The gleaming tube car ejected him and continued on its way, disappearing down the tube. Harl bounded agilely into the receiving strip and slowed to a stop, still on his feet, swaying expertly back and forth.
A few minutes later he reached the entrance to his father's office. Harl raised his hand and the code door slid back. He entered, his heart thumping with excitement. The time had come.
Edward Boynton was in the planning department studying the outline for a new robot bore when he was informed that his son had entered the main office.
"I'll be right back," Boynton said, making his way past his policy staff and up the ramp into the office.
"Hello, Dad," Harl exclaimed, squaring his shoulders. Father and son exchanged handclasps.
Then Harl sat down slowly. "How are things?" he asked. "I guess you expected me."
Then Harl sat down slowly. "How are things?" he asked. "I guess you expected me."
Harl smiled thinly across at his father. In his brown industrial-planner uniform, Edward Boynton towered above his young son, a massive man with broad shoulders and thick blond hair. His blue eyes were cold and hard as he returned the young man's level gaze.
"I happened to come into some information." Harl glanced uneasily around the room. "Your office isn't tapped, is it?"
"Of course not," the elder Boynton assured him.
"No screens or ears?" Harl relaxed a little. "I've learned that you and several others from your department are going up to the surface soon." Harl leaned eagerly toward his father. "Up to the surface -on a raid for saps."
Ed Boynton's face darkened. "Where did you hear that?" He gazed intently at his son. "Did anyone in this department -- ?"
"No," Harl said quickly. "No one informed. I picked up the information on my own, in connection with my educational activities."
Ed Boynton began to understand. "I see. You were experimenting with channel taps, cutting across the confidential channels. Like they teach you to do in communications."
"That's right. I happened to pick up a conversation between you and Robin Turner concerning the raid."
The atmosphere in the room became easier, more friendly. Ed Boynton relaxed, settling back in his chair. "Go on," he urged.
"It was mere chance. I had cut across ten or twelve channels, holding each one for only a second. I was using the Youth League equipment. All at once I recognized your voice. So I stayed on and caught the whole conversation."
"Then you heard most of it."
Harl nodded. "Exactly when are you going up, Dad? Have you set an exact date?"
Ed Boynton frowned. "No," he said, "I haven't. But it will be sometime this week. Almost everything is arranged."
"How many are going?" Harl asked.
"We're taking up one mother ship and about thirty eggs. All from this department."
"Thirty eggs? Sixty or seventy men."
"That's right." Ed Boynton stared intently at his son. "It won't be a big raid. Nothing compared to some of the Directorate raids of the past few years."
"But big enough for a single department."
Ed Boston's eyes flickered. "Be careful, Harl. If such loose talk should get out --"
"I know. I cut the recorder off as soon as I picked up the drift of your talk. I know what would happen if the Directorate found out a department was raiding without authorization -- for its own factories."
"Do you really know? I wonder."
"One mother ship and thirty eggs," Harl exclaimed, ignoring the remark. "You'll be on the surface for about forty hours?"
"About. It depends on what luck we have."
"How many saps are you after?"
"We need at least two dozen," the elder Boynton replied.
"Males?"
"For the most part. A few females, but males primarily."
"For the basic-industry factory units, I assume." Harl straightened in his chair. "All right, then. Now that I know more about the raid itself I can get down to business."
He stared hard at his father.
"Business?" Boynton glanced up sharply. "Precisely what do you mean?"
"My exact reason for coming down here." Harl leaned across the desk toward his father, his voice clipped and intense. "I'm going along with you on the raid. I want to go along -- to get some saps for myself."
"My exact reason for coming down here." Harl leaned across the desk toward his father, his voice clipped and intense. "I'm going along with you on the raid. I want to go along -- to get some saps for myself."
The inner door slid back, and Robin Turner came quickly into the office. He joined Boynton behind the desk.
"He can't go," Turner said flatly. "It would increase the risks tenfold."
Harl glanced up. "There was an ear in here, then."
"Of course. Turner always listens in." Ed Boynton nodded, regarding his son thoughtfully. "Why do you want to go along?"
"That's my concern," Harl said, his lips tightening.
Turner rasped: "Emotional immaturity. A sub-rational adolescent craving for adventure and excitement. There's still a few like him who can't throw the old brain completely off. After two hundred years you'd think --"
"Is that it?" Boynton demanded. "You have some non-adult desire to go up and see the surface?"
"Perhaps," Harl admitted, flushing a little.
"You can't come," Ed Boynton stated emphatically. "It's far too dangerous. We're not going up there for romantic adventure. It's a job -- a grim, hard, exacting job. The saps are getting wary. It's becoming more and more difficult to bring back a full load. We can't spare any of our eggs for whatever romantic foolishness --"
"I know it's getting hard," Harl interrupted. "You don't have to convince me that it's almost impossible to round up a whole load." Harl looked up defiantly at Turner and his father. He chose his words carefully. "And I know that's why the Directorate considers private raids a major crime against the State."
Silence.
Finally, Ed Boynton sighed, a reluctant admiration in his stare. He looked his son slowly up and down. "Okay, Harl," he said. "You win."
Turner said nothing. His face was hard.
Harl got quickly to his feet. "Then it's all settled. I'll return to my quarters and get prepared. As soon as you're ready to go, notify me at once. I'll join you at the launching stage on the first level."
The elder Boynton shook his head. "We're not leaving from the first level. It would be too risky." His voice was heavy. "There are too many Directorate guards prowling around. We have the ship down here at fifth level, in one of the warehouses."
"Where shall I meet you, then?"
Ed Boynton stood up slowly. "We'll notify you, Harl. It will be soon, I promise you. In a couple of periods, at the most. Be at our vocational quarters."
"The surface is completely cool, isn't it?" Harl asked. "There aren't any radioactive areas left?"
"It's been cool for fifty years," his father assured him.
"Then I won't have to worry about a radiation shield," Harl said. "One more thing, Dad. What language will we have to use? Can we speak our regular --"
Ed Boynton shook his head. "No. The saps never mastered any of the rational semantic systems. We'll have to revert to the old traditional forms."
Harl's face fell. "I don't know any of the traditional forms. They're not being taught anymore."
Ed Boynton shrugged. "It doesn't matter."
"How about their defenses? What sort of weapons should I bring? Will a screen and blast rifle be sufficient?"
"Only the screen is of vital importance," the elder Boynton said. "When the saps see us they scatter in all directions. One look at us and off they go."