Part 4
The corridors of the level were full of running figures, most of them heading towards the elevator banks. No one paid the newly arrived pair any attention at all, although the powder-blue uniforms of the monitors predominated.
The two men strode briskly down the corridor until they came to a side passage lined with small shops that featured the specialized products of the various members of the Conference. They stopped in front of one displaying gadgets from Ehrla, then entered while the counterfeit Lund purchased a perpetual razor, having it giftwrapped. Then they wandered further, acting now like the average sightseer, until they reached a florist's shop set in an alcove at the end of the passage.
They entered, saw that there were no other customers, nodded to the salesman and continued on to the back.
"Dale!" The waiting pair leaped to their feet and spoke as one. "We thought you weren't going to make it!"
"I didn't think so myself," said Dale Vernon, the slim little man. "If Dic hadn't been there right on schedule, there'd be nothing left of me but a few bloody shreds. Those people were _mad_!" His voice showed respect for the strength of their emotions. "What's the news?"
"The Park monitors found the real Lund about twenty minutes ago."
"Good timing. Any sooner, and the fun upstairs would have been different."
"And you know who is screaming for the dissolving of the Conference."
"So soon?"
"They, uh, you might say had an inside lead as to what was going to happen."
"It's a little early to tell," added the other man, "but apparently the operation was a success. The proper wheels have been set in motion, at least. We'll have to keep applying grease from time to time in the next forty-eight hours, but I think we can forget about the Ehrlan problem--during this conference, at least. Ten years from now, they'll have an entirely different set of plans for the reformation of the galaxy. And we'll have to come up with an entirely different way of crossing them."
* * * * *
"Do-gooders!" snorted the first man.
"You must admit, they have the best of intentions," said Vernon.
"But intentions aren't enough," added the other. "Man is an imperfect creature at best, and his best is a rare occurrence indeed. We have to deal with practicalities. Perfection is beyond us, and we'd be idiots to try and enforce it. That's the basic difference between us and the Ehrlans--we know what we can and can't do. They know only what they would like to do. And that makes them the most dangerous force loose in the galaxy today."
* * * * *
"To sum it up," said Reilly, getting up and going to the window, "ours is not a life of glory and fame." Another battalion marched out onto the field below and began the familiar maneuvers. "We work hard and receive little thanks--if, indeed, we receive any thanks at all. The life is strenuous. The work is demanding. And over all of us rides the constant specter of failure, for we are not perfect. Nor do we want to be.
"It is a lonely life for some: it is a short life for others. But for all of us, it's something more." He turned and faced the boys again. "It is the chance to be something more than just a man, for a man is a selfish creature. And it is the most rewarding life I know.
"Any questions, gentlemen?"