Things were going according to plan except for one puzzling item: there was no message from Sennech's small garrison on Teyr. All he could get from the planet was a steady radar scan, which might mean that Sennech's colony had been conquered by Coar's. He'd been hoping to get certain supplies from Teyr, and now he took a strong detachment in close to the planet to find out what was wrong. The threat finally raised an answer. "This is the Chief of Council. What is it that you want?" "Chief of Council? What are you talking about? I want the Garrison Commander." "I suppose you're Admiral Tulan. There's been a change here, Tulan; Teyr is now an independent planet. Your garrison, with Coar's, comprise our defense forces." Tulan stared at the planet's image. "You're at war with Coar!" "Not any more, we aren't." There was a chuckle. "Don't sound so shocked, Admiral; we understand you're in mutiny yourself." Tulan slapped the microphone onto its hangar. He sat, angry and bewildered, until he remembered something, then buzzed Communications. "Get me that connection again. Hello? Listen. I have sixty thousand troops in transports, with almost no food. I intend to land them." "They're welcome as noncombatants, Admiral. They'll have to land disarmed, in areas we designate, and live off the country. We've already got more refugees than we can handle." "Refugees from where?" "Haven't you been in contact with Sennech at all?" "No." "Oh." There was a thoughtful pause. "Then you don't know. There's bad radiation in the atmosphere and we're hauling as many away as we can. We can use your ships if you're finished playing soldier." Tulan broke the connection again and turned, fuming, to Jezef. "We'll blast our way in and take over!" Jezef raised his eyebrows. "What good would that do?" he asked. "Why; they--for one thing, we've got to think of those troops! We can't land them unarmed and let them be slaughtered by the savages!" Jezef grinned. "I doubt if they'll refuse to let them have enough small arms to defend themselves. They can't stay where they are." "But they're military men, and loyal!" "Are they? The war's over for them, anyway. Why not let them vote on it?" Tulan jumped up and strode around the command room, while Jezef and the staff watched him silently. Gradually, the logic of it forced itself upon him. "All right," he said wearily, "We'll let them vote." * * * * * A few hours later he studied the results gloomily. "Well, after all, they're not Fleet. They don't have the tradition." Jezef smiled, then lingered, embarrassed. "Well?" Tulan asked. "Sir," (that hadn't come out, in private, for years) "I'd like to be relieved." It was a blow, but Tulan found he wasn't really surprised. He stared at his brother-in-law, feeling as if he faced an amputation. "You think I'm wrong about this whole thing, don't you?"