First Published: 1948 LATE NIGHT FINAL by Eric Frank Russell 
 COMMANDER CRUIN WENT DOWN THE EXTENDING METAL LADDER, PAUSED a rung from the bottom, placed one important foot on the new territory, and then the other. That made him the first of his kind on an unknown world.
 He posed there in the sunlight, a big bull of a man meticulously attired for the occasion. Not a spot marred his faultlessly cut uniform of gray-green on which jeweled orders of merit sparkled and flashed. His jack boots glistened as they had never done since the day of launching from the home planet. The golden bells of his rank tinkled on his heelhooks as he shifted his feet slightly. In the deep shadow beneath the visor of his ornate helmet his hard eyes held a glow of self-satisfaction.
 A microphone came swinging down to him from the air lock he'd just left. Taking it in a huge left hand, he looked straight ahead with the blank intentness,of one who sees long visions of the past and longer visions of the future. Indeed, this was as visionary a moment as any there had been in his world's history.
 "In the name of Huld and the people of Huld," he enunciated officiously, "I take this planet." Then he saluted swiftly, slickly, like an automaton.
 Facing him, twenty-two long, black spaceships simultaneously thrust from their forward ports their glorypoles ringed with the red-black-gold colors of Huld. Inside the vessels twenty-two crews of seventy men apiece stood rigidly erect, saluted, broke into well-drilled song, "Oh, heavenly fatherland of Huld."
 When they had finished, Commander Cruin saluted again. The crews repeated their salute. The glorypoles were drawn in. Cruin mounted the ladder, entered his flagship. All locks were closed. Along the valley the twenty-two invaders lay in military formation, spaced equidistantly, noses and tails dead in line.
 On a low hill a mile to the east a fire sent up a column of thick smoke. It spat and blazed amid the remnants of what had been the twenty-third vessel--and the eighth successive loss since the fleet had set forth three years ago. Thirty then. Twenty-two now.
 The price of empire.
 Reaching his cabin, Commander Cruin lowered his bulk into the seat behind his desk, took off his heavy helmet, adjusted an order of merit which was hiding modestly behind its neighbor.
 "Step four," he commented with satisfaction.
 Second Commander Jusik nodded respectfully He handed the other a book. Opening it, Cruin meditated aloud.
 "Step one: Check planet's certain suitability for our form of life." He rubbed his big jowls. "We know it's suitable."
 "Yes, sir. This is a great triumph for you."
 "Thank you, Jusik." A craggy smile played momentarily on one side of Cruin's broad face. "Step two: Remain in planetary shadow at distance of not less than one diameter while scout boats survey world for evidence of superior life forms. Three: Select landing place far from largest sources of possible resistance but adjacent to a source small enough to be mastered. Four: Declare Huld's claim ceremoniously, as prescribed in manual on procedure and discipline." He worked his jowls again. "We've done all that."
 The smile returned, and he glanced with satisfaction out of the small port near his chair. The port framed the smoke column on the hill. His expression changed to a scowl, and his jaw muscles lumped.
 "Fully trained and completely qualified," he growled sardonically. "Yet he had to smash up. Another ship and crew lost in the very moment we reach our goal. The eighth such loss. There will be a purge in the astronautical training center when I return."
 "Yes, sir," approved Jusik, dutifully. "There is no excuse for it."
 "There are no excuses for anything," Cruin retorted.
 "NO, sir."
 Snorting his contempt, Cruin looked at his book. "Step five: Make all protective preparations as detailed in defense manual." He glanced up into Jusik's lean, clearcut features. "Every captain has been issued with a defense manual. Are they carrying out its orders?"
 "Yes, sir. They have started already."
 "They better had! I shall arrange a demotion of the slowest." Wetting a large thumb, he flipped a page over. "Step six: If planet does hold life forms of suspected intelligence, obtain specimens." Lying back in his seat he mused a moment, then barked: "Well, for what are you waiting?" "I beg your pardon, sir?" "Get some examples," roared Cruin. "Very well, sir." Without blinking, Jusik saluted, marched out.
 The self-closer swung the door behind him. Cruin surveyed it with a jaundiced eye.
 "Curse the training center," he rumbled. "It has deteriorated since I was there."
 Putting his feet on the desk, he waggled his heels to make the bells tinkle while he waited for the examples.
 Three specimens turned up of their own accord. They were seen standing wide-eyed in a row near the prow of number twenty-two, the endmost ship of the line. Captain Somir brought them along personally. - "Step six calls for specimens, sir," he explained to Commander Cruin. "I know that you require ones better than these, but I found these under our nose."
 "Under your nose? You land and within short time other life forms are sightseeing around your vessel? What about your protective precautions?"
 "They are not completed yet, sir. They take some time."
 "What were your lookouts doing--sleeping?"
 "No, sir," assured Somir desperately. "They did not think it necessary to sound a general alarm for such as these."
 Reluctantly Cruin granted the point. His gaze ran contemptuously over the trio. Three kids. One was a boy, knee-high, snubnosed, chewing at a chubby fist. The next, a skinny-legged, pigtailed girl obviously older than the boy. The third was another girl almost as tall as Somir, somewhat skinny, but with a hint of coming shapeliness hiding in her thin attire. All three were freckled, all had violently red hair.
 The tall girl said to Cruin: "I'm Marva--Marva Meredith." She indicated her companions. "This is Sue and this is Sam. We live over there, in Williamsville." She smiled at him and suddenly he noticed that her eyes were a rich and startling green. "We were looking for blueberries when we saw you come down."
 Cruin grunted, rested his hands on his paunch. The fact that this planet's life manifestly was of his own shape and form impressed him not at all. It had never occurred to him that it could have proved otherwise. In Huldian thought, all superior life must be humanoid and no exploration had yet provided evidence to the contrary.
 "I don't understand her alien gabble and she doesn't understand Huldian," he complained to Somir. "She must be dull-witted to waste her breath thus."
 "Yes, sir," agreed Somir. "Do you wish me to hand them over to the tutors?"
 "No. They're not worth it." He eyed the small boy's freckles with distaste, never having seen such a phenomenon before. "They are badly spotted and may be diseased. Pfugh!" He grimaced with disgust. "Did they pass through the ray-sterilizing chamber as they came in?"
 "Certainly, sir. I was most careful about that."
 "Be equally careful about any more you may encounter." Slowly, his authoritative stare went from the boy to the pigtailed girl and finally to the tall one. He didn't want to look at her, yet knew that he was going to. Her cool green eyes held something that made him vaguely uncomfortable. Unwillingly he met those eyes. She smiled again, with little dimples. "Kick 'em out!" he rapped at Somir.
 "As you order, sir."
 Nudging them, Somir gestured toward the door. The three took hold of each other's hands, filed out.
 "Bye!" chirped the boy, solemnly.
 "Bye!" said pigtails, shyly.
 The tall girl turned in the doorway. "Good-by!"
 Gazing at her uncomprehendingly, Cruin fidgeted in his chair. She dimpled at him, then the door swung to.
 "Good-by." He mouthed the strange word to himself. Considering the circumstances in which it had been uttered, evidently it meant farewell. Already he had picked up one word of their language.
 "Step seven: Gain communication by tutoring specimens until they are proficient in Huldian."
 Teach them. Do not let them teach you--teach them. The slaves must learn from the masters, not the masters from the slaves.
 "Good-by." He repeated it with savage self-accusation. A minor matter, but still an infringement of the book of rules. There are no excuses for anything.
 Teach them.
 The slaves--
 Rockets rumbled and blasted deafeningly as ships maneuvered themselves into the positions laid down in the manual of defense. Several hours of careful belly-edging were required for this. In the end, the line had reshaped itself into two groups of eleven-pointed stars, noses at the centers, tails outward. Ash of blast-destroyed grasses, shrubs and trees covered a wide area beyond the two menacing rings of main propulsion tubes which could incinerate anything within one mile.
