Vannevan sat at one side of a big square table. A second man, older than Vannevan and that much more experienced in the ways of those who wage war out of choice and not necessity, sat behind it. His face was a mask, his curiously opaque eyes watching Birrel narrowly as the guards were sent away. Vannevan said, "This is our Earthman." And to Birrel he said, "This is Wolt, our Minister of Defense." Birrel refrained from making the obvious comment. From here on he was on his own and had to be careful. Any hope of advantage he might gain by making the Irrians think he was their not unwilling tool could be lost by a single incautious word. "I understand," said Wolt, "that the Ruunites kidnapped you and brought you into space by force." "They did." "A serious act. And I understand that you are quite anxious to return to your world." Birrel said eagerly, "Can I, is there any way? I can't take this, space and stars and a world I never saw, I've got to get back--" He saw Wolt and Vannevan watching him keenly as he babbled in pretended hysteria, and he thought they looked satisfied by what they saw. Wolt said, "Some of our ships will be going back to Earth on a mission. You could go back with them, if--" "If?" prompted Birrel eagerly. Vannevan answered. "You're a secret agent of a great Earth power. You could assist our mission." Now Birrel's face became apprehensive, cautious. "Just how do you mean that, Vannevan? Listen, I want to go back, sure. But I'm not going to betray any secrets or help you steal plutonium or--" Wolfs hard voice cut in. "Let's consider the situation realistically. The loss of some fissionable material will make very little difference to Earth, with its enormous resources. Isn't that so?" Cautiously, grudgingly, Birrel said that he couldn't see that it would make much difference, no. "Now you must accept one fact. No matter what you as an individual may or may not do, we are going to take those materials. The very life of our planet depends on it. You understand that?" "Yes." "Very well. Now the decision that faces you is this. Will you be doing your world a greater service by denying us the information we want and thereby forcing us to take possible violent measures in carrying out our mission--or by helping us do it quietly and thus saving a great number of lives?" "Think of the weapons we have," Vannevan said. "Think how your Earthmen are armed. You know how much chance they have of fighting us off." Birrel thought they would have a very good chance, but he didn't say so. He frowned, and looked uneasily at the floor. "What would you want me to do?" "Vannevan tells me that your people are in possession of a certain probe-ray record that was taken from our man. We'd want that back." "That's impossible," Birrel said. "The President himself couldn't get at it." Wolt shrugged. "In that case, you would have to supply us with similar information."