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SlideLock system with separate locking and opening functions, automatically locks the lid in place and indicates when the box is closed securely. Easy to mount thanks to the extra wide PowerClick quick-mount system. The man could resort to plastic surgery and other disguise. Theories there were in plenty, [pg ] some of them going back long years, and some of them pure fable. It's obvious nonsense. Why, a revolutionist usually spends the greater part of his life toppling a government.

Then, once it's toppled, he spends the rest of his life trying to set up a new government—and he's usually unsuccessful.

One of the others was shaking his head negatively. The three of them were having a beer in a part of the city once called Baltimore. The more background I get on this guy, the better. And this'll give you an idea of how he operates, how he can get so much trouble done. Well, I was on this planet Goshen, understand? It had kind of a strange history. A bunch of colonists went out there, oh, four or five centuries ago.

Pretty healthy expedition, as such outfits go. Bright young people, lots of equipment, lots of know-how and books. Well, through sheer bad luck everything went wrong from the beginning. Before they got set up at all they had an explosion that killed off all their communications technicians. They lost contact with the outside. Within a couple of centuries they'd gotten into a state of chattel slavery.

Pretty well organized, but static. Kind of an Athenian Democracy on top, a hierarchy, but nineteen people out of twenty were slaves, and I mean real slaves, like animals. They were at this stage when a scout ship from the UP Space Forces discovered them and, of course, they joined up. He signaled to a waiter for more beer. I was the Section G agent on Goshen, understand? The hierarchy understood well enough that if their people ever came to know about more advanced socio-economic systems it'd be the end of Goshen's Golden Age.

So they allowed practically no intercourse. No contact whatsoever between UP personnel and anyone outside the upper class, understand? All right. That's where Tommy Paine came in. It couldn't have taken him more than a couple of months at most.

Ronny Bronston was fascinated. Ronny was looking at him blankly. Ronny was still blank. The waiter came up with the steins of beer, and Ronny took one and drained half of it without taking his eyes from the storyteller. The other agent took it up. Their system was based on chattel slavery, hand labor. Given machinery and it collapses. Chattel slavery isn't practical in a mechanized society. Too expensive a labor force, for one thing. Besides, you need an educated man and one with some initiative—qualities that few slaves possess—to run an industrial society.

Ronny finished his beer. But I've got a still better example of his fouling up a whole planetary socio-economic system in a matter of weeks.

A friend of mine was working on a planet with a highly-developed feudalism. Barons, lords, dukes, counts and no-accounts, all stashed safely away in castles and fortresses up on the top of hills. The serfs down below did all the work in the fields, provided servants, artisans and foot soldiers for the continual fighting that the aristocracy carried on.

Very similar to Europe back in the Dark Ages. The Section G agent laughed. That was the end of those impregnable castles up on the hills. Toward the end of his indoctrination studies, Ronny appeared one morning at the Octagon Section G offices and before Irene Kasansky. Watching her fingers fly, listening to her voice rapping and snapping, O. Irene was a one-woman office staff. Thought you'd be off on your assignment by now.

Got any clues on Tommy Paine? I wanted to see the commissioner. Tell him he's got time for five minutes with you. Ronny Bronston retraced the route of his first visit here. How long ago? It already seemed ages since his probationary appointment.

Your life changed fast when you were in Section G. Ross Metaxa's brown bottle, or its twin, was sitting on his desk and he was staring at it glumly.

He looked up and scowled. Interplanetary Culture, ha! The Xanadu Folk Dance Troupe. They dance nude. They've been touring the whole UP. Roaring success everywhere, obviously. Now they're assigned to Virtue, a planet settled by a bunch of Fundamentalists.

They want the troupe to wear Mother Hubbards. The Xanadu outfit is in a tizzy. They've been insulted. They claim they're the most modest members of UP, that nudity has nothing to do with modesty. The government of Virtue said that's fine but they wear Mother Hubbards or they don't dance.

Xanadu says it'll withdraw from United Planets. Ross Metaxa poured himself a Denebian tequila, offered his subordinate a drink again with a motion of the bottle.

Ronny shook his head. In any given century every member in the organization threatens to resign at least once. Even Earth. And then what'd happen? You'd have interplanetary war before you knew it. What'd you want, Ronny? If you catch him, there are a dozen planets where he'd be eligible for the death sentence. What I wanted was the file on him, sir. I've got to the point where I want to cram up on everything we have on him. So far, all I've got is verbal information from individual agents and from Supervisor Jakes.

There isn't any file on Tommy Paine. Isn't that obvious? Suppose some reporter got the story and printed it. If our member planets knew there was such a man and that we haven't been able to scotch him, why they'd drop out of UP so fast the computers couldn't keep up with it.

