"Did you see that?" he demanded.

Morriss smiled fondly, as though at the tricks of a child. "The little imp. They'll eat that all day. Look at him gobble it."

The V-frog was crunching away. A small black droplet leaked out of one side of its beak, and at once the little creature's legs folded up again as it moved down through the water. The beak opened and the little black droplet was caught.

"What is the stuff?" asked Lucky.

"Peas dipped in axle grease," said Morriss. "Grease is a great delicacy for them, like sugar for us. They hardly ever find pure hydrocarbon in their natural habitat. They love it so, I wouldn't be surprised if they let themselves be captured just to get it."

"How are they captured, by the way?"

"Why, when the seaweed trawlers gather up their seaweed, there are always V-frogs collected with it. Other animals, too."

Bigman was saying eagerly, "Hey, Lucky, let's you and I get one…"

He was interrupted by a pair of guards, who entered stiffly. Between them stood a lanky, blond young man.

Lucky sprang to his feet. "Lou! Lou, old man!" He held out his hand, smiling.

For a moment it seemed as though the other might respond. A flicker of joy rose to the newcomer's eyes.

It faded quickly. His arms remained stiffly and coldly at his side. He said flatly, "Hello, Starr."

Lucky's hand dropped reluctantly. He said, "I haven't seen you since we graduated." He paused. What could one say next to an old friend?

The blond councilman seemed aware of the incongruity of the situation. Nodding curtly to the flanking guards, he said with macabre humor, "There've been some changes made since then." Then, with a spasmodic tightening of his thin lips, he went on, "Why did you come? Why didn't you stay away? I asked you to."

"I can't stay away when a friend's in trouble, Lou."

"Wait till your help is asked for."

Morriss said, "I think you're wasting your time, Lucky. You're thinking of him as a councilman. I suggest that he's a renegade."

The plump Venusian said the word through clenched teeth, bringing it down like a lash. Evans reddened slowly but said nothing.

Lucky said, "I'll need proof to the last atom before I admit any such word in connection with Councilman Evans." His voice came down hard on the word "councilman."

Lucky sat down. For a long moment he regarded his friend soberly, and Evans looked away.

Lucky said, "Dr. Morriss, ask the guards to leave. I will be responsible for Evans's security."

Morriss lifted an eyebrow at Lucky, then after an instant's thought, gestured to the guards.

Lucky said, "If you don't mind, Bigman, just step into the next room, will you?"

Bigman nodded and left.

Lucky said gently, "Lou, there are only three of us here now. You, I, Dr. Morriss; that's all. Three men of the Council of Science. Suppose we start fresh. Did you remove classified data concerning yeast manufacture from their place in the files?"

Lou Evans said, "I did."

"Then you must have had a reason. What was it?"

"Now look. I stole the papers. I say stole. I admit that much. What more do you want? I had no reason for doing it. I just did it. Now drop it. Get away from me. Leave me alone." His lips were trembling.

Morriss said, "You wanted to hear his defense, Lucky. That's it. He has none."

Lucky said, "I suppose you know that there was an accident inside the yeast plants, shortly after you took those papers, involving just the strain of yeast the papers dealt with."

"I know all that," said Evans.

"How do you explain it?"

"I have no explanation."

Lucky was watching Evans closely, searching for some sign of the good-natured, fun-loving, steel-nerved youth he remembered so well at the academy. Except for a new mustache, grown according to Venusian fashion, the man Lucky saw now resembled the memory as far as mere physical appearance was concerned. The same long-boned limbs, the blond hair cut short, the angular, pointed chin, the flat-bellied, athletic body. But otherwise? Evans's eyes moved restlessly from spot to spot; his lips quivered dryly; his fingernails were bitten and ragged.

Lucky struggled with himself before he could put the next blunt question. It was a friend he was talking to, a man he had known well, a. man whose loyalty he never had questioned, and on whose loyalty he would have staked his own life without thought.

He said, "Lou, have you sold out?"

Evans said in a dull, toneless voice, "No comment."

"Lou, I'm asking you again. First, I want you to know that I'm on your side no matter what you've done. If you've failed the Council, there must be a reason. Tell us that reason. If you've been drugged or forced, either physically or mentally, if you've been blackmailed or if someone close to you has been threatened, tell us. For Earth's sake, Lou, even if you've been tempted with offers of money or power, even if it's as crude as that, tell us. There's no error you can have made that can't be at least partially retrieved by frankness now. What about it?"

For a moment, Lou Evans seemed moved. His blue eyes lifted in pain to bis friend's face. "Lucky," he began, "I…"

Then the softness in him seemed to die, and he cried, "No comment, Starr, no comment."

Morriss, arms folded, said, "That's it, Lucky. That's his attitude. Only he has information and we want it, and, by Venus, we'll get it one way or another."

Lucky said, "Wait…"

Morriss said, "We can't wait. Get that through your head. There is no tune. No time at all. These so-called accidents have been getting more serious as they get closer to their objective. We need to break this thing now." And his pudgy fist slammed down on the arm of his chair, just as the communo shrilled its signal.

Morriss frowned. "Emergency signal! What in space…"

He flicked the circuit open, put the receiver to his ear.

"Morriss speaking. What is it?… What?… WHAT?"

He let the receiver fall, and his face, as it turned toward Lucky, was a doughy, unhealthy white.

"There's a hypnotized man at lock number twenty-three," he choked out.

Lucky's lithe body tightened like a steel spring. "What do you mean by 'lock'? Are you referring to the dome?"

Morriss nodded and managed to say, "I said the accidents are getting more serious. This time, the sea dome. That man may-at any moment-let the ocean into-Aphrodite!"

From the speeding Gyrocar, Lucky caught glimpses of the mighty dome overhead. A city built under water, he reflected, requires engineering miracles to be practical.

There were domed cities in many places in the solar system. The oldest and most famous were on Mars. But on Mars, gravity was only two fifths of Earth normal, and pressing down on the Martian domes was only a rarefied, wispy atmosphere.

Here on Venus, gravity was five sixths Earth normal, and the Venusian domes were topped with water. Even though the domes were built in shallow sea so that their tops nearly broke surface at low tide, it was still a matter of supporting millions of tons of water.

Lucky, like most Earthmen (and Venusians, too, for that matter), tended to take such achievements of mankind for granted. But now, with Lou Evans returned to confinement and the problem involving him momentarily dismissed, Lucky's agile mind was putting thoughts together and craving knowledge on this new matter.

He said, "How is the dome supported, Dr. Morriss?"

The fat Venusian had recovered some of his composure. The gyrocar he was driving hurtled toward the threatened sector. His words were still tight and grim.

He said, "Diamagnetic force fields in steel housings. It looks as though steel beams are supporting the dome, but that's not so. Steel just isn't strong enough. It's the force fields that do it."