Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Gleb Andorin watched Gambol Deen Namarti trudging up and down. Namarti was obviously unable to sit still under the driving force of the violence of his passion.

Andorin thought: He’s not the brightest man in the Empire or even in the movement, not the shrewdest, certainly not the most capable of rational thought. He has to be held back constantly—but he’s driven as none of the rest of us are. We would give up, let go, but he won’t. Push, pull, prod, kick. —Well, maybe we need someone like that. We must have someone like that or nothing will ever happen.

Namarti stopped, as though he felt Andorin’s eyes boring into his back. He turned around and said, “If you’re going to lecture me again on Kaspalov, don’t bother.”

Andorin shrugged lightly. “Why bother lecturing you? The deed is done. The harm—if any—has been done.”

“What harm, Andorin? What harm? If I had not done it, then we would have been harmed. The man was on the edge of being a traitor. Within a month, he would have gone running—”

“I know. I was there. I heard what he said.”

“Then you understand there was no choice. No choice. You don’t think I liked to have an old comrade killed, do you? I had no choice.”

“Very well. You had no choice.”

Namarti resumed his tramping, then turned again. “Andorin, do you believe in gods?”

Andorin stared, “In what?”

“In gods.”

“I never heard the word. What is it?”

Namarti said, “It’s not Galactic Standard. Supernatural influences. How’s that?”

“Oh, supernatural influences. Why didn’t you say so? No, I don’t believe in that sort of thing. By definition, something is supernatural if it exists outside the laws of nature and nothing exists outside the laws of nature. Are you turning into a mystic?” Andorin asked it as though he were joking, but his eyes narrowed with sudden concern.

Namarti stared him down. Those blazing eyes of his could stare anyone down. “Don’t be a fool. I’ve been reading about it. Trillions of people believe in supernatural influences.”

“I know,” said Andorin. “They always have.”

“They’ve done so since before the beginning of history. The word ‘gods’ is of unknown origin. It is, apparently, a hangover from some primeval language of which no trace any longer exists, except that word. —Do you know how many different varieties of beliefs there are in various kinds of gods?”

“Approximately as many as the varieties of fools among the Galactic population, I should say.”

Namarti ignored that. “Some people think the word dates back to the time when all humanity existed on but a single world.”

“Itself a mythological concept. That’s just as lunatic as the notion of supernatural influences. There never was one original human world.”

“There would have to be, Andorin,” said Namarti, annoyed. “Human beings can’t have evolved on different worlds and ended as a single species.”

“Even so, there’s no effective