 This done, perspiring, dirt-coated crews lugged out their forward armaments, remounted them pointing outward in the spaces between the vessels' splayed tails. Rear armaments still aboard already were directed upward and outward. Armaments plus tubes now provided a formidable field of fire completely surrounding the double encampment. It was the Huldian master plan conceived by Huldian master planners. In other more alien estimation, it was the old covered-wagon technique, so incredibly ancient that it had been forgotten by all but most earnest students of the past. But none of the invaders knew that.
 Around the perimeter they stacked the small, fast, well-armed scouts of which there were two per ship. Noses outward, tails inward, in readiness for quick take off, they were paired just beyond the parent vessels, below the propulsion tubes, and out of line of the remounted batteries. There was a lot of moving around to get the scouts positioned at precisely the same distances apart and making precisely the same angles. The whole arrangement had that geometrical exactness beloved of the military mind.
 Pacing the narrow catwalk running along the top surface of his flagship, Commander Cruin observed his toiling crews with satisfaction. Organization, discipline, energy, unquestioning obedience--those were the prime essentials of efficiency. On such had Huld grown great. On such would Huld grow greater.
 Reaching the tail-end, he leaned on the stop-rail, gazed down upon the concentric rings of wide, stubby venturis. His own crew were checking the angles of their two scouts already positioned. Four guards, heavily armed, came marching through the ash with Jusik in the lead. They had six prisoners.
 Seeing him, Jusik bowled: "Halt!" Guard and guarded stopped with a thud of boots and a rise of dust. Looking up, Jusik saluted. r
 "Six specimens, sir."
 Cruin eyed them indifferently. Half a dozen middle-aged men in drab, sloppily fitting clothes. He would not have given a snap of the fingers for six thousand of them.
 The biggest of the captives, the one second from the left, had red hair and was sucking something that gave off smoke. His shoulders were wider than Cruin's own though he didn't look half the weight. Idly, the commander wondered whether the fellow had green eyes; he couldn't tell that from where he was standing.
 Calmly surveying Cruin, this prisoner took the smoke-thing from his mouth and said, tonelessly: "By hokey, a brass hat!" Then he shoved the thing back between his lips and dribbled blue vapor.
 The others looked doubtful, as if either they did not comprehend or found it past belief.
 "Jeepers, no!" said the one on the right, a gaunt individual with thin, saturnine features.
 "I'm telling you," assured Redhead in the same flat voice.
 "Shall I take them to the tutors, sir?" asked Jusik.
 "Yes." Unleaning from the rail, Cruin carefully adjusted his white gloves. "Don't bother me with them again until they are certified as competent to talk." Answering the other's salute, he paraded back along the catwalk.
 "See?" said Redhead, picking up his feet in time with the guard. He seemed to take an obscure pleasure in keeping in step with the guard. Winking at the nearest prisoner, he let a curl of aromatic smoke trickle from the side of his mouth.
 Tutors Fane and Parth sought an interview the following evening. Jusik ushered them in, and Cruin looked up irritably from the report he was writing.
 "Well?"
 Fane said: "Sir, these prisoners suggest that we share their homes for a while and teach them to converse there."
 "How did they suggest that?"
 "Mostly by signs," explained Fane.
 "And what made you think that so nonsensical a plan had sufficient merit to make it worthy of my attention?"
 "There are aspects about which you should be consulted," Fane continued stubbornly. "The manual of procedure and discipline declares that such matters must be placed before the commanding officer whose decision is final."
 "Quite right, quite right." He regarded Fane with a little more favor. "What are these matters?"
 "Time is important to us, and the quicker these prisoners learn our language the better it will be. Here, their minds are occupied by their predicament. They think too much of their friends and families. In their own homes it would be different, and they could learn at great speed."
 "A weak pretext," scoffed Cruin.
 "That is not all. By nature they are naive and friendly. I feel that we have little to fear from them. Had they been hostile they would have attacked by now."
 "Not necessarily. It is wise to be cautious. The manual of defense emphasizes that fact repeatedly. These creatures may wish first to gain the measure of us before they try to deal with us."
 Fane was prompt to snatch the opportunity. "Your point, sir, is also my final one. Here, they are six pairs of eyes and six pairs of ears in the middle of us, and their absence is likely to give cause for alarm in their home town. Were they there, complacency would replace that alarm--and we would be the eyes and ears!"
 "Well put," commented Jusik, momentarily forgetting himself.
 "Be silent!" Cruin glared at him. "I do not recall any ruling in the manual pertaining to such a suggestion as this. Let me check up." Grabbing his books, he sought through them. He took a long time about it, gave up, and said: "The only pertinent rule appears to be that in circumstances not specified in the manual the decision is wholly mine, to be made in light of said circumstances providing that they do not conflict with the rulings of any other manual which may be applicable to the situation, and providing that my decision does not effectively countermand that or those of any senior ranking officer whose authority extends to the same area." He took a deep breath.
 "Yes, sir," said Fane.
 "Quite, sir," said Parth.
 Cruin frowned heavily. "How far away are these prisoners' homes?"
 "One hour's walk." Fane made a persuasive gesture. "If anything did happen to us--which I consider extremely unlikely--one scout could wipe out their little town before they'd time to realize what had happened. One scout, one bomb, one minute!" Dexterously, he added, "At your order, sir."
 Cruin preened himself visibly. "I see no reason why we should not take advantage of their stupidity." His eyes asked Jusik what he thought, but that person failed to notice. "Since you two tutors have brought this plan to me, I hereby approve it, and I appoint you to carry through." He consulted a list which he extracted from a drawer. "Take two psychologists with you--Kalma and Hefni."
 "Very well, sir." Impassively, Fane saluted and went out, Parth following.
 Staring absently at his half-written report, Cruin fiddled with his pen for a while, glanced up at Jusik, and spat: "At what are you smiling?"
 Jusik wiped it from his face, looked solemn. 
 "Come on. Out with it!"
 "I was thinking, sir," replied Jusik, slowly, "that three years in a ship is a very long time."
 Slamming his pen on the desk, Cruin stood up. "Has it been any longer for others than for me?"
 "For you," said Jusik, daringly but respectfully, "I think it has been longest of all."
 "Get out!" shouted Cruin.
 He watched the other go, watched the self-closer push the door waited for its last click. He shifted his gaze to the port, stared hard-eyed into the gathering dusk. His heelbells were silent as he stood unmoving and saw the invisible sun sucking its last rays from the sky.
 In short time, ten figures strolled through the twilight toward the distant, tree-topped hill. Four were uniformed; six in drab, shapeless clothes. They went by conversing with many gestures, and one of them laughed. He gnawed his bottom lip as his gaze followed them until they were gone.
 The price of rank.
 "Step eight: Repel initial attacks in accordance with techniques de- tailed in manual of defense." Cruin snorted, put up one hand, tidied his orders of merit.
 "There have been no attacks," said Jusik.
 "I am not unaware of the fact." The commander glowered at him. r "I'd have preferred an onslaught. We are ready for them. The sooner they match their strength against ours the sooner they'll learn who's boss now!" He hooked big thumbs in his silver-braided belt. "And besides, it would i give the men something to do. I cannot have them everlastingly repeating their drills of procedure. We've been here nine days and nothing has happened." His attention returned to the book. "Step nine: Follow defeat of initial attacks by taking aggressive action as detailed in manual of defense." He gave another snort. "How can one follow something that has not occurred?"
 "It is impossible," Jusik ventured.
 "Nothing is impossible," Cruin contradicted, harshly. "Step ten: In the unlikely event that intelligent life displays indifference or amity, remain in protective formation while specimens are being tutored, mean- while employing scout vessels to survey surrounding area to the limit of r their flight-duration, using no more than one-fifth of the numbers available at any time."
 "That allows us eight or nine scouts on survey," observed Jusik, thoughtfully. "What is our authorized step if they fail to return?"
 "Why d'you ask that?"
 "Those eight scouts I sent out on your orders forty periods ago are overdue."
 Viciously, Commander Cruin thrust away his book. His broad, heavy face was dark red.
