"I'd change things," Bahr said harshly. "I'd change everything that got in my way."

"But after you'd done all that . . . after you'd done everything you wanted . . . then what would you want?"

Bahr stared at her, not comprehending. "That couldn't happen. Everybody gets in my way, tries to stop me. I could never get everything I want."

Libby sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "On that one thing, you're right, Julian," she said. "You don't know how right you are."

She had hoped that maybe she had reached him somehow, that possibly some spark of contact or understanding had been struck, but when he asked her later, "Well, what a-bout Adams?" she knew that she hadn't reached him at all.

"I'll try to stall him as long as possible," she said. "I don't think it will do much good. Adams is suspicious, and he's taking a personal interest."

"I hope he does," Bahr said sharply, "because I'm taking a personal interest in him. What do you know about him?"

"Why?"

"Because if he's what I think he is, I've got a couple of specialists on my staff who can quiet him down for good."

She whirled on him. "Julian, you wouldn't . . ."

"Look, you don't seem to understand. Adams or nobody like him is going to put me out of a job on a Stability check."

"You think you can blackmail him out of it? It wouldn't do you any good. There are other people in DEPCO just as big as Adams, and they can't be bought off or blackmailed. Julian, there's a storm working up in my office. Aliens or no aliens, I can guarantee that you'll be up against a prelim by tomorrow. And you won't pass it."

"I passed the other probes."

"Because I told you the answers beforehand, question by question. But I can't do that on a prelim; they use a polygraph."

"They just poke around the sore spots, don't they? They skip the questions that you don't bounce on, and just dig in the soft spots?"

She hesitated. "Yes, they study the prelim awhile before they go into a deep probe."

"Fine," Bahr said. "Then you can brief me on it."

"You couldn't use dummy answers under a poly, they'd bounce all over the place. With your adrenals . . ."

"I can control my reactions," he said.

"Your face muscles—maybe. Not your blood pressure and your sweat glands."

"Not even under hypnosis?"

"Even then, even with suggested reactions to specific trigger questions, I still don't know if it would work. You'd have to know the questions."

"You can find out the questions."

"No," Libby said.

He stared at her. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean up until now I could always say I'd mis-evaluated your pers scores, or I was emotionally involved and didn't know it. But deliberate faking on a prelim is a federal offense."

He sat silent for a minute. Then he spread his hands wide. "Look, I've never asked you for much. I've always just told you, before, and you did what I told you. Now I'm asking you, and if asking doesn't do it, by God, I will tell you. I've got too much at stake to trip on this thing now. You've got to get me past this prelim."

"I can't do it," she said. "If they caught me, I'd be through. I'd never get a professional rating again."

"I'm not talking about professional ratings," Bahr said quietly. "I'm talking about you and me."

"No," Libby said.

"I'll make a deal with you. You've always wanted to find out about the elephant. You've always wanted to get me into deep analysis and run me straight through from scratch. You know even DEPCO can't get me into deep analysis if I block; I'd have to be willing, co-operative. All right, you get me through this prelim. As soon as I get this alien thing