Captain Kravitz, behind his gray desk, had never looked more austerely forbidding. As the ensign made his report, the grizzled eyebrows raised, then two fingers stroked the gray mustache. When the ensign reported his binding signature of the treaty, the captain raised his hand. "Very well, Ensign Welnicki. Remain in your room incommunicado until further notice." Ensign Welnicki stood very erect and raised his chin. Then he walked directly to his stateroom in the bow, ignoring greetings from former shipmates. He clanged the door shut, and never before had the tiny room seemed so microscopic. * * * * * A long week's pacing, three steps each way. Thoughts ... defense at Prime Reference ... first the grave statement of facts, for the record and for unborn historians ... for some future Welnicki burning to vindicate his triple-great grandfather ... then the exhortation to courage and imagination, powerfully restrained emotion almost breaking through ... deep, ringing sincerity ... then the gray courtyard and the firing squad ... I die without resentment ... my short life justified, its meaning found in action.... Thoughts about his planet ... _his_ planet?... Wendy, the child ... a boy, of course, the Welnickis were quite low-Rho ... never to see his son ... knowing that in the gray courtyard.... He wanted to cry. * * * * * Ensign Sotero, armed and brassarded, came to conduct him to the captain on the eighth day. "Damn orders, Steve," Sotero said, standing in the door. "We know most of the story and we're all for you. Your wife and the skipper have been going round and round for days, beating each other over the head with that treaty, Patrol Regulations and the constitution of Sigma-3 Velorum. Somebody heard him say she's the smartest space lawyer this side of Earth. Don't let him stampede you, Steve!" "Thanks, Juan, I won't." Ensign Welnicki's own voice sounded strange to him after the silence. The captain was disconcertingly un-fierce. He looked tired and sad behind the gray desk. "Sit down, Stephen," he said dully. "Let's talk about this mess we're in." Ensign Welnicki sat down gingerly, his back stiff. "My head falls too, of course," the captain went on. "You're too little a goat. They may even chop down Sector Admiral Carruthers." He sighed and looked at the overhead. The ensign opened his mouth. "I see my error now," the captain forestalled him. "You are not mature enough for command. But I was ensign under your grandfather Welnicki in the old _Ashburton_ before you were born. I thought I sensed in you the same intangible that made him great. Well, spilt milk, Stephen. What can we do?" Ensign Welnicki suggested unsteadily that the Fishdollars might consent to removal to an approved planet. "First offer I made, Stephen. They voted it down unanimously. Bluster was no good, pleading no good. With that treaty they've got us cold and they know it."