 "Second Commander Jusik, it was your duty to report this fact to me the moment those vessels became overdue."
 "Which I have," said Jusik, imperturbably. "They have a flight-duration of forty periods, as you know. That, sir, made them due a short time ago. They are now late."
 Cruin tramped twice across the room, medals clinking, heel-bells jangling. "The answer to nonappearance is immediately to obliterate the areas in which they are held. No half-measures. A salutary lesson."
 "Which areas, sir?"
 Stopping in mid-stride, Cruin bawled: "You ought to know that. Those scouts had properly formulated route orders, didn't they? It's a simple matter to--"
 He ceased as a shrill whine passed overhead, lowered to a dull moan in the distance, curved back on a rising note again.
 "Number one." Jusik looked at the little timemeter on the wall. "Late, but here. Maybe the others will turn up now."
 "Somebody's going to get a sharp lesson if they don't!"
 "I'll see what he has to report." Saluting, Jusik hurried through the doorway.
 Gazing out of his port, Cruin observed the delinquent scout bellysliding up to the nearest formation. He chewed steadily at his bottom lip, a slow, persistent chew which showed his thoughts to be wandering around in labyrinths of their own.
 Beyond the fringe of dank, dead ash were golden buttercups in the grasses, and a hum of bees, and the gentle rustle of leaves on trees. Four engine-room wranglers of ship number seventeen had found this sanctuary and sprawled flat on their backs in the shade of a big-leafed and blossom-ornamented growth. With eyes closed, their hands plucked idly at surrounding grasses while they maintained a lazy, desultory conversation through which they failed to hear the ring of Cruin's approaching bells.
 Standing before them, his complexion florid, he roared: "Get up!"
 Shooting to their feet, they stood stiffly shoulder to shoulder, faces expressionless, eyes level, hands at their sides. 
 "Your names?" He wrote them in his notebook while obediently they repeated them in precise, unemotional voices. "I'll deal with you later," he promised. "March!"
 Together, they saluted, marched off with a rhythmic pounding of boots, one-two-three-hup! His angry stare followed them until they reached the shadow of their ship. Not until then did he turn and proceed. Mounting the hill, one cautious hand continually on the cold butt of his gun, he reached the crest, gazed down into the valley he'd just left. In neat, exact positioning, the two star-formations of the ships of Huld were silent and ominous.
 His hard, authoritative eyes turned to the other side of the hill. There, the landscape was pastoral. A wooded slope ran down to a little river which meandered into the hazy distance, and on its farther side was a broad patchwork of cultivated fields in which three houses were visible.
 Seating himself on a large rock, Cruin loosened his gun in its holster, took a wary look around, extracted a small wad of reports from his pocket and glanced over them for the twentieth time. A faint smell of herbs and resin came to his nostrils as he read.
 "I circled this landing place at low altitude and recorded it photographically, taking care to include all the machines standing thereon. Two other machines which were in the air went on their way without attempting to interfere. It then occurred to me that the signals they were making from the ground might be an invitation to land, and I decided to utilize opportunism as recommended in the manual of procedure. Therefore I landed. They conducted my scout vessel to a dispersal point off the runway and made me welcome."
 Something fluted liquidly in a nearby tree. Cruin looked up, his hand automatically seeking his holster. It was only a bird. Skipping parts of the report, he frowned over the concluding words.
 "... lack of common speech made it difficult for me to refuse, and after the sixth drink during my tour of the town I was suddenly afflicted with a strange paralysis in the legs and collapsed into the arms of my companions. Believing that they had poisoned me by guile, I prepared for death ... tickled my throat while making jocular remarks ... I was a little sick." Cruin rubbed his chin in puzzlement. "Not until they were satisfied about my recovery did they take me back to my vessel. They waved their hands at me as I took off. I apologize to my captain for overdue return and plead that it was because of factors beyond my control."
 The fluter came down to Cruin's feet, piped at him plaintively. It cocked its head sidewise as it examined him with bright, beady eyes.
 Shifting the sheet he'd been reading, he scanned the next one. It was neatly typewritten, and signed jointly by Parth, Fane, Kalma and Hefni.
 "Do not appear fully to appreciate what has occurred ... seem to view the arrival of a Huldian fleet as just another incident. They have a remarkable self-assurance which is incomprehensible inasmuch as we can find nothing to justify such an attitude. Mastery of them should be so easy that if our homing vessel does not leave too soon it should be possible for it to bear tidings of conquest as well as of mere discovery."
 "Conquest," he murmured. It had a mighty imposing sound. A word like that would send a tremendous thrill of excitement throughout the entire world of Huld.
 Five before him had sent back ships telling of discovery, but none had gone so far as he, none had traveled so long and wearily, none had been rewarded with a planet so big, lush, desirable--and none had reported the subjection of their finds. One cannot conquer a rocky waste. But this-
 In peculiarly accented Huldian, a voice behind him said, brightly: "Good morning!"
 He came up fast, his hand sliding to his side, his face hard with authority.
 She was laughing at him with her clear green eyes. "Remember me-Marva Meredith?" Her flaming hair was windblown. "You see," she went on, in slow, awkward tones. "I know a little Huldian already. Just a few words."
 "Who taught you?" he asked, bluntly.
 "Fane and Parth."
 "It is your house to which they have gone?"
 "Oh, yes. Kalma and Hefni are guesting with Bill Gleeson; Fane and Parth with us. Father brought them to us. They share the welcome room."
 "Welcome room?"
 "Of course." Perching herself on his rock, she drew up her slender legs, rested her chin on her knees. He noticed that the legs, like her face, were freckled. "Of course. Everyone has a welcome room, haven't they?"
 Cruin said nothing.
 "Haven't you a welcome room in your home?"
 "Home?" His eyes strayed away from hers, sought the fluting bird. It wasn't there. Somehow, his hand had left his holster without realizing it. He was holding his hands together, each nursing the other, clinging, finding company, soothing each other.
 Her gaze was on his hands as she said, softly and hesitantly, "You have got a home ... somewhere ... haven't you?"
 "NO."
 Lowering her legs, she stood up. "I'm so sorry."
 "Yo? are sorry for me?" His gaze switched back to her. It held incredulity, amazement, a mite of anger. His voice was harsh. "You must be singularly stupid."
 "Am I?" she asked, humbly.
 "NO member of my expedition has a home," he went on. "Every man was carefully selected. Every man passed through a screen, suffered the most exacting tests. Intelligence and technical competence were not enough; each had also to be young, healthy, without ties of any sort. They were chosen for ability to concentrate on the task in hand without indulging morale lowering sentimentalities about people left behind."
 "I don't understand some of your long words," she complained. "And you are speaking far too fast."
 He repeated it more slowly and with added emphasis, finishing, "Spaceships undertaking long absence from base cannot be handicapped by homesick crews. We picked men without homes because they can leave Huld and not care a hoot. They are pioneers!"
 "'Young, healthy, without ties,"' she quoted. "That makes them strong?"
 "Definitely," he asserted.
 "Men especially selected for space. Strong men." Her lashes hid her eyes as she looked down at her narrow feet. "But now they are not in space. They are here, on firm ground."
 "What of it," he demanded.
 "Nothing." Stretching her arms wide, she took a deep breath, then dimpled at him. "Nothing at all."
 "You're only a child," he reminded, scornfully. "When you grow older--"
 "You'll have more sense," she finished for him, chanting it in a high, sweet voice. "You'll have more sense, you'll have more sense. When you grow older you'll have more sense, tra-la-la-lala!"
 Gnawing irritatedly at his lip, he walked past her, started down the hill toward the ships.
 "Where are you going?"
 "Back!" he snapped.
 "Do you like it down there?" Her eyebrows arched in surprise.
 Stopping ten paces away, he scowled at her. "Is it any of your business?"
 "I didn't mean to be inquisitive," she apologized. "I asked because ... because--"
 "Because what?"
 "I was wondering whether you would care to visit my house."
