"You'll have to take our conclusion on faith, Lieutenant. You're the only individual of your particular species aboard, and it would be absurd for us to wait for the center to send out a scientist with your physical qualifications. This planet is too insignificant for us to waste that much time on the survey. The chemistry of the atmosphere and the pressure of gravity approximate what you're accustomed to on your home world, Lieutenant Henig. And the co-incidence of your appearance is the best disguise you could have." "Sir, isn't it true that sometimes on these primitive worlds, the animal species war against each other? Wouldn't I be likely to get involved?" "The computers say no. And we can't argue against mechanical logic, can we, Lieutenant?" Naturally the scientists relied on their data, Henig thought bitterly; but they weren't making the observation--they weren't standing naked and unarmed on an alien world. The miniature recorders sent down by the ship were only machines, after all, without a logical sense of judgment. The Lieutenant had experienced alien worlds before. Facts were all very well, but the unpredictable quality of emotion was something else again. How could a recorder make note of that? How could feeling be measured or tabulated by the computers? The Lieutenant lay in the brush listening to the talk of the three hairless aliens. It was surprisingly trivial, the sort of thing he might have heard on his home world: the rising price of food in the city; the cost of fuel for their wheeled vehicles; obscure references to politics; an amusing remark about the female of the species. The similarity to what he knew gave Henig confidence. * * * * * He slid out of his hiding place and moved toward the three bipeds. This was the ultimate test. If the computers had been right, the Lieutenant would pass them unnoticed. He was nearly across the road when the alien things saw him. They fell silent and backed away from him. He saw terror in their faces a split-second before one of them--a female--began to scream. The second male turned and fled into the trees. The other drew out a cylindrical tube which was a weapon. Henig tried to read the emotion in their minds, but the only comprehensible thought the telecommunicator picked up was a paralyzing horror. Henig sprang at the hairless biped who had the weapon, clawing the ugly, white face. The female screamed again and beat at him with her forepaws. The weapon exploded as the male went down, his face a torn, beaten pulp. Henig felt the hot pain of the metal pellet lodged in the flesh of his shoulder. In panic he fled beyond the frame building. And the Scientist-General had said he would be safe--without weapons, without the protection of his uniform! The logic of civilization didn't apply on a primitive world of animal emotions.