He stepped aside, revealing a viewscreen behind him; when he pressed a button, the screen lighted; on it was a stationary picture of Kostran Galth as Salgath Trod, his right hand raised in front of him.

“Now watch this.  I’m going to step up the magnification, slowly, so that you can be sure there’s no substitution.  Camera a little closer, Trath!”

The screen in the background seemed to advance, until it filled the entire screen.  Yandar Yadd was still talking, out of the picture; a metal-tipped pointer came into the picture, touching the right thumb, which grew larger and larger until it was the only thing visible.

“Now here,” Yandar Yadd’s voice continued.  “Any of you who are familiar with the ancient science of dactyloscopy will recognize this thumb as having the ridge-pattern known as a ‘twin loop.’  Even with the high degree of magnification possible with the microgrid screen, we can’t bring out the individual ridges, but the pattern is unmistakable.  I ask you to memorize that image, while I show you another right thumb print, this time a certified photo-copy of the thumb print of the real Salgath Trod.”  The magnification was reduced a little, a card was moved into the picture, and it was stepped up again.  “See, this thumb print is of the type known as a ‘tented arch.’  Observe the difference.”

“That does it!” Zostha Olv cried.  “Karf, for the first and last time, let me remind you that I opposed this lunacy from the beginning.  Now, what are we going to do next?”

“I suggest that we get to Headquarters as soon as we can,” Tortha Karf said.  “If we wait too long, we may not be able to get in.”

Yandar Yadd was back on the screen, denouncing Tortha Karf passionately.  Tortha went over and snapped it off.

“I suggest we transpose to PolTerm,” Lovranth Rolk said.  “It won’t be so easy for them to serve a summons on us there.”

“You can go to PolTerm if you want to,” Tortha Karf retorted.  “I’m going to stay here and fight back, and if they try to serve me with a summons, they’d better send a robot for a process server.”

“Fight back!” Zostha Olv echoed.  “You can’t fight the Council and the whole Management!  They’ll tear you into inch bits!”

“I can hold them off till Vall’s able to raid those Abzar Sector bases,” Tortha Karf said.  He thought for a moment.  “Maybe this is all for the best, after all.  If it distracts the Organization’s attention—­”

* * * * *

“I wish we could have made a boomerang-ball reconnaissance,” Ranthar Jard was saying, watching one of the viewscreens, in which a film, taken from an airboat transposed to an adjoining Abzar sector time line, was being shown.  The boat had circled over the Ganges, a mere trickle between wide, deeply cut banks, and was crossing a gullied plain, sparsely grown with thornbush.  “The base ought to be about there, but we have no idea what sort of changes this gang has made.”