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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 discovered, by accident, what a small group of Controllers, alone in space, could do, he had set up the present machinery.

As soon as a Controller was spotted, a careful frame-up was arranged. Then, when several had been found, they were arrested in quick succession and sent to the asteroids.

Always and invariably, they had done what Houston’s group had done–the sane or potentially sane ones had improved themselves tremendously, while the megalomaniacs had lapsed into catatonia.

“Why couldn’t it be done on Earth?” Houston asked.

“We tried it,” Reinhardt said. “It didn’t work. Safe, on Earth, surrounded by Normals, a Controller still feels the hatred around him. He can’t open his mind completely. Only the certain knowledge of impending death, and a complete freedom from the hatred of Normals can free the mind.

“And that’s why you couldn’t be told beforehand; if you knew you were going to be rescued, you wouldn’t open up.”

Houston nodded. It made sense. “Where are we now?” he asked.

“Antarctica,” said Reinhardt. “We’ve built an outpost here–almost self-sufficient. When you’re in better shape physically, I’ll show you around.”

“Do you mean that everyone who’s been arrested is here, in Antarctica?”

* * * * *

Reinhardt laughed. “No, not by a long shot. Most of us are back out in civilization, searching for new, undiscovered Controllers, so that we can frame them. And, of course, some of us–the insane ones–have died. They will themselves to die when the going gets too tough.”

“Searching for recruits? Then the Group that Dorrine was working for was–“

Reinhardt shook his head. “No. They were going about it the wrong way, just as you thought. We picked up the whole lot of them last week; they’re occupying the asteroids now.”

“What do you do with the insane catatonics?”

“Put them under hibernene and keep them alive. We hope, someday, to figure out a method of restoring their sanity. Until then, let them sleep.”

Houston narrowed his eyes. “How long have you known I was a Controller, Reinhardt?”

The Prussian smiled. “Ever since you first tried to probe me. Fortunately, my training enabled me to put up a shield that you couldn’t penetrate; I seemed like a Normal to you.

“I kept you on because I knew you’d be useful in cracking Lasser and his gang when the time came. No one else could have done what you did that night.”