There's not one planet in ten that feels secure enough to lay itself open to subversion. Why some of our planets are so far down the ladder of social evolution they live under [pg ] primitive tribal society; their leaders, their wise men and witch-doctors, whatever you call them, are scared someone will come along and establish chattel slavery.

Those planets that have a system based on slavery are scared to death of developing feudalism, and those that have feudalism are afraid of creeping capitalism. Those with an anarchistic basis—and we have several—are afraid of being subverted to statism, and those who have a highly developed government are afraid of anarchism. The socio-economic systems based on private ownership of property hate the very idea of socialism or communism, and vice versa, and those planets with state capitalism hate them both.

He glared at Ronny. Our job is to keep our member planets from being afraid of each other. If they found that Tommy Paine and his group, if he's got a group, were buzzing through the system subverting everything they can foul up, they'd drop out of UP and set up quarantines that a space mite couldn't get through.

No sir, there is no file on Tommy Paine and there never will be. And if any news of him spreads to the outside, this Section will emphatically deny he exists. I hope that's clear. The commissioner had been all but roaring toward the end. You've got an appointment. I'm getting tired of this job. It's a mad-house. I'm going to quit and get a job with Interplanetary Finance. I've taken measures. Top security. I've warned off every Commissioner in UP. You can't get away from me until you reach retirement age.

Although I don't know why I care. I hate nasty tempered women. I'd love to fire her. Look, you go in and see Sid Jakes. Seems to me he said something about Tommy Paine this morning. Maybe it's a lead. I feel optimistic about you. I think you'll get this Paine troublemaker. He bounced from his chair, came around the desk and shook hands enthusiastically. Ronny took in the office's other occupant appreciatively.

She was a small girl, almost tiny. She evidently favored her Asiatic blood, her dress was traditional Chinese, slit almost to the thigh Shanghai style.

You'll be working together. Bloodhounding old Tommy Paine. A neat trick if you can pull it off. Well, are you all set to go? Ronny mumbled something to the girl in the way of amenity, then looked back at the supervisor. Lucky you, eh?

Bronston objects to having a female assistant. Sid Jakes snorted, and hurried around his desk to resume his seat. Who'd object to having a cutey like you around day in and day out? Call him Ronny.

Might as well get used to it. Two of you'll be closer than man and wife. Sid Jakes laughed easily. Especially new agents. The advantages will come home to you as you go along. This isn't her first assignment, of course.

You'll find her invaluable. The supervisor plucked a card from an order box. Can you leave within four hours? Fastest way you could possibly get there. The cruiser takes off from Neuve Albuquerque in, let's see, three hours and forty-five minutes.

The quarry is flushed and on the run. A neat trick, eh? The following hours were chaotic. There was no indication of how long a period he'd be gone. For all he knew, it might be years.

For that matter, he might never return to Earth. This Ronny Bronston had realized before he ever applied for an interplanetary appointment. Mankind was exploding through this spiral arm of the galaxy.

There was a racial enthusiasm about it all. Man's destiny lay out in the stars, only a laggard stayed home of his own accord. It was the ambition of every youth to join the snowballing avalanche of man into the neighboring stars. It took absolute severity by Earth authorities to prevent the depopulation of the planet.

But someone had to stay to administer the ever more complicated racial destiny. Earth became a clearing house for a thousand cultures, attempting, with only moderate success, to co-ordinate her widely spreading children. She couldn't afford to let her best seed depart.

Few there were, any more, allowed to emigrate from Earth. New colonies drew their immigrants from older ones. Lucky was the Earthling able to find service in interplanetary affairs, in any of the thousands of tasks that involved journey between member planets of UP. Possibly one hundredth of the population at one time or another, and for varying lengths of time, managed it.

Ronny Bronston was lucky and knew it. The thing now was to pull off this assignment and cinch the appointment for good. He packed in a swirl of confusion. He phoned a relative who lived in the part of town once known as Richmond, explained the situation and asked that the other store his things and dispose of the apartment he'd been occupying. Luckily, the roof of his apartment building was a copter-cab pickup point and he was able to hustle over to the shuttleport in a matter of a few minutes.

I've got to be at the spaceport by that time! The bottom fell out of everything. It arrives in New Delos on the 31st, Basic Earth calendar.

The 31st! Tommy Paine could be halfway across the galaxy by that time. He looked around at her. Tog Lee Chang Chu fished in her bag and came up with a wallet similar to the one in which Ronny carried his Section G badge. She held it up to the screen. Proceed to your right and through Corridor K to Exit Four. Your rocket will be there. Identify yourself to Lieutenant Economou who will be at the desk at Exit Four.

