"All right!" yielded Kinton, surprised at the harshness of his own voice. "Just tell him not to bring around any sketches of the various organs for a few months!"
He climbed into the helicopter and slumped into his seat. Presently, he was aware of Klaft edging into the seat across the aisle. He looked up.
"The police will stay until cars from town arrive. They are coming now," said his aide.
Kinton stared at his hands, wondering at the fact that they were not shaking. He felt dejected, empty, not like a man who had just been at a high pitch of excitement.
"Why did you not let him go, George?"
"What? Why ... why ... he would have destroyed the ship you worked so hard to build. There is no safe path through the Dome of Eyes."
"No predictable path," Klaft corrected. "But what then? We would have built you another ship, George, for it was you who showed us how."
Kinton flexed his fingers slowly.
"He was just no good. You know the murder he did here; we can only guess what he did among my own ... among Terrans. Should he have a chance to go back and commit more crimes?"
"I understand, George, the logic of it," said Klaft. "I meant ... it is not my place to say this ... but you seem unhappy."