The Secretary of State, Lament Finney, was a career politician who had served some fifteen years in the legislature and whose relations with the Council of Science had never been overwhelmingly friendly. He was aging now, not in the best of health, and inclined to be querulous. Officially he headed the Terrestrial delegation to Vesta. In actuality, though, Conway understood quite well that he, himself, as head of the Council, must be prepared to take full responsibility for failure-if there was failure.

Finney made that clear even before the ship, one of Earth's largest space liners, took off.

He said, "The press is almost uncontrollable. You're in a bad spot, Conway."

"All Earth is."

"You, Conway."

Conway said gloomily, "Well, I am under no illusions that if things go badly the Council can expect support from the government."

"I'm afraid not." The Secretary of State was strapping himself in with meticulous care against the rigors of take-off and making certain that his bottle of anti-space-sickness pills were handy. "Government support for you would only mean the downfall of the government, and there will be enough troubles with a war emergency. We can't afford political instability."

Conway thought: He has no confidence in the outcome of the conference at all. He expects the war.

He said, "Listen, Finney, if the worst does come to the worst, I will need voices on my side to help pre vent Councilman Starr's reputation from-... "

Finney lifted his gray head momentarily from the hydraulic cushion and stared at the other out of fading, troubled eyes. "Impossible. Your Councilman went into Saturn on his own, asked no permission, received no orders. He was willing to take the risks. If things turn out badly, he is done. What else can we do?"

"You know he... "

"I don't know," said the politician violently. "I know nothing officially. You've been in public life long enough to know that under certain conditions the people need a scapegoat and insist on one. Councilman Starr will be the scapegoat."

He leaned back again, closed his eyes, and Conway leaned back beside him. Elsewhere in the ship others were in their places, and the far thunder of the engines started up and rose in pitch as the ship raised itself slowly from the launching pad and lifted toward the sky.

The Shooting Starr hovered a thousand miles above Vesta, caught in its feeble gravity and circling it slowly with engines blocked. Grappled to it was a small lifeboat from the Sirian mother ship.

Serviceman Zayon had left The Shooting Starr to join the Sirian delegation on Vesta, and a robot remained behind in his place. In the lifeboat was Big-man, and with him Serviceman Yonge.

Lucky had been surprised when Yonge's face first stared out at him in the receiver. He said, "What are you doing out in space? Is Bigman with you?"

"He is. I'm his guard. I suppose you expected a robot."

"Yes, I did. Or won't they trust Bigman with a robot after last time?"

"No, this is just Devoure's little way of seeing to it that I don't attend the conference. It's a slap at the Service."

Lucky said, "Serviceman Zayon will be there."

"Zayon," Yonge sniffed. "He is an adequate man, but he's a follower. He can't realize that there's more to the Service than blindly obeying orders from above; that we owe it to Sinus to see to it that she is ruled according to the inflexible principles of honor that guide the Service itself."

Lucky said, "How is Bigman?"

"Well enough. He seems unhappy. It's strange that such an odd-looking person should have a sterner sense of duty and honor than a person like yourself."

Lucky clamped his lips together. There was little time left, and it worried him whenever either Service man began speculating about Lucky's loss of honor. From that it was a step to wondering if Lucky might by some chance have retained his honor, and then they might wonder what his intentions really were, and after that...

Yonge shrugged. "Well, I called only to make sure all was well. I am responsible for your welfare until, in good time, we get you down before the conference."

"Wait, Serviceman. You performed a service for me back on Titan... "

"I did nothing for you. I followed the dictates of duty."

"Nevertheless, you saved Bigman's life and mine, too, perhaps. It may so happen that when the conference is over you may consider your life in danger."

"My life?"

Lucky said carefully, "Once I have given evidence, Devoure may for one reason or another decide to get rid of you despite the risk of having Sirians find out about his fight with Bigman."

Yonge laughed bitterly. "He wasn't seen once on the trip out here. He was waiting in his cabin for his face to heal. I'm safe enough."

