Devi-en nodded.

The Archadministrator went on. “If a single nuclear bomb fell on the territory of either of the two sides, the victims would at once assume the other side had launched it. They would feel they could not wait for further attacks. Retaliation in full would follow within hours; the other side would retaliate in its turn. Within weeks it would be over.”

“But how do we make one of them drop that first bomb.”

“We don’t, Captain. That is the point. We drop the first bomb ourselves.”

“What?” Devi-en swayed.

“That is it. Compute a large-primate’s mind, and that answer thrusts itself at you.”

“But how can we?”

“We assemble a bomb. That is easy enough. We send it down by ship and drop it over some inhabited locality—”

“Inhabited?”

The Archadministrator looked away and said uneasily, “The effect is lost otherwise.”

“I see,” said Devi-en. He was picturing vultures; he couldn’t help it. He visualized them as large, scaled birds (like the small harmless flying creatures on Hurria, but immensely large), with rubber-skinned wings and long razor-bills, circling down, pecking at dying eyes.

His hands covered his eyes. He said shakily, “Who will pilot the ship? Who will launch the bomb?”

The Archadministrator’s voice was no stronger than Devi-en’s. “I don’t know.”

“I won’t,” said’ Devi-en. “I can’t. There is no Human who can, at any price.”

The Archadministrator rocked back and forth miserably. “Perhaps the Mauvs’ could be given orders—”

“Who could give them such orders?”

The Archadministrator sighed heavily. “I will call the Council. They have all the data. Perhaps they will suggest something.”

So after a little over fifteen years, the Hurrians were dismantling their base on the other side of the Moon.