Physically, he was scarcely able to move a muscle. But, oh, the soaring range of his mind and vision! * * * * * Citizen Germyn was past shock, but just the same it was uncomfortable to be in a room with several dozen other persons, all of them naked. Uncomfortable. Once it would have been brain-shattering. For a Citizen to see his own Citizeness unclothed was gross lechery. To be part of a mixed and bare-skinned group was unthinkable. Or had been. Now it only made him uneasy. He said numbly to Haendl: "Citizen, I pray you tell me what sort of place this is." "Later," said Haendl gruffly, and led him out of the way. "Stay put," he advised. "We're busy." And that was true. Something was going on, but Citizen Germyn couldn't make out exactly what it was. The naked people were worrying out a distribution of some sort of supplies. There were tools and there were also what looked to Citizen Germyn's unsophisticated eyes very much like guns. Guns? It was foolishness to think they were guns, Citizen Germyn told himself strongly. _Nobody_ had guns. He touched the floor with an exploratory hand. It was warm and it shook with a nameless distant vibration. He shuddered. Haendl came back; yes, they were guns. Haendl was carrying one. "Ours!" he crowed. "That Tropile must've looted our armory at Princeton. By the looks of what's here, I doubt if he left a single round of ammunition. What the hell, they're more use here!" "But what are we going to do with _guns_?" Haendl looked at him with savage amusement. "Shoot." Citizen Germyn said: "Please, Citizen. Tell me what this is all about." Haendl sat down next to him on the warm, quivering floor and began fitting cartridges into a clip. "We're fighting," he explained gleefully. "Tropile did it all. You've been shanghaied and so have all the rest of us. Tropile's alive! He's part of the Pyramid communications network--don't ask me how. But he's there and he has been hauling men and weapons and God knows what all up from Earth--you're on the binary planet now, you know--and we're going to bust things up so the Pyramids will _never_ be able to put them back together again. Understand? Well, it doesn't matter if you don't. All you have to understand is that when I tell you to shoot this gun, you shoot." Numbly, Citizen Germyn took the unfamiliar stock and barrel into his hands. Muscles he had forgotten he owned straightened the limp curve of his back, squared his shoulders and thrust out his chest. It had been many generations since any of Citizen Germyn's people had known the feeling of being an Armed Man. A naked woman with wild hair and a full, soft figure came toward them, jiggling in a way that agonized Citizen Germyn. He dropped his eyes to his gun and kept them there. She cried: "Orders from Tropile! We've got to form a party and blow something up." Haendl demanded: "Such as what?"