"Just the same, if you consider yourself in danger, approach Hector Conway, Chief Councilman of Science. My word on it that he will accept you as a political exile."

"I suppose you mean that kindly," said Yonge, "but I think that after the conference it will be Conway who will have to seek political asylum." Yonge broke connections.

And Lucky was left to look down at gleaming Vesta and to think sadly that, after all, the chances were heavily in favor of Yonge's being right

Vesta was one of the largest of the asteroids. It was not the size of Ceres, which was more than five hundred miles in diameter and a giant among asteroids, but its 215-mile span put it into the second class, where only two other asteroids, Pallas and Juno, competed with it.

As seen from Earth, Vesta was the brightest of the asteroids because of the chance that had composed its outermost shell so largely of calcium carbonate rather than the darker silicates and metallic oxides that made up the other, asteroids.

Scientists speculated on this odd divergence in chemical constitution (which had not been suspected until an actual landing was made upon it; before that the ancient astronomers had wondered if Vesta lay under a coat of ice or frozen carbon dioxide) but had come to no conclusion. And the feature writers took to calling it the "world of marble."

The "world of marble" had been converted into a naval base in the first days of the fight with the space pirates of the asteroid belt. The natural caverns under its surface had been enlarged and made airtight, and there had been room to store a fleet and house two years of provisions for it.

Now the naval base was more or less obsolete, but with small changes the caverns could be (and had been) made a most suitable meeting ground for delegates from all over the Galaxy.

Food and water supplies had been laid down, and luxuries which naval men had not required were added. As one passed the marble surface and entered the interior, there was little to distinguish Vesta from an Earthside hotel.

The Terrestrial delegation as the hosts (Vesta was Terrestrial territory; not even the Sirians could dispute that) assigned the quarters and saw to it that the delegates were comfortable. This meant the adjustment of the various quarters to the slight difference in gravity and atmospheric conditions to which the delegates might be accustomed. Those from Warren, for instance, had the quarters air-conditioned to a moderate chill to allow for the frigid climate of their home planet.

It was not an accident that greatest pains were taken for the delegation from Elam. It was a small world circling a red dwarf star. Its environment was such that one would not have supposed human beings could flourish there. Yet the very deficiencies were turned into account by the restless ingenuity of the human species.

There was not enough light to allow Earth-type plants to grow properly, so artificial lights were used and special breeds were cultivated, until Elamite grains and agricultural products generally were not merely adequate but of superior quality that could not be duplicated elsewhere in the Galaxy. Elamite prosperity rested on her agricultural exports in a way that other worlds more favored by nature could not match.

Probably as a result of the poor light of Elam 's sun, there was no biological favoring of skin pigmentation. The inhabitants were fak-skinned almost to extremes.

The head of the Elamite delegation, for instance, was almost an albino. He was Agas Doremo, for more than thirty years the recognized leader of the neutralist forces in the Galaxy. In every question that arose between Earth and Sinus (which, of course, represented the extreme anti-Terrestrial forces of the Galaxy) he held the balance even.

Conway counted on him to do so in this case too. He entered the quarters assigned to the Elamite with an air of friendship. He took care to keep from being overeffusive and shook hands warmly. He blinked in the low-pitched, red-tinged light and accepted a glass of native Elamite brew.

Doremo said, "Your hair has grown white since last I saw you, Conway-as white as mine."

"It has been many years since we last met, Doremo."

"Then it hasn't grown white just these last few months?"

Conway smiled ruefully. "It would have, I think, if it had been dark to begin with."

Doremo nodded and sipped his drink. He said, "Earth has let itself be placed in a most uncomfortable position."

"So it has, and yet by all the rules of logic, Earth is in the right."

"Yes?" Doremo was noncommittal.

"I don't know how much thought you've given this matter... "

"Considerable."

"Or how willing you are to discuss the matter in advance... "

"Why not? The Sirians have been at me."

"Ah. Already?"

