Paola opened a small refrigerator and passed the samples in their transparent plastic container to Silken Parts, who swung around to release the container in front of the cylinder.

An arm extruded from the cylinder and took the container. The cylinder propelled itself softly to the airlock, and the door closed behind.

On the screen, the bishop vulture— Frog, Martin corrected himself—turned away for a moment, head cocked, then turned back. "We have several possibilities open to us. You may come to the surface of our fourth planet, to meet directly with our representatives, or you may remain within your ship. If you choose to visit the surface, you may use equipment we supply to make your stay comfortable; this is recommended, as testing of your samples tells us you would soon grow tired under this planet's gravity."

They've analyzed the samples already… Martin's neck and shoulders tensed and he shivered.

"You may also choose your mode of conveyance. These decisions may be made at your leisure. I will remain available to you at any time."

The screen blanked.

"Are we still sending?" Martin asked.

"I cut off when they did," Hakim said.

"It's a little abrupt," Martin said, "but it seems clear. We're going to spend some time getting used to them. If they're as smart as they seem, maybe we should expect them to get used to us." He made this speech in complete expectation of being overheard. He stumbled over the next few words, trying to say and do what they might be expected to say and do by the unimaginable minds that might be listening. "We've adapted to each other, but we were nearly equal when we fought our wars… How much harder to understand species much more advanced?"

He visualized tiny machines in the cylinder's exhalation, hiding in the ship like dust motes, transmitting by noach. Nothing at all compared to what we've already seen.

"It took us centuries to grow together," Silken Parts said, with no discernible unease. "We we hope for no atrocious deals here."

High-school students emoting before master critics. How long could it last?

The most important moment arrived: the first meeting, face to face, between the crew of Double Seedand some of the beings who seemed to control the Leviathan system.

Donna Emerald Sea had devised fancy uniforms for the humans to wear, and decorative sashes and ribbons for the Brothers. She adjusted Martin's particularly resplendent garb, winked at him briefly, stood before him with hands on hips, and said, "You look perfectly barbaric, Captain."

"Thank you," Martin said, and turned to Eye on Sky, who resembled a young girl's braided pony tail done up with ribbons, brought to life perhaps by Godpapa Drosselmeier for a joke. The Brothers and humans did look splendid—and naive; he hoped Frog and the others would find the display amusing, whatever passed for amusement among them—and convincing.

Donna went among the others, pinning, fidgeting. Martin remembered her adjusting the projected world-wedding gown on Theresa and became acutely aware once more of human limitations—and human beauties. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

Paola helped Donna with her uniform, black and red with gold sash, crew style.

Hakim wore his outfit stiffly. He reached up as Martin approached and stuck his finger between neck and high collar, Adam's apple bobbing in his thin throat. "Many years since we have worn these," he said. Hakim might be the least convincing of them.

The Brothers seemed natural actors. Not once had they broken character or showed the strain of their roles.

"We're ready, Captain," Donna said.

Six—three humans and three Brothers—would leave Double Seedand descend to Sleep's surface: Silken Parts, Strong Cord, and Eye on Sky; Martin, Paola, and Ariel. Martin appointed Erin Eire to replace him. Sharp Seeing would replace Eye on Sky.

They caught a glimpse of a white sphere in the screen, heard it scrape midships and seal itself around the airlock. The inner airlock door opened. Single file, they entered the smooth green interior of the transfer ship. Beyond a transparent panel, visible only as they turned a corner, stood another bishop vulture, not—Martin guessed—Frog itself.

"I am your helper now," the new bishop vulture said. "I have taken your word Salamander as name." It hissed faintly beneath its words. "If it does not offend or bring wrong meanings, you may so call me."

Eye on Sky introduced his companions. Martin and Eye on Sky had decided it might be best for a Brother to serve as primary leader on this excursion. Paola seemed up to the task of interpreting between two non-native speakers—the Brothers and their hosts.

There was method to this inconvenience: it could masquerade as power sharing, and the inevitable misunderstandings could hide their own confusion.

They drifted weightless in the middle of a small cabin. Martin noted a sensation of motion as the vessel separated from Double Seed. Invisible constraints much like fields surrounded them; their hosts' technology had advanced in parallel with the Benefactors at least to this degree. But then, fields were as logical and inevitable as fire had once been for humans.

Salamander hissed faintly again, said, "We descend now. There should be no discomfort. Would you like to examine conveyances for walking on the surface?"

"We we would like so now," Eye on Sky said. A panel of curved wall became transparent, revealing Salamander against a dark backdrop.

Another panel to Salamander's right cleared. Beyond, motionless white skeletal frames stood like robots made of elegant bones, one set for humans, another for the Brothers.

Martin was particularly impressed by the design for the Brothers' suits. Like padded snake ribs tied to two backbones, they would allow braids to move much as they did naturally, in normal gravitation, with a sinuous caterpillar motion.

"We hope these are suitable," Salamander said. "They are made to go unnoticed while worn."

"We we are assured," Eye on Sky said.

"There will be one for each member of your party."

"As expected," Eye on Sky said.

"And they will be fitted to each individual's shape and size," Salamander said.

"As expected."

"Your schedule for surface excursion…" Sharp hissing intake of breath, raising of the miter's nose, "winking" of the three amber eyes into the pale green flesh. "Upon landing and suiting up, there is orientation to teach you with more basics of how we behave and work. Then a meeting under shelter with representatives of the five primary races. Followed by proper induction ceremony for entry into the Cooperative of Fifteen Worlds. Exchange of information in a formal meeting with secretaries of the Living Council. I will accompany you and explain what is necessary, what you have questions for."

Ariel looked at Martin with a brief expression of boredom. Martin lifted his eyebrows in concurrence. Whatever excitement this meeting might have had—under any other circumstances, should have had—was lost in the tincture of overwhelming ceremony, not to mention awareness of its almost certain insincerity.

Camouflage upon masquerade upon deception.

Do these beings believe they are real, and free? Martin wondered. Are they? Have the Killers faded into their decoys?

Salamander lowered its head and gripped the metal bar before it, freezing suddenly like a museum display. After a moment, as the skeletal white suits disappeared behind opacity, it lifted its head again. "We have refreshments, liquids and foods, which we hope are palatable. Landing will be in fifteen minutes. You will not need to inconvenience yourselves, and you will not experience any discomfort beyond mild sensations of motion. We have provided food. You may dine after landing."