s resignation. They didn't try to stop
him ... a man was still free to quit a job on Mars if he wanted to, even
a job with Jupiter Equilateral. But it was an open secret that the big
mining outfit had not liked Roger Hunter's way of resigning, taking half
a dozen of their first-rate mining engineers with him. There had been
veiled threats, rumors of attempts to close the markets to Roger
Hunter's ore, in open violation of U.N. Council policies on Mars....

Tom fought the wheel as the big tractor lumbered up another rise, and
the huge plastic bubble of Sun Lake City came into view far down the
valley below.

He thought of Greg. Had Greg been summoned too? He closed his lips
tightly as a wave of anger passed through his mind. If anything had
happened, no matter what, he thought, Greg would be there. Taking over
and running things, as usual. He thought of the last time he had seen
his brother, and then deliberately blocked out the engulfing bitterness.

That had been more than a year ago. Maybe Greg had changed since then.

But somehow, Tom didn't think so.

The Sloppy Joe was on the valley floor now, and ahead the bubble
covering the city was drawing closer. The sun was almost gone; lights
were appearing inside the plastic shielding. Born and raised on Mars,
Tom had seen the teeming cities of Earth only once in his life ... but
to him none of the splendors of the Earth cities could match the simple,
quiet beauty of this Martian outpost settlement. There had been a time
when people had said that Sun Lake City could never be built, that it
could never survive if it were, but with each successive year it grew
larger and stronger, the headquarters city for the planet that had
become the new frontier of Earth.

The radiophone buzzed, and the airlock guard hailed him when he returned
the signal. Tom gave his routine ID. He guided the tractor into the
lock, waited until pressure and atmosphere rose to normal, and then
leaped out of the cab.

Five minutes later he was walking across the lobby of the Interplanetary
Council building, stepping into the down elevator. Three flights below
he stepped out into the office corridor of the U.N. Interplanetary
Council on Mars.

If there was trouble, this was where he would find it.

He paused for a minute before the gray plastic door marked MAJOR FRANK
BRIARTON in raised stainless steel letters. Then he pushed open the door
and walked into the ante-room.

It was empty. Suddenly