vion.

"This one--I think we can do something with," Matsukuo's thought
whispered.

* * * * *

Eight bodies, uncomfortable and pain-wracked, floated in space, chained
to tiny asteroids that drifted slowly in their orbits under the constant
pull of the sun. Two of them contained minds that were locked
irrevocably within prisons of their own building, sealed off forever
from external stimuli, but their suffering was the greater for all that.

The other six, chained though their limbs might be, had minds that were
free--free, even, of any but the most necessary of internal limitations.

Eight bodies, chained to eight lumps of pitted rock, spun endlessly in
endless space.

And then the ship came.

The flare of its atomic rocket could be seen for over an hour before it
reached the Penal Cluster. The six eyed it speculatively. Although only
two of them were facing the proper direction to see it with their
physical eyes, the impressions of those two were easily transmitted to
the other four.

"Another load of captives," whispered Juan Pedro de Cadiz. "How many
this time, I wonder?"

"How long have we been here?" asked Houston, not expecting any answer.

"Who knows?" It was Lasser. "What we need out here is a clock to tell us
when we'll die."

"Our oxygen tanks are our clocks," said Sonali. "And they'll notify us
when the time comes."

"I do believe you morbid-minded people are developing a sense of humor,"
said Matsukuo, "but I'm not sure I care for the style too much."

The flare of the rocket grew brighter as the decelerating ship
approached the small cluster of rocks. At last the ship itself took
form, shining in the eternal blaze of the sun. When the whiteness of the
rocket blaze died suddenly, the ship was only a few dozen yards from
Houston's own asteroid.

And then a mental voice came into the minds of the six prisoners.

"How do you feel, Controllers?"

Only Houston recognized that thought-pattern, but his recognition was
transmitted instantly to the others.

"_Reinhardt!_"

Hermann Reinhardt, Division Chief of the Psychodeviant Police, the one
man most hated and feared by Controllers, was himself a telepath!

"Naturally," said Reinhardt. "Someone had to take control of the
situation. I was the only one who was in a position to do it."

His thoughts were neither hard nor cold; it was almost as if he were one
of them--except for one thing. Only the words of his th