“A number of rather large things,” said Sayona soberly. “We only glimpse them, of course, in the results of our tests.”

“Can I ask what those large things are?” asked Donal, curiously.

“I’m sorry, no. I can’t answer that for you,” said Sayona. “The answers would be meaningless to you, personally, anyway—for the reason you can’t explain anything in terms of itself. That’s why I thought I’d have this talk with you. I’m interested in your philosophy.”

“Philosophy!” Donal laughed. “I’m a Dorsai.”

“Everyone, even Dorsai, every living thing has its own philosophy— a blade of grass, a bird, a baby. An individual philosophy is a necessary thing, the touchstone by which we judge our own existence. Also— you’re only part Dorsai. What does the other part say?”

Donal frowned.

“I’m not sure the other part says anything,” he said. “I’m a soldier. A mercenary. I have a job to do; and I intend to do it—always—in the best way I know how.”

“But beyond this—” urged Sayona. “Why, beyond this—” Donal fell silent, still frowning. “I suppose I would want to see things go well.”

“You said want to see things go well—rather than like to see things go well.” Sayona was watching him. “Don’t you see any significance in that?”

“Want? Oh—” Donal laughed. “I suppose that’s an unconscious slip on my part. I suppose I was thinking of making them go well.”

“Yes,” said Sayona, but in a tone that Donal could not be sure was meant as agreement or not. “You’re a doer, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to be,” said Donal. “Take the civilized worlds now—” he broke off suddenly.

“Go on,” said Sayona.

“I meant to say—take civilization. Think how short a time it’s been since the first balloon went up back on Earth. Four hundred years? Five hundred years? Something like that. And look how we’ve spread out and split up since then.”

“What about it?”

“I don’t like it,” said Donal. “Aside from the inefficiency, it strikes me as unhealthy. What’s the point of technological development if we just split in that many more factions— everyone hunting up his own type of aberrant mind and hiving with it? That’s no progress.”

“You subscribe to progress?”

Donal looked at him.

“Don’t you?”

“I suppose,” said Sayona. “A certain type of progress. My kind of progress. What’s yours?”

Donal smiled.

“You want to hear that, do you? You’re right. I guess I do have a philosophy after all. You want to hear it?”

“Please,” said Sayona.