coming around to check the guardroom.Then the roof would fall in. Any minute now, he could expect to hear awindow-shattering roar.
"Halt!"
It was the Residence Guard. Post number two.
"All right," Michaels' voice was low. "Hold up. Answer him. Have himcontinue his tour, and let's be on our way."
Hense stopped. "Officer of the Guard," he said loudly.
"Advance, one, to be recognized."
Hense sighed and stepped forward, then halted again at the guard'scommand.
The man flashed a light on him, then raised his weapon to his face andsnapped it to the raise position again.
"I recognize you, sir. Any special instructions?"
"None. Just continue on your post."
Inwardly, Hense was reaching the boiling point. That hadn't been whathe'd intended to say, dammit! He----
"Pardon, sir," the guard was saying, "but how about this man here?"
Now, Hense realized, there must be something really going on. Dreamcreatures just couldn't walk out of a man's mind and show up in frontof an alert guard. Or had he completely lost gyro synch? He----
Michaels broke in again. "It's all right, guard. Just continue on yourpost. And keep an especially sharp lookout from now on."
"Yes, sir." The guard snapped his weapon up to his face again, thenholstered it and turned to continue his tour.
Hense looked after him.
It wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.
He resumed his pacing, toward the Residence.
"Oh, well," he thought resignedly, "might as well relax and enjoy it.Wonder what'll happen next."
Commissioner Jackson himself came to the door.
"What was that fire, lieutenant?" he demanded. He noticed Michaels.
"And what have we here?" He drew his head back a little, frowning.
Don interrupted. "Are you Commissioner Jackson?"
"Yes. But----"
"Good! Here, take this." Don shoved the book out. "And let's go intoyour office."
Benton Jackson looked incredulously at the figure before him. Hereached out and accepted the book, then turned.
"Another of those!" he said softly.
Hense followed them inside. There were, he was discovering, peculiarthings about this dream business. He had completed his mission. Hehadn't been dismissed. But he could wait here, or he could tag alongand see what happened.
"Well, now," he told himself. "Things are looking up."
Jackson walked over to his desk, snapping on the room lights as hepassed them. He sat down and placed the book on the desk.
"Well," he demanded, "what's next?"
Don Michaels reached over the desk and flipped the book open.
"Page seven oh one," he said simply. "Read it. Then, I'll start tellingyou a lot of things." He hesitated.
"You _can_ read Oredanian script, I hope?"
Jackson nodded in annoyance. "Of course. Part of my business." Heflipped over the pages, looking at numbers. Then he glanced up.
"How about the lieutenant?"
Don faced about. "Oh," he said. "Sorry. You can go back to yourguardroom, lieutenant. I'm sorry I had to get rough with you, but I wasin a hurry. Still am, for that matter. Only one more thing. For thelove of all that's holy, have your people keep a sharp lookout for therest of the night. I've a hunch Stern's people will try almost anythingright now, short of risking full-scale battle."
Hense shook his head dazedly. Jackson looked up from the book.
"It's all right, lieutenant," he said. "Go ahead. And you might takethis man's word on the heavy guard. If we've got what I think we'vegot, and if Stern knows it, he might even risk a battle."
Hense suddenly realized he was no longer under any kind of restraint.
And, he realized, this had been no dream.
He had actually been ordered around like some recruit. And that by someno-good, naked native kid.
His guard had been pushed around. Unauthorized orders had been given tothem.
And they'd obeyed those orders--without question.
In fact, the whole compound had been virtually taken over.
And all by this same kid.
And the commissioner said it was all right?
Hense turned away. He'd----
He took a step, then reconsidered. He had a better idea.
"This place," he said savagely, "has just plain gone to hell!" Hestalked through the door.
The commissioner's amused voice followed him.
"Not yet," it said, "but it very possibly might, lieutenant. Don'tforget to double your guard."
* * * * *
As the door closed, Jackson looked at Don, a smile wrinkling thecorners of his eyes.
"Afraid you were just a little rough on him," he said. "He'll get overit, but it's pretty unsettling, you know." He shrugged.
"But you haven't introduced yourself. Special Corps?"
Don looked at him blankly, then shook his head.
"I'm afraid I don't know what that is," he admitted.
Jackson examined him carefully. "Hm-m-m," he said slowly. "Interesting!Tell me, how long have you been ordering people around like this?"
Don spread his hands. "Why, I don't really know," he said. "You see,I----"
Jackson held up a hand, smiling. "Never mind. Do you always go around... ah ... dressed like that?"
Don glanced down, then grinned. "I'm sorry, sir, but I was in somethingof a dither a while ago. Truth is, I forgot to dress after I----"
"Wait a minute." Again, Jackson held up a hand. "Start at thebeginning. While you're giving me the story, I'll have some clothesbrought in for you." He touched a button on his desk, then leaned back.
"All right," he said, "let's have it. First, of course, who are you?"
While Don was talking, an impassive aide brought an outfit for him. Heslipped into the clothing as he finished his account.
"So," he concluded, "all we need to do now is to force a conclave andit's all over. From what Gorham told me, I'm pretty sure I can tearStern apart myself." His eyes clouded.
"Of course, there's Mr. Masterson. I guess they've got him in one ofthe torture cells."
Jackson waved a hand. "There's no problem about Masterson. We'll havehim over here by morning.
"And I have an idea your father is all right. From what you tell me,I'd say he used one of the evasion tricks they teach Guard pilots.Then, he probably made a safe landing." He leaned forward and snappeddown the key on his intercom.
"Emergency operation schedule, Lorenz," he said, "as of now. Have thedepartment heads report here immediately. Have Communications get outan immediate message to Deloran Base. I want at least three squadrons,and I want 'em now. Tell 'em to burn the grass." He lifted the switchand turned to Don.
"I'm not going to take any chances from here on," he remarked. "We'llsend a squadron of fighters along with you to pick up young Waern andthe clan leaders. That way, they'll have protection." He frowned.
"Now, that leaves us with only one more problem."
Don looked up questioningly and the commissioner nodded.
"We'll have to find someone to represent the Waernu before theconclave. And he'll have to be acceptable to the Waernu."
"That's simple. They've already picked me."
"Won't work now. You can bring them before the clans, of course. Butthey'd be in a hole if you got snapped out on civil charges right inthe middle of the conclave."
"Civil charges?"
"That's right. Little matter of that body out in the flier. You know,and I know, the story on that. It's clearly line of duty. But up to thedecision of the conclave, you're vulnerable. Remember, Stern can claimGorham as a police agent. So, you were resisting arrest. Catch?"
"Ow!" Don looked down at the floor. Then he shrugged.
"But Stern has no way of knowing what happened to Gorham."
"Admitted." Jackson smiled. "But he might guess. You'd have to beconsulting with his people for
some time before the conclave, you know.And he'd have time to figure things out. Here you are. Here's the clanbook. But where's Gorham? And Gorham went up to find that book. Addsup, you see."
"You mean I've got to stay under cover from now on?"
"Not necessarily. The clan warden doesn't have to be identified aheadof time. Usually, it's just an honorary job, any way. But this time, hemight really have to