"I stopped off at Titan on the way in." Doremo shook his head, "They've got a beautiful base there, as I could see once they supplied me with dark glasses- it's the horrible blue light of Sinus that spoils things, of course. You have to give them credit, Conway; they do things with a splash."

"Have you decided that they have a right to colonize Saturn?"

Doremo said, "My dear Conway, I have decided only that I want peace. A war will do no one any good. The situation, however, is this: The Sirians are in the Saturnian system. How can they be forced out of it without war?"

"There is one way," said Conway. "If the other outer worlds were to make it clear that they considered Sirius to be an invader, Sirius could not face the enmity of all the Galaxy."

"Ah, but how are the outer worlds to be persuaded to vote against Sirius?" Doremo said. "Most of them, if you'll forgive me, have a traditional suspicion of Earth, and they will tell themselves that the Saturnian system was, after all, uninhabited."

"But it has been a settled assumption since Earth first granted independence to the outer worlds, as a result of the Hegellian Doctrine, that no smaller unit than a stellar system is to be considered capable of independence. An unoccupied planetary system means nothing unless the stellar system of which it is a part is unoccupied as a whole."

"I agree with you. I admit that this has been the assumption. However, the assumption has never been put to the test. Now it will be."

"Do you think," said Conway softly, "that it would be wise to destroy the assumption, to accept a new principle that would allow any stranger to enter a system and colonize such unpopulated planets or planetoids as he may come across?"

"No," said Doremo emphatically, "I do not think so. I think it to the best interests of all of us that stellar systems continue to be considered as indivisible, but... "

"But?"

"There will be passions aroused at this conference that will make it difficult for delegates to approach matters logically. If I may presume to advise Earth... "

"Go ahead. This is unofficial and off the record."

"I would say, count on no support at this conference. Allow Sirius to remain on Saturn for the present. She will overplay her hand eventually and then you can call a second conference with higher hopes."

Conway shook his head. "Impossible. If we fail here, there will be passions aroused on our side; they are aroused already."

Doremo shrugged. "Passions everywhere. I am very pessimistic about this."

Conway said persuasively, "But if you yourself believe that Sirius ought not to be on Saturn, could you not make an effort to persuade others of this? You are a person of influence who commands the respect of the Galaxy. I don't ask you to do anything but stick by your own belief. It may make all the difference between war and peace."

Doremo put his glass aside and dabbed at his lip with a napkin. "It is what I would very much like to do, Conway, but I don't even dare to try at this conference. Sirius has matters so entirely its own way that it might be dangerous for Elam to stand against them. We are a small world... After all, Conway, if you called this conference in order to reach a peaceful solution, why did you simultaneously send war vessels into the Saturnian system?"

"Is that what the Sirians told you, Doremo?"

"Yes. They showed me some of the evidence they had. I was even shown a captured Earth ship in flight to Vesta under the magnetic grapple of a Sirian vessel. I was told that no less a person than Lucky Starr, of whom even we on Elam have heard somewhat, was on board. I understand Starr is circling off Vesta now, waiting to testify."

Slowly Conway nodded.

Doremo said, "Now if Starr admits to warlike actions against the Sirians-and he will, otherwise it is inconceivable the Sirians will allow him to testify- then it will be all the conference needs. No arguments will stand against it. Starr, I believe, is an adopted son of yours."

"In a way, yes," muttered Conway.

"That makes it worse, you see. And if you say that he acted without Earth's sanction, as I suppose you must... "

"It's true that he did," said Conway, "but I am not prepared to say what we will claim."

"If you disown him, no one will believe you. Your own son, you see. The outer-world delegates will set up the cry of 'perfidious Terrestria,' of Earth's supposed hypocrisy. Sirius will make the most of it, and 1*11 be able to do nothing. I will not even be able to cast my personal vote in favor of Earth... Earth had better give in now."

Conway shook his head. "Earth cannot."

"Then," said Doremo with infinite sadness, "it will mean war, with all of us against Earth, Conway."