He punched up his pillow and settled back. "I guess so. But when I think of all the ways I nearly got myself killed out there.... How far have you got in the tractors?" "I'm having the tractors torn down and the parts put back into the spaceship where they belong. We _shouldn't_ risk losing them and getting stuck here." "Are you settling for a primary exploration?" "No. I think I had the right idea on your rescue party. You have to meet and fight a planet on its own terms. Fighting confused sounds and tastes with music and wine was crude, but it was on the right track. Out there, we understood language because we were familiar with alien languages changed to other sense mediums by cybernetic translators. Using the translator, we can learn to recognize all confused data as easily. I'm starting indoctrination courses." "I doubt that that is necessary, sir," Quade said. "Experienced spacemen are experienced with transphasia. You don't have to worry. In the future, I'll be able to resist sensations that tell me I'm freezing to death--if my gauges tell me it's a lie." I examined his bandisprayed hide. "I think my way of gaining experience is less painful and more efficient." Quade squirmed. "Yes, sir. One thing, sir--I don't understand how you got me away from those aliens." "The aliens were trying to help. They knew something was wrong and they were prodding and probing. When the first tractor pulled up and the men got out, they seemed to realize our own people could help us easier than they could." "I am not quite convinced that those babies just meant to help us all the time." "But they did! First, that call of theirs--it wasn't to lead us into danger, but to warn us of the cliff, the freezing wind. They saw we were trying to find out things about their world, so they even offered us one of their own kind to study. Unfortunately, he was too much for us. They didn't give us their top man, of course, only the village idiot. It's just as well. We aren't allowed to dissect creatures that far up the intelligence scale." "But why should they want to help us?" Quade demanded suspiciously. "I think it's like Nagurski's dog. The dog came to him when it wanted somebody to own it, protect it, feed it, love it. These aliens _want_ Earthmen to colonize the planet. We came here, you see, same as the dog came to Nagurski." "Well, I've learned one thing from all of this," Quade said. "I've been a blind, arrogant, cocksure fool, following courses that were good on _some_ worlds, _most_ worlds, but not good on _all_ worlds. I'm never going to be that foolhardy again." "But you're losing _confidence_, Quade! You aren't sure of yourself any more. Isn't confidence a spaceman's most valuable asset?" "The hell it is," Quade said grimly. "It's his deadliest liability." "In that case, I must inform you that I am demoting you to Acting Executive Officer."