 "Nonsense! Impossible!" He turned to continue downhill.
 "Father suggested it. He thought you might like to share a meal. A fresh one. A change of diet. Something to break the monotony of your supplies." The wind lifted her crimson hair and played with it as she regarded him speculatively. "He consulted Fane and Parth. They said it was an excellent idea."
 "They did, did they?" His features seemed molded in iron. "Tell Fane and Parth they are to report to me at sunset." He paused, added, "Without fail!"
 Resuming her seat on the rock, she watched him stride heavily down the slope toward the double star-formation. Her hands were together in her lap, much as he had held his. But hers sought nothing of each other. In complete repose, they merely rested with the ineffable patience of hands as old as time.
 Seeing at a glance that he was liverish, Jusik promptly postponed certain suggestions that he had in mind.
 "Summon captains Drek and Belthan," Cruin ordered. When the other had gone, he flung his helmet onto the desk, surveyed himself in a mirror. He was still smoothing the tired lines on his face when approaching footsteps sent him officiously behind his desk.
 Entering, the two captains saluted, remained rigidly at attention. Cruin studied them irefully while they preserved wooden expressions.
 Eventually, he said: "I found four men lounging like undisciplined hoboes outside the safety zone." He stared at Drek. "They were from your vessel." The stare shifted to Belthan. "You are today's commander of the guard. Have either of you anything to say?"
 "They were off-duty and free to leave the ship," exclaimed Drek. "They had been warned not to go beyond the perimeter of ash."
 "I don't know how they slipped through," said Belthan, in official monotone. "Obviously the guards were lax. The fault is mine." ,
 "It will count against you in your promotion records," Cruin promised. "Punish these four, and the responsible guards, as laid down in the manual of procedure and discipline." He leaned across the desk to survey them more closely. "A repetition will bring ceremonial demotion!" "Yes, sir," they chorused.
 Dismissing them, he glanced at Jusik. "When tutors Fane and Parth report here, send them in to me without delay."
 "As you order, sir."
 Cruin dropped the glance momentarily, brought it back. "What's the matter with you?"
 "Me?" Jusik became self-conscious. "Nothing, sir."
 "You lie! One has to live with a person to know him. I've lived on your neck for three years. I know you too well to be deceived. You have something on your mind."
 "It's the men," admitted Jusik, resignedly.
 "What of them?"
 "They are restless."
 "Are they? Well, I can devise a cure for that! What's making them restless?"
 "Several things, sir."
 Cruin waited while Jusik stayed dumb, then roared: "Do I have to prompt you?"
 "No, sir," Jusik protested, unwillingly. "It's many things. Inactivity. The substitution of tedious routine. The constant waiting, waiting, waiting right on top of three years close incarceration. They wait--and nothing happens."
 "What else?"
 "The sight and knowledge of familiar life just beyond the ash. The realization that Fane and Parth and the others are enjoying it with your consent. The stories told by the scouts about their experiences on landing." His gaze was steady as he went on. "We've now sent out five squadrons of scouts, a total of forty vessels. Only six came back on time. All the rest were late on one plausible pretext or another. The pilots have talked, and shown the men various souvenir photographs and a few gifts. One of them is undergoing punishment for bringing back some bottles of paralysis-mixture. But the damage has been done. Their stories have unsettled the men."
 "Anything more?"
 "Begging your pardon, sir, there was also the sight of you taking a stroll to the top of the hill. They envied you even that!" He looked squarely at Cruin. "I envied you myself."
 "I am the commander," said Cruin.
 "Yes, sir." Jusik kept his gaze on him but added nothing more.
 If the second commander expected a delayed outburst, he was disappointed. A complicated series of emotions chased each other across his superior's broad, beefy features. Laying back in his chair, Cruin's eyes looked absently through the port while his mind juggled with Jusik's words.
 Suddenly, he rasped: "I have observed more, anticipated more and given matters more thought then perhaps you realize. I can see something which you may have failed to perceive. It has caused me some anxiety. Briefly, if we don't keep pace with the march of time we're going to find ourselves in a fix."
 "Indeed, sir?"
 "I don't wish you to mention this to anyone else: I suspect that we are trapped in a situation bearing no resemblance to any dealt with in the manuals."
 "Really, sir?" Jusik licked his lips, felt that his own outspokenness was leading into unexpected paths.
 "Consider our present circumstances," Cruin went on. "We are established here and in possession of power sufficient to enslave this planet. Any one of our supply of bombs could blast a portion of this earth stretching from horizon to horizon. But they're of no use unless we apply them effectively. We can't drop them anywhere, haphazardly. If parting with them in so improvident a manner proved unconvincing to our opponents, and failed to smash the hard core of their resistance, we would find ourselves unarmed in a hostile world. No more bombs. None nearer than six long years away, three there and three back. Therefore we must apply our power where it will do the most good." He began to massage his heavy chin. "We don't know where to apply it."
 "No, sir," agreed Jusik, pointlessly.
 "We've got to determine which cities are the key points of their civilization, which persons are this planet's acknowledged leaders, and where they're located. When we strike, it must be at the nerve-centers. That means we're impotent until we get the necessary information. In turn, that means we've got to establish communication with the aid of tutors." He started plucking at his jaw muscles. "And that takes time!"
 "Quite, sir, but--"
 "But while time crawls past the men's morale evaporates. This is our twelfth day and already the crews are restless. Tomorrow they'll be more so."
 "I have a solution to that, sir, if you will forgive me for offering it," said Jusik, eagerly. "On Huld everyone gets one day's rest in five. They are free to do as they like, go where they like. Now if you promulgated an order permitting the men say one day's liberty in ten, it would mean that no more than ten percent of our strength would be lost on any one day. We could stand that reduction considering our power, especially if more of the others are on protective duty."
 "So at last I get what was occupying your mind. It comes out in a swift flow of words." He smiled grimly as the other flushed. "I have thought of it. I am not quite so unimaginative as you may consider me."
 "I don't look upon you that way, sir," Jusik protested.
 "Never mind. We'll let that pass. To return to this subject of liberty-there lies the trap! There is the very quandary with which no manual deals, the situation for which I can find no officially prescribed formula." Putting a hand on his desk he tapped the polished surface impatiently. "If I refuse these men a little freedom, they will become increasingly restless--naturally. If I permit them the liberty they desire, they will experience contact with life more normal even though alien, and again become more restless--naturally!"
 "Permit me to doubt the latter, sir. Our crews are loyal to Huld. Blackest space forbid that it should be otherwise!"
 "They were loyal. Probably they are still loyal." Cruin's face quirked as his memory brought forward the words that followed. "They are young, healthy, without ties. In space, that means one thing. Here, another." He came slowly to his feet, big, bulky and imposing. "I know!"
 Looking at him, Jusik felt that indeed he did know. "Yes, sir," he paroted, obediently.
 "Therefore the onus of what to do for the best falls squarely upon me. I must use my initiative. As second commander it is for you to see that my orders are carried out to the letter."
 "I know my duty, sir." Jusik's thinly-drawn features registered growing uneasiness.
 "And it is my final decision that the men must be restrained from contact with our opponents, with no exceptions other than the four technicians operating under my orders. The crews are to be permitted no liberty, no freedom to go beyond the ash. Any form of resentment on their part must be countered immediately and ruthlessly. You will instruct the captains to watch for murmurers in their respective crews and take appropriate action to silence them as soon as found." His jowls lumped, and his eyes were cold as he regarded the other. "All scout-flights are canceled as from now, and all scout-vessels remain grounded. None moves without my personal instructions."
 "That is going to deprive us of a lot of information," Jusik observed. "The last flight to the south reported discovery of ten cities completely deserted, and that's got some significance which we ought to--"
 "I said the flights are canceled!" Cruin shouted. "If I say the scout vessels are to be painted pale pink, they will be painted pale pink, thoroughly, completely, from end to end. I am the commander!"
 "As you order, sir."
