"That's confusing," said Heller.

"Well, I know," said Izzy. "But if you don't keep such things confusing, then how could people in the know win?"

Heller looked at his watch. "That Monday, then, is only about thirteen days away. So everything is going fine, then."

"Right on schedule, Mr. Jet."

"Well, you've got it all under control, then. I won't be seeing you for a while, Izzy."

"Oh, no! Did I do something to displease you?"

"Of course not," said Heller. "It's just that I have some other duties I must attend to."

"What if something goes wrong?"

"We've discussed all this. You have Rockecenter, Junior, for a front name. And you are perfectly capable of handling any corporate angle anybody ever heard of. You have never fooled me for a minute, Izzy Epstein."

"Oh, dear!" said Izzy in dismay.

"Oh, by the way," said Heller, "you can close the condo."

"Oh, NO! I have done something wrong! You are mad at me!"

"No, I am not!"

"I refuse to close the condo!"

"At least lay off the staff," said Heller.

"You'll need them when you get back!" wailed Izzy. "They had the whole place full of flowers to celebrate Miss Joy's safe return! DON'T LEAVE US, MR. JET!"

Heller looked upset. He tried to speak a couple of times and couldn't. Then he managed, "I'll call you later, Izzy."

Heller turned it off and put the viewer down. He wandered away, looking very unhappy.

Faht Bey was just coming out of the tunnel into the hangar and approached him. "You don't look very cheerful, sir."

"It's kind of hard to leave," said Heller. "But I can't wait around another thirteen days when there's no reason."

"It's the lady, isn't it, sir?" said Faht Bey. "She seems awfully anxious to get home, and I don't blame her a bit, after all she's been through."

"No," said Heller, "it isn't just the lady. My job here appears to be done and I want to get my report in as soon as possible. His Majesty and the Lords should know what is going on. Something smells."

"I quite agree, sir. I've thought it for years. Link, the repair chief, just told me that the tug will be ready by sunset. What last minute orders do you have for me?"

"Well, all right," said Heller. "Let's start with those three old freighters over there." He pointed across the hangar where three battered hulks about the size of the Blixo had been shunted long ago against the wall and stood festooned with litter and dust. "I was into them this morning, and with some work they will still fly. Get them fully operational."

"That shouldn't take long," said Faht Bey.

"Now, any freighters coming in here should simply be stopped and held. Do not permit them to load drugs or depart."

Faht Bey visibly shuddered. "They'll object."

"Look," said Heller. "When I get home, I will report this whole matter to His Majesty or other authorities and tell them what I have done and why. In such cases it is just a formality: Nobody really cares much what happens on an unconquered planet. They almost always back up combat engineers in matters of creating or taking over bases. In any case, you have my appointment in writing and I promise you faithfully that if anything goes wrong I will bail you out."

"That's good enough for me, sir," said Faht Bey. "You see, I and most of my men here hate handling drugs. Have you noticed that none of us take them? They're pretty awful!"

"Amen to that," said Heller. "I've had some experience with how they ruin people."

"There is another thing," said Faht Bey. "What will we do with these criminals whose identities we are supposed to change?"

"Well, a promise is a promise," said Heller. "You don't need enemies. Finish them up. Just don't accept any more."

"Good," said Faht Bey. "Can you give me a hint as to what the operating policy of this base should be?"

"Make friends," said Heller. "Get Earth doctors trained fast in disease eradication. Get Prahd to pass on what he knows about drug rehabilitation. Help the farmers around here to shift their crops over to something less deadly."

Faht Bey was laughing. "You mean actually run the school?"

"Why not?" said Heller. "Of course, the Fleet or His Majesty may have other orders for you. They may even order you to evacuate the place. Who knows? But it's best to let the future take care of itself."

"Sir," said Faht Bey, "we'd leave this desolate plateau in a minute if we had the chance."

"Well, life is never all sweetbuns and pink sparklewater. At least someday you can go home."

"Thanks to you, Officer Heller. You've been a breath of life itself. I and all my men will bless you to the day we die."

I almost vomited at this praise of that (bleeped) Heller. And as to the day they died, I'd come back here with a Death Battalion and make that as soon as possible!

I began to think of all the rotten things Heller had done that I now had to undo. Just knocking out his microwave-power unit was no longer enough. Yes, one could bomb Ochokeechokee and Detroit and the Empire State Building. But that probably wouldn't be enough. In addition to a Death Battalion to handle this base, I would have to requisition an Apparatus Flying Raid Squadron, obliterate all existing military bases and—those that refused to capitulate—seats of government. It would not have to be a major invasion, for we had a puppet potential.

I could just see Rockecenter now. There he was, all ragged and forlorn, huddling in an alley amongst the garbage cans, and I would come up to him, splendid in a full-dress Voltar uniform, flanked by good criminal Apparatus aides, and I would say, "Delbert, do you remember me?"

He would gasp and grovel and say, "Good God! Inkswitch, my family spi!"

I would say, "No less, Rockie, old boy. I've come to put you back on the throne of Earth, the place from which you fell."

And he would be babbling his gratitude while an aide supported his head to give him water and another bathed his wounds.

Then together, arm in arm, we would walk forth, deaf to the piteous screams of the maimed and dying, and treat the riffraff to a holocaust the like of which had never been seen before.

And out of the gutters that ran with blood, Miss Pinch's pale hand would rise up and she would cry, "Forgive me, Inkswitch! Forgive me, for I did not know. ..."

Somebody was shaking me.

"Wake up." It was Heller's voice. "Get in the tug. The sun is setting and we are leaving for Voltar within the hour."

I smiled. That was all I needed to make my dream come true.

Aboard the speeding tug, for three solid days, I lay strapped down in a gimbal bed. It was sheer torture: The Will-be Was time drives were roaring flat-out for the first half of the trip, driving us to the brink of extinction, and roaring flat-out for the last half of the trip, braking us down. Sparks were flying off everything, and amidst the crackle and din, one didn't know from one minute to the next whether the vessel would blow up. I hate space travel, and especially in that (bleeped) tug.

The cabin I occupied was to starboard and immediately aft of the bridge, and every time the door opened, I craned my neck to see if anyone was on watch. The Countess Krak, dressed in a black spark-insulator suit, had come in from time to time to feed me and check my bonds, and never once had I seen anybody in a pilot chair. My whole conclusion : was that I was not only in the hands of speed maniacs but that they were also insane. There are all kinds of things to run into between stars and, I had to conclude, they had simply left it up to the robot tug to avoid them. It put me on the verge of a nervous breakdown, complete with froth.

But now the Will-be Was drives had died and we were on planetary auxiliaries, slowing down even more for the last small part of the trip.