n
Space Guard discussions--of a change that Narf would never permit--be
continued without delay.

He walked slowly into his own room. In the nightmare situation of
frustration there was one single sane and stable conviction for his mind
to cling to: Supreme Command would by now have received his message and
shot back the reply that would relieve Rockford of his command. Perhaps
it wasn't yet too late--

Then his mind reeled as a new conviction struck it.

There was a sheet of paper on his bed--a message.

_His_ message!

... SITUATION EXTREMELY CRITICAL ... VAL BORAN ALREADY CONVINCED BY
SONIG'S PROPAGANDA ... MUST REPORT ROCKFORD IS UTTERLY INCOMPETENT, HIS
MIND AND WILL DESTROYED BY ALCOHOL ... REPEAT: ROCKFORD IS DOING
NOTHING, HIS MIND DESTROYED BY ALCOHOL....

The words screamed up at him and he felt the sickness of one who sees
the last faint hope shattered and gone. All was lost, now....

He went outside, feeling a savage desire for violence rising above the
sickness.

"Rootenant!" Alonzo came bounding to meet him and slid to a halt with
his saucer feet scattering gravel and the idiotic grin on his face. "I
mair your retter and you owe me six fig cook--"

It occurred to Hunter that it was not Alonzo that should be punished.
He, Hunter, was the one who deserved execution for ever entrusting
anything so important as the message to an imbecilic animal.

He said with cold distinctness:

"The ... letter ... is ... inside."

"Oh?" Alonzo blinked. "I sure mair something, awr right. After Mr.
Rockford correct it."

"_Correct it?_"

"Oh, sure. Mr. Rockford, he up rong before you this morning to find me
and say you are writing a retter rast night and I must bring it by for
him to make awr your mistakes over again."

_So Rockford was watching all the time, pretending to be in a drunken
sleep...._

"Rootenant--" Alonzo shifted his big feet impatiently. "You stirr owe me
six fig--"

Hunter swung around and strode away, afraid he might decide to choke the
animal after all. A culture of twenty worlds was the same as already
destroyed, and he was held in a maddening quagmire of helplessness by a
crafty alcoholic and a dog with the mind of a small child.

"Ah ... my boy!" Rockford came out of the cabin, beaming as though
nothing had ever happened. "Look to your left, among those ghost
trees--Narf is demonstrating his quick-draw skill to Sonig. Narf is
supposed to be a very dangerous man, you know."

Hun