That one minor point continued to worry him at times.
And then the destroyer dropped out of the sky onto Sahara Base, and Guy Maynard stooped to pick up a handful of the soil of Terra. He shook it in the sky and rubbed it into his hands. He smelled of it and exhaled deeply. Then, still holding a bit of it, he faced the sector commander who was waiting for him in the command car.
The commander smiled curtly and said: "Junior Executive Maynard, you are to speak to no one. You are technically not under arrest, nor are you to be placed in that light. However a violation of the order to discuss nothing with anyone will lead to arrest."
"How long is this quarantine going to last, sir?"
"Not too long. The Board of Investigation will convene tomorrow. At that time we will decide your future."
Maynard entered the command car and they drove off silently. He was thinking: One more hurdle. If I can make it—
His dreams were troubled that night. There was nothing definite about them; they were kaleidoscopic in nature and Charalas whirled in and out of them along with Greggor of the Bureau of Exploration and Laura Greggor. In these dreams he was the central figure; a pitiful, unarmed being that could not strike back against the pointed questions that they hurled at him. He was mired in a black mess of intrigue that would follow him forever. And only by living in constant guardedness would he be safe.
For once the hurdle of the investigation was passed, there would be no recanting.
God help him if after he perjured himself they found out that his tale had been designed to cover a definite breach of his own oath.