Joel hesitated, then returned the bow. He had never bowed in his life, but a salute to somebody dressed in civilian clothes seemed crazy. "Sam, you mean he's Prime Governor of--" "The whole planet." "Am I always supposed to say his name twice?" "That is his name. That's the way they do it. Now shut up, Skipper, and let me do the talking. I'm going to go through the whole works again with 'em. Then we sign. Then you get a tour of the town so the people can be introduced to you officially. But don't go making any speeches! Behave, and we're in business." "You go to--" But Sam had already started talking in the liquid-sounding language, and Joel decided it was better for him to keep his own mouth shut and be thought stupid than open it and remove all doubt. Damn it, the whole thing was making him feel just the way he had twenty years ago, when he landed his first explorer on an alien world! It had been that long, and how many hundred meetings with alien life-forms since then, under how many fantastic circumstances, on how many God-forsaken, unworldly places? By now he was supposed to know the score. By now he was supposed to have seen everything. By now he knew the book inside and out, and had the ability to take charge no matter where in the black universe they sent him. Nicholas Joel, United Americas Intergalactic Exploration Fleet, of the Ship _White Whale_, commanding.... But nobody was challenging his right to have what he'd come for! No _trouble_, that was the hell of it, and--and there was nothing to hate. For a miserable moment, Captain Nicholas Joel stood becalmed, with not so much as a breeze in his sagging sails. But he would not let them know it. He looked levelly into the eyes of each of the twelve, but even that did little to make him feel more at ease. For he saw wisdom in the lined, kindly faces. He saw a humility and sincerity that matched the simple clothing they wore. He saw a kindness that men talked about in books and sometimes felt in their hearts, but seldom held openly in their faces for the world to see. These men were handsome in their physical stature, but they could have been little men three feet high, and they would have been the biggest that Joel had ever seen. Now they were talking in subdued tones to Sam, and then one produced a document, and handed Sam a slender writing stylus. "Hey Sam--" The hoarseness of his voice unnerved him, but Joel plowed ahead. "Hadn't you oughtta read that thing?" "It's already been read, Skipper. By Dobermann. It took him three days to draw it up--he did most of the writing himself. It's already been electrostated; we've got ten copies of our own. Now keep your mouth shut or they'll think we don't trust them. You sign first, because you're the guest. Then K'hall-i-k'hall, and it's all over."