sorry we'll have to anaesthetize you, but you've been in one position so long that moving you will be rather painful. We have to get you to a hospital quickly." The minds of the six prisoners were frantically pounding questions at the PD chief, but he gave them no answer. "No; wait until you're better." The spacesuited rescuers went to the "back" of each asteroid and injected sleep-gas into the oxygen line that ran from the tank to the spacesuit of the prisoner. Houston could smell the sweetish, pungent odor in his helmet. Just before he blacked out, he hurled one last accusing thought at Reinhardt. "You're the one who's been framing Controllers!" "Naturally, Houston," came the answer. "How else could I get you out here?" Houston woke up in a hospital bed. He was weak and hungry, but he felt no pain. As he came up from unconsciousness, he felt a fully awake mind guiding him out of the darkness. It was Reinhardt. "You're a tough man, Houston," he said mentally. "The others won't wake up for a while yet." He was sitting on a chair next to the bed, holding a smouldering cigarette in one hand. He looked strange, somehow, and it took Houston a moment to realize that there was a smile on that broad, normally expressionless face. Houston focussed his eyes on the man's face. "I want an explanation, Reinhardt," he said aloud. "And it better be a damned good one." "I give you free access to my mind," Reinhardt said. "See for yourself if my method wasn't the best one." Houston probed. The explanation, if not the best, was better than any Houston could have thought of. When the hatred of the normal-minded people of Earth had been turned against the Controllers because of the actions of a few megalomaniacs, it had become obvious that legal steps had to be taken to prevent mob violence. It had been Reinhardt himself who had suggested the Penal method to the UN government. At first, he had simply thought of it as a method to keep the Controllers alive until he could think of something better. But when he had
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