Jakes cocked his head to one side. “Oh? You think so? When did you first apply for interplanetary assignment, Ronny?” “I don’t know, about three years ago.” Jakes nodded. “Well, depend on it, you’ve been under observation for that length of time. At any one period, Section G is investigating possibly a thousand potential agents. We need men but qualifications are high.” He hopped down from his position, sped around to the other side of the desk and lowered himself into his chair. “Don’t get the wrong idea, though. You’re not in. You’re on probation. Whatever the assignment the Old Man gave you, you’ve got to carry it out successfully before you’re full fledged.” He flicked the order-box switch and said, “Irene, where the devil’s Ronny’s badge?” Ronny Bronston heard the office girl’s voice answer snappishly. “All right, all right,” Jakes said. “I love you, too. Send it in when it comes.” He turned to Ronny. “What _is_ your assignment?” “He wants me to go looking for some firebrand nicknamed Tommy Paine. I’m supposed to arrest him. The commissioner said you’d give me details.” ------------------------------------- Sid Jakes’ face went serious. He puckered up his lips. “Wow, that’ll be a neat trick to pull off,” he said. He flicked the order-box switch again. Irene’s voice snapped something before he could say anything and Sid Jakes grinned and said, “O.K., O.K., darling, but if this is the way you’re going to be I won’t marry you. Then what will the children say? Besides, that’s not what I called about. Have ballistics do up a model H gun for Ronny, will you? Be sure it’s adjusted to his code.” He flicked off the order box and turned back to Ronny. “I understand you’re familiar with hand guns. It’s in this report on you.” Ronny nodded. He was just beginning to adjust to this free-wheeling character. “What will I need a gun for?” Jakes laughed. “Heavens to Betsy, you babe in the woods. Do you realize this Tommy Paine character has supposedly stirred up a couple of score wars, revolutions and revolts? Not to speak of having laid in his lap two or three dozen assassinations. He’s a quick lad with a gun. A regular Nihilist.” “Nihilist?” Jakes chuckled. “When you’ve been in this Section for a while, you’ll be familiar with every screwball outfit man has ever dreamed up. The Nihilists were a European group, mostly Russian, back in the Nineteenth Century. They believed that by bumping off a few Grand Dukes and a Czar or so they could force the ruling class to grant reforms. Sometimes they were pretty ingenious. Blew up trains, that sort of thing.” “Look here,” Ronny said, “what motivates this Paine fellow? What’s he get out of all this trouble he stirs up?” “Search me. Nobody seems to know. Some think he’s a mental case. For one thing, he’s not consistent.” “How do you mean?”