Tog turned to Ronny Bronston. He cleared his throat, feeling foolish. Why, this is my job. Was there the faintest of sarcasm in her voice?

It hadn't been more than a couple of hours ago that he had been hinting rather heavily to Sid Jakes that he needed no assistance. She even knew the layout of the West Greater Washington shuttleport. Her small body swiveled through the hurrying passengers, her small feet a-twinkle, as she led him to and down Corridor K and then to the desk at Exit Four.

Ronny anticipated her here. He flashed his own badge at the chair-borne Space Forces lieutenant there. We've got to get to Neuve Albuquerque soonest. Just a moment and I'll guide you myself. In the rocket, Ronny had time to appraise her at greater length.

She was a delicately pretty thing, although her expression was inclined to the over-serious. There was only a touch of the Mongolian fold at the corner of her eyes. On her it looked unusually good.

Her complexion was that which only the blend of Chinese and Caucasian can give. Her figure, thanks to her European blood, was fuller than Eastern Asia usually boasts; tiny, but full. Let's admit it, he decided. My assistant is the cutest trick this side of a Tri-Di movie queen, and we're going [pg ] to be thrown in the closest of juxtaposition for an indefinite time.

This comes under the head of work? What's the full story? She folded her slim hands in her lap, looking like a schoolgirl about to recite. I just happened to miss New Delos. Her mouth expressed disapproval by rucking down on the sides, which was all very attractive but also irritating. He had her there. Have two planets dropped out? What's the word on New Delos? At any rate, New Delos is a theocracy.

A priesthood elite rules it. A God-King, who is immortal, holds absolute authority. The strongest of superstition plus an efficient inquisition, keeps the people under control. Possibly the government is extremely efficient and under it the planet progressing at a rate in advance of UP averages.

It stopped him momentarily. In all his adult years, he couldn't remember ever meeting an intelligent, educated person who had been opposed to the democratic theory. Let any group come to power, by whatever means, and they'll soon tell you they're an elite. But let's get back to New Delos, from what you've said so far, the people are held in a condition of slavery.

He all but glared at her. Man made some of his outstanding progress under slavery. And do you contend that man's lot is necessarily miserable given slavery? As far back as Aesop we know of slaves who have reached the heights in their society. Slaves sometimes could and did become the virtual rulers in ancient countries. Let's get back to New Delos. What happened? No man conspires against his Deity. Supervisor Jakes informed me that it is understood by UP Intelligence, that about once every twenty years the priesthood secretly puts in a new God-King.

Plastic surgery would guarantee facial resemblance, and, of course, the rank and file citizen would probably never be allowed close enough to discover that their God-King seemed different every couple of decades.

At any rate, it's been working for some time. She shook her head. It takes a brave man to revolt against both his king and his God at the same time. No doubt about it, definitely killed. There are going to be a lot of people on New Delos wondering how it can be that an immortal God-King can die. She shifted dainty shoulders in a shrug. I suppose we'll learn when we get there.

Even on the fast Space Forces cruiser, the trip was going to take a week, and there was precious little Ronny Bronston could do until arrival. He spent most of his time reading up on New Delos and the several other planets in the UP organization which had fairly similar regimes. More than a few theocracies had come and gone during the history of man's development into the stars.

He also spent considerable time playing Battle Chess or talking with Tog and with the ship's officers. These latter were a dedicated group, high in morale, enthusiastic about their work which evidently involved the combined duties of a Navy, a Coast Guard, and a Coast and Geodetic Survey system, if we use the ocean going services of an earlier age for analogy.

They all had the dream. The enthusiasm of men participating in a [pg ] race's expansion to glory. There was the feeling, even stronger here in space than back on Earth, of man's destiny being fulfilled, that humanity had finally emerged from its infancy, that the fledgling had finally found its wings and got off the ground.

After one of his studying binges, Ronny Bronston had spent an hour or so once with the captain of the craft, while that officer stood an easy watch on the ship's bridge. There was little enough to do in space, practically nothing, but there was always an officer on watch. They leaned back in the acceleration chairs before the ship's controls and Ronny listened to the other's space lore.

Stories of far planets, as yet untouched. Stories of planets that had seemingly been suitable for colonization, but had proved disastrous for man, for this reason or that.

Not that I know of. There was an animal on Shangri-La of about the mental level of the chimpanzee. So far as I know, that's the nearest to it. There was an affectionate gleam in the captain's eye. Ronny scowled in attempted memory. The captain grunted protest. There can be theocracy and theocracy, I suppose. Actually, I imagine Shangri-La has the most, well gentle government in the system.

Ronny was interested.