"Sure it is," the senior inspector said. "Can't tell what these ships might bring in." "I suppose so," the assistant said. "Still, a Martian whoosis wouldn't even be able to live on Earth. Would it?" "How should I know?" the senior inspector said. "I'm no botanist. Maybe they don't know, either." "Seems like a waste of—hey!" "What is it?" the senior inspector asked. "I thought I saw something," the assistant said. "Looked a little like a palmetto bug. Over by that shelf." The senior inspector adjusted his respirator more snugly over his face and motioned to his assistant to do the same. He advanced slowly toward the shelf, unfastening a second nozzle from the pressure tank on his back. He turned it on, and a cloud of greenish gas sprayed out. "There," the senior inspector said. "That should take care of your bug." He knelt down and looked under the shelf. "Nothing here." "It was probably a shadow," the assistant said. Together they sprayed the entire interior of the ship, paying particular attention to the small box of Martian artifacts. They left the gas-filled ship and dogged the hatch again. "Now what?" the assistant asked. "Now we leave the ship sealed for three days," the senior inspector said. "Then we inspect again. You find me the animal that'll live through that." The Quedak, who had been clinging to the underside of the assistant's shoe between the heel and the sole, released his hold. He watched the shadowy biped figures move away, talking in their deep, rumbling, indecipherable voices. He felt tired and unutterably lonely. But buoying him up was the thought of the Quedak mission. Only that was important. The first part of the mission was accomplished. He had landed safely on an inhabited planet. Now he needed food and drink. Then he had to have rest, a great deal of rest to restore his dormant faculties. After that he would be ready to give this world what it so obviously needed—the cooperation possible only through the Quedak mind. He crept slowly down the shadowy yard, past the deserted