"It is, as such. In the form of surprise--and believe me, it would surprise the enemy ten times the degree to which it has obviously shocked this group here--it would prove of great value, in that it would reflect a murderously frightening desperation. It would, of course, have to be simultaneously accompanied by an immediate step-up in production of nuclear weapons. All other types would immediately be dropped. Factory shifts would in all instances immediately become full-day, full-week." "The Congressman from California." "And you mean to imply that our enemy would actually stand in fear of a thirteen-year-old?" "Human mass has nothing to do with age, Congressman." "The Congressman from Ohio." "What you suggest, Congressman, is inhuman, unbearably horrible--you suggest that we support you in a bill to draft _children_!" "To make my point more clear, perhaps I should ask some questions of my own. First, am I to understand that this group was at any time in _opposition_ to Universal Military Training? And--second, is the youth of seventeen a grown man? "Or shall I ask the question this way--where would you rather place these youngsters--in a position to possibly solve our dilemma, or in cities that cannot possibly be adequately defended, and have them marked for certain death along with the rest of us in them? "You say my proposal is unbearably inhuman. You are right. War is. It makes little difference how you draft its plans. "Are there any further questions?" There were none. "Very well. I will call for a confidence vote, with the chair's permission." "Permission granted." The Congressman from the south was very white. And very silent. CHAPTER VIII Dot's face was tense as she watched him. Doug held the delicate phone device to his ear with pressure that made his flesh white around it. He was oblivious to the wonder-like comforts of the beautiful home now, cursing it subconsciously as though it had been built for the sole purpose of trapping him, imprisoning him here. The high-pitched signal in the receiver repeated evenly and he forced himself to wait. His fingers drummed an uneven tattoo on the low table, vibrated the dismantled parts of the tele-radio set that he'd examined earlier. The open pages of the catalogue from the Science Council library trembled in his left hand. "Electrosupply, Federal Service Division," the voice said suddenly. "Hail, this is Senior Quadrate Blair again." "Hail, sir. Is there something unsatisfactory? The equipment you ordered should have arrived at your home--" "It has, it is satisfactory. However I find that I neglected to request a high-speed bl--correction, high-kempage power-pack." He tried to steady the pages. The closely printed alphabetized lines kept running together. "High-kempage power-pack? Your reference, sir?"