Herries glanced at the names. He did not know everyone here by sight, though he came close, but he recognized several of these. “Brave, discreet, and charter subscribers to National Review,” he murmured. “Teacher’s pets. All right. Though I’ll have to curtail exploration correspondingly—either that, or else cut down on their guards and sacrifice a few extra lives.”

“I think not. Let me continue. You will get these orders in the mail today, but I will prepare you for them now. A special house must be built for the crates, as rapidly as possible, and they must be moved there immediately upon its completion. I have the specifications in my office safe: essentially, it must be air-conditioned, burglar-proof, and strong enough to withstand all natural hazards.”

“Whoa, there!” Herries stepped forward. “That’s going to take reinforced concrete and—”

“Materials will be made available,” said Symonds. He did not look at the other man but stared straight ahead of him, across the rain-smoky compound to the jungle. He had no expression on his pinched face, and the reflection of light off his glasses gave him a strangely blind look.

“But—Judas priest!” Herries threw his cigarette to the ground; it was swallowed in mud and running water. He felt the heat enfold him like a blanket. “There’s the labor too, the machinery, and—How the devil am I expected to expand this operation if—”

“Expansion will be temporarily halted,” cut in Symonds. “You will simply maintain current operations with skeleton crews. The majority of the labor force is to be reassigned to construction.”

“What?”

“The compound fence must be extended and reinforced. A number of new storehouses are to be erected, to hold certain supplies which will presently be sent to us. Bunkhouse barges for an additional five hundred are required. This, of course, entails more sickbay, recreational, mess, laundry, and other facilities.”

Herries stood dumbly, staring at him. Pale lightning flickered in the sky.

The worst of it was, Symond’s didn’t even bother to be arrogant. He spoke like a schoolmaster.

“Oh no!” whispered Herries after a long while. “They’re not going to try to establish that Jurassic military base after all!”

“The purpose is classified.”

“Yeah. Sure. Classified. Arise, ye duly cleared citizens of democracy and cast your ballot on issues whose nature is classified, that your leaders whose names and duties are classified may—Great. Hopping. Balls. Of. Muck.” Herries swallowed: Vaguely, through his pulse, he felt his fingers tighten into fists.”

‘‘I’m going up,” he said. “I’m going to protest personally in Washington.”

“That is not permitted, Symonds said in a dry, clipped tone. “Read your contract. You are under martial law. Of course,” and his tone was neither softer nor harder, “you may file a written recommendation.”

Herries stood for a while. Out beyond the fence stood a bulldozer wrecked and abandoned. The vines had almost buried it and a few scuttering little marsupials lived there. Perhaps they were his own remote ancestors. He could take a .22 and go potshooting at them some day.