well waste a beer on this clown in the interests of public relations. He didn't ask, but merely brought another one out and handed it to the psychologist. "OK, shoot. What don't you like?"

"That's the trouble. Barton; I'm not certain. Every- thing seems to check, but the data do not quite explain the reported events."

"Well, I've told you everything I can." That much was true. Barton thought; he carefully had not said he'd told everything he remembered. He savored the difference.

"We ran it through the computer, Barton, and we keep getting nulls in the output Any idea why?"

"Not my line. What's your idea?"

"That there are nulls in the input-in your report. So we're going to have to check: for them."

"If you have any new questions, ask away. I've an- swered the old ones enough times, I think."

"It's not a matter of new questions. It's a matter of con- firming your answers to the ones we've already asked."

"You want to look at the Demu research station your- self? Bon voyage. Skinner; it's a long trip."

Skinner's laugh wasn't convincing. "No, we'll do our checking right here. Barton. With you."

"OK; get on with it, then."

"I didn't mean right here, actually. The necessary drugs are best administered in the laboratory under con- trolled conditions." ''

"Drugs?" Controlled conditions-Barton had had enough of thosel He went rigid inside. "What the bell are you talking about?"

"A simple hypnotic. Barton. Quite harmless. We think that some crucial memories are hiding out in your sub- conscious mind, and we must get them out in the open, for analysis."

"Not with hypnotics, you dont. Not on me. The Demu-"'

"I'm afraid we have to; you see-"

"You have to shit, too, if you eat regular! No dice, Skinner. You take your drugs and-"

"I think you forget who you're talking to!"

"And I think you forgot where you are. You're in my place. Get out."

"It won't do you any good to be hostile. Barton. I can have you brought in to the labs, you know."

That did it. "Uke this?" He grabbed Skinner, pulled

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him upright, spun him around. The man was yammer- ing; Barton didn't listen. He aimed Skinner at the door.

He didn't exactly throw him out or kick him out, either one; it was a combination of both. The door was open but the screen wasn't. Nothing fatal, but messy. "And stay out, you son of a bitch!"

Skinner wouldn't be back, but Barton knew he was in the soup, for sure.

He had stalled off all requests to take mental tests, but now he'd blown it. He went looking for Tarleton, trying to think of an excuse to get the man to take the heat off him, but he was in D.C. briefing the President or something. Barton thought again. Dr. Fox, whose minion he had thrown through the screen, was arriving the next day. Barton decided to be one of her first cus- tomers, and, next morning, was.

Dr. Arleta Fox was a compact woman in her thirties, with frizzy aubura hair and a face like that of an especially attractive Pekingese. Her smile was friendly but made Barton wonder if he were really out of range of a fast snap. She asked him what the problem was. Well, that was a nice switch.

"Your boy wanted to poke hypnotics into me," Barton said. '*! got mad and threw him out."

"Yes, I believe he mentioned that," Dr. Fox said, with considerable understatement. "What's your twistup on hypnotics, Mr. Barton? You know we have to get all the subliminal data you may have-things you saw with- out noticing that you saw them."

"I had enough different kinds of dope from the lob- sters to last me," said Barton. "In my food, in the air:

you name it; I had it. I dont need any more. 1 tried to tell Skinner, but he wouldn't listen."

"He had his orders, Mr. Barton." The smile. Uncon- sciously. Barton pulled his hand back. "Perhaps that was my mistake. But you see, we have no real psychological data on you at all, more recent than eight years ago be- fore all this happened, so I had no way of knowing there would be a problem." Barton nodded, but said nothing.

"I'll make a bargain with you, Mr. Barton. As I said, we have no recent psychological information on you, whatsoever. If you'll take the standard battery of tests, over the next few days, we'll shelve the question of using hypnotics."

"For how long?** Barton asked.

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"Indefinitely. Until you give your consent Whatever you say."

"Never, then. It's a deal. Doctor. Thanks." Barton stood up.

"Here tomorrow morning at nine sharp, Mr. Barton?

We'll provide pencil and paper."

Barton smiled, nodded and went out, surprised to note how heavily he was sweating. Well, he wasn't out of the woods by any means, but maybe he had a Chance. At least they couldn't open his mind and see what. was there, (hat not even Barton knew about for sure. He wasn't ready to look at that stuff himself, and he knew it Meanwhile he didn't want anyone else grabbing a sneak preview.

He caught a ride to the ship. Nothing much doing there: they were still piddling around snipping off bits of materials for analysis. At this rate, Barton thought, the ship was going to look as though it had been gnawed by mice* before the government in its infinite wisdom actually got around to seeing what the damn thing would do.

However, he had one pleasant surprise. Kreugel, Tarle- ton's crew chief for ship operations, greeted him. "Hey, Mr. Barton! I think we're going to get the handle on the artificial gravity, and that's not more than a jump or two from their space drive."

Barton was flabbergasted. ^Now how in hell did you manage that?"

"When we learned how to read the circuit diagrams and equipment drawings, it turned out to be awfully close to what the Space Agency labs have been working on for the past three-four years. Close enough that I think we've nearly got it whipped."

"Hey, hold it," said Barton. "What circuit diagrams?

And how did you leam to read them, anyway?" He felt as though he were in a play and hadn't read the script

"They're built into the viewscreen circuits." Barton felt like a damn fool; why hadn't he dug up any of this stuff, in the months he'd had?

^ou wouldn*t have found them," Kruegel went on, "because the switches that throw the schematics on the screen wont work when you're under power, without throwing a special cutover switch that doesn't give any indication until you do move the circuit-diagram controls.

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