Martin smiled. "Who's deceiving the other, more?"

Eye on Sky rotated his head in a figure eight with a particularly equine motion. "We all ourselves, let it be hoped."

There was no time to think. Exhausted, pushing himself and the others hours past their sleeps, Martin prepared the human crew as best he could, doing what Erin called hearsing and rehearsing.

The roles they played did not stray too far from truth, but reflected a mixing of cultures, human and Brother, still prickly with potential conflict—close enough to reality. Tensions were high and human tempers flared as they critiqued each other over long hours, working to perfect their act.

In the charged atmosphere, the Brothers tended to separate without warning, forcing braids to chase down cords, bag them, and lock them in quiet rooms until reassembly occurred.

Silken Parts apologized to Martin for the inconvenience and confusion; Martin, as always, held his irritation in check… Knowing that humans might do something similar at any time, fight with each other, break into tears, or worse.

But the disassembling stopped after a few days, and the humans held together remarkably well.

Trojan Horse/Double Seedput on scars from supernova damage: radiation erosion on its outer skin, a crippled drive motor, damaged electronics within. The ship manufactured convincing guns and lasers. Martin locked them away, with only himself and Eye on Sky given the combinations necessary to unlock them.

He could hardly keep his eyes off the growing disk of Sleep, drawing faces in the lines of mountains, disquieting patterns in the broad seas. He imagined himself drifting on a raft down rivers a hundred kilometers wide, navigating twisty cracks in the crust between sheer walls of obsidian black and rust red…

A day before noach cut-off with Greyhound, Martin spoke with Hans in private. "We're doing well. We know our roles. Cham and Erin have worked up a primer of human- Brother history. It's pretty entertaining. We'll noach it to you…"

"Anything for a little distraction," Hans said. "Giacomo's had a problem. I'd call it a nervous breakdown, but he says it's just exhaustion. He's still trying to riddle what Jennifer sent him."

"She wants to talk with him some more…"

"We'll be in blackout… He's really out of it, Martin."

"What they're doing might be important."

"I'd force him if I could, but he's like a zombie. Anything more and he'll break."

"Then she's on her own for a while," Martin said.

Hans made an ambiguous humph. "I'm feeding you more data from our remotes. The whole system is a circus. Don't tell anybody I said so, but I think we've more than met our match. The moms say they're not going to confuse us with guesses."

"I just can't figure any of it," Hans said. "Wouldn't it be safer for them to destroy all intruders and visitors? Especially after the supernova—they knowsomething's in the neighborhood."

"I'm willing to make some guesses," Martin said. "I think they could have destroyed us already, but they're keeping up appearances. If they don't believe our disguise, they still can't be positive it's a disguise. Maybe they're extra cautious, in case we're backed up by something even more powerful."

But no amount of discussion could make them feel any more certain, or any easier.

The ships' distances grew, and blackout with Greyhound, and then with Shrike, left them completely on their own.

Jennifer began to brood, and spent most of her off-duty time in her quarters, shared with Erin Eire. Martin worried she was on the same course as Giacomo.

The Brothers discovered chess, and it became a release for them. One entire day, all the Brothers aboard Trojan Horseplayed chess without eating or sleeping. Losing a game caused a humiliating shock and momentary separation; by the end of the day, to Martin's surprise, cords were playing cords. The cords seemed much better at the game than braids, touching the projected pieces with their claws to make them move, minimized mentalities fully focused, undistracted by organized higher intelligence. So much for cords having no intellect, he thought.

The first complete communication, face to face, began three days before entering orbit around Sleep. Martin and Eye on Sky stood on the bridge, a flat screen monitor hissing faintly in front of them, a video camera focused on them, befitting their level of technology. Martin almost felt at home with the equipment; like Trojan Horse/Double Seed, this was something on a human scale, something he could imagine his own people building and doing.

The standards for transmission had been established four days before. Communication had been sporadic since; a kind of formality, perhaps an interspecies shyness, wariness, keeping the channels of communication closed most of the time, except for essential information. At this distance, there was an hour's delay.

The speaker mounted beside the screen crackled faintly, and then fell into silence as a many-layered digital signal was received and translated. The cool, neutral voice spoke, musical and dry like wind-blown sand. Symbols and numbers passed across the screen, to be translated into final orbital adjustments.

"We are speaking to you from the fourth planet," the voice announced. "All is ready now. Our first meeting will occur in orbit. You will be fitted with apparel for a journey to the surface of the fourth planet, as agreed. We are ready to transmit picture as well as sound."

A vivid moving image appeared on the screen. The most human-like of their hosts' species—the crested, pale green being first encountered on Earth as the Death Valley decoy—lifted its miter-shaped head. Three amber eyes arranged in a small triangle on the snout of the miter sank into flesh, reemerged in a kind of blink. The knobby shoulders behind the crest moved slowly back and forth. Two six-fingered hands gripped a bar before it.

The miter-head shifted to one side. "We are anticipating a physical meeting, and have made equipment to prevent biological contamination. When you enter orbit around the fourth planet, we will learn the qualities of your atmosphere and chemistry, and suit our equipment to your needs. We will tell you how to put your weapons in our safe-keeping before you enter orbit. "

Martin froze the last image of the miter-head creature and examined it thoughtfully, goosebumps rising on his arms. This one shape so symbolized deception and betrayal, but in fact on Earth this creature had spoken a kind of truth, as part of the deadly, playful testing of humanity: it had warned American scientists of coming destruction.

They used it on Earth, they use it still, how many thousands of years since they launched the killer probes? No wasted effort; is their creativity depleted?

The delay still prevented practical two-way communication, but Martin thought it best to maintain an atmosphere of ceremonial observance, as befitted a truly historic occasion: the first communication between intelligent species, for humans and Brothers, since their own meetings centuries in their fictitious past.

The red light on their camera blinked and Martin took a deep breath and delivered his reply: "We are proud to be a part of this meeting. All individuals on Double Seedare prepared to follow your instructions. Your civilization seems much more capable than our own, and we entrust ourselves to your superior reasoning and technology." Let them digest and react to humility— or abject innocence.

He stepped aside and let Eye on Sky deliver his message in Brother audio language. Paola stood beside Martin and translated.