"Have you checked the storage tanks?" I asked. "Or is the cast-off perspiration simply jetted into space?" "No. It's saved, sir. It gets distilled and stored for washing and drinking. Otherwise, we'd all dehydrate, with no water to replace the water we lost." "Check the tanks," I said. Anders, shaking his head, moved into the pilot's section and looked at a dial there. "Full, sir. But that's because I didn't drink very much, and any sweating I did--which was a hell of a lot, in this case--was a source of new water for the tanks." "Uh-huh." I paused and considered. "I suppose the tubing for these tanks is all over the ship? In all the hollow bulkhead space, to take up the moisture fast?" Anders, hopelessly lost, could only nod wearily. "Would it hold--" I did some quick mental arithmetic--"let's say, about twenty-four extra cubic feet?" He stared, then frowned, and thought hard. "Yes, sir," he said, after a minute. "Even twice that, with no trouble, but--" He caught himself short. It didn't pay to be too curious about the aims of an Amnesty-bearer. "It's all right, Anders. You've been a tremendous help. Just one thing. When you left Mars, you took off from the night side, didn't you?" "Why, yes, I did, sir. But how did you--?" "No matter, Anders. That'll be all." "Yes, sir!" He saluted sharply and started off. I started back for Interplanetary Security, and my second--and I hoped, last--interview with Chief Baxter. I had a slight inkling why the Brain had chosen me; because, in the affair of the missing Space Scouts, my infallible talent for spotting the True within the Apparent had come through nicely. I had found a very interesting clinker. 4 "Strange," I remarked to Chief Baxter when I was seated once again in his office, opposite his newly replaced desk. "I hardly acted like myself out at that airfield. I was brusque, highhanded, austere, almost malevolent with the pilot. And I'm ordinarily on the shy side, as a matter of fact." "It's the Amnesty that does it," he said, gesturing toward the disc. It lay on his desk, now, along with the collapser. I felt, with the new information I'd garnered, that my work was done, and that the new data fed into the Brain would produce some other results, not involving me. I looked at the Amnesty, then nodded. "Kind of gets you, after awhile. To know that you are the most influential person in creation is to automatically act the part. A shame, in a way." "The hell it is!" Baxter snapped. "Good grief, man, why'd you think the Amnesty was created in the first place?" I sat up straight and scratched the back of my head. "Now you mention it, I really don't know. It seems a pretty dangerous thing to have about, the way people jump when they see it."