Devall shook his head. He felt old, very old, at fifty. "I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet. If I turn you over, it'll certainly set a dangerous precedent. And if I don't--I'm not sure what will happen." He shrugged. "I'm going to refer the case back to Earth. It isn't my decision to make." * * * * * But it _was_ his decision to make, he thought, as he left the boy's quarters and headed stiff-legged toward the communications shack. He was on the spot, and only he could judge the complex of factors that controlled the case. Earth would almost certainly pass the buck back to him. He was grateful for one thing, though: at least Leonards hadn't made an appeal to him on family grounds. That was cause for pride, and some relief. The fact that the boy was his nephew was something he'd have to blot rigorously from his mind until all this was over. The signalman was busy in the back of the shack, bent over a crowded worktable. Devall waited a moment, cleared his throat gently, and said, "Mr. Rory?" Rory turned. "Yes, Colonel?" "Put through a subradio solido to Earth for me, immediately. To Director Thornton at the E-T Department. And yell for me when you've made contact." It took twenty minutes for the subspace impulse to leap out across the light-years and find a receiver on Earth, ten minutes more for it to pass through the relay point and on to Rio. Devall returned to the shack to find the lambent green solido field in tune and waiting for him. He stepped through and discovered himself standing a few feet before the desk of the E-T Department's head. Thornton's image was sharp, but the desk seemed to waver at the edges. Solid non-organic objects always came through poorly. Quickly Devall reviewed the situation. Thornton sat patiently, unmoving, till the end of it; hands knotted rigidly, lean face set, he might have been a statue. Finally he commented, "Unpleasant business." "Quite." "The alien is returning tomorrow, you say? I'm afraid that doesn't give us much time to hold a staff meeting and explore the problem, Colonel Devall." "I could probably delay him a few days." Thornton's thin lips formed a tight bloodless line. After an instant he said, "No. Take whatever action you deem necessary, Colonel. If the psychological pattern of the race is such that unfortunate consequences would result if you refused to allow them to try your man, then you must certainly turn him over. If the step can be avoided, of course, avoid it. The man must be punished in any case." The director smiled bleakly. "You're one of our best men, Colonel. I'm confident you'll arrive at an ultimately satisfactory resolution to this incident." "Thank you, sir," Devall said, in a dry, uncertain voice. He nodded and stepped back out of field range. Thornton's image seemed to flicker; Devall caught one last dismissing sentence, "Report back to me when the matter is settled," and then the field died.