"Well, I assumed that you'd have no further use for it. Metal is hard to get nowadays and it seemed only proper to erect heroic statues to both of you, the men who brought the institution of peace to Mala. Did I do something wrong?" "Not at all, not at all," Kelly said. "Oh, not at all. Perfectly delighted. Not at--" "Johnny!" said Beliakoff. "Sorry," Kelly apologized, a broken man. The brides stepped forward to claim their husbands. Peace and prosperity came to Mala, under the deft guidance of their Terran leaders. In time, spaceships arrived and departed, but neither man showed any particular desire to board one, for their wives--docile, patient, yet fiery--proved more appealing than the lonely far reaches of space. Beliakoff sometimes pondered the opportune melting down of their freighter. He was never able to discover who had signed the order. But all Mala knew the saying, "An Earthman is easy to catch, but hard to hold." He wondered whether that had been the true reason behind the order to scrap the ship. By this time, of course, he didn't really care; if his wife or Kelly's had been responsible, it was all the more reason to feel appreciated. * * * * * Nob knew the answer, but he had other things on his mind. He lay awake, restless, until his wife asked worriedly what was wrong. "I've been wondering," he said. "Those war books that the Earthmen had us turn in--I never did understand why all those deletions were made. You know, the ones that made us figure out a way of deciding which side won." "But the Earthmen said they used the very same system," she reminded him. "And they wouldn't lie, would they?" "They would, if it was for our good. That's what is known as diplomacy, dear. Statesmanship. Or politics. Interchangeable terms." She looked impressed. "Oh. And?" "I've tried to question the crews of ships that land here. The answers are so evasive that I can't help thinking--" "Yes, dear?" she prompted. "--that civilized people actually _kill_ each other in wars." She turned a shocked face toward him. "How can you think such a thing? What would be the advantage?" "Advantage?" he repeated. Then his expression cleared and he fell back on his pillow, completely relaxed. "I hadn't thought of that, dear. None, of course. It would really be _too_ much, wouldn't it?" "No question of it, dear," she said. "Now that that's settled, can you go to sleep?" There was no answer. He was already snoring peacefully. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Moral Equivalent, by Kris Neville