The ship's captain swung his chair to face them, his angular face folding into a responsive grin. Then he waved a tele-tape at the four men and looked more serious. "Here's Patrol's latest summary of the situation," he announced. "Still no response from Procyon V, otherwise known as Azura. No activity in the ruined cities. No further clashes with traders, because the traders have given up. However, the natives are still taking pot-shots from the woods at any scouting parties that dare to sit down on the planet. Every attempt at contact is fiercely rejected. "The Patrol lads, naturally, are forbidden to shoot back, at least until they find out what this is all about ... which, of course, is where our own little expedition of specialists comes in. Incidentally, it seems fairly certain the natives know nothing of radio, so we'll be safe in using microwave to feel our way down in the dark." He accepted a cigarette from Rogers and nodded toward a month-old report titled: Unofficial Data as of 31 October 2083; Procyon V (Azura). "I know we have precious little to go in there with, but that's the situation. A million credits from Earth Central, if we establish friendly contact." He smoked a while, grey eyes on the ceiling. Then, as nobody spoke, he added: "The Patrol has had two more skirmishes, not far from here, with what we've called the Invader culture. None of their ships has been captured, but it's fairly certain they're the same vicious crowd we've fought near Rigel, Alpha Centauri, and so on. They seem to be heading this way again slowly. Here...." * * * * * He handed out half a dozen photographs of strange-looking spacecraft. "They're undoubtedly the gang that blew hell out of Azura a few years ago, before we got here, and gave the natives such a violent dislike of strangers. The Invader's weapons are somewhat inferior to ours, but he apparently has the considerable advantage of having superior position in regard to bases ... particularly around here. The patrol simply can't stand up to a determined attack in this region unless a base is made available, preferably on Azura." Brettner said, softly, "That's what we're really after, isn't it? Nobody's handing us a million credits just for cultural purposes." The leader of the expedition nodded. "Yep. Once we talk to these Azurans, I think we can convince them we all have a common enemy. An enemy who seems to enjoy smashing things just for fun. I have a hunch the Azurans expect the Invaders back, too ... that might account for their apparent determination to remain hidden." He reached for the log. "Incidentally, what's the latest on the damage situation?"