fat enough to me already. Where's the cook? I want him here. I
want to find out--"

The wub stopped lapping and looked up at the Captain.

"Really, Captain," the wub said. "I suggest we talk of other matters."

The room was silent.

"What was that?" Franco said. "Just now."

"The wub, sir," Peterson said. "It spoke."

They all looked at the wub.

"What did it say? What did it say?"

"It suggested we talk about other things."

Franco walked toward the wub. He went all around it, examining it from
every side. Then he came back over and stood with the men.

"I wonder if there's a native inside it," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe
we should open it up and have a look."

"Oh, goodness!" the wub cried. "Is that all you people can think of,
killing and cutting?"

Franco clenched his fists. "Come out of there! Whoever you are, come
out!"

Nothing stirred. The men stood together, their faces blank, staring at
the wub. The wub swished its tail. It belched suddenly.

"I beg your pardon," the wub said.

"I don't think there's anyone in there," Jones said in a low voice. They
all looked at each other.

The cook came in.

"You wanted me, Captain?" he said. "What's this thing?"

"This is a wub," Franco said. "It's to be eaten. Will you measure it and
figure out--"

"I think we should have a talk," the wub said. "I'd like to discuss this
with you, Captain, if I might. I can see that you and I do not agree on
some basic issues."

The Captain took a long time to answer. The wub waited good-naturedly,
licking the water from its jowls.

"Come into my office," the Captain said at last. He turned and walked
out of the room. The wub rose and padded after him. The men watched it
go out. They heard it climbing the stairs.

"I wonder what the outcome will be," the cook said. "Well, I'll be in
the kitchen. Let me know as soon as you hear."

"Sure," Jones said. "Sure."

* * * * *

The wub eased itself down in the corner with a sigh. "You must forgive
me," it said. "I'm afraid I'm addicted to various forms of relaxation.
When one is as large as I--"

The Captain nodded impatiently. He sat down at his desk and folded his
hands.

"All right," he said. "Let's get started. You're a wub? Is that
correct?"

The wub shrugged. "I suppose so. That's what they call us, the natives,
I mean. We have our own term."

"And you speak English? You've been in contact with Earthmen before?"

"No."