. It
seemed to be in one piece. Might be cracked, but it'd hold together--he
hoped.

Slowly, he started pulling himself up the bank, pausing now and then to
regain his balance and take a new grip.

* * * * *

Lieutenant Narn Hense gave a snort of irritation, then walked across
the guardroom and switched the television off. Those news broadcasts
gave him an acute, three-dimensional pain. It was normal, he supposed,
for propaganda to sneak into a state-controlled broadcast, but did it
have to be so damn----

"Oh, the devil with it," he said aloud. "I just help run the Security
Guard around here. The Commissioner can worry about policy--and
diplomatic relations, too."

He glanced at the clock on his desk, then reached out to grab his hat.

"Better take another look at the guard while I'm at it," he told
himself.

He strode out of the office, hooking his sidearm belt from a hanger as
he went by.

It would be a good idea, he decided, to check post number four first
this time. The landing pad guard had been a little less than perfectly
alert tonight.

"Probably worrying about last night," he told himself. He smiled
reminiscently.

Moresma had been pretty worried and scared when the patrol had brought
him in. They'd gotten him out of the jam and kept him out of trouble,
but it had been close. The local authorities didn't seem to have much
sense of humor when it came to Federation personnel. In fact, they
seemed to welcome incidents that could----

"Funny," he told himself. "There are plenty of Galactics here, too.
They get along fine, but let one of our guardsmen drop a chewing gum
wrapper---- Oh, well. One of those things, I guess." He walked around
the corner of the building and strode down a hedge bordered path.

As he walked, he looked about at the dark Commission buildings. It was
a large compound. There were several posts and it took a large security
guard detachment to give it adequate protection. He glanced up at the
sky.

A blue-lit flier was coming toward him, flying rather low. Suddenly,
its lights blinked out.

Hense looked at the suddenly dark shape incredulously. It seemed to be
arcing down, toward the compound. He started forward at a run.

Either that pilot was out of control, or he was crazy. In any event, he
was going to crash in the compound unless his luck was fantastically
good. He'd been coming in fast, too. The lights had indicated an
official