here were machines which had
broken down--invariably through misuse, said Sergeant Bellews
acidly--and had been sent to the Rehab Shop to be re-trained in their
proper duties.

"Guys see 'em acting sensible and obediently," said Bellews with
bitterness, "and expect 'em to think. Over at the jet-field they finally
come to understand." His tone moderated. "Now they got jets that put
down their own landing-gear, and holler when fuel's running low, and do
acrobatics happy if you only jiggle the stick. They mighty near fly
themselves! I tell you, if well-trained Mahon jets ever do tangle with
old-style machines, it's goin' to be a caution to cats! It'll be like a
pack of happy terriers pilin' into hamsters. It'll be murder!"

* * * * *

He surveyed his stock. From a back corner he brought out a small machine
with an especially meditative tempo in its standby-lamp flicker. The
tempo accelerated a little when he put it on a work-bench.

"They got batteries to stay activated with," he observed, "and only need
real juice when they're workin'. This here's a play-back recorder they had
over in Recreation. Some guys trained it to switch frequencies--speed-up
and slow-down stuff. They laughed themselves sick! There used to be a
tough guy over there,--a staff sergeant, he was--that gave lectures on
military morals in a deep bass voice. He was proud of that bull voice
of his. He used it frequently. So they taped him, and Al here--" the
name plainly referred to the machine--"used to play it back switched
up so he sounded like a squeaky girl. That poor guy, he liked to busted
a blood-vessel when he heard himself speakin' soprano. He raised hell
and they sent Al here to be rehabilitated. But I switched another machine
for him and sent it back, instead. Of course, Al don't know what he's
doing, but--"

* * * * *

He brought over another device, slightly larger and with a screen.

"Somebody had a bright notion with this one, too," he said. "They
figured they'd scramble pictures for secret transmission, like they
scramble voice. But they found they hadda have team-trained sets to
work, an' they weren't interchangeable. They sent Gus here to be
deactivated an' trained again. I kinda hate to do that. Sometimes you
got to deactivate a machine, but it's like shooting a dog somebody's
taught to steal eggs, who don't know it's wrong."

He bolted the two instruments together. H