"Oh, no you aren't, not in this office," his old friend interrupted. "We got the idea perfectly. The question is, why can't human beings repair nerves or spinal cords, or grow new ones? If such a worthless beastie as a starfish can grow a whole new body to one leg, including a brain, if any, why can't a really intelligent victim of simple infantile paralysis--or a ray--recover the use of a leg that is otherwise in perfect shape?" "Well, that's something like it, but I hope you can aim closer than that at a battleship," Lacy grunted. "We'll buzz off now, Phillips, and leave these two war horses alone." * * * * * "Here is my report in detail." Kinnison placed the package upon the Port Admiral's desk as soon as the room was sealed behind the visitors. "I talked to you direct about most of it--this is for the record." "Of course. Mighty glad you found Medon, for our sake as well as theirs. They have things that we need, badly." "Where did they put them? I suggested a sun near Sol, so as to have them handy to Prime Base." "Right next door--Alpha Centauri. Didn't get to do much scouting, did you?" "I'll say we didn't. Boskonia owns that Galaxy; lock, stock, and barrel. Maybe some other independent planets--bound to be, of course; probably a lot of them--but it's too dangerous, hunting them at this stage of the game. But at that, we did enough, for the time being. We proved our point. Boskone, if there is any such being, is certainly in the Second Galaxy. However, it will be a long time before we're ready to carry the war there to him, and in the meantime we've got a lot to do. Check?" "To nineteen decimals." "It seems to me, then, that while you are rebuilding our first-line ships, super-powering them with Medonian insulation and conductors, I had better keep on tracing Boskone along the line of drugs. I have proved to my own satisfaction that they are back of almost all of that drug business." "And in some ways their drugs are more dangerous to Civilization than their battleships. More insidious and, ultimately, more fatal." "I'm convinced of it. And since I am perhaps as well equipped as any of the other Lensmen to cope with that particular problem--" Kinnison paused, questioningly. "That certainly is no overstatement," the Port Admiral replied, dryly. "You're the _only_ one equipped to cope with it." "None of the other boys except Worsel, then? I heard that a couple--" "They thought that they had a call, but they didn't. All they had was a wish. They came back." "Too bad--but I can see how that would be. A man has to know exactly what he needs, and his brain must be ready to take it, or it burns it out. It almost does, anyway--mind is a funny thing. But that isn't getting us anywhere. Can you take time to let me talk at you a few minutes?" "I certainly can. You have what is perhaps the most important assignment in the Galaxy, and I would like to know more about it, if it's anything you can pass on."