“They will be frightened of you at first, as they were of the crew of this ship. As I was. We must overcome old emotions, all of us. Shape must not interfere with reason. Nor must your psychotic tendencies.”

“We do not have psychotic tendencies.” The official was uncomfortable.

“Talk to your own consultants,” Sanchez advised him. “Study human history. We should not be afraid of admitting that we are what we are.”

“Consider your own state of mind right this minute,” Rijseen added. “Then look at this alien across from you. He is far from home and among what are to him creatures of surpassing ugliness. See how calm he is, how relaxed and at ease.”

That wasn’t entirely true, Ryo thought, but he wasn’t about to step on the scientist’s hypothesis.

“Would a human placed in the same situation react this way? We know he wouldn’t. We know it because Captain Sanchez and her people did not, and they were trained for such confrontation. They kicked and screamed and acted like—well, like humans. From my studies I am convinced that Ryo’s mental stability is the result not of racial or individual weakness or fatalism, but of a better understanding of himself.”

“I can see that he’s convinced you, at least,” the official said.

“Facts,” Bhadravati said softly, “can be most persuasive, sir.”

The official rose and walked toward the large port He stood and stared silently at the vast dead world below. The star Centaurus (that was not Alpha because of a great mistake) was a dim, distant point of light Ryo could see his fingers twisting and entwining in some secret ritual.

“It’s difficult,” the man murmured, “very difficult. For example, we have only your word for the supposedly relentless hostility of these AAnn.”

“They’ll give you ample proof themselves soon enough,” Ryo noted.

“Our records show that the ship that attacked us is different from any Thranx vessel we saw,” Sanchez told him. “If half of what Ryo says about them is true, they will present a real danger.”

Ryo tried to divine the man’s mood by looking at him, but failed utterly. He tried to believe that the continued silence was a sign that the man’s indecision was weakening, that despite his uncertainties he was coming around to the side of reason.

He turned, his fingers still working, silhouetted by a dead world. “I mean no offense—damn, I don’t know how to put this. There are problems here that logic will not solve. It’s simply that—”

“That if I were of a different ancestry,” Ryo told him, “everything would be simpler. If I did not look like a big, icky, crawly insect.”

The Secretary looked distinctly uncomfortable as Ryo continued. “I have had ample time to study the phobia most humans have regarding my tiny relatives on your world. We are not properly insects, by your classification system.”