The Colonel’s expression was stony. He nodded to Martin to get it, and it occurred to him that the girl was one of those whom he had personally selected as the most promising for the puppet governments. But when he asked about her identity, she cut him off without a word. "Then, may I ask where you learned such flawless English?" "All of us know English," she said. "It is a very stupid language." Martin and Henderson returned with the papers. Gingerly they approached her, handed the papers to her, and darted back to their places in the line. She placed the stack on the bar, leafed through it, all the while keeping them covered with the Blaster, and remarked on finishing, "It is exactly what one would expect barbarians to find interesting." Flandeau, however, remained a scientist to the last. "We find ourselves unhappily deceived," he said. "We were certain—that you were utterly without defenses. We were told that you did not know _how_ to lie, cheat, dissemble, or fight." "Only not with each other." she said. "It was, so to speak, a lost art." She glanced at Blunt. Several men squirmed. "But it is one that we have regained," she said. "And what will you do with us?" Flandeau asked. "We have decided to let you go," she said. "Now that we possess this weapon,"—she brandished the Blaster—"which we can copy, we think we can prevent more Explorations. At least this is the opinion of the Eleven. So I am instructed to let you leave—at once, of course." "You are most charming," said Flandeau. "At once," she repeated. "Yes, of course. Men! Prepare for blastoff!" ———— The way back was tedious—the floating around, the boredom, the unending blackness of space—but at least it was going home. After the first weeks of space-sickness, things returned to near normal, and the Doctors conferred with the Colonel. It was decided that the best report should be that Engraham was uninviting, bleak, and of no interest to Earthmen. The reputations of all were at stake (the doctors found themselves, stripped of their papers, unable to recollect enough, and the Colonel desperately feared a court-martial) and the crew was thus advised. All agreed to keep their mouths shut. Thus their honorable discharges, medals, and life-time pensions would be safe. So, with all this decided, and Earth only a few months away, relative cheerfulness reigned. Only Willy Lanham continued to mope. "What’s biting you?" Kosalowsky asked, one day as they lay strapped in adjacent bunks. "Your face is as long as this ship." "I just feel bad," Willy said. "I can feel bad if I want to, can’t I?" "What the hell, we’ll soon be home. We can really raise some hell, then." "I miss my girl," Willy blurted out. "You’ll see her pretty soon." "I mean my girl on Engraham." It happened that just then several other men, bored with lying still, were floating past. They gripped the edges of Willy’s bunk.