Ralph Redfeather, licensed interstellar engineer, graduate of the stiffest technical university in this quarter of the galaxy, wearer of three eagle-pinion feathers and clad in a pair of insulated sandals and a breechclout--Ralph Redfeather whipped out a small paint-pot and a brush from somewhere and began carefully to paint on a section of girder ready for the next tier of steel. He painted a feather on the metal. "It's a coup," he told Bordman over his shoulder. "Your coup. Placed where it was earned--up here. Aletha is authorized to certify it. And the head of the clan will add an eagle feather to the head-dress he wears in Council in the Big Tepee on Algonka, and--your clan-brothers will be proud." Then he straightened up and held out his hand. Chuka said benignly: "Being civilized men, Mr. Bordman, we Africans do not go in for uncivilized feathers. But we--ah--rather approve of you too. And we plan a corroboree at the colony after the _Warlock_ is down, when there will be some excellently practiced singing. There is--ah--a song, a sort of choral calypso, about this adventure you have brought to so satisfying a conclusion. It is quite a good calypso. It's likely to be popular on a good many planets." Bordman swallowed. He felt that he ought to say something, and he did not know what. But just then there was a deep-toned humming in the air. It was a vibrant tone, instinct with limitless power. It was the eighteen-hundred-foot landing-grid, giving off that profoundly bass and vibrant note it uttered while operating. Bordman looked up. The _Warlock_ was coming down. * * * * * After Bordman made his report he found that the newest graduates of Space Survey training had been swallowed up by the needs of the service, and he was apparently needed as badly as before. But he protested vigorously, and went back to Lani III and enjoyed the society of Riki and his children for a full year and a half. Then three Senior Officers died within one year, and the Survey's facilities were stretched to the breaking-point. Population-pressure required the opening of colonies. The safety of thousands and millions of human lives depended on the Survey's work. Worlds which had been biologically surveyed had also to be checked to make sure they were equipped to sustain the populations waiting impatiently to swarm upon them. Reluctantly, to meet the emergency, Bordman agreed to return to the Service for one year only. But he'd served seven, with only two brief visits to his children and his wife, when he was promised that after the checking of a single robot-colony on Loren Two, his resignation would be accepted. So he boarded a Crete Line Ship for his last active assignment in the Colonial Survey.... COMBAT TEAM