in sight. Wolf looked at his five dependables. He passed each face slowly, as if he had never seen them before. They were young, and old, and middle-aged. They were dark from the hours in the sun, strong from the work that pulled their muscles for the long hours each day. They smiled at him, grimly, nervous, but they were good men. _The faces of freedom_, Wolf thought. _These are the faces and the bodies of freedom._ Then it was time. * * * * * The streets were lined with silent people when the procession came into view around the slight curve. Then there was a tentative cheer from someone. It was taken up by someone else, and soon the crowd was roaring its synthetic appreciation of Administrator Mayne Landing. Wolf breathed easier. Craning his neck in the crowd, Wolf spotted the other five, standing dispersed in the crowd, but all near the spot on the street opposite the tailor's shop. They made no acknowledgement except meeting his eyes, then turning away to watch the procession near. As they came closer, Wolf noted with satisfaction that several of the guards occasionally glanced at the street behind them. Good. They had seen the knot of men outside town, then. If they expected anything, they were expecting it from behind them. He could see the tall, straight figure of Mayne Landing in the ground car. He took in the familiar face almost hungrily, the great shock of white hair moving gently in the slight breeze, the characteristic gesture, a half-salute, the slight smile, the kindly eyes of the old man-- He tore his eyes away from the dignified figure and glanced behind him, down the street. He saw a figure move on a roof-top, and wondered if the guards saw it, too.