"Executions—? What executions?"
"You know the edict." I held my voice very flat, very factual. "It provided that any person found in possession of a thrill-mill should be shot summarily, without trial."
"And now you want me to countermand it? You'd have me relieve those Kel-lovers of the penalty for their treason?" Angrily, Kruze gave vent to a belligerent snort. "You're even more of a fool than I thought you were, Traynor. What possible reason can you advance why I should let such scoundrels live?"
"The best reason in the world, Controller," I answered, ever so gently. "It's the only way you can even hope to stay alive yourself." And then, after an instant's pause and with a gesture of my paragun: "You see, I agree with your sentiments on treason—and I also happen to know you're the man who gave the Kel those thrill-mill gadgets in the first place!"
For an instant Kruze's knuckles went white against the desk. Then, quite suddenly, he leaned back. His head seemed to sink down between his shoulders. "You've either said too much or not enough, Traynor."
I said, "I should have recognized it from the start, of course: No alien ever could have achieved such insight into the workings of the human mind. That made our villain a man—a man so high in the Federation that he was allowed to operate under minimal conditioning or none at all; a man who had access to whatever he needed in the way of supplies or equipment or personnel, and no questions asked or answers given.
"Give a man like that a lust for power. Then throw in a stalemated war against the Kel—a war that neither side can hope to win.
"As a human among humans, our man's authority is strictly limited. Conditioned or not, our race has had enough of despots.
"But supposing he can help the Kel to victory? Mightn't they be willing to make him absolute and autocratic ruler of his kind?"