"

Klaft hesitated.

"Well, couldn't they?"

The aide looked away, out one of the windows at some sun-dyed clouds
ranging from pink to orange. He grimaced and clicked his showy teeth
uncomfortably.

"Perhaps they thought you might be offended, George," he answered at
last.

Kinton settled back in the seat especially padded to fit the contours
of his Terran body, and stared silently at the partition behind the
pilot.

In other words, he thought, he was responsible for Birken, who was a
Terran, one of his own kind. Maybe they really didn't want to risk
hurting his feelings, but that was only part of it. They were leaving
it up to him to handle what they considered his private affair.

He wondered what to do. He had no actual faith in the idea that Birken
was delirious, or acting under any influence but that of a criminally
self-centered nature.

"I _shouldn't_ have told him about the ship!" Kinton muttered, gnawing
the knuckle of his left thumb. "He's on the run, all right. Probably
scared the colonial authorities will trail him right down through the
Dome of Eyes. Wonder what he did?"

He caught himself and looked around to see if he had been overheard.
Klaft and the police officers peered from their respective windows, in
calculated withdrawal. Kinton, disturbed, tried to remember whether he
had spoken in Terran or Tepoktan.

Would Birken listen if he tried reasoning, he asked himself. Maybe if
he showed the man how they had proved the unpredictability of openings
through the shifting Dome of Eyes--

An exclamation from the constable drew his attention. He rose, and room
was made for him at the opposite window.

* * * * *

In the distance, beyond the town landing field they were now
approaching, Kinton saw a halted ground car. Across the plain which was
colored a yellowish tan by a short, grass-like growth, a lone figure
plodded toward the upthrust bulk of the spaceship that had never flown.

"Never mind landing at the town!" snapped Kinton. "Go directly out to
the ship!"

Klaft relayed the command to the pilot. The helicopter swept in a
descending curve across the plain toward the gleaming hull.

As they passed the man below, Birken looked up. He continued to limp
along at a brisk pace with the aid of what looked like a short spear.

"Go down!" Kinton ordered.

The pilot landed about a hundred yards from the spaceship. By the time
his passengers had alighted, howe