That was still true. Doctor Warren's team belonged on a starship project, and it might as well be the United States project. But even having them on the Common Market or the Soviet Republic starship would be better than letting them stay in Belderkan. Or would it? They were doing important research here. They were the foundation of Belderkan's prosperity. There was no way to reason out which was better. Settle it on the battle field and hope the right side won. If that helicopter's propaganda was bothering him, what was it doing to the scientists? "Sabo, muffle the pipes." * * * * * The convoy slowed down. The crowd had stopped running and started walking. Their togas, mostly emerald green and pearl white, were made from a hard fabric that gleamed in the light from the helicopter. Through his binoculars he tried to estimate the percentage of men and the percentage of young people. The section right in front of him looked young and predominantly male. By now many of the women and the older men had fallen behind. That was something to be glad about. In the crowd several voices screamed a war cry. Then the whole crowd shouted and started running toward the convoy. Three personnel carriers skimmed into view on his left. He raised his binoculars and studied their passengers. It was hard to look at them with the detachment of a commander inspecting his troops. He was a young man and the girls standing on the decks of the carriers were pretty. The carriers crossed the front of the crowd and the girls jumped off. They started undressing as soon as they hit. Running into the crowd, they offered themselves to the men. Mike in hand, Crawford Bell leaned forward. "It's all in the timing." Tension choked his voice. "Get it right," MacFarland growled. There was only one girl for every dozen men, but that was enough to cause trouble. At least two men per girl forgot their patriotic fervor and yielded to opportunity. Other men forgot the invaders and tried to drag their comrades back to duty. Women, probably jealous, screamed curses at MacFarland's shock troops. The personnel carriers, all their girls dropped, turned and swept along the rear of the crowd. On each deck a man tossed coins and bills at the Belderkans. The loudspeaker above the crowd exhorted them to remember their country. The loudspeaker above the convoy shamed the scientists for using such tactics. "Now!" Crawford Bell shouted at his mike. MacFarland covered his ears too late. Even through his mask he heard the sound that rose from the sixth vehicle in the convoy. It was sound mathematically calculated to shatter the nerves of the crowd. Pitch, rhythm, intensity, had been computed by Crawford Bell's machine. Even MacFarland felt hysteria creep up his back. Its emotions shattered by the women, the money and the sound, the crowd lost its slight discipline and its great motivation. The people staggered under the triple psychological punch.