ll the ones I'd ever tried.

"So, with that established, you would be in a military sense the
theoretically perfect defense."

I hadn't thought about it that way. But if it ever came down to it I
should be able to knock down an airplane, gum up the works on a fusing
detonator, maybe even--. No, I didn't like that idea. Not me. Not at
all.

The old man's voice was hard and soft at the same time. "So you're the
irresistible force, or maybe the immovable object. And if you walk out
of this office right now--and you can, Mr. Miller, that was our
agreement--knowing what you know and being able to do what you have
been doing.... Now, just how long do you think it would take the
intelligence of a dozen different nations to catch up with you? And
how long after that would you stay 'free,' as you put it? Or how long
would you stay alive? There are all types of ways and means, you
know." You bet I knew that.

My hair tried to stand on end. "Why, you'd be just cutting your own
throat! You'd have to keep an eye on me. You can't back out on me
now!"

He was sympathetic. "That's just what we're trying to do. We're trying
to protect you and all you want to do is go home."

I sat down in the old chair. "So that's why you said I could go any
time I wanted to." The old man said nothing. I ran my hands through my
hair and tried to find the right words. "Now what?"

* * * * *

One of the generals started a preparatory cough, but the old man beat
him to it. "I have a suggestion, Mr. Miller. You likely will not
approve. Or, then again, you might."

"Yeah?"

"You know by now that this room, or its rough equivalent, is where you
can be safe. This place, or one as well guarded."

"Yeah. And then what?"

He tried to make it as easy as he could. "Voluntarily--remember that
word, and what it means--voluntarily put yourself in our charge. Put
yourself under our care and our protection--"

"And your orders!"

General Van Dorf couldn't hold in his snort. "Good Heavens, man,
where's your patriotism? Where's your--"

He got the worst of that exchange, and he didn't like it. "Where's
your brains, man? Whatever patriotism I have left is pretty well worn
after thirty-two months overseas. I'm sick of the Army and Navy; I'm
sick of hurrying up to stand in line; I'm sick of being told what to
do, and being told how and where to do it; I'm sick of being bossed.
As far as I'm concerned there's only one person