If this race develops and learns,
they'll be just as valuable to the galaxy as they would otherwise be
dangerous." He looked toward the door.

"And our boy out there is one of the few who can help in this situation.
He's going to have to work out counter stories--amusing stories--about
all those magical creatures his people tell about. He's going to have to
hint at the possibilities of close co-ordination and co-operation
between members of his own species. And he's going to have to suggest
the possibility of friendly co-operation between his species and
others." He drew a deep breath.

"And he's going to have to do all this without taking any risk of
exposing the existence of other, more advanced species in the galaxy."
He brushed a hand across his head, then pressed the back of his neck,
kneading the skin.

"These stories of his, he'll have to publish. He'll have to get them
circulated all over his planet, if he can. Possibly we can give him some
indirect help, but he's going to have to carry a good share of the load.

"He knows his own people as we could never hope to. And he'll have to be
thoroughly educated, so he can say what he wants to. And he'll have to
be fully aware of the humanic equations and all their connotations. If
he's to have any direct help, he'll have to choose his helpers from
among his own people, and he'll have to choose carefully." Kweiros
thrust at his temple with the heel of a hand, then shook his head
violently.

"Somehow, he's going to have to accentuate any legends he may be able to
find which present a favorable light on co-ordination and co-operation,
and he'll have to invent more. And all those other legends--the ones
which treat of superstition and destructive force--will have to be
reduced to the realm of the storybook, submerged under a layer of amused
condemnation, and kept there. All these things, that youngster is going
to have to do.

"It's your job to help teach him."

* * * * *

Forell watched his friend closely as the critic laid aside the last
page.

Andorra sat for a moment, his head cocked in thought. Then, he picked up
the last page and looked at it again. Finally, he laid the sheet aside.
He looked at his friend with a wry smile, then picked up his wineglass,
looking at it quizzically.

"Do you always give your own name to one of your characters?"

Forell's grip tightened on the small object in his hand.

"Oh, sure," he said.