Ullen sensed the rebuff and shrugged one shoulder wearily, 'It is not dat I care much about de whole ding. It is only dat de war is a big bodder. It should be ended.' He sighed, 'But I don't care!'

His fingers had just begun manipulating the pencil once more in its travels across the open tablet on his lap, when he looked up again.

'Tell me, please, what is de name of dat country where Hitler died. Your Hard names, dey are so complicated sometimes. I dink it begins wid an M.'

His neighbor ripped him open with a stare and walked away, Ullen's eyes followed him with a puzzled frown. And then the all-clear signal sounded. 'Oh, yes,' said Ullen. ' Madagascar! Such a silly name!'

Johnnie Brewster's uniform was war-worn now; a bit more wrinkled about the neck and shoulders, a trance more worn at knees and elbows.

Ullen ran his finger along the angry scar that ran the length of Johnnie's right fore-arm, 'It hurts no more, Johnnie?'

'Nuts! A scratch! I got the Veenie that did that. He's chasing dreams in the moon now.'

'You were in de hospital long, Johnnie?'

'A week!' He lit a cigarette, pushed some of the mess off the Martian's desk and seated himself. 'I've spent the rest of the time with my family, though I did get around to visiting you, you see.'

He leaned over and poked an affectionate hand at the Martian's leathery cheek, 'Aren't you going to say you're glad to see me?'

Ullen removed his glasses and peered at the Earthman, 'Why, Johnnie, are you so uncertain dat I am glad to see you, dat you require I should say it in words?' He paused, 'I'll make a note of dat. You silly Eardmen must always be telling each oder dese simple dings - and den you don't believe it anyway. On Mars -'

He was rubbing his glasses methodically, as he spoke, and now he replaced them, 'Johnnie, don't you Eardmen have de "fall-apart" weapon? I met a person once in de raid shelter and he didn't know what I was talking about.'

Johnnie frowned, 'I don't either, for that matter. Why do you ask?'

'Because it seems strange dat you should have to fight so hard dese Venus men, when dey don't seem to have de screens to stop it wid. Johnnie, I want de war should be over. It makes me all de time stop my work to go to a shelter.'

'Hold on, now, Ullen. Don't sputter. What is this "fall-apart" weapon? A disintegrator? What do you know about it?'

'I? I know nodding about it at all. I dought you knew - dat's why I asked. Back on Mars, in our histories, dey talk about using dat kind of weapon in our old wars. But we don't know nodding about weapons any more. Anyway, dey're so silly, because de oder side always dinks of someding which protects against it, and den everyding is de same as always. - Johnnie, do you suppose you could go down to de desk and ask for a copy of Higginboddam's "Beginnings of Space Travel?"'

The Earthman clenched his fists and shook them impotently, 'Ullen, you damned Martian pedant - don't you understand that this is important? Earth is at war? War! War! War!'

'Well, den, stop de war.' There was irritation in Ullen's voice. 'Dere is no peace and quiet anywheres on Eard. I wish I had dis library - Johnnie, be careful. Please, what are you doing? You're hurting me.'

'I'm sorry, Ullen, but you've got to come with me. We're going to see about this.' Johnnie had the feebly protesting Martian wedged into the wheel-chair and was off with a rush, before he had finished the sentence.

A rocket-taxi was at the bottom of the Library steps, and together chauffeur and Spaceman lifted the chair inside. With a comet-tail of smoke, they were off.

Ullen moaned softly at the acceleration, but Johnnie ignored him. ' Washington in twenty minutes, fellow,' he said to the driver, 'and ignore the signal beams.'

The starched secretary spoke in a frozen monotone, 'Admiral Korsakoff will see you now.'

Johnnie wheeled and stamped out the last cigarette butt. He shot a hasty glance at his watch and grunted.

At the motion of the wheel-chair, Ullen roused himself out of a troubled sleep. He adjusted his glasses, 'Did dey let us in finally, Johnnie?'

