Devi-en felt himself turn fault and sick at the picture conjured up for him. He said, weakly, “No, no, we help the species.”

“You wait for the war to happen like vultures. If you want to help, prevent the war. Don’t save the remnants. Save them all.”

Devi-en’s tail twitched with sudden excitement. “How do we prevent a war? Will you tell me that?” What was prevention of war but the reverse of bringing about a war? Learn one process and surely the other would be obvious.

But the wild one faltered. He said, finally, “Get down there. Explain the situation.”

Devi-en felt keen disappointment. That didn’t help. Besides—He said, “Land among you? Quite impossible.” His skin quivered in half a dozen places at the thought of mingling with the wild ones in their untamed billions.

Perhaps the sick look on Devi-en’s face was so pronounced and unmistakable that the wild one could recognize it for what it was even across the barrier of species. He tried to fling himself at the Human and had to be caught virtually in midair by one of the Mauvs, who held him immobile with an effortless constriction of biceps.

The wild one screamed. “No. Just sit here and wait! Vulture! Vulture! Vulture!”

It was days before Devi-en could bring himself to see the wild one again. He was almost brought to disrespect of the Archadministrator when the analysis of the mental makeup of these wild ones was made.

Devi-en said, boldly, “Surely there is enough to give some solution to our question.”

The Archadministrator’s nose quivered, and his pink tongue passed over it meditatively. “A solution of a kind, perhaps. I can’t trust this solution. We are facing a very unusual species. We know that already. We can’t afford to make mistakes. One thing, at least—we have happened upon a highly intelligent one. Unless—unless he is at his race’s norm.” The Archadministrator seemed upset at that thought.