 "Finally, you may instruct the captains that their vessels are to be prepared for my inspection at midday tomorrow. That will give the crews something to do."
 "Very well, sir."
 With a worried salute, Jusik opened the door, glanced out and said: "Here are Fane, Kalma, Parth and Hefni, sir."
 "Show them in."
 After Cruin had given forcible expression to his views, Fane said: "We appreciate the urgency, sir, and we are doing our best, but it is doubtful whether they will be fluent before another four weeks have passed. They are slow to learn."
 "I don't want fluency," Cruin growled. "All they need are enough words to tell us the things we want to know, the things we must know before we can get anywhere."
 "I said sufficient fluency," Fane reminded. "They communicate mostly by signs even now."
 "That flame-headed girl didn't."
 "She has been quick," admitted Fane. "Possibly she has an above-normal aptitude for languages. Unfortunately she knows the least in any military sense and therefore is of little use to us."
 Cruin's gaze ran over him balefully. His voice became low and menacing "You have lived with these people many days. I look upon your features and find them different. Why is that?"
 "Different?" The four exchanged wondering looks.
 "Your faces have lost their lines, their space-gauntness. Your cheeks have become plump, well-colored. Your eyes are no longer tired. They are bright. They hold the self-satisfied expression of a fat skodar wallowing in its trough. It is obvious that you have done well for yourselves." He bent forward, his mouth ugly. "Can it be that you are in no great hurry to complete your task?"
 They were suitably shocked.
 "We have eaten well and slept regularly," Fane said. 'We feel better for it. Our physical improvement has enabled us to work so much the harder. In our view, the foe is supporting us unwittingly with his own hospitality, and since the manual of--"
 "Hospitality?" Cruin cut in, sharply.
 Fane went mentally off-balance as vainly he sought for a less complimentary synonym.
 "I give you another week," the commander harshed. "No more. Not one day more. At this time, one week from today, you will report here with the six prisoners adequately tutored to understand my questions and answer them."
 "It will be difficult, sir."
 "Nothing is difficult. Nothing is impossible. There are no excuses for anything." He studied Fane from beneath forbidding brows. "You have my orders--obey them!"
 "Yes, sir."
 His hard stare shifted to Kalma and Hefni. "So much for the tutors; now yo. What have you to tell me? How much have you discovered?"
 Blinking nervously, Hefni said: "It is not a lot. The language trouble is--" 
 "May the Giant Sun burn up and perish the language trouble! How much have you learned while enjoyably larding your bellies?"
 Glancing down at his uniform-belt as if suddenly and painfully conscious of its tightness, Hefni recited: "They are exceedingly strange in so far as they appear to be highly civilized in a purely domestic sense but quite primitive in all others. This Meredith family lives in a substantial, well-equipped house. They have every comfort, including a color-television receiver."
 "You're dreaming! We are still seeking the secrets of plain television even on Huld. Color is unthinkable."
 Kalma chipped in with: "Nevertheless, sir, they have it. We have seen it for ourselves."
 "That is so," confirmed Fane.
 "Shut up!" Cruin burned him with a glare. "I have finished with you. I am now dealing with these two." His attention returned to the quaking Hefni: "Carry on."
 "There is something decidedly queer about them which we've not yet been able to understand. They have no medium of exchange. They barter goods for goods without any regard for the relative values of either. They work when they feel like it. If they don't feel like it, they don't work. Yet, in spite of this, they work most of the time."
 "Why?" demanded Cruin, incredulously.
 "We asked them. They said that one works to avoid boredom. We cannot comprehend that viewpoint." Hefni made a defeated gesture. "In many places they have small factories which, with their strange, perverted logic, they use as amusement centers. These plants operate only when people turn up to work." "Eh?" Cruin looked baffled.
 "For example, in Williamsville, a small town an hour's walk beyond the Meredith home, there is a shoe factory. It operates every day. Some days there may be only ten workers there, other days fifty or a hundred, but nobody can remember a time when the place stood idle for lack of one voluntary worker. Meredith's elder daughter, Marva, has worked there three days during our stay with them. We asked her the reason."
 "What did she say?"
 "For fun."
 "Fun ... fun ... fun?" Cruin struggled with the concept. "What does that mean?"
 "We don't know," Hefni confessed. "The barrier of speech--"
 "Red flames lick up the barrier of speech!" Cruin bawled. "Was her attendance compulsory?"
 "No, sir."
 "You are certain of that?"
 "We are positive. One works in a factory for no other reason than because one feels like it."
 "For what reward?" topped Cruin, shrewdly.
 "Anything or nothing." Hefni uttered it like one in a dream. "One day she brought back a pair of shoes for her mother. We asked if they were her reward for the work she had done. She said they were not, and that someone named George had made them and given them to her. Apparently the rest of the factory's output for that week was shipped to another town where shoes were required. This other town is going to send back a supply of leather, nobody knows how much--and nobody seems to care."
 "Senseless," defined Cruin. "It is downright imbecility." He examined Hefni as if suspecting him of inventing confusing data. "It is impossible for even the most primitive of organizations to operate so haphazardly. Obviously you have seen only part of the picture; the rest has been concealed from you, or you have been too dull-witted to perceive it."
 "I assure you, sir," began Hefni.
 "Let it pass," Cruin cut in. "Why should I care how they function economically? In the end, they'll work the way we want them to!" He rested his heavy jaw in one hand. "There are other matters which interest me more. For instance, our scouts have brought in reports of many cities. Some are organized but grossly under-populated; others are completely deserted. The former have well-constructed landing places with air-machines making use of them. How is it that people so primitive have air-machines?"
 "Some make shoes, some make air-machines, some play with television. They work according to their aptitudes as well as their inclinations."
 "Has this Meredith got an air-machine?"
 "No." The look of defeat was etched more deeply on Hefni's face. "If he wanted one he would have his desire inserted in the television supply-and-demand program."
 "Then what?"
 "Sooner or later, he'd get one, new or secondhand, either in exchange for something or as a gift."
 "Just by asking for it?"
 "Yes."
 Getting up, Cruin strode to and fro across his office. The steel heelplates on his boots clanked on the metal floor in rhythm with the bells. He was ireful, impatient, dissatisfied.
 "In all this madness is nothing which tells us anything of their true character or their organization." Stopping his stride, he faced Hefni. "You boasted that you were to be the eyes and ears." He released a loud snort. "Blind eyes and deaf ears! Not one word about their numerical strength, not one--"
 "Pardon me, sir," said Hefni, quickly, "there are twenty-seven millions of them--"
 "Ah!" Cruin registered sharp interest. "Only twenty-seven millions? Why, there's a hundred times that number on Huld which has no greater area of land surface." He mused a moment. "Greatly underpopulated. Many cities devoid of a living soul. They have air-machines and other items suggestive of a civilization greater than the one they now enjoy. They operate the remnants of an economic system. You realize what all this means?"
 Hefni blinked, made no reply. Kalma looked thoughtful. Fane and Parth remained blank-faced and tight-lipped.
 "It means two things," Cruin pursued. 'War or disease. One or the other, or perhaps both--and on a large scale. I want information on that. I've got to learn what sort of weapons they employed in their war, how many of them remain available, and where. Or, alternatively, what disease ravished their numbers, its source, and its cure." He tapped Hefni's chest to emphasize his words. "I want to know what they've got hidden away, what they're trying to keep from your knowledge against the time when they can bring it out and use it against us. Above all, I want to know which people will issue orders for their general offensive and where they are located." "I understand, sir," said Hefni, doubtfully.
 "That's the sort of information I need from your six specimens. I want information, not invitations to meals!" His grin was ugly as he noted Hefni's wince. "If you can get it out of them before they're due here, I shall enter the fact on the credit side of your records. But if I, your commander, have to do your job by extracting it from them myself--" Ominously, he left the sentence unfinished.
 Hefni opened his mouth, closed it, glanced nervously at Kalma who stood stiff and dumb at his side.
