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The Vininese came forward suddenly and pulled aside the torn cloth at the throat of Dirrul’s tunic.

“But you–you must have a disk!” The Vininese was suddenly frightened. “There is no tourist stamp on your arm. I don’t understand.”

“Paul Sorgel loaned me his when I left Agron.” Dirrul felt in his tunic pocket. “He said I was to give it to the Chief when I made my report but if you must see it now–“

“No, no–by all means, keep it.” The tall man’s voice was pleasant again. “I was simply afraid that someone might have come who–but it is nothing. I am weary from all this vigilance against the vagabonds. It is hard to think realistically.”

“I was surprised to see so much lawlessness on Vinin.”

“Then you’re very naive, my friend. There’s an element like that among all people, although I must admit ours here have suddenly become excessively active. Their attacks are so systematic and so well-organized! Hardly a night passes without trouble at a work camp or a transmitter station.

“Your transmitters are different from ours. Have you developed an improvement in technique?”

“They are, curious, aren’t they? You must ask the Chief to tell you all about them.” The Vininese chuckled with delight. “I wouldn’t want to spoil his surprise by letting you in on the secret first.”

VII

The Vininese drove Dirrul to the city in a heavily armed surface car. Two of the infantrymen sat behind them, their rocket guns ready on their knees. It was testimony to the efficiency and organization of Vinin that such a finished reception could be prepared on such short notice. Dirrul’s first intimation of the scope of the ceremony came when they stopped at a school to be cheered by the pupils.

Rank upon rank of boys and girls lined up smartly behind the high wire fence. They ranged in ages from tots, barely able to stand, to young people in late adolescence. Except for the round metal disks, which all of them wore, they were completely naked.

“Clothing breeds such false modesty and so many foolish frustrations,” Dirrul’s host explained. “On Vinin every child is reared in completely objective equality. As soon as we take them from their parents–about the time when they’re first learning to walk–we give them identification disks. Before that, when they’re in the instinct period, the disks aren’t necessary.

“After their basic education we classify them. The leader-class is issued permanent disks and the others give theirs up. The adjustment is something very severe but on the whole the casualties are light.” Suddenly the Vininese seized Dirrul’s hand and looked into his eyes. “I trust you follow me, my friend?”

“Yes,” Dirrul answered. Reason led him to a conclusion as he looked at the massed children, a conclusion he could not bring himself to face. He felt a new kind of fear, as cold as the depths of space and as devoid of emotion. Instead of trusting to his own logic Dirrul struggled to find a flaw in it–for a man cannot easily watch his dream turn to dust in his hands.

They drove on into the city. Rows of men and women in working clothes lined the streets, cheering wildly in unison. Crossed Vininese flags were draped between the buildings and brave-colored streamers danced in the wind.

“A reception is good for them,” the Vininese said. “We need heroes occasionally. It’s fortunate you came when you did. The vagabonds have had a disturbing effect on morale and it’s impossible to suppress the news entirely.”

The vehicle stopped before the towering government building. Dirrul was led up a flight of stone steps to a wide porch overlooking the mass of cheering upturned faces in the public square. He stood motionless while speeches were made and gay ribbon was draped around his neck. The air shook with bright explosions–a huge flag was unfurled over the porch–band music began to blare and a tidal wave of precision-trained Vininese infantry wheeled into the square.