"Perhaps," Faraday said. "But perhaps not."

Raimey sighed. "I assume there's a point buried in here somewhere?"

"An extremely important point," Faraday assured him. "Even taking all the rest of it into account, those who have reviewed the data have come to the conclusion that the Qanska are not native to Jupiter."

Raimey frowned. "What do you mean, not native? Then where in hell did they—?"

He broke off as it suddenly struck him. "No," he murmured. "That's crazy."

"It's not crazy," Faraday said quietly. "There is a very strong probability that your Qanskan friends came here from somewhere outside our Solar System. Which means that they have a stardrive.

"And I'm afraid we want it."

"Wait a ninepulse," Raimey said, his head spinning like an eddy vortex. "This is crazy."

"I know it sounds that way," Faraday said. "But that's the inescapable conclusion. The Qanska weren't there when we started looking at Jupiter. They didn't arrive by huge colony or sleeper ships or anything else slower-than-light—"

"How do we know that?" Raimey cut him off. "They could have sneaked in when no one was looking. Astronomers don't spend all their time staring at the Outer System."

"No, they don't," Faraday acknowledged. "But there are thousands of amateur comet-hunters who do.

If the Qanska had come here through normal space, someone would surely have spotted their ships."

Raimey flicked his tails in a grimace. "Maybe you're just wrong about them being imports, then.

Maybe your fancy probes aren't as good as you think they are."

"Why are you fighting this so hard?" Hesse asked. "What, does it bother your worldview or something? You act like we're asking you to believe something completely outrageous."

"I don't know why it bothers me," Raimey said. "But since you bring up the subject, what exactly are you asking me to do?"

"We need that stardrive, Matthew," Faraday said, his voice quiet and sincere. Excruciatingly sincere.

"We've looked now into every corner of the Solar System, and there's nothing there but cold rock or half-liquid gas. We've worked at developing every plot of ground that was economically feasible, and quite a few that weren't. The end of the road is ahead of us, and it's not all that far off. Without a stardrive, humanity will soon be without a frontier for the adventurous to cut their teeth on. And without a frontier, the whole race will stagnate and eventually die."

"Great speech," Raimey said sardonically. "Noble sentiments, well-practiced phrasing, and it even sounded sincere. So let me guess. You want me to find and steal this alleged stardrive of theirs.

Right? Or did you have a more noble way of putting it?"

"We're not going to steal it," Faraday said firmly. "At least, not permanently."

"Besides, who says they've only got one?" Hesse put in. "They could have dozens or even hundreds of them for all we know."

"All we want is the chance to get one of them on a lab table and learn how it works," Faraday added.

"Once we know how to build one of our own, well return it."

"Really," Raimey said. "And what happens if there is only one, and you can't figure it out? You think that after going to all that trouble the Five Hundred will just meekly hand it back?"

"They've given their word that they will," Faraday said.

"Whose word?" Raimey countered. "The group running the show at this particular ninepulse? Come on, Faraday—they try to give it back, and they'd spark the biggest floor fight since the Leyster Seating. Even I know enough about politics to figure that one out. And you've got three guesses as to which side would win."

"It won't come to that," Hesse said firmly. "Anything the Qanska can create, we can duplicate."

"In that case, what do you need the Qanska for?" Raimey shot back. "Go build one of your own if you're so smart."

"Are you saying you won't help us?" Hesse asked, his voice tight.

"Matthew, your people need you," Faraday said before Raimey could answer.

"That's nice to hear," Raimey said. "Okay, fine—let's assume for a ninepulse that you and the Five Hundred are as pure as the air in a Baby's buoyancy sac. What happens if all that careful study ends up destroying it? Then what? Apologies all around, and we go our separate ways?"

"You keep assuming there's only one of them," Hesse said, starting to sound annoyed. "There are probably—"

"Yes, I know," Raimey cut him off. "Hundreds and hundreds of them, as far as the eye can see. So how many have you ever actually seen? Or detected with probes, or picked up with deep radar?"

"If we knew where they were—"

"Then you wouldn't need me," Raimey concluded. "Right. So you go ahead and assume whatever you want. I'm not even ready to concede there's even one, let alone whole clouds of them. And you haven't answered my question."

"Mr. Raimey, what do you expect us to say?" Hesse demanded. "Of course we'll be as careful as humanly possible. And Colonel Faraday's right; one way or another we will give it back. What more can we tell you?"

"How about telling me that this is all a bad joke?" Raimey suggested. "Or something Dr. Sprenkle dreamed up, which is basically the same thing? How about telling me that you're not really asking me to betray my friends and my people this way."

"Your people?" Hesse asked, an odd note in his voice. "Mr. Raimey, your people are here."

"Are they?" Raimey countered. "Are you sure?"

"Aren't you?" Faraday asked. "No matter what you look like on the outside, on the inside you're still Matthew Raimey."

Raimey flapped his fins restlessly. "I don't even know that anymore," he muttered.

"Look—" Faraday began.

"No, that's enough," Raimey cut him off. "You've had your say. I'll think about it."

He heard someone hiss a sigh. "All right," Faraday said reluctantly. "But don't think too long. We need to get moving on this."

"Push too hard, and you'll come to a flapping stop right here," Raimey warned. "And the next time you want to talk, do it when I'm awake, okay?"

He flipped over and headed down, his thoughts a tangled swirl—

And pulled up sharply as he nearly slammed headlong into Drusni.

"Drusni!" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"That was my question," she said, peering closely at him. "I was following you. Are you all right?"

"Following me?" he asked stupidly.

"I woke up, and you were leaving," she explained. "I think you must have brushed against me or something."

"Sorry," Raimey said. "I don't know what happened. Maybe I was sleepwalking."

"Sleepwalking?"

"Well, sleep-swimming, I guess you'd have to call it," he corrected himself. "We sometimes get that among—well, it happens to humans sometimes. Have you ever heard of anything like this with Qanska?"

"No," Drusni said. "But we can ask around. Were you sleep-talking, too?"

Raimey felt something cold grip his throats. How much of the conversation had she heard? "The humans were talking to me," he said, the words coming out stiffly. "They wanted me to do something for them."

"So I gathered," she said. "Sounded like you weren't very interested, either. You want to tell me about it?"

"Well..."

"But on the way down," she added, rolling over and flipping herself vertical. "We're not supposed to be up here."

"I know," Raimey said, glad of an excuse to change the subject. He flipped vertical himself—

And suddenly flattened out again, flapping his fins to hold himself steady. There was something in the air...

"Come on," Drusni called, reversing her own plunge and rising up beneath him. "You want a Protector to catch us here?"

"No, wait," Raimey said, sniffing the air. Where had he smelled this particular scent before?