He picked up an enlargement of one portion of a land mass, put a hand magnetic lens over it. The magnification showed clusters of dwellings, linked together by lines and double lines upon the ground--certainly the ultimate proof of low-order civilization, when beings chose to live clustered together, commuting by land, when they could spread themselves out over the surface of their planet and use the roads of the sky. The Commander made a sign in the air with his fingers and a door popped open at the end of the vast room. An aide ran toward the desk, halted, covered his face in salute. "Sir?" "How long has the scout been gone?" The aide removed his hands from his eyes. "A day and a night, sir. He should be back any time, now." "Fool!" The Commander roared out the word. "Did I ask for your guesses? I know he's due back. He is, in fact, one hour overdue." He did not know if this was or was not true, but it was good discipline policy. "Lock him away when he arrives." The other covered his face respectfully. "Yes, sir." He turned, ran from the desk and out the door. For a few minutes the Commander kept busy by calling the ten ray-centers of the three mile long ship, demanding to know if they were ready to beam. They were. He then spent a while ordering all unit leaders to hold their sections in readiness for inertialess drive. The unit leaders protested politely that they were. He called engine, commanded that they "look sharp." Meekly they assured him that all was well. With only small satisfaction, the Commander rose from his desk, paced slowly over to the port again. As he gazed out at the moon's bland surface, he reflected that there was something about this nine planet system they were in that made him edgy ... made him want to keep active and alert. And where was that thrice-blasted scout? He decided to have him flogged when he returned. Good discipline policy. * * * * * The Scout woke from his drunken sleep and glanced at the clock on the dash of his little craft. It was very late, he saw. He would have to think of a fine excuse when he returned or they would put him in Truth and learn that all Scouts took the precious freedom of voyages to become intoxicated for a while. Not much time! He would have to take what he could find in the vicinity. Small difference it made, though, since the beings of the planet were surely doomed. The Scout yawned, then lifted the ship from the mountain and arrowed it down into the folds of the valley. His visor translated the immediate night into light, showing him the typically repugnant surface features of a type J planet: Foliage, sharp young geology, water flowing in natural beds. A world like a hundred others he'd visited in the name of Law.