“A load of crap,” the little storesman said, folding his fingers across his chest. “I don’t think anyone with any sense buys the notion that Avril and Kenjo were in league. Or that Ongola killed Kenjo to keep them from taking the Mariposa to go for help. But I’ll warn you, Paul, if Kitti’s bioengineering program doesn’t show postive results, we could be down the tubes. I’ll lay odds you and Emily are going to be asked to reconsider sending off that homing capsule.”

The previous evening, Paul had discussed that expedient with Emily, Ezra, and Jim. Keroon had been the fiercest opponent of a homing-capsule Mayday, which he termed an exercise in futility. As Paul remarked, such technological help was, at the earliest, ten years away. And the chance that the FSP would move with any speed to assist them was depressingly slim. To send for help seemed not only a rejection of Sallah’s sacrifice but a cowardly admission of failure when they had not exhausted the ingenuity and resourcefulness of their community.

“What sort of material has Ted been requisitioning, Lili?” Paul asked.

Joel extracted a wad of paper from his thigh pocket and made a show of unfolding and reading from it. “Grab bag from hydroponics to insulation materials, steel mesh and posts, and some computer chips that Dieter says he couldn’t possibly need, use, or understand.”

“Did you happen to ask Tubberman what he needed them for?”

“I happened to just do that very thing. A bit arrogant he was, too. Said they were needed for his experiments”—Joel was clearly dubious about their value—“to develop a more effective defense against the Thread until help comes.”

Paul grimaced. He had heard the botanist’s wild claims that he, not the biologists and their jumped-up mutated lizards, would protect Pern. “I don’t like that ‘till help comes’ bit,” Paul murmured, gritting his teeth.

“So, tell me to lock him out, Paul. He may be a charterer, but he’s overspent his credit and then some.” He waved the sheet. “I got records to prove that.”

Paul nodded. “Yes, but next time he presents a list, get him to tell you what he wants, then shut the door. I want to know what he’s up to.”

“Restrict him to his stake,” Joel said, rising to his feet, an expression of genuine concern on his round face, “and you’ll save all of us a lot of aggro. He’s a wild card, and you can’t be sure where he’ll bounce up next.”

Paul grinned at the storesman. “I’d be glad to, Lili, but the mandate doesn’t permit that kind of action.”

Joel snorted derisively, hesitated a moment longer, and then, shrugging in his inimitable fashion, left the office.