"Tell me something confidentially, Mr. Ambassador. How long before you expect—no. You wouldn't answer that. Ah! How long do you think it will be before I am shot?"
The Com Ambassador said politely:
"I would hesitate to guess."
The Lotus started back to Earth with the enigmatic weapon fastened firmly in its cargo hold. Great pains had been taken to keep it from being knocked or shocked or battered in its transfer to the ship. Firmly anchored, Nolan had insisted that the stops, which prevented it from being aimed below the horizon or toward the radioactives in the base, be adjusted so it could not be aimed at the Lotus's own engines or fuel-stores. There were no missiles to worry about, of course.
Even this precaution, however, roused doubt and uneasiness, especially among the scientific staff. It was highly probable that when the Lotus reported in from space, the Coms would ask to examine such specimens as she brought back. The request would be expressed as scientific interest, but a refusal would be treated as a concealment of dire designs. There were those on the ship who felt that the weapon should be dismantled and made to seem meaningless, to avoid any chance of a humiliating squabble with the Coms.
The skipper roared at them. It was the only time on the voyage when he displayed anger. But he glared at those who proposed the act of discretion. He drove them out of the cabin in which the suggestion was made. He turned to Nolan, who definitely was not a party to it. His manner changed. He said querulously:
"Nolan, why do you want that thing mounted so it could be used if necessary?"
"That's the way it was mounted on Planet Five. To box it or case it might injure it. To take it apart might mean that it could never be got together in working order again."
"Is that the real reason?" demanded the skipper. "It's a good reason, but is it the real one?"