hat all that happened to you was my fault. You
were my responsibility and I failed you."

"Oh, don't be melodramatic, Senbot. I wasn't your responsibility and you
didn't fail me. Not that I'm not glad to see you up and doing again,
but--"

"But I did fail you!" the aged journalist insisted. "And, in the same
way, I failed my people. I shouldn't have given in. I should have fought
Zarnon as you, my dear, tried to do. But it isn't too late!" The fire of
the crusader lit up in his watery old eyes. "I can still fight him and
his sacred crows--his Earthlings! If I have to, I can go over his head
to Grupe. Grupe may not understand Stet's moral failings, but he
certainly will comprehend his commercial ones. Grupe owns stock in other
Fizbian enterprises besides the _Times_. Autofax, for example."

"Oh, Senbot!" Tarb wailed. "The whole thing's such an awful mess!"

"I don't think it'll be necessary to threaten that far," he comforted
her. "Stet is no fool. He knows which side of his breadnut is peeled."

"I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job," she exclaimed, impulsively giving
a ritual _entrechat_. "And I wish I could stay and help you, but...."

"I know, my dear."

"You do?" She was puzzled. "But how did the news get around so quickly?"

He shrugged. "The Terrestrial grapevine is almost as efficient as the
Fizbian. Didn't you notice any change in the--ah--atmosphere when you
came in?"

"Oh, was that the reason?" Tarb laughed merrily. "Somehow it never
occurred to me that they could have heard so soon."

"But the morning editions have been out for hours."

The door to the office was flung open. Stet stormed in, bristling with a
most unloverlike rage.

"Miss Morfatch--" he waved a crumpled copy of the _Terrestrial Tribune_
at her--"when I give an order, I expect to be obeyed! Didn't Miss Snow
tell you to report directly to my office the instant you came in?
Although that's a question I don't have to ask; I know Miss Snow, at
least, is someone I can trust."

"I was coming to see you, Stet," Tarb said soothingly. "Right away."

"Oh, you were, were you? And have you seen this?" Stet fairly threw the
paper at her. Smack in the middle of the front page was a picture of
herself in full flight over the airfield bar. Not a very good picture,
but what could you expect with Terrestrial equipment? When the autofax
came, perhaps she would be done justice.

FIZBIAN NEWSHEN GIVES EARTH A FLUTTER

"Tho