 "You may go," Cruin snapped at the four of them. "You have one week. If you fail me, I shall deem it a front-line offense and deal with it in accordance with the active-service section of the manual of procedure and discipline."
 They were pale as they saluted. He watched them file out, his lips curling contemptuously. Going to the port, he gazed into the gathering darkness, saw a pale star winking in the east. Low and far it was--but not so far as Huld.
 In the mid-period of the sixteenth day, Commander Cruin strode forth polished and bemedaled, directed his bell-jangling feet toward the hill. A sour-faced guard saluted him at the edge of the ash and made a slovenly job of it.
 "Is that the best you can do?" He glared into the other's surly eyes. "Repeat it!"
 The guard saluted a fraction more swiftly.
 "You're out of practice," Cruin informed. "Probably all the crews are out of practice. We'll find a remedy for that. We'll have a period of saluting drill every day." His glare went slowly up and down the guard's face. "Are you dumb?"
 "No, sir."
 "Shut up!" roared Cruin. He expanded his chest. "Continue with your patrol."
 The guard's optics burned with resentment as he saluted for the third time, turned with the regulation heel-click and marched along the perimeter.
 Mounting the hill, Cruin sat on the stone at the top. Alternately he viewed the ships lying in the valley and the opposite scene with its trees, fields and distant houses. The metal helmet with its ornamental wings was heavy upon his head but he did not remove it. In the shadow beneath the projecting visor, his cold eyes brooded over the landscape to one side and the other.
 She came eventually. He had been sitting there for one and a half periods when she came as he had known she would--without knowing what weird instinct had made him certain of this. Certainly, he had no desire to see her--no desire at all.
 Through the trees she tripped light-footed, with Sue and Sam and three other girls of her own age. The newcomers had large, dark, humorous eyes, their hair was dark, and they were leggy.
 "Oh, hello!" She paused as she saw him.
 "Hello!" echoed Sue, swinging her pigtails.
 " 'Lo!" piped Sam, determined not to be left out.
 Cruin frowned at them. There was a high gloss on his jack boots, and his helmet glittered in the sun.
 "These are my friends," said Marva, in her alien-accented Huldian. "Becky, Rita and Joyce."
 The three smiled at him.
 "I brought them to see the ships."
 Cruin said nothing.
 "You don't mind them looking at the ships, do you?"
 "No," he growled with reluctance.
 Lankily but gracefully she seated herself on the grass. The others followed suit with the exception of Sam who stood with fat legs braced apart sucking his thumb, and solemnly studying Cruin's decorated jacket.
 "Father was disappointed because you could not visit us."
 Cruin made no reply.
 "Mother was sorry, too. She's a wonderful cook. She loves a guest."
 No reply.
 "Would you care to come this evening?"
 "No."
 "Some other evening?"
 "Young lady," he harshed, severely, "I do not pay visits. Nobody pays visits."
 She translated this to the others. They laughed so heartily that Cruin reddened and stood up.
 "What's funny about that?" he demanded.
 "Nothing, nothing." Marva was embarrassed. "If I told you, I fear that you would not understand."
 "I would not understand." His grim eyes became alert, calculating as they went over her three friends. "I do not think, somehow, that they were laughing at me. Therefore they were laughing at what I do not know. They were laughing at something I ought to know but which you do not wish to tell me." He bent over her, huge and muscular, while she looked up at him with her great green eyes. "And what remark of mine revealed my amusing ignorance?"
 Her steady gaze remained on him while she made no answer. A faint but sweet scent exuded from her hair.
 "I said that nobody pays visits," he repeated. "That was the amusing remark--nobody pays visits. And I am not a fool!" Straightening, he turned away. "So I am going to call the rolls!"
 He could feel their eyes upon him as he started down the valley. They were silent except for Sam's high-pitched, childish, "Bye!" which he ignored.
 Without once looking back, he gained his flagship, mounted its metal ladder, made his way to the office and summoned Jusik.
 "Order the captains to call their rolls at once."
 "Is something wrong, sir?" inquired Jusik, anxiously.
 "Call the rolls!" Cruin bellowed, whipping off his helmet. "Then we'll know whether anything is wrong." Savagely, he hung the helmet onto a wall hook, sat down, mopped his forehead.
 Jusik was gone for most of a period. In the end he returned, set-faced, grave.
 "I regret to report that eighteen men are absent, sir."
 "They laughed," said Cruin, bitterly. "They laughed--because they knew!" His knuckles were white as his hands gripped the arms of his chair.
 "I beg your pardon, sir?" Jusik's eyebrows lifted.
 "How long have they been absent?"
 "Eleven of them were on duty this morning."
 "That means the other seven have been missing since yesterday?"
 "I'm afraid so, sir."
 "But no one saw fit to inform me of this fact?"
 Jusik fidgeted. "No, sir."
 "Have you discovered anything else of which I have not been informed?"
 The other fidgeted again, looked pained.
 "Out with it, man!"
 "It is not the absentees' first offense," Jusik said with difficulty. "Nor their second. Perhaps not their sixth."
 "How long has this been going on?" Cruin waited a while, then bawled: "Come on! You are capable of speech!" "About ten days, sir." "How many captains were aware of this and failed to report it?" "Nine, sir. Four of them await your bidding outside." "And what of the other five?" "They ... they--" Jusik licked his lips.
 Cruin arose, his expression dangerous. "You cannot conceal the truth by delaying it."
 "They are among the absentees, sir."
 "I see!" Cruin stamped to the door, stood by it. "We can take it for granted that others have absented themselves without permission, but were fortunate enough to be here when the rolls were called. That is their good luck. The real total of the disobedient cannot be discovered. They have sneaked away like nocturnal animals, and in the same manner they sneak back. All are guilty of desertion in the face of the enemy. There-is one penalty for that."
 "Surely, sir, considering the circ--"
 "Considering nothing!" Cruin's voice shot up to an enraged shout. "Death! The penalty is death!" Striding to the table, he hammered the books lying upon it. "Summary execution as laid down in the manual of procedure and discipline. Desertion, mutinous conduct, defiance of a superior officer, conspiracy to thwart regulations and defy my orders--all punishable by death!" His voice lowered as swiftly as it had gone up. "Besides, my dear Jusik, if we fail through disintegration attributable to our own deliberate disregard of the manuals, what will be the penalty payable by us? What will it be, eh?"
 "Death," admitted Jusik. He looked at Cruin. "On Huld, anyway."
 "We are on Huld! This is Huld! I have claimed this planet in the name of Huld and therefore it is part of it."
 "A mere claim, sir, if I may say--"
 "Jusik, are you with these conspirators in opposing my authority?" Cruin's eyes glinted. His hand lay over his gun.
 "Oh, no, sir!" The second commander's features mirrored the emotions conflicting within him. "But permit me to point out, sir, that we are a brotherly band who've been cooped together a long, long time and already have suffered losses getting here as we shall do getting back. One can hardly expect the men to--"
 "I expect obedience!" Cruin's hand remained on the gun. "I expect iron discipline and immediate, willing, unquestionable obedience. With those, we conquer. Without them, we fail." He gestured to the door. "Are those captains properly prepared for examination as directed in the manuals?"
 "Yes, sir. They are disarmed and under guard."
 "Parade them in." Leaning on the edge of his desk, Cruin prepared to pass judgment on his fellows. The minute he waited for them was long, long as any minute he had ever known.
 There had been scent in her hair. And her eyes were cool and green. Iron discipline must e Maintained. The price of power. The manual provided an escape. Facing the four captains, he found himself taking advantage of the legal loophole to substitute demotion for the more drastic and final penalty.
 Tramping the room before them while they stood in a row, pale-faced and rigid, their tunics unbuttoned, their ceremonial belts missing, the guards impassive on either side of them, he rampaged and swore and sprinkled them with verbal vitriol while his right fist hammered steadily into the palm of his left hand.
 "But since you were present at the roll call, and therefore are not technically guilty of desertion, and since you surrendered yourself to my judgment immediately you were called upon to do so, I hereby sentence you to be demoted to the basic rank, the circumstances attending this sentence to be entered in your records." He dismissed them with a curt flourish of his white-gloved hand. "That is all."
