“That’s ghastly!”

Mental shrug. “All things in the universe are relative.”

“But you’re still helping us. And I don’t believe that ‘sacred duty’ wave of yours, either. Not after millennia. And you put that engineer down carefully, as carefully as I’d handle a kitten. Why?”

“I happen to be a gentle person,” came the soft reply. “I prefer life to death, peace to war, tranquility, order, plants that blossom, small beings that produce pleasant sounds, the feeling wind gives, all such things.”

“More contradictions and none of the originals resolved,” said Kitten.

The alien turned from its inspection and stared down at her with all four eyes. Involuntarily she took a step back, then angrily moved forward.

“Small female, what sort of being would your kind place in such a position as mine, to float in confined aloneness, aloneness, for eternity? What sort of specimen, whose mind only is needed—the neural network, the electro-organic nexi? With only occasional voices of your own kind, in passing, for companionship. To be brother to a machine. To drift only, in ignorance of time and motion. Yet an important task now and then to be trusted to such . . . A voluntary position, also, for such we were. One that had to be taken of choice and not order. Love, comfort, ease, rest, kindliness, smoothness, stroking, friendship, so pleasant . . . Oh yes, I was quite insane . . .

“And you, rabbit-with-fangs.” Kingsley started. “If you still need further proof of my words, I fear you will have it sooner than you wish.” The alien turned back to face the interior of its capsule.

“Umm. Well, for now, I’ll see to it that you’re supplied with what you need,” the trader said evenly. “Inform me, and I’ll—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. A negative. I shall relay my needs and requests through another . . . that one, I think.”

An image formed alongside the wordpicture. Or maybe it supplanted them. It was difficult to tell. But it was not ambiguous. The others turned to stare at the subject of the thought.

Philip shook himself as though returning from a sleep. He looked very young again, suddenly. “Well, gee,” he said.

“Now listen,” began Kingsley. Mal put an arm on the merchant’s shoulder.

“When a being confesses to insanity, even if he’s sane by our standards, it might be in everyone’s best interests to humor him, Chatham.”

“All right. All right. I just don’t like the feeling that things are slipping out of my hands right in front of my face. I just don’t like it.”

“Rabbit-with-fangs,” came the voice, “things were getting out of your hands before your ancestors were conceived.”

Peot connected a circuit unused for millennia. And thought.

A thousand kilometers away, the Vom jerked. Mentally. Outwardly it had not changed. Inside, it seethed. Somehow the Guardian had successfully been activated. Despite constant monitoring, the actual stimuli had completely escaped the Vom’s scrutiny. Even now the ancient nemesis was preparing itself.