“Nothing much,” said the yachtsman. “Merely fly out to the planet Saturn.”

Gradually they revealed themselves. The fat one was from the Atlanta headquarters of the New Morality, the multinational fundament alist organization that had raised Eberly to manhood back in America.

“We were very disappointed when you ran away from our monastery in Nebraska and took up a life of crime,” he said, genuine sadness on his puffy face.

“Not a life of crime,” Eberly protested. “I made one mistake only, and now I’m suffering the consequences.”

The yachtsman smiled knowingly. “Your mistake was getting caught. We are here to offer you another chance.”

He was a Catholic, he claimed, working with the European Holy Disciples on various social programs. “Of which, you are one.”

“Me?” Eberly asked, still puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s really very simple,” said the pig, clasping his fat hands prayerfully on the tabletop. “The International Consortium of Universities is organizing an expedition to the planet Saturn.”

“Ten thousand people in a self-contained habitat,” added the yachtsman.

“Ten thousand so-called intellectuals,” the pig said, clear distaste in his expression. “Serving a cadre of scientists who wish to study the planet Saturn.”

The yachtsman glanced sharply at his associate, then went on, “Many governments are allowing certain individuals to leave Earth. Glad to be rid of them, actually.”

“The scientists are fairly prestigious men and women. They actually want to go to Saturn.”

“And they are all secularists, of course,” the yachtsman added.

“Of course,” said Eberly.

“We know that many people want to escape from the lives they are leading,” the pig resumed. “They are unwilling to submit to the very necessary discipline that we of the New Morality impose.”