We fed our observations into the analyzer, together with all extraneous data we could lay our digits on via our proxies--not to prove our conclusions but to determine the means by which we could obtain the power metal with the least possible repercussions in this society. We both realized it would be fatal to expose ourselves. The mammalian technology was sufficiently advanced for them to duplicate the essential portions of our ship, and chaos could result if they secured a road to the stars. Generations of effort would be required to confine them again to their homeworld. Thinking in this manner caused me to take certain precautions with the drive mechanism that would ensure no trace of our craft remaining if I projected a certain impulse at a given strength. Ven, of course, was appalled at my action, although she realized its grim necessity. And in the meantime we worked with our proxies, I attempting to establish some means of quietly obtaining the metal we needed, and Ven doing nothing so far as I could determine that would further our mission. At that, Edith was in no position to obtain metal, and Ven was too young and inexperienced in contact work to attempt a mission of such delicacy. Since Edith amused her, I was content to leave them both to their own devices while I worked with Donald to speed our departure. "In this society," I said to Donald, "it seems that one can accomplish anything with this medium of exchange you call money." "That's close to a fundamental truth," Donald replied. "And you are not too well supplied with it?" I asked. "Those four ingots I brought you last week put a vicious dent in our savings account." "Isn't your trade as an author profitable?" "Only in spurts. It's a feast-famine existence. But it's the only one I care to lead." "But popular fiction makes money--and you can write." "I wish you'd tell that to my agent. He seems to have other ideas." "I have recently read some of your fiction," I said, "and have noticed that it has certain basics that could easily be applied to an analyzer. There is no reason why we could not cooperate and produce a work that would yield a great deal of money." Donald laughed. "Now I've heard everything!" he said. "You mean to tell me _you_ could write a book _humans_ would buy?" "No, you would write the book. I would merely furnish the idea, the research data, the plot, and the general story outline. In your popular fiction," I continued, "there are four basic elements and a plot that can be varied about twenty-five ways. There is small need for philosophy and little need for abstract thought. In fact, there is no need at all for anything but glandular excitation. All that is really necessary is plenty of action, enough understanding of the locale and events to avoid anachronism--and the basics." * * * * * "What are these basics?" Donald said. "As a writer I'd like to know them."