he only pattern
I can make out is that for some reason--"

"Let me look," the Pilot said. He squatted down beside Kramer. "You
were saying?"

"See this lead here? Originally it was switch controlled. It closed
and opened automatically, according to temperature change. Now it's
wired so that the central control system operates it. The same with
the others. A lot of this was still mechanical, worked by pressure,
temperature, stress. Now it's under the central master."

"The brain?" Gross said. "You mean it's been altered so that the brain
manipulates it?"

Kramer nodded. "Maybe Professor Thomas felt that no mechanical relays
could be trusted. Maybe he thought that things would be happening too
fast. But some of these could close in a split second. The brake
rockets could go on as quickly as--"

"Hey," Winter said from the control seat. "We're getting near the moon
stations. What'll I do?"

They looked out the port. The corroded surface of the moon gleamed up
at them, a corrupt and sickening sight. They were moving swift toward
it.

"I'll take it," the Pilot said. He eased Winter out of the way and
strapped himself in place. The ship began to move away from the moon
as he manipulated the controls. Down below them they could see the
observation stations dotting the surface, and the tiny squares that
were the openings of the underground factories and hangars. A red
blinker winked up at them and the Pilot's fingers moved on the board
in answer.

"We're past the moon," the Pilot said, after a time. The moon had
fallen behind them; the ship was heading into outer space. "Well, we
can go ahead with it."

Kramer did not answer.

"Mr. Kramer, we can go ahead any time."

Kramer started. "Sorry. I was thinking. All right, thanks." He
frowned, deep in thought.

"What is it?" Gross asked.

"The wiring changes. Did you understand the reason for them when you
gave the okay to the workmen?"

Gross flushed. "You know I know nothing about technical material. I'm
in Security."

"Then you should have consulted me."

"What does it matter?" Gross grinned wryly. "We're going to have to
start putting our faith in the old man sooner or later."

The Pilot stepped back from the board. His face was pale and set.
"Well, it's done," he said. "That's it."

"What's done?" Kramer said.

"We're on automatic. The brain. I turned the board over to it--to him,
I mean. The Old Man." The Pilot lit a cigarette and puffed nervously.