he smiled. "Please relax," he said. "I am only a biological technician; not an executioner."

Two hours later Stephen emerged from the tent, perspiring, and found that the revel in the encampment continued unabated even at this time of morning. Few suspected what had been going on in Turpan's tent. These few now anxiously awaited his verdict.

"How did it go?" the former Planner of Flight One asked. "Was—the equipment satisfactory? The drugs and chalones sufficient?"

He nodded wearily. "The character change appears to have been complete enough. The passivity will grow, of course." A group of men and women were playing a variety of hide-and-seek, with piercing shouts and screams, among the shadows of the tents, and it was no child's game.

"Don't worry about them," the Planner said. "They'll be over it in the morning. Most of them have never had anything to drink before. Our dictator's methods may have been cruder than we intended, but they've certainly broken the ice."

"When will we see—Turpan?" someone asked. It was Ellen.

Stephen had not known that she was waiting. "Any moment now, I believe," he said. "I will go in and see what is keeping him."

He returned in a few seconds. "A matter of clothing," he said with a smile. "I warned you that there would be a complete character change."

The garments were supplied. Stephen took them in. The floodlight had been turned off now, and it was fairly dark in the tent.

"Hurry up," Stephen said gently.

"I can't—I cannot do it!"

"Oh, but you can. You can start all over now. Few of the colonists ever knew you by sight. I am sure that you will be warmly enough received."

Stephen came out. Ellen searched his face. "It will not be much longer now," he told her.

"And to think that I doubted you!"

"I am only a technician," he said.

"There are one hundred and sixty-two male high scientists upon this island," she said, coming forward and putting her arms around him, "but only one, solid, unimaginative, blessed technician. It makes a 

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