the gun.
He listened, further.
Another voice was saying, “We thought we were on the trail for a while on Hector, but it turned out it wasn't Paine. Just a group of local agitators fed up with the communist regime there. There's going to be a blood bath on Hector, before they're through, but it doesn't seem to be Paine's work this time.”
Tog's voice was musing. “Well, you never know, it sounds like the sort of muck he likes to play in.”
The strange voice said argumentatively, “Well, Hector needs a few fundamental changes.”
“It could be,” Tog said, “but that's their internal affairs, of course. Our job in Section G is to prevent troubles between the differing socio-economic and religious features of member planets. Whatever we think of some of the things Paine does, our task is to get him.”
* * * * *
Ronny Bronston pushed the door open and went through. Tog Lee Chang Chu was sitting at a desk, nonchalant and petitely beautiful as usual, comfortably seated in easy-chairs were two young men by their attire probably citizens of United Planets and possibly even Earthlings.
“Hello, Ronny,” Tog said softly. “Meet Frederic Lippman and Pedro Nazaré, both Section G operatives. This is my colleague, Ronald Bronston, gentlemen. Fredric and Pedro were just leaving, Ronny.”
The two agents got up to shake hands.
Ronny said, “You can't be in that much of a hurry. What's your assignment, boys?”
Lippman, an earnest type, and by his appearance not more than twenty-five or so years of age, began to answer, but Nazaré said hurriedly, “Actually, it's a confidential assignment. We're working directly out of the Octagon.”
Lippman said, frowning, “It's not that confidential, Tog. Bronston's an agent, too. What's your assignment, Ronny?”
Ronny said very slowly, “I'm beginning to suspect that it's the same as yours and various pieces are beginning to fall into place.”
Lippman was taken aback. “You mean you're looking for Tommy Paine?” His eyes went to his associate. “How could that be, Tog? I didn't know more than one of us were on this job. Why, that means if Bronston here finds him first, I won't get my permanent appointment.”
Ronny looked at Tog Lee Chang Chu who was sitting demurely, hands in lap, and a resigned expression on her face. He said, “Nor if you find him first, will I. Look here, Tog, how many men does Sid Jakes have out on this assignment?”
“I wouldn't know,” she said mildly.
He snapped, “A few dozen or so? Or possibly a few hundred?”
“It seems unlikely there could be that many,” she said mildly. She looked at the other two agents. “I think you two had better run along. Take my suggestion I made earlier.”
“Wait a minute,” Ronny snapped. “You mean that they go to Catalina? That's ridiculous.”
Tog Lee Chang Chu looked at Pedro Nazaré and he turned and started for the door followed by Fredric Lippman who was still scowling his puzzlement.
“Wait a minute!” Ronny snapped. “I tell you it's ridiculous. And why follow her suggestions? She's just my assistant.”
Pedro Nazaré said, “Come on, Fred, let's get going, we'll have to pack.” But Lippman wasn't having any.
“His assistant?” he said to Tog Lee Chang Chu.
Tog Lee Chang Chu's face changed expression in sudden decision. She opened her bag and brought forth a Section G identification wallet and flicked it open. The badge was gold. “I suggest you hurry,” she said to the two agents.
They left, and Tog turned back to Ronny, her eyebrows raised questioningly.
Ronny sank down into one of the chairs recently occupied by the other two agents and tried to unravel thoughts. He said finally, “I suppose my question should be, why do Ross Metaxa and Sid Jakes send an agent of supervisor rank to act as assistant to a probationary agent? But that's not what I'm asking yet. First, Lippman just called his buddy Tog. How come?”
Tog took her seat again, rueful resignation on her face. “You should be figuring it out on your own by this time, Ronny.”
He looked at her belligerently. “I'm too stupid, eh?” The anger was growing within him.
“Tog,” she said. “It's a nickname, or possibly you might call it a title. Tog. T-O-G. The Other Guy. My name is Lee Chang Chu, and I'm of supervisor grade presently working at developing new Section G operatives. Considering the continuing rapid growth of UP, and the continuing crises that come up in UP activities, developing new operatives is one of the department's most pressing jobs. Each new agent, on his first assignment, is always paired with an experienced old-timer.”
“I see,” he said flatly. “Your principal job being to needle the fledging, eh?”
She lowered her eyes. “I wouldn't exactly word it that way,” she said. She was obviously unrepentant.
He said, “You must get a lot of laughs out of it. If I say, it seems to me democracy is a good thing, you give me an argument about the superiority of rule by an elite. If I say anarchism is ridiculous, you dredge up an opinion that it's man's highest ethic. You must laugh yourself to sleep at nights. You and Metaxa and Jakes and every other agent in Section G. Everybody is in on the Tog gag but the sucker.”
“Sometimes there are amusing elements to the work,” Lee Chang conceded, demurely.
“Just one more thing I'd like to ask,” Ronny rapped. “This first assignment, agents are given. Is it always to look for Tommy Paine?”
She looked up at him, said nothing, but her eyes were questioning.
“Don't worry,” he snapped. “I've already found out who Paine is.”
“Ah?” She was suddenly interested. “Then I'm glad I ordered that other probationary agent to leave. Evidently, he hasn't. Obviously, I didn't want the two of you comparing notes.”
“No, that would never do,” he said bitterly. “Well, this is the end of the assignment so far as you and I are concerned. I'm heading back for Earth.”
“Of course,” she said.
* * * * *
He had time on the way to think it all over, and over and over again, and a great deal of it simply didn't make sense. He had enough information to be disillusioned, sick at heart. To have crumbled an idealistic edifice that had taken a lifetime to build. A lifetime? At least three. His father and his grandfather before him had had the dream. He'd been weaned on the idealistic purposes of the United Planets and man's fated growth into the stars.
He was a third-generation dreamer of participating in the glory. His grandfather had been a citizen of Earth and gave up a commercial position to take a job that amounted to little more than a janitor in an obscure department of Interplanetary Financial Clearing. He wanted to get into the big job, into space, but never made it. Ronny's father managed to work up to the point