 They filed out silently.
 He looked at Jusik. "Inform the respective lieutenant captains that they are promoted to full captains and now must enter recommendations for their vacated positions. These must be received by me before nightfall."
 "As you order, sir."
 "Also warn them to prepare to attend a commanding officer's court which will deal with the lower-ranking absentees as and when they reappear. Inform Captain Somir that he is appointed commander of the firing squad which will carry out the decisions of the court immediately they are pronounced."
 "Yes, sir." Gaunt and hollow-eyed, Jusik turned with a click of heels and departed.
 When the closer had shut the door, Cruin sat at his desk, placed his elbows on its surface, held his face in his hands. If the deserters did not return, they could not be punished. No power, no authority could vent its wrath upon an absent body. The law was impotent if its subjects lacked the essential feature of being present. All the laws of Huld could not put memories of lost men before a firing squad.
 It was imperative that he make an example of the offenders. Their sly, furtive trips into the enemy's camp, he suspected, had been repeated often enough to have become a habit. Doubtless by now they were settled wherever they were visiting, sharing homes--welcome rooms--sharing food, company, laughter. Doubtless they had started to regain weight, to lose the space lines on their cheeks and foreheads, and the light in their eyes had begun to burn anew; and they had talked with signs and pictures, played games, tried to suck smoke things, and strolled with girls through the fields and the glades.
 A pulse was beating steadily in the thickness of his neck as he stared through the port and waited for some sign that the tripled ring of guards had caught the first on his way in. Down, down, deep down inside him at a depth too great for him to admit that it was there, lay the disloyal hope that none would return.
 One deserter would mean the slow, shuffling tread of the squad, the hoarse calls of "Aim!" and "Fire!" and the stepping forward of Somir, gun in hand, to administer the mercy shot.
 Damn the manuals.
 At the end of the first period after nightfall Jusik burst into the office, saluted, breathed heavily. The glare of the ceiling illumination deepened the lines on his thin features, magnified the bristles on his unshaven chin.
 "Sir, I have to report that the men are getting out of control."
 'What d'you mean?" Cruin's heavy brows came down as he stared fiercely at the other.
 "They know of the recent demotions, of course. They know also that a court will assemble to deal with the absentees." He took another long-drawn breath. "And they also know the penalty these absentees must face."
 "So?"
 "So more of them have deserted--they've gone to warn the others not to return."
 "Ah!" Cruin smiled lopsidedly. "The guards let them walk out, eh? Just like that?"
 "Ten of the guards went with them," said Jusik.
 "Ten?" Coming up fast, Cruin moved near to the other, studied him searchingly. "How many went altogether?"
 "Ninety-seven."
 Grabbing his helmet, Cruin slammed it on, pulled the metal chin strap over his jaw muscles. "More than one complete crew." He examined his gun, shoved it back, strapped on a second one. "At that rate they'll all be gone by morning." He eyed Jusik. "Don't you think so?" "That's what I'm afraid of, sir."
 Cruin patted his shoulder. "The answer, Jusik, is an easy one--we take off immediately."
 "Take off?"
 "Most certainly. The whole fleet. We'll strike a balanced orbit where it will be impossible for any man to leave. I will then give the situation more thought. Probably we'll make a new landing in some locality where none will be tempted to sneak away because there'll be nowhere to go. A scout can pick up Fane and his party in due course."
 "I doubt whether they'll obey orders for departure, sir."
 "We'll see, we'll see." He smiled again, hard and craggy. "As you would know if you'd studied the manuals properly, it is not difficult to smash incipient mutiny. All one has to do is remove the ringleaders. NO mob is composed of men, as such. It is made up of a few ringleaders and a horde of stupid followers." He patted his guns. "You can always tell a ringleader--invariably he is the first to open his mouth!"
 "Yes, sir," mouthed Jusik, with misgivings.
 "Sound the call for general assembly."
 The flagship's siren wailed dismally in the night. Lights flashed from ship to ship, and startled birds woke up and squawked in the trees beyond the ash.
 Slowly, deliberately, impressively, Cruin came down the ladder, faced the audience whose features were a mass of white blobs in the glare of the ships' beams. The captains and lieutenant captains ranged themselves behind him and to either side. Each carried an extra gun.
 "After three years of devoted service to Huld," he enunciated pompously, "some men have failed me. It seems that we have weaklings among us, weaklings unable to stand the strain of a few extra days before our triumph. Careless of their duty they disobey orders, fraternize with the enemy, consort with our opponents' females, and try to snatch a few creature comforts at the expense of the many." His hard, accusing eyes went over them. "In due time they will be punished with the utmost severity."
 They stared back at him expressionlessly. He could shoot the ears off a running man at twenty-five yards, and he was waiting for his target to name itself. So were those at his side.
 None spoke.
 "Among you may be others equally guilty but not discovered. They need not congratulate themselves, for they are about to be deprived of further opportunities to exercise their disloyalty." His stare kept flickering over them while his hand remained ready at his side. "We are going to trim the ships and take off, seeking a balanced orbit. That means lost sleep and plenty of hard work for which you have your treacherous comrades to thank." He paused a moment, finished with: "Has anyone anything to say?" One man holding a thousand. Silence. "Prepare for departure," he snapped, and turned his back upon them.
 Captain Somir, now facing him, yelped: "Look out, commander!" and whipped up his gun to fire over Cruin's shoulder.
 Cruin made to turn, conscious of a roar behind him, his guns coming out as he twisted around. He heard no crack from Somir's weapon, saw no more of his men as their roar cut off abruptly. There seemed to be an intolerable weight upon his skull, the grass came up to meet him, he let go his guns and put out his hands to save himself. Then the hazily dancing lights faded from his eyesight and all was black.
 Deep in his sleep he heard vaguely and uneasily a prolonged stamping of feet, many dull, elusive sounds as of people shouting far, far away. This went on for a considerable time, and ended with a series of violent reports that shook the ground beneath his body.
 Someone splashed water over his face.
 Sitting up, he held his throbbing head, saw pale fingers of dawn feeling through the sky to one side. Blinking his aching eyes to clear them, he perceived Jusik, Somir and eight others. All were smothered in dirt, their faces bruised, their uniforms tom and bedraggled.
 "They rushed us the moment you turned away from them," explained Jusik, morbidly. "A hundred of them in the front. They rushed us in one united frenzy, and the rest followed. There were too many for us." He regarded his superior with red-rimmed optics. "You have been flat all night."
 Unsteadily, Cruin got to his feet, teetered to and fro. "How many were killed?"
 "None. We fired over their heads. After that--it was too late."
 "Over their heads?" Squaring his massive shoulders, Cruin felt a sharp pain in the middle of his back, ignored it. "What are guns for if not to kill?"
 "It isn't easy," said Jusik, with the faintest touch of defiance. "Not when they're one's own comrades."
 "Do you agree?" The commander's glare challenged the others.
 They nodded miserably, and Somir said: "There was little time, sir, and if one hesitates, as we did, it becomes--"
 "There are no excuses for anything. You had your orders; it was for you to obey them." His hot gaze burned one, then the other. "You are incompetent for your rank. You are both demoted!" His jaw came forward, ugly, aggressive, as he roared: "Get out of my sight!"
 They mooched away. Savagely he climbed the ladder, entered his ship, explored it from end to end. There was not a soul on board. His lips were tight as he reached the tail, found the cause of the earth-rocking detonations. The fuel tanks had been exploded, wrecking the engines and reducing the whole vessel to a useless mass of metal.
 Leaving, he inspected the rest of his fleet. Every ship was the same, empty and wrecked beyond possibility of repair. At least the mutineers had been thorough and logical in their sabotage. Until a report-vessel arrived, the home world of Huld had no means of knowing where the expedition had landed. Despite even a systematic and wide-scale search it might well be a thousand years before Huldians found this particular planet again. Effectively the rebels had marooned themselves for the rest of their natural lives and placed themselves beyond reach of Huldian retribution.
