"Stand, Jim Simson!"
All hope of escape was gone.
They came to either side of him, stun weapons levelled, and led him to the shadows of the house where they had hidden their helicar.
He tried to turn to see Amelia as they forced him to walk between them to the back seat of the car.
She was lovely, and lonely in the moonlight, a figure lost and bewildered. How he wished he could go back, and crush her in his arms again.
Hours later, in the subdued glow of the office of United Medics, he cried:
"Why can't you let me alone? Why can't you forget about me? I changed my name. I concealed myself—a farmer among farmers. Why did you hunt me down?"
To the right of the door stood the two guards who had brought him. Their faces were impassive, as was the face of the man at the desk, the man named Dr. Crawsin.
He asked Jim: "Why didn't you answer our letters requesting you to present yourself for this interview. Why did you make it necessary for us to use force?"
"Did you really expect me to come here voluntarily—to be destroyed!"