"Sorry, sir--regulations," the speaker said. '"This is S.O.P."

Kennon left the jeep and instantly felt the probing tingle of a search
beam. He looked around curiously at the flat roof of the fortress
with its domed turrets and ugly snouts of the main battery projectors
pointing skyward. Beside him, the long metal doors of a missile launcher
made a rectangular trace on the smooth surface of the roof. Behind him
the central tower poked its gaunt ferromorph and durilium outline into
the darkening sky bearing its crown of spiderweb radar antennae turning
steadily on their gimbals covering a vast hemisphere from horizon to
zenith with endless inspection.

From the base of the tower a man emerged. He was tall, taller even than
Kennon, and the muscles of his body showed through the tightness of
his battle dress. His face was harsh, and in his hands he carried a
Burkholtz magnum--the most powerful portable weapon mankind had yet
devised.

"You are Dr. Kennon?" the trooper asked.

"I am."

"Your I.D., please."

Kennon handed it over and the big man scanned the card with practiced
eyes. "Check," he said. "Follow me, sir."

"My bags," Kennon said.

"They'll be taken care of."

Kennon shrugged and followed the man into the tower. A modern grav-shaft
lowered them to the ground floor. They passed through a gloomy
caricature of the Great Hall in Alexandria, through an iris, and down a
long corridor lined with doors.

A bell rang.

"Back!" the trooper said. "Against the wall! Quick! Into the doorway!"

"What's up?"

"Another practice alert." The trooper's voice was bored. "It gets so
that you'd almost wish for a fight to relieve the monotony."

A trooper and several Lani came down the corridor, running in
disciplined formation. Steel clanged on steel as they turned the corner
and moments later the whine of servos came faintly to their ears. From
somewhere deep in the pile a rising crescendo of generators under full
battle load sent out vibrations that could be sensed rather than heard.
A klaxon squawked briefly. There was another clash of metal, and a harsh
voice boomed through the corridors. "Fourteen seconds. Well done. Secure
stations!"

The trooper grinned. "That ties the record," he said. "We can go now."

The corridor ended abruptly at an iris flanked by two sentries. They
conferred briefly with Kennon's guide, dilated the iris, and motioned
for Kennon to enter. The pastel interior of the modern office was