She threw the hologram of a vast, black-hulled craft onto the 3-D display. Its exterior was a rough ovoid, the dark outer surface disfigured by gleaming studs and warts and irregular cavities.

“More than big enough, power to spare — and see those weapons systems!”

“How big is it?” J’merlia asked.

“The Erebus is four hundred meters long, three hundred and twenty wide. There’s accommodation for hundreds of passengers — thousands if you want to convert some of the cargo space — and you could fit most interstellar vessels easily inside the primary hold. You want weapons? See those surface nodules — every one of them is a self-contained facility powerful enough to vaporize a decent-sized asteroid. You want to talk range, and power? There’s enough in this ship’s drive to take you ten times round the spiral arm!”

The display was moving in through one of the ports and showing the interior appointments of the ship. A human figure led the way to provide an idea of scale. Every fixture was substantial and solid, and the drive drew a whistle of approval from Kallik.

“Do we really have enough credit to purchase this?” she asked after they had examined the vast interior cargo volume, a spherical open space two hundred and fifty meters across.

“Just enough.” The manager pushed the sales entry pad across to J’merlia. “Right here, where I’ve marked it, and then at the bottom. And once you signed, I’ll throw in a special option that ends today. The ship will be scrubbed clean for you, inside and out. I definitely recommend that you add this option — it’s been a little while since the Erebus was in regular use.”

Neither J’merlia nor Kallik possessed external ears, so nothing was burning as they completed their purchase of the Erebus and gloated over its size and capabilities. But back in Delbruck they were the focus of an increasingly loud argument.

“I can’t believe it. You let Kallik and J’merlia go off to buy a ship — just the two of them, with no help from anyone?” Louis Nenda was hunched over a chair back, glowering at Julian Graves, while Atvar H’sial and E.C. Tally silently looked on.

“I did.” Graves nodded. “For I recognize what you, in your attempts to impose slavery on J’merlia and Kallik, are all too willing to forget: these are mature, adult forms of highly intelligent species. It would be quite wrong to treat them like children. Give them responsibility, and they will respond to it.”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

“But you surely admit that they are highly intelligent.”

“Sure. What’s that got to do with it? Smart, and adults, but until a few months ago they had somebody else making all their decisions for them. They’re missin’ experience. If you need somebody to calculate an orbit, or reduce a set of observations, I’d trust Kallik over anyone in the spiral arm. But when it comes to negotiating, they’re like babies. You should have gone with ’em. They have no more idea how to cut a deal without gettin’ gypped than E.C. Tally here, or than — oh, my Lord.”

Nenda had seen the flicker of discomfort cross Julian Graves’s scarred face.

“No more idea than you do.” Nenda slapped the back of the chair in his frustration. “Come on, Graves, admit it. You never had to bargain for anything in your whole life — councilors get whatever they need, handed to them on a plate.”

Graves squirmed in his seat. “It is true that my duties seldom called for — purchases of any kind, or even for discussion of material needs. But if you think that J’merlia and Kallik may be at a disadvantage—”

“Disadvantage? Get a good sales type up there, they’ll be eaten alive. Can you call ’em — let me talk before they go too far?”

“If you believe that you can, by conversation with Kallik—”

“I’m not gonna get into the slavery bit, I promise. I’ll keep it to the negotiation, get in the middle of it if I can, that and nothing else.”

“I gave them no specific itinerary, but I may be able to reach them. Give me a few moments.” Graves hurried across to the communications complex on the other side of the room. After a few moments, E.C. Tally trailed after him.

“May I speak?” he whispered as Graves set to work at the terminal. “I do not deny, Councilor, that Louis Nenda and Atvar H’sial sometimes favor deceit. But recall our experiences on Serenity — it was precisely those elements of deceit that permitted us to overcome the Zardalu. And soon we will be facing Zardalu again.”

“What is your point?” Graves was only half listening. In his search for J’merlia and Kallik he was being bounced randomly from one signal center to another, first on Downside, then on Upside.

“That they may again be of value. Unlike most others in the spiral arm, Nenda and Atvar H’sial are fully convinced of the existence of the Zardalu. They know as much as anyone of Zardalu behavior patterns — more, perhaps, after their interaction with the immature form. They are also widely traveled, and at home in scores of planetary environments. You yourself have said that you expect our ship may have to explore fifty alien worlds, before we locate the hiding place of the Zardalu. Finally, we know that Louis Nenda and Atvar H’sial are brave and resourceful. Would it not therefore be logical to cease to argue with them, and instead recruit them to our cause?”

Graves paused in his frustrating struggle with the communications unit. “Why would they ever agree? They made it clear that all they want is to return to Glister and take possession of Nenda’s ship, the Have-It-All.”

“Like you, I am unfamiliar with the process that Louis Nenda terms cutting a deal. But it occurs to me that a mutually beneficial arrangement might be possible. It will surely be as difficult to return to Glister as it was to reach it originally. Nenda and Atvar H’sial know that. Suppose therefore that they help us now. And suppose that you in return offer the assistance and resources of our whole party in recovering the Have-It-All, as soon as our own goal has been accomplished. I know that Nenda has a high regard for Professor Lang. If we were to mention to him that she, too, will be part of our group…”

At the other side of the room, Nenda was deep in explanation to Atvar H’sial. He had been too busy arguing with Graves to maintain parallel pheromonal translation for the Cecropian’s benefit.

“I know you just want to get out of here, At, and not waste time talking with these turkeys. But a few minutes ago I had a thought. Here I am and here you are, stuck on Miranda without a credit to scratch your pedicel with. Now, why did we come here in the first place?”

“To claim possession of J’merlia and Kallik.”

“Sure. And why did we do that?”

“J’merlia is mine by right. I have been his dominatrix since he was first postlarval.”

“True — but we didn’t come here just to claim ’em, did we? We came here to claim ’em and rent ’em to others, so we could get the use of a ship. Now, suppose we keep pushing the fact that we own ’em. You know we’ll get into a big hassle with Graves — an’ we might lose. Where would that leave us?”

“I will tear off his ugly bald head.”

“Fine. And for an encore? Even if you don’t get scragged for it, we’ll still be stuck up Miranda Creek, without a paddle. You see, what we need, same thing that made us come here in the first place, is a ship. And that’s what J’merlia and Kallik are off buying, right now. So suppose they get one. And suppose instead of acting all bent out of shape about who owns who, we smile and say everything is just fine. And we go along with ’em on their ship, to help out — because you can bet they’ll need help, with whatever old piece of junk they get saddled with, or it won’t fly at all. So sooner or later there comes a time when most people are off doing something else, and there’s just you and me, or maybe you and me and J’merlia and Kallik, on board the ship—”