The Dictator greeted Euge with a man-to-man warmth he did not use toward those to whom he was something much like a god. "Well, doctor, how is the health of your virus? And of those who have sampled it?"
The scientist said quietly, "Of the sixteen specimens you sent me, all but one died within ten days after inoculation."
"Ah? And the one?"
"That is the strange thing. It would seem that—the virus has some preference in victims."
The Dictator blinked, his most marked expression of surprise. "Explain!"
Euge's face was unreadable. "Before I go into details," he suggested, "let us consider the nature of the perfect biological weapon."
"Perhaps you have discovered the perfect weapon?" The Dictator frowned; "you are being obscure."
"Then," said Euge stolidly, "suppose I put it negatively. What is wrong with most biological weapons?"
"They are treacherous."