ding taking
the _Perseus_ back, and we're 'way out of hyper-space radio range. We
could send one or two men in a torp, though, with the report that we
have found all the uranexite we'll ever need."

"Yes, but damn it, Skipper, I want to wrap the whole thing up in a
package and hand it to 'em on a platter. Not only the fuel, but whole
new fields of science. And we've got plenty of time to do it in. They
equipped us for ten years. They aren't going to start worrying about us
for at least six or seven; and the fuel shortage isn't going to become
acute for about twenty. Expensive, admitted, but not critical. Besides,
if you send in a report now, you know who'll come out and grab all the
glory in sight. Five-Jet Admiral Gordon himself, no less."

"Probably, and I don't pretend to relish the prospect. However, the fact
remains that we came out here to look for fuel. We found it. We should
have reported it the day we found it, and we can't put it off much
longer."

"I don't agree. I intend to follow the directive to the letter. It says
nothing whatever about reporting."

"But it's implicit...."

* * * * *

"No bearing. Your own Regulations expressly forbid extrapolation beyond
or interpolation within a directive. The Brass is omnipotent, omniscient
and infallible. So why don't you have your staff here give an opinion
as to the time element?"

"This matter is not subject to discussion. It is my own personal
responsibility. I'd like to give you all the time you want, Jarve, but
... well, damn it ... if you must have it, I've always tried to live up
to my oath, but I'm not doing it now."

"I see." Hilton got up, jammed both hands into his pockets, sat down
again. "I hadn't thought about your personal honor being involved, but
of course it is. But, believe it or not, I'm thinking of humanity's best
good, too. So I'll have to talk, even though I'm not half ready to--I
don't know enough. Are these Omans people or machines?"

A wave of startlement swept over the group, but no one spoke.

"I didn't expect an answer. The clergy will worry about souls, too, but
we won't. They have a lot of stuff we haven't. If they're people, they
know a sublime hell of a lot more than we do; and calling it psionics or
practical magic is merely labeling it, not answering any questions. If
they're machines, they operate on mechanical principles utterly foreign
to either our science or our technology. In either c