Sam's thin face had a seriousness in it that Joel knew he did not dare question. _The trouble is_, the thought stung him, _you doubt, because you were born and raised on Earth. Sam knows that. And he knows how these people think. And he says sign.... So sign, you big boob._ Silently, Joel took the stylus from Sam, bent quickly over the papyrus-like document, and put his name, rank and ship where Sam pointed. Then he gave the stylus to Sam, who returned it to K'hall-i-k'hall. And in another instant, all the mneurium-4 the _White Whale_ could lift clear was theirs for the taking. * * * * * Once he'd put his mind to it, Joel could converse in the language of his hosts as fluently as either Dobermann or Carruthers, and within a month he had been able to finish a limited round of visits to a full dozen of the smaller cities and towns. These people had respected his wish that he be allowed to roam their streets and public buildings without official escort, and with an ever-quickening fading of his self-consciousness, he did. He did, more and more frequently. And from the vantage point of their peacefully winding roads or their quaint little shops where they dispensed a fluid amazingly similar to Martian Colony Bond, Joel could hate the _White Whale_ from a comfortable distance, and with a healthy, untiring diligence. This he also did, more and more frequently. It was during one of these self-assigned off-duty periods, alone in his personal jeep, that his most recent pint of Bond decided to harass him, and he discovered almost too late that he had ignored a turn of the dirt roadway. He skidded wickedly, and frightened one of the zebra-like animals drawing a vehicle much resembling a four-wheeled surrey. The animal let go with a terrified whinny, and with a sickening splintering noise, the _dhennah_ went plunging off the road into the deep drainage ditch at its edge. There was also another sound, and Joel practically stood the jeep on its nose slewing it to a stop. By the time he was out and running back, the frightened animal had gotten itself out of the ditch and was working frantically to bring the _dhennah_ out after it. But the vehicle was canted at a crazy angle, and it was obvious to Joel that at least one of its starboard wheels was broken, and that it would take more than one _kaelli_ to haul it out. None of this, he reflected as he ran, was going to help diplomatic relations a bit. And he was no Dobermann. But it was none of these things that worried him at the moment. She was screaming bloody murder, and still was hard at it when he jumped into the ditch. She stopped when he clambered up on the steeply tilted narrow seat to which she clung. There was suddenly not a sound from her as his big hands circled her waist and gently lifted her to the ground.