“And still leaves ten of thousands of square kilometers to be examined,” Rebka replied. “In detail. And don’t forget, this isn’t your standard search-and-rescue problem. Usually, the missing persons want to be found. They cooperate, as best they can. But the twins won’t send distress signals until conditions are intolerable. If they signal then, it will probably be too late.”

If his arguments impressed Julius Graves, no one would have known it from the other’s grinning face. While Max Perry was busy checking the aircars, Graves dragged Rebka away in the direction of the smoke-edged line of volcanic hills.

“I need a quiet word with you, Captain,” he said confidentially. “Just for a moment or two.”

Warm ash drifted down like pale-gray snow, settling onto their heads and shoulders. The ground was already covered a centimeter deep. Of the low-growing plants and the peaceful herbivores of Rebka’s first visit to Quake there was no sign. Even the lake itself had vanished, hidden beneath a scummy layer of volcanic ash. Instead of the predicted rumble and roar of seismic violence, the planet held a hot, brooding silence.

“You realize,” Graves continued, “that we don’t need to stay together? There are aircars here to spare.”

“I know we could cover three times as much ground if we split up,” Rebka replied. “But I’m not sure I want to do it. Perry has unique knowledge of Quake, while you have never been here before.”

“Aha! Your thoughts parallel my own.” Graves brushed a flake of ash from the end of his nose. “The logical course of action is quite clear: Perry has identified three areas of Quake where fugitives will naturally seek to hide. Those regions are widely separated; but there are enough aircars for each of us to tackle one of them. Therefore, we can all go separately, and examine one area each. That’s what logic says. But I say, phooey, who wants logic? Not you, and not me. We want results.”

He leaned closer to Rebka. “And frankly, I worry about the stability of Commander Perry. Say ‘Quake’ and ‘Summertide’ to him, and his eyes almost roll out of his head. We can’t let him go off on his own. What do you think?”

I think that you and Perry both need keepers, is what I think, but I don’t want to come right out and say it. Rebka knew what was on the way. He was going to be saddled with Perry — the same stupid assignment that had brought him to Dobelle — while Graves charged off uncontrolled into the Quake wilderness and probably killed himself.

“I agree, Councilor, Perry should not go alone. But I don’t want to waste—”

“Then we agree that I must go with Perry,” Graves went on, ignoring Rebka. “You see, if he gets into trouble, I can help him. No one else is able to do that. So he and I will tackle the Morgenstern Uplands, while you do the Thousand Lakes — Perry says that’s the quickest and easiest. And if neither of us finds the twins, then whoever gets through first takes on the Pentacline Depression.”

What does one do when a madman suggests an appealing course of action? One worries — but probably goes along with it. In any case, Graves was in no mood to listen to an argument. When Rebka pointed out again how low the chances were that they would find the twins at all, the councilor snapped his fingers.

“Piffle. I know we’ll find them. Think positive, Captain Rebka. Be an optimist! It’s the only way to live.”

And a likely way to die, Rebka thought. But he gave up. Graves would not be dissuaded, and maybe he and Perry deserved each other.

It was also one of the first rules of life, something Rebka had learned as a six-year-old in the hot saline caverns of Teufel. When someone gives you what you want, leave — before he has time to think again and take it back.

“Very well, Councilor. As soon as a car is ready I’ll be on my way.”

Rebka had half an hour’s start on the other two. The cargo space of the fastest aircars was not designed to carry large and heavy cases, and Julius Graves dithered over his luggage for a long time before he finally left behind everything except a little bag. The rest he put back in an Umbilical capsule. At last he pronounced himself ready to leave.

After takeoff Max Perry set the craft to cruise on autopilot and headed for the Morgenstern Uplands. When they were within scanning range, both men crouched over the displays.

“Primitive equipment,” Graves said. He was grimacing and twitching with concentration as he pored over images. Checking the displays was a long and tedious process. “If this were an Alliance car, we wouldn’t have to watch — we’d sit back and wait for the system to tell us when it found the twins. As it is it’s the other way round. I have to sit and peer at this thing and tell it what it’s seeing. Primitive!”

“It’s the best we have on Opal or Quake.”

“I believe you. But do you ever ask yourself why all the worlds of the spiral arm are not as wealthy as Earth and the other old regions of Crawlspace? Why isn’t every planet using the latest technology? Why don’t all worlds have more service robots than people, like Earth? Why aren’t they all rich, everyone on every colony? We know how to make advanced equipment. Why doesn’t every planet have it, instead of just a few?”

Perry had no answers, but he grunted to show that he was listening.

He was not. With Julius Graves busy looking at images, that had to be Steven chattering on. And Perry was busy himself, with the radio receiving equipment. Graves did not believe that the Carmel twins would send a distress call. Perry disagreed. As Summertide came closer the twins ought to be more than ready to be arrested and rescued.

“It’s a simple reason,” Graves continued, “the cause of Dobelle’s poverty. It is built into the basic nature of humanity. A rational species would make sure that one world was fully developed and perfect for humans before going on to another. But we don’t know how to do that! We have the outward urge. Before a planet is half settled, off go the new ships, ready to explore the next one. And very few people say, wait a moment, let’s get this one right before we go on.”

He took a closer look at a couple of false alarms on the image, then shook his head in dismissal.

“We’re just too nosy, Commander,” he went on. “Most humans have their patience level set a little too low, and their curiosity a bit too high. The Cecropians are as bad as we are. So almost all the wealth of the spiral arm — and all the luxury — finds its way into the hands of the stay-at-homes. It’s the old paradox, one that predates the Expansion: the groups that do nothing to create wealth manage to gain possession of most of it. Whereas the ones that do all the work finish up with very few possessions. Perhaps one day that will change. Maybe in another ten thousand years—”

“Radio beacon,” Perry interrupted. “A weak one, but it’s there.”

Graves froze in position and did not look up. “Impossible.” His voice was sharp. Julius Graves was back in charge. “They would not advertise their presence on Quake. Not after running so far and for so long.”

“Take a look for yourself.”

Graves slid across the seat. “How far away is it?”

“Long way.” Perry studied the range and vector settings. “In fact, too far. That signal isn’t coming from anywhere within the Morgenstern Uplands. The source is at least four thousand kilometers beyond the edge. We’re getting ionospheric bounce, or we wouldn’t hear them at all.”

“How about the Thousand Lakes?”

“Could be. The vector isn’t quite right, but there’s a lot of noise in the signal. And the range is spot on.”

“Then it’s Rebka.” Graves slapped his hand flat on the table. “It must be. He goes off to look, and no sooner do we get down to work than he’s in trouble. Before we even—”