'Sh!'

Ullen's impersonal stare swept over the rich furnishings of the room, the huge maps of Earth and Venus on the wall, the imposing desk in the center. It lingered upon the pudgy, bearded figure behind this desk and then came to rest upon the lanky, sandy-haired man at his side.

The Martian attempted to rise from the chair in sudden eagerness, 'Aren't you Dr. Doming? I saw you last year at Princeton. You remember me, don't you? Dey gave me at dat time, my honorary degree.'

Dr. Thorning had advanced and shook hands vigorously, 'Certainly. You spoke then on Martian historical methods, didn't you?'

'Oh, you remember. I'm glad! But dis is a great opportunity for me, meeting you. Tell me, as a scientist, what would be your opinion of my deory dat de social insecurity of de Hit-lerian Era was de direct cause for de lag -'

Dr. Thoming smiled, 'I'll discuss it with you later, Dr. Ullen. Right now, Admiral Korsakoff wants information from you, with which we hope to end the war.'

'Exactly,' Korsakoff spoke in clipped tones as he met Ullen's mild gaze. 'Although a Martian, I presume you favor the victory of the principles of freedom and justice over the foul practices of Venusian tyranny.'

Ullen stared uncertainly, 'Dat sounds familiar - but I don't dink about it much. You mean, maybe, de war should end?'

'With victory, yes.'

'Oh, "victory," dat is just a silly word. History proves dat a war decided on military superiority only lays de groundwork for future wars of retaliation and revenge. I refer you to a very good essay on de subject by a James Calkins. It was published all de way back in 2050.'

'My dear sir!'

Ullen raised his voice in bland indifference to Johnnie's urgent whisperings. 'Now to end de war - really end it - you should say to de plain people of Venus, "It is unnecessary to fight. Let us just talk" -'

There was the slam of fist on desk and a muttered oath of frightful import. 'For God's sakes, Thorning, get what you want out of him. I give you five minutes.'

Thorning stifled his chuckle, 'Dr. Ullen, we want you to tell us what you know about the disintegrator.'

'Disintegrator?' Ullen put a puzzled finger to his cheek.

'The one you told Lieutenant Brewster of.'

'Ummmm- Oh! You mean de "fall-apart" weapon. I don't know nodding about it. De Martian historians mention it some times, but none of dem know about it - de technical side, dat is.'

The sandy-haired physicist nodded patiently, 'I know, I know. But what do they say? What kind of a weapon is it?'

'Well, de way dey talk about it, it makes de metals to fall to pieces. What is it you call de ding dat holds metals togedder, now?'

'Intra-molecular forces?'

Ullen frowned and then spoke thoughtfully, 'Maybe. I forgot what de Martian word is - except dat it's long. Anyway, dis weapon, it makes dis force dat holds de metals togedder not to exist anymore and it all falls apart in a powder. But it only works on de dree metals, iron, cobalt and - uh - de odder one!'

'Nickel,' prompted Johnnie, softly.

'Yes, yes, nickel!'

Thorning's eyes glittered, 'Aha, the ferromagnetic elements. There's an oscillating magnetic field mixed up in this, or I'm a Veenie. How about it, Ullen?'

The Martian sighed, 'Such crazy Eard words. - Let's see now, most of what I know about de weapon is from de work of Hogel Beg. It was - I'm pretty sure - in his "Cultural and Social History of de Bird Empire." It was a huge work in twenty-four volumes, but I always dought it was radder mediocre. His technique in de presentation of -'

'Please,' said Thorning, 'the weapon -'

'Oh, yes, dat!' He hitched himself higher in his chair and grimaced with the effort. 'He talks about electricity and it goes back and ford very fast - very fast, and its pressure-' He paused hopelessly, and regarded the scowling visage of the bearded Admiral naively, 'I dink de word is pressure, but I don't know, because it is hard to translate. De Martian word is "cranstad." Does dat help?'