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"I was simply answering your questions, sir."

"I'm afraid I asked the wrong question. Your mother is not able to take the answers impersonally. Catherine, there isn't the slightest chance of the North American Union being bombed. Tell her that, Matt-I think she'll believe you."

Matt had remained silent. His father had insisted, "Go ahead, Matt. Catherine, after all, it's our Patrol. For all practical purposes the other nations don't count. A majority of the Patrol officers are from North America, That's true, Matt, isn't it?"

"I've never thought about it I guess so."

"Very well. Now, Catherine, you can't imagine Matt bombing Des Moines, now can you? And that is what it amounts to. Tell, her, Matt."

"But- Dad, you don't know what you are saying!"

"What? What's that, young man!"

"I-" Matt had looked around him, then had gotten up very suddenly and left the room.

His father came into his room some time later. "Matt?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Look, Matt, I let the conversation get out of hand tonight. I'm sorry and I don't blame you for getting upset. Your mother, you know. I try to protect her. Women get worked up so easily."

"It's all right, Dad. I'm sorry I walked out"

"No matter. Let's forget it. There's just one thing I feel we ought to get straight on. I know that you feel loyal to the Patrol and its ideals and it's good that you should, but-well, you are a little young still to see the political realities involved, but you must know that the Patrol could not bomb the North American Union."

"It would in a show down!"

"But there won't be any show down. Even if there were, you couldn't bomb your own people and neither could your shipmates."

Matt thought about it, fiercely. He remembered Commander Rivera-one of the Four, of the proud Tradition-how Rivera, sent down to reason with the official in his own capital, his very native city, had kept the trust. Suspecting that he might be held as hostage, he had left orders to go ahead with the attack unless he returned in person to cancel the orders. Rivera, whose body was decaying radioactive dust but whose name was mustered whenever a unit of the Patrol called the roll.

His father was still talking. "Of course, the Patrol has to patrol this continent just as it patrols all through the

System. It would look bad, otherwise this is no reason to frighten women with an impossibility."

"I'd rather not talk about it, Dad."

Matt glanced at his watch and figured how long it would be until the New Moon reached Terra Station. He wished he could sleep, like the others. He was sure now what it was that had changed his mind about resigning and remaining in Des Moines. It was not a desire to emulate Rivera. No, it was an accumulation of things-all of them adding up to just one idea, that little Mattie didn't live there any more!

For the first few weeks after leave, Matt was too busy to fret. He .had to get back into the treadmill, with more studying to do and less time to do it in. He was on the watch list for cadet officer of the watch now, and had more laboratory periods in electronics and nucleonics as well. Besides this he shared with other oldsters the responsibility for bringing up the youngster cadets. Before; leave his evenings had usually been free for study, now he coached youngsters in astrogation three nights a week.

He was beginning to think that he would have to give up space polo, when he found himself elected captain of the Hog Alley team. Then he was busier than ever. He hardly thought about abstract problems until his next session; with Lieutenant Wong. j

"Good afternoon," his coach greeted him. "How's your class in astrogation?" 1

"Oh, that - It seems funny to be teaching it instead of flunking it." ;

"That's why you're stuck with it-you still remember what it was that used to stump you and why. How about atomics?"

"Well ... I suppose I'll get by, but 111 never be an Einstein."

"I'd be amazed if you were. How are you getting along otherwise?" Wong waited.

"All right, I. guess. Do you know, Mr. Wong-when I went] on leave I didn't intend to come back."

"I rather thought so. That space-marines notion was just your way of dodging around, trying to avoid your real problem."

"Oh. Say, Mr. Wong-tell me straight. Are you a regular Patrol officer, or a psychiatrist?"

Wong almost grinned. "I'm a regular Patrol officer, Matt, but I've had the special training required for this job."

"Uh, I see. What was it I was running away from?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"I don't know where to start."

"Tell me about your leave, then. We've got all afternoon."

"Yes, sir." Matt meandered along, telling as much as he could remember. "So you see," he concluded, "it was a lot of little things. I was home-but I was a stranger. We didn't talk the same language."

Wong chuckled. "I'm not laughing at you," he apologized. "It isn't funny. We all go through it-the discovery that there's no way to go back. It's part of growing up- but with spacemen it's an especially acute and savage process."

Matt nodded. "I'd already gotten that through my thick head. Whatever happens I won't go back-not to stay. I might go into the merchant service, but I'll stay in space."

"You're not likely to flunk out at this stage, Matt."

"Maybe not, but I don't know yet that the Patrol is the place for me. That's what bothers me."

"Well... can you tell me about it?"

Matt tried. He related the conversation with his fattier and his mother that had gotten them all upset. "It's this: if it comes to a show down, I'm expected to bomb my own home town. I'm not sure it's in me to do it. Maybe I don't belong here."

"Not likely to come up, Matt. Your father was right there."

"That's not the point. If a Patrol officer is loyal to his oath only when, it's no skin off his own nose, then the whole system breaks down."

Wong waited before replying. "If the prospect of bombing your own town, your own family, didn't worry you, I'd have you out of this ship within the hour-you'd be an utterly dangerous man. The Patrol doesn't expect a man to have godlike perfection. Since men are imperfect, the Patrol works on the principle of calculated risk. The chance of a threat to the System coming from your hometown in your lifetime is slight; the chance that you might be called on to carry out the attack is equally slight-you might be away on Mars. Taking the two chances together you have something close to zero.

"But if you did hit the jackpot, your commanding officer would probably lock you up in your room rather than take a chance on you."

Matt still looked troubled. "Not satisfied?" Wong went on. "Matt, you are suffering from a disease of youth-you expect moral problems to have nice, neat, black-and-white answers. Suppose you relax and let me worry about whether or not you have what it takes. Oh, some day you'll be caught in a squeeze and no one around to tell you the right answer. But I have to decide whether or not you can get the right answer when the problem comes along- and I don't, even know what your problem will be how would you like to be in my boots?"

Matt grinned sheepishly. "I wouldn't like it."

XI P.R.S. AES TRIPLEX

OSCAR, MATT, AND TEX were gathered in their common room just before lunch when Pete bounced in. Literally so-he caromed off the door frame and zipped into the room, shouting, "Hey, fellows!"

Oscar grabbed his arms as he rebounded from the inner wall. "Cut your jet and ground-what's the excitement?"

Peter turned in the air and faced them. "The new 'Passed' list is posted!"

"Who's on it?"

"Don't know-just heard about it. Come on!"

They streamed after him. Tex came abreast of Matt and said, "I don't know why I should be getting in a sweat-I won't be on it."

"Pessimist!" They turned out of Hog Alley, went inboard three decks, and forward. There was a clot of cadets gathered around the bulletin board outside the watch office. They crowded in.