pulled him out with a raid at a cost of seventy-nine per cent casualties. We rescued a corpse. We still don't know if the O.S. was having a cynical laugh at our expense letting us recapture a body. We still don't know how much they ripped out of him.' Presteign sat bolt upright at this. His merciless fingers tapped slowly and sharply.
`Damn it,' Y'ang-Yeovil stormed. `Can't you recognize a crisis, Sheffield? We're on a tightrope. What the devil are you doing backing Presteign in this shabby deal? You're the leader of the Liberal party . . . Terra's arch-patriot. You're Presteign's political arch-enemy. Sell him out, you fool, before he sells us all out.'
`Captain Yeovil,' Presteign broke in with icy venom. `These expressions cannot be countenanced.'
`We want and need PyrE,' Y'ang-Yeovil continued. `We'll have to investigate that twenty pounds of PyrE, rediscover the synthesis, learn to apply it to the war effort . . . and all this before the O.S. beats us to the punch, if they haven't already. But Presteign refuses to cooperate. Why? Because he's opposed to the party in power. He wants no military victories for the Liberals. He'd rather we lost the war for the sake of politics because rich men like Presteign never lose. Come to your senses, Sheffield. You've been retained by a traitor. What in God's name are you trying to do?' Before Sheffield could waver in his strange alliance with Presteign, there was a discreet tap on the door of the Star Chamber and Saul Dagenham was ushered in. Time was when Dagenham was one of the Inner Planets' research wizards, a physicist with inspired intuition, total recall, and a sixth-order computer for a brain. But there was an accident at Tycho Sands, and the fission blast that should have killed him did not. Instead it turned him dangerously radioactive; it turned him `hot'; it transformed him into a twenty-fourth-century `Typhoid Mary'.
He was paid Cr 25,000 a year by the Inner Planets' government to take precautions which they trusted him to carry out. He avoided physical contact with any person for more than five minutes per day. He could not occupy any room, not his own, for more than thirty minutes a day. Commanded and paid by the L.P. to isolate himself from life and love, Dagenham had abandoned research and built the colossus of Dagenham Couriers, Inc.
When Y'ang-Yeovil saw the short blond cadaver with leaden skin and death's-head smile enter the Star Chamber, he knew he was assured of defeat in this encounter. He was no match for the three men together. He arose at once.
`I'm getting an Admiralty order for Foyle,' he said. `As far as Intelligence is concerned, all negotiations are ended. From now on it's a shooting war.'
`Captain Yeovil is leaving,' Presteign called to the Jaunte-Watch officer who had guided Dagenham in. `Please see him out through the maze.'
Y'ang-Yeovil waited until the officers stepped alongside him and bowed. Then, as the man courteously motioned to the door, Y'ang-Yeovil looked directly at Presteign, smiled ironically and disappeared with a faint Pop!
`Presteign!' Bunny exclaimed. `He jaunted. This room isn't blind to him. He -'
'Evidently,' Presteign said icily. `Inform the Master of the Household,' he instructed the amazed Watch officer. `The coordinates of the Star Chamber are no longer secret. They must be changed within twenty-four hours. And now, Mr. Dagenham.
`One minute,' Dagenham said. `There's that Admiralty order.' Without apology or explanation he disappeared too. Presteign raised his eyebrows. `Another party to the Star Chamber secret,' he murmured. `But at least he had the tact to conceal his knowledge until the secret was out' Dagenham reappeared. `No point in wasting time going through the motions of the maze,' he said. ` I've given orders in Washington. They'll hold Yeovil up; two hours guaranteed, three hours probably, four hours possible.' `How will they hold him up?' Bunny
`Damn it,' Y'ang-Yeovil stormed. `Can't you recognize a crisis, Sheffield? We're on a tightrope. What the devil are you doing backing Presteign in this shabby deal? You're the leader of the Liberal party . . . Terra's arch-patriot. You're Presteign's political arch-enemy. Sell him out, you fool, before he sells us all out.'
`Captain Yeovil,' Presteign broke in with icy venom. `These expressions cannot be countenanced.'
`We want and need PyrE,' Y'ang-Yeovil continued. `We'll have to investigate that twenty pounds of PyrE, rediscover the synthesis, learn to apply it to the war effort . . . and all this before the O.S. beats us to the punch, if they haven't already. But Presteign refuses to cooperate. Why? Because he's opposed to the party in power. He wants no military victories for the Liberals. He'd rather we lost the war for the sake of politics because rich men like Presteign never lose. Come to your senses, Sheffield. You've been retained by a traitor. What in God's name are you trying to do?' Before Sheffield could waver in his strange alliance with Presteign, there was a discreet tap on the door of the Star Chamber and Saul Dagenham was ushered in. Time was when Dagenham was one of the Inner Planets' research wizards, a physicist with inspired intuition, total recall, and a sixth-order computer for a brain. But there was an accident at Tycho Sands, and the fission blast that should have killed him did not. Instead it turned him dangerously radioactive; it turned him `hot'; it transformed him into a twenty-fourth-century `Typhoid Mary'.
He was paid Cr 25,000 a year by the Inner Planets' government to take precautions which they trusted him to carry out. He avoided physical contact with any person for more than five minutes per day. He could not occupy any room, not his own, for more than thirty minutes a day. Commanded and paid by the L.P. to isolate himself from life and love, Dagenham had abandoned research and built the colossus of Dagenham Couriers, Inc.
When Y'ang-Yeovil saw the short blond cadaver with leaden skin and death's-head smile enter the Star Chamber, he knew he was assured of defeat in this encounter. He was no match for the three men together. He arose at once.
`I'm getting an Admiralty order for Foyle,' he said. `As far as Intelligence is concerned, all negotiations are ended. From now on it's a shooting war.'
`Captain Yeovil is leaving,' Presteign called to the Jaunte-Watch officer who had guided Dagenham in. `Please see him out through the maze.'
Y'ang-Yeovil waited until the officers stepped alongside him and bowed. Then, as the man courteously motioned to the door, Y'ang-Yeovil looked directly at Presteign, smiled ironically and disappeared with a faint Pop!
`Presteign!' Bunny exclaimed. `He jaunted. This room isn't blind to him. He -'
'Evidently,' Presteign said icily. `Inform the Master of the Household,' he instructed the amazed Watch officer. `The coordinates of the Star Chamber are no longer secret. They must be changed within twenty-four hours. And now, Mr. Dagenham.
`One minute,' Dagenham said. `There's that Admiralty order.' Without apology or explanation he disappeared too. Presteign raised his eyebrows. `Another party to the Star Chamber secret,' he murmured. `But at least he had the tact to conceal his knowledge until the secret was out' Dagenham reappeared. `No point in wasting time going through the motions of the maze,' he said. ` I've given orders in Washington. They'll hold Yeovil up; two hours guaranteed, three hours probably, four hours possible.' `How will they hold him up?' Bunny
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