 Tasting to the full the bitterness of defeat, he squatted on the bottom rung of the twenty-second vessel's ladder, surveyed the double star-formations that represented his ruined armada. Futilely, their guns pointed over surrounding terrain. Twelve of the scouts, he noted, had gone. The others had been rendered as useless as their parent vessels.
 Raising his gaze to the hill, he perceived silhouettes against the dawn where Jusik, Somir and the others were walking over the crest, walking away from him, making for the farther valley he had viewed so often. Four children joined them at the top, romped beside them as they proceeded. Slowly the whole group sank from sight under the rising sun.
 Returning to the flagship, Cruin packed a patrol sack with personal possessions, strapped it on his shoulders. Without a final glance at the remains of his once-mighty command he set forth away from the sun, in the direction opposite to that taken by the last of his men.
 His jack boots were dull, dirty. His orders of merit hung lopsidedly and had a gap where one had been tom off in the fracas. The bell was missing from his right boot; he endured the pad-ding, pad-ding of its fellow for twenty steps before he unscrewed it and slung it away.
 The sack on his back was heavy, but not so heavy as the immense burden upon his mind. Grimly, stubbornly he plodded on, away from the ships, far, far into the morning mists--facing the new world alone.
 Three and a half years had bitten deep into the ships of Huld. Still they lay in the valley, arranged with mathematical precision, noses in, tails out, as only authority could place them. But the rust had eaten a quarter of the way through the thickness of their tough shells, and their metal ladders were rotten and treacherous. The field mice and the voles had found refuge beneath them; the birds and spiders had sought sanctuary within them. A lush growth had sprung from encompassing ash, hiding the perimeter for all time.
 The man who came by them in the midafternoon rested his pack and studied them silently, from a distance. He was big, burly, with a skin the color of old leather. His deep gray eyes were calm, thoughtful as they observed the thick ivy climbing over the flagship's tail.
 Having looked at them for a musing half hour he hoisted his pack and went on, up the hill, over the crest and into the farther valley. Moving easily in his plain, loose-fitting clothes, his pace was deliberate, methodical.
 Presently he struck a road, followed it to a stone-built cottage in the garden of which a lithe, dark-haired woman was cutting flowers. Leaning on the gate, he spoke to her. His speech was fluent but strangely accented. His tones were gruff but pleasant.
 "Good afternoon."
 She stood up, her arms full of gaudy blooms, looked at him with rich, black eyes. "Good afternoon." Her full lips parted with pleasure. "Are you touring? Would you care to guest with us? I am sure that Jusik--my husband--would be delighted to have you. Our welcome room has not been occupied for--"
 "I am sorry," he chipped in. "I am seeking the Merediths. Could you direct me?"
 "The next house up the lane." Deftly, she caught a falling bloom, held it to her breast. "If their welcome room has a guest, please remember us."
 "I will remember," he promised. Eying her approvingly, his broad, muscular face lit up with a smile. "Thank you so much."
 Shouldering his pack he marched on, conscious of her eyes following him. He reached the gate of the next place, a long, rambling, picturesque house fronted by a flowering garden. A boy was playing by the gate.
 Glancing up as the other stopped near him, the boy said: "Are you touring, sir?"
 "Sir?" echoed the man. "Sir" His face quirked. "Yes, sonny, I am touring. I'm looking for the Merediths."
 "Why, I'm Sam Meredith!" The boy's face flushed with sudden excitement. "You wish to guest with us?"
 "If I may."
 "Yow-ee!" He fled frantically along the garden path, shrieking at the top of his voice, "Mom, Pop, Marva, Sue--we've got a guest!"
 A tall, red-headed man came to the door, pipe in mouth. Coolly, calmly, he surveyed the visitor.
 After a little while, the man removed the pipe and said: "I'm Jake Meredith. Please come in." Standing aside, he let the other enter, then called, "Mary, Mary, can you get a meal for a guest?"
 "Right away," assured a cheerful voice from the back.
 "Come with me." Meredith led the other to the veranda, found him an easy-chair. "Might as well rest while you're waiting. Mary takes time. She isn't satisfied until the legs of the table are near to collapse--and woe betide you if you leave anything."
 "It is good of you." Seating himself, the visitor drew a long breath, gazed over the pastoral scene before him.
 Taking another chair, Meredith applied a light to his pipe. "Have you seen the mail ship?"
 "Yes, it arrived early yesterday. I was lucky enough to view it as it passed overhead."
 "You certainly were lucky considering that it comes only once in four years. I've seen it only twice, myself. It came right over this house. An imposing sight."
 "Very!" indorsed the visitor, with unusual emphasis. "It looked to me about five miles long, a tremendous creation. Its mass must be many times greater than that of all those alien ships in the valley."
 "Many times," agreed Meredith.
 The other leaned forward, watching his host. "I often wonder whether those aliens attributed smallness of numbers to war or disease, not thinking of large-scale emigration, nor realizing what it means."
 "I doubt whether they cared very much seeing that they burned their boats and settled among us." He pointed with the stem of his pipe. "One of them lives in that cottage down there. Jusik's his name. Nice fellow. He married a local girl eventually. They are very happy."
 "I'm sure they are."
 They were quiet a long time, then Meredith spoke absently, as if thinking aloud. "They brought with them weapons of considerable might, not knowing that we have a weapon truly invincible." Waving one hand, he indicated the world at large. "It took us thousands of years to learn about the sheer invincibility of an idea. That's what we've got-a way of life, an idea. Nothing can blast that to shreds. Nothing can defeat an idea--except a better one." He put the pipe back in his mouth. "So far, we have failed to find a better one.
 "They came at the wrong time," Meredith went on. "Ten thousand years too late." He glanced sidewise at his listener. "Our history covers a long, long day. It was so lurid that it came out in a new edition every minute. But this one's the late night final."
 "You philosophize, eh?"
 Meredith smiled. "I often sit here to enjoy my silences. I sit here and think. Invariably I end up with the same conclusion."
 "What may that be?"
 "That if I, personally, were in complete possession of all the visible stars and their multitude of planets I would still be subject to one fundamental limitation"--bending, he tapped his pipe on his heel--"in this respect--that no man can eat more than his belly can hold." He stood up, tall, wide-chested. "Here comes my daughter, Marva. Would you like her to show you your room?"
 Standing inside the welcome room, the visitor surveyed it appreciatively. The comfortable bed, the bright furnishings.
 "Like it?" Marva asked.
 "Yes, indeed." Facing her, his gray eyes examined her. She was tall, red-haired, green-eyed, and her figure was ripe with the beauty of young womanhood. Pulling slowly at his jaw muscles, he asked: "Do you think that I resemble Cruin?"
 "Cruin?" Her finely curved brows crinkled in puzzlement.
 "The commander of that alien expedition."
 "Oh, him!" Her eyes laughed, and the dimples came into her cheeks. "How absurd! You don't look the least bit like him. He was old and severe. You are young--and far more handsome."
 "It is kind of you to say so," he murmured. His hands moved aimlessly around in obvious embarrassment. He fidgeted a little under her frank, self-possessed gaze. Finally, he went to his pack, opened it. "It is conventional for the guest to bring his hosts a present." A tinge of pride crept into his voice. "So I have brought one. I made it myself. It took me a long time to learn ... a long time ... with these clumsy hands. About three years."
 Marva looked at it, raced through the doorway, leaned over the balustrade and called excitedly down the stairs. "Pop, Mom, our guest has a wonderful present for us. A clock. A clock with a little metal bird that calls the time."
 Beneath her, feet bustled along the passage and Mary's voice came up saying: "May I see it? Please let me see it." Eagerly, she mounted the stairs.
 As he waited for them within the welcome room, his shoulders squared, body erect as if on parade, the clock whirred in Cruin's hands and its little bird solemnly fluted twice.
 The hour of triumph.