ndicate men brought here and waiting for
him. He went very cautiously forward. Once he stopped and
distastefully restored his blaster to lethal-charge intensity. If he
had to use it, he couldn't hope to shoot accurately enough to stun an
antagonist. He'd have to fight for his life--or rather, for the chance
to live as a normal man, and to restore that possibility to the people
in the ghastly-quiet city at the horizon and the other lesser cities
elsewhere on this world.

He took infinite precautions. He saw the Med Ship standing valiantly
upright on its landing fins. It was a relief to see it. The grid
operator could have been ordered to lift it out to space--thrown away
to nowhere, or put in orbit until it was wanted again, or....

That was still a possibility. Calhoun's expression turned wry. He'd
have to do something about the grid. He must be able to take off on
the ship's emergency rockets without the risk of being caught by the
tremendously powerful force fields by which ships were launched and
landed.

He crept close to the control building. No voices, but there was
movement inside. Presently he peered in a window.

The grid operator who'd been the first man to greet him on his
landing, now moved about the interior of the building. He pushed a
tank on wheels. With a hose attached to it, he sprayed. Mist poured
out and splashed away from the side walls. It hung in the air and
settled on the desks, the chairs, and on the control board with its
dials and switches. Calhoun had seen the mist before. It had been used
to spray instead of burning the bodies of the two men who'd tried to
murder him, and their wrecked ground car, and everywhere that the car
was known to have run. It was a decontaminant spray; credited with the
ability to destroy the contagion that made paras out of men.

Calhoun saw the grid operator's face. It was resolute beyond
expression, but it was very, very bitter.

Calhoun went confidently to the door and knocked on it. A savage voice
inside said:

"Go away! I just found out I'm a para!"

Calhoun opened the door and walked inside. Murgatroyd followed. He
sneezed as the mist reached his nostrils.

"Ive been treated," said Calhoun, "so I'll be a para right along with
you, after whatever the development period is. Question: Can you fix
the controls so nobody else can use the grid?"

The grid operator stared at him numbly. He was deathly pale. He did
not seem able to grasp what Calhoun had