of genes, and my field is—?”

“Chain reactions,” Collins finished softly, “but—”

“The article itself is well disguised, but it's a parable. It's botany on the surface, but it gets over enough chain-reaction theory to be good physics, if you read it right. You see botany is what you might call my code field.”

The bright light of noon shimmered on the white buildings and green lawns beyond the lab windows. Collins was silent and thoughtful.

“Well, that's about all. Gordon knows. He's in with us, but the Government doesn't suspect—yet. Oh, they may catch on to us. Information may leak out to the enemy. There's some chance, but when we're caught we'll think of something else. Most of us believe it's worth the chance. There's a risk in anything.”

Suddenly all the pieces fell into place, and Collins' anger and confusion melted away. In its place was a sense of relief and hope, hope for the future. It wasn't the final answer, but it was a way to keep going. He was not alone any longer. He had friends who understood, who had been through what he had been through. It was a good feeling. He heard Mason's voice again.

“Milt, why don't you do some library work? Botany's my code field. I don't know what yours is, but you've got some catching up to do. There may be some interesting stuff published already in your code field.”

Collins did, and he developed his new interest enthusiastically. Gordon had been right. He had been getting stale. Besides, astronomy was a fascinating field, and suns with their revolving planets in some respects are very like atomic systems, if you look at it that way.

THE END

Transcriber's Note:
This e-text was produced from Astounding Science Fiction October 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.