“Here’s how I see it--as of right now. Ray’ll shoot the works on this thing. It’s a sure ticket into the Senate for him, if he plays it right. And he wants that seat _bad_. He’s aiming high. Frankly, I’m with him. He’s smart and he works hard, and he’s got enough imagination to see what that ass in Americas House couldn’t see if you painted it out for him color by color. The day Ray gets in there--and I think he’ll make it in twelve years, with any luck--we’ll _have_ a Space program and we won’t ever have to go through this kind of friggin corruption to get what we need again.” “So? This is bad?” Chris put his glass down. He was beginning to understand, and he did not like the way it felt, somewhere around the middle of his belly. “Maybe. For you. Play it tough tomorrow, Chris. But when he comes to the Dome--I’d play it soft if I were you. He wants a Space program--but he wants it under his thumb. If you’re _too_ tough-- Well, he’ll probably be head of SAC next year.” “I think I follow you, but I don’t know if I like the looks of the terrain. I take it you mean, _we’re_ going to win, but _I_ just might lose?” “I didn’t figure it that way, Chris-- Well, hell, you know that. This McLafferty is new; I underestimated him at first ... I still think we can handle him. I just don’t want to see you go in there without knowing everything.” “Yeah. I know.” Chris stood up. “Guess I’ll try Johnny once more, before I quit. Say--wasn’t there something about a subpoena for him? Maybe he’s ducking--” “Or maybe they’re keeping him tanked up and happy until the right day. That’s one thing that does worry me, Chris. I hope you find the guy.” “Yeah. Well, there’s nothing that he can say, really. Christ, he didn’t even _see_ anything but the Dome. Had him kept under sedation the whole way.” He stopped in the doorway and turned back. “Here’s how I figure it, Jed. Like, I dragged Johnny up there because his name would help, and I guess after I met the girl, I knew she’d push too, right with us. She wants him back on his feet. She’s a smart chick. She knows he can’t make it from flat on his fanny; he needs a job to do. So: I get the guy up there. But I keep him knocked out all the way up. Why? Because I knew damn well he’d flip sooner or later, and I wanted to be on hand myself when he did. Hell, I don’t mean I thought it out that way, in so many words--but I can see it easily enough from here. “So Johnny’s my old buddy. Like you and me. Blood and sweat. And tears. The whole routine. I didn’t give much of a damn what it did to _him_. I got my newspaper story. If he’d cracked some other way from how he did, I might even have got to him and got him back to work. Snake pit. You know? But I wasn’t thinking about _him_. “So if Johnny’s expendable, who gives a damn about _me_? Tell you the truth, I’m getting old enough so I should maybe get back to Earth anyhow.” _And get married...?_