to you." "You are wise," the priest said. He bowed elaborately and made for the door. "Just one moment," Devall said desperately, as the alien opened the door. "Another question." "Ask," the priest said. "You told me you'd take his place if I refused to let you have him. Well, how about another substitute? Suppose—" "You are not acceptable to us," the priest said as if reading Devall's mind, and left. Five minutes later the colonel glanced out his window and saw the solemn procession of aliens passing through the exit-posts and out of the compound. In their midst, unprotesting, was Leonards. He didn't look back, and Devall was glad of it. The colonel stared at the row of books a long time, the frayed spools that had followed him around from world to world, from gray Danelon to stormy Lurrin to bone-dry Korvel, and on to Hegath and M'Qualt and the others, and now to warm blue-skied Markin. Shaking his head, he turned away and dropped heavily into the foam cradle behind his desk. He snapped on the autotype with a savage gesture and dictated a full account of his actions, from the very start until his climactic decision, and smiled bitterly. There would be a certain time-lag, but before long the autotype facsimile machine in the E-T Department's basement would start clacking, there in Rio, and Thornton would know what Devall had done. And Thornton would be stuck with it as Department policy henceforth. Devall switched on the intercom and said, "I'm not to be disturbed under any circumstances. If there's anything urgent, have it sent to Major Grey; he's acting head of the base until I countermand. And if any messages come from Earth let Grey have them too." He wondered if they'd relieve him of his command immediately, or wait until he got back to Earth. The latter, more likely; Thornton had some subtlety, if not much. But there was certain to be an inquiry, and a head would roll. Devall shrugged and stretched back. I did what was right, he told himself firmly. That's the one thing I can be sure of. But I
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