He got quietly out of the hammock and crept towards the door. He had to get back to the lifeboat, to feed facts into the monitor. One thing disturbed him. According to his agent's handbook, family-group anarchies didn't need inhibition. He was halfway across the plowed field when Mentor's iron voice said, "Good evening." Moonfire glimmered on metal. The robot stood impassively before him. Saxon said slowly, "I was just going for a walk." "You are our guest: I shall walk with you." "I prefer to walk alone." "Guests prefer company. The house of Lang must observe the basic amenities." Was there a hint of sardonicism in Mentor's voice? They walked along the furrows, man and robot. Saxon felt beneath his shirt for the utility kit. He kept his voice level. "Am I a prisoner?" "You are a guest." "Did Veena tell you I might try to escape?" A pause, while relays clicked silently. "That is classified information." Saxon's fingers were steady as they touched his tiny blaster. Benevolent anarchy indeed! He said carefully, "Do the colonists resent their exile?" Another pause. Mentor's voice was a flat drone. "The concept is meaningless, the question invalid." _Like hell it is_, thought Saxon, and fired. A cold blue wash of energy illuminated the robot. For a moment Saxon was blinded. When vision returned he saw Mentor standing immobile, unscathed. "Please go back to bed," the robot said. Saxon went back to bed. * * * * * Next morning Veena brought him breakfast. She seemed sad, withdrawn. "Lang and Merl went to visit Aunt Tarsi. She lives near the Equator. They won't be back till evening." "How" Saxon had trouble breathing. "How did they go?" "By transmitter, of course." She indicated a large shimmering platform in one corner. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot rovers hate the mention of any type of gadgetry." Her eyes grew impossibly earnest. "But we try to achieve some kind of balance, really. Once when I suggested that Father let Mentor help him plow the fields, he got furious." Saxon restrained wild laughter. First the robot, invulnerable to atomic energy, now a matter transmitter. Yet they plowed their own fields. "Veena," he said. She looked up at him. "Why did you tell Mentor to keep me here?" She bowed her bright head. Her blue eyes were brimming. "Why, Veena?" "Because I like you," she sniffled. "I wanted you to s-stay." Abruptly she fled from the room. He stood bleakly looking after her. After a time he went outside and struck across the field towards the forest. This time the robot did not stop him. * * * * * _Do not allow the emotional charm of any culture, nor any individual of that culture, to sway your inhibition appraisal._ In the narrow confines of the lifeboat he repeated the quotation grimly. Good inhibition agents are inflexible. He was a good agent.