Devi-en said, “The creature brought up the horrible picture of that—that bird—that—”

“Vulture,” said the Archadministrator.

“It put our entire mission into such a distorted light. I have not been able to eat properly since or sleep. In fact, I am afraid I will have to ask to be relieved—”

“Not before we have completed what we have set out to do,” said the Archadministrator firmly. “Do you think I enjoy the picture of—of carrion-eat—You must collect more data.”

Devi-en nodded, finally. He understood, of course. The Archadministrator was no more anxious to cause a nuclear war than any Human would be. He was putting off the moment of decision as long as possible.

Devi-en steeled himself for one more interview with the wild one. It turned out to be a completely unbearable one, and the last.

The wild one had a bruise across his cheek as though he had been resisting the Mauvs again. In fact, it was certain he had. He had done so numerous times before, and the Mauvs, despite their most earnest attempts to do no harm, could not help but bruise him on occasion. One would expect the wild one to see how intensely they tried not to hurt him and to quiet his behavior as a result. Instead, it was as though the conviction of safety spurred him on to additional resistance.

These large-primate species were vicious, vicious, thought Devi-en sadly.

For over an hour, the interview hovered over useless small talk, and then the wild one said with sudden belligerence, “How long did you say you things have been here?”

“Fifteen of your years,” said Devi-en.

“That figures. The first flying saucers were sighted just after World War II. How much longer before the nuclear war?”

With automatic truth, Devi-en said, “We wish we knew,” and stopped suddenly.

The wild one said, “I thought nuclear war was inevitable. Last time you said you overstayed ten years. You expected the war ten years ago, didn’t you?”