asket guaranteed to
preserve the dead flesh for a thousand years or whether he went out in a
bright swift flame that glinted in its tongues of the color-traces of
incandescent elements of human organic chemistry.

So long as people knew. Where and how. Vague, vague, mass-volumized
concept. Granite tomb was one idea, here was a _place_. Point a
spread-fingered hand in a waving sweep across the sky that encompasses
the Plane of The Ecliptic and say, "It is there," and another _place_ is
identified. Lost on Venus is no more than a phrase; from Terra Haute or
Times Square, Venus is a tiny point in the sky smaller to the vision
than the granite of Grant's Tomb.

Imagination breeds irritation. Would they call it pilot error or
equipment unreliability? Dying he could face. Goofing would be a
disgrace that he would have to meet in fact or in symbol. Hardware
crackup was a matter of the laws of probability. Not only his duty
demanded that he report, his essence cried out for a voice to _let them
know_.

Anybody.

Just the chance to tell one other human soul.

Chelan asked, "Who are you? Your name and rank?"

He said sullenly, "Go to hell."

"We have ways and means."

He said, "Use 'em."

"If we said that we mean no harm; if we asked what we could do to prove
it, what would be your reply?"

"Take me back and let me go."

"Who are you? Will you identify yourself?"

"No."

"Stubborn Terran!"

"I know my rights. We are not at war. I'll tell you nothing. Why did you
capture me?"

"We'll ask the questions, Terran."

"You'll get no answers." He sneered at them angrily. "Torture me--and
then wonder whether my screamings tell the truth. Dope me and wonder
whether what I truly believe is fact or fantasy."

"Please," said Chelan, "we only want to understand your kind. To know
what makes you tick."

"Then why didn't you ask?"

"We've tried and we get no answers. Terran, the Universe is a vastness
beyond comprehension. Co-operate and give us what we want to know and a
piece of it is yours."

"Nuts!"

"Terran, you have friends."

"Who doesn't?"

"Why can't we be your friends?"

Angrily, resentfully, "Your way isn't friendly enough to convince me."

Chelan shook his head. "Take him away," he directed in his own tongue.

"Where? And how shall we keep him?"

"To the place we've prepared. And keep him safe."

Huvane asked, "Safe? Who knows what is safe? One bribed his guards. One
seduced her guards. One du