The linguist nodded. The minutes passed as he continued the series of pictures. After a while he opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a gabble of sounds from the pickup unit. The natives were pointing upward and discussing something. Pilot lights on the cephaloid hookup showed that the material was being received, passed back and forth for analysis, and stored away. Stuart threw in a key word now and then to identify the picture being shown.
"It's clear that they understand," he whispered. "Now for the clincher. We help them fight off the Invaders. I hope they don't get the idea that our presence would make another Invader attack more likely."
He continued to push the stud every twenty or thirty seconds, lips moving as he counted. When the counter showed the end of the sequence approaching, he nodded in satisfaction. The natives were still talking to each other. "Good thing we've got these cephaloids," Stuart whispered. "An electronic analyzer could never sort out the three voices. Nor could any linguist alive, for that matter."
Once again he paused, finger hovering. "This is where we show them pictures of a blast-rifle, how to use it, and so on—and then the magic box opens and we give them one." His whisper was faint, and he swallowed. "Should I go ahead?" He seemed to be asking himself.
Gordon studied him a few seconds. "Play it your own way, Stuart. The risk is yours, so the decision ought to be."
The linguist put out his cigarette with trembling fingers. "Yes.... I realize that I talked you into letting me go ahead with my own plan. But ... you see ... well, I've never done anything especially brave or dangerous, as all you fellows have. The plan might be made to work out without my actually going down there in person. I've been wondering what you would say if I ... backed out."
The chief got up and clapped him on the back, awkwardly. "Why, not a thing, Stuart. Wouldn't say a word. A man's personal project is his own, in this kind of business. Long as it doesn't affect the welfare of anyone else, he can volunteer for, or refuse, any job."
Stuart smiled slowly and sat up straight. "Then I'll go ahead. I just wanted to be sure I could have backed out if I'd wanted to. If I do something worthwhile, I want it to be without compulsion." He punched the sequence button vigorously, while the chief stared at him with amused respect. He grinned back at Gordon. "Sit down, Captain, and keep an eye on the natives."
Gordon sat, applying his attention to the scene on the ground. "Think they'll get this part?"
"They certainly ought to. I even made a sketch of a native destroying a hell-cat with my new gun." After a few minutes of attentive study by the three natives, the series was finished. The language expert reached over and depressed a different stud without hesitation. "There it is. A nice little blast-rifle, practically new!"