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take their drugs, weren't they?" she asked, hoping for the

worst and certain she was right.

"Yes, this is drug refusal." Major Grey paused while she

relished the answer. "But I must correct you in one impres-

sion. Your proper drug levels do not assure that you will

act logically in this matter. The drugged mind is logical.

However, its fundamental datum is that the drugs and

drugged minds must be protected before everything else." He

watched Conrad's face while he added, "Because of this, it

is possible for you to arrive logically at a conclusion that. . .

death is the required solution." He paused, looking at their

white lips. Then he said, "Actually, other, more suitable solu-

tions may be possible."

"But they were refusing their drugs," she said. "You talk

as if you are defending them. Aren't you a Medicorps prose-

cutor?"

"I do not prosecute people in the ancient 20th Century

sense, Mrs. Walden. I prosecute the acts of drug refusal and

communication breaks. There is quite a difference."

"Well!" she said almost explosively. "I always knew Bill

would get into trouble sooner or later with his wild, antisocial

ideas. I never dreamed the Medicorps would take his side."

Major Grey held his breath, almost certain now that she

would walk into the trap. If she did, he could save Clara

Manz before the trial.

"After all, they have broken every communication code.

They have refused the drugs, a defiance aimed at our very

lives. They"

"Shut up!" It was the first time Conrad Manz had spoken

since he sat down. "The Medicorps spent weeks gathering

evidence and preparing their recommendations. You haven't

seen any of that and you've already made up your mind. How

logical is that? It sounds as if you want your husband dead.

Maybe the poor devil had some reason, after all, for what he

did." On the man's face there was the nearest approach to

bate that the drugs would allow.

Major Grey let his breath out softly. They were split per-

manently. She would have to trade him a mild decision on

Clara in order to save Bill. And even there, if the subsequent

evidence gave any slight hope. Major Grey believed now that

he could work on Conrad to hang the lay judgment and let

the Medicorps' scientific recommendation go through unmodi-

fied.

He let them stew in their cross-purposed silence for a while

and then nailed home a disconcerting fact.

"I think I should remind you that there are a few ad-

vantages to having your alter extinguished in the mnemonic

eraser. A man whose hyperalter has been extinguished must

report on his regular shift days to a hospital and be placed

for five days in suspended animation. This is not very healthy

for the body, but necessary. Otherwise, everyone's natural dis-

taste for his own alter and the understandable wish to spend

twice as much time living would generate schemes to have

one's alter sucked out by the eraser. That happened exten-

sively back in the 21st Century before the five-day suspension.

was required. It was also used as a 'cure' for schizophrenia,

but it was, of course, only the brutal murder of innocent

personalities."

Major Grey smiled grimly to himself. "Now I will have to

'ask you both to accompany me to the hospital. I will want

you, Mrs. Walden, to shift at once to Mrs. Manz. Mr.

Manz, you will have to remain under the close observation of

an officer until Bill Walden tries to shift back. We have to

catch him with an injection to keep him in shift."

The young medicop put the syringe aside and laid his

hand on Bill Walden's forehead. He pushed the hair back

out of Bill's eyes.

"There, Mr. Walden, you don't have to struggle now."

Bill let his breath out in a long sigh. "You've caught me.

I can't shift any more, can I?"

"That's right, Mr. Walden. Not unless we want you to."

The young man picked up his medical equipment and stepped

aside.

Bill noticed then the Medicorps officer standing in the

background. The man was watching as though he contem-

plated some melancholy distance. "I am Major Grey, Bill. I'm

handling your case."

Bill did not answer. He lay staring at the hospital ceiling.

Then he felt his mouth open in a slow grin.

"What's funny?" Major Grey asked mildly.

"Leaving my hypoalter with my wife," Bill answered can-

didly. It had already ceased to be funny to him, but he saw

Major Grey smile in spite of himself.

"They were quite upset when I found them. It must have

been some scramble before that." Major Grey came over

and sat in the chair vacated by the young man who had

just injected Bill. "You know, Bill, we will need a complete

analysis of you. We want to do everything we can to save

you, but it will require your co-operation."

Bill nodded, feeling his chest tighten. Here it came. Right

to the end they would be tearing him apart to find out

what made him work.

Major Grey must have sensed Bill's bitter will to resist.

His resonant voice was soft, his face kindly. "We must

have your sincere desire to help. We can't force you to do

anything."

"Except die," Bill said.

"Maybe helping us get the information that might save

your life at the trial isn't worth the trouble to you. But your

aberration has seriously disturbed the lives of several people.

Don't you think you owe it to them to help us to prevent

this sort of thing in the future?" Major Grey ran his hand

through his whitening hair. "I thought you would like to know

Mary will come through all right. We will begin shortly to

acclimatize her to her new appointed parents, who will be

visiting her each day. "That will accelerate her recovery a

great deal. Of course, right now she is still inaccessible."

The brutally clear picture of Mary alone in the storage-

room crashed back into Bill's mind. After a while, in such

slow stages that the beginning was hardly noticeable, he be-

gan to cry. The young medicop injected him with a sleeping

compound, but not before Bill knew he would do whatever

the Medicorps wanted.

The next day was crowded with battery after battery of

tests. The interviews were endless. He was subjected to a

hundred artificial situations and every reaction from his blood

sugar to the frequency ranges of his voice was measured.

They gave him only small amounts of drugs in order to test

his reaction to them.

Late in the evening. Major Grey came by and interrupted

an officer who was taking an electro-encephalogram for the

sixth time after injection of a drug.

"All right. Bill, you have really given us co-operation. But

after you've had your dinner, I hope you won't mind if I

come to your room and talk with you for a little while."

When Bill finished eating, he waited impatiently in his

room for the Medicorps officer. Major Grey came soon after.

He shook his head at the mute question Bill shot at him.

"No, Bill. We will not have the results of your tests evalu-

ated until late tomorrow morning. I can't tell you a thing

until the trial in any case."

"When will that be?"

"As soon as the evaluation of your tests is in." Major

Grey ran his hand over bis smooth chin and seemed to sigh.

'Tell me, Bill, how do you feel about your case? How did

you get into this situation and what do you think about it