As the tone and content of the communication emerged, however, something pierced him like a surgical probe. He raised his head off the saddle cushion and stared fixedly at the screen. Fal he barely heard.

When it was over there was a buzz and a light flashed to the left of the screen. Ryo immediately left his saddle and walked up to adjust the controls. The communication replayed, still slower this time.

“You see what I mean, then,” she said, when the repeat had concluded and the screen displayed daily news. She leaned to the right and let her legs touch the floor.

“Yes.” Ryo’s reply sounded thinly, as if he were trying to whistle through his spicules instead of his mandibles. That was a trick some Thranx could manage, but he didn’t seem to be doing it intentionally.

“Well, what do you think of it?”

“Think of it.” He turned to face her. His fingers were twisting in instinctive patterns indicative of great excitement “It’s simply the most marvelous thing that’s ever happened!”

Tliat was not at all the reaction she’d expected from Ryo, though if she’d thought more deeply about it she might not have been so surprised. In fact, she might not have mentioned Brohwelporvot’s message at all.

“It means we’ve found a completely new, completely alien space-going intelligence!”

“A race of monsters, according to Broh.” Fal was put off by the strength and direction of his response.

“Initial impressions count for nothing. I have to see them for myself, of course.”

“That’s an amusing thought.”

“I am very serious,” Ryo replied, adding an unmistakable gesture of fifth-degree assertiveness.

“I don’t believe you. Why fill with dirt the burrow so laboriously excavated? You make less sense than that communication.”

Because something inside me says that I have to do this, he thought. It all tied in somehow with what he thought he’d been missing all these years. The message of a frantic, distant relative had fanned the hidden ember into a forest blaze. Now it was too late to put it out.

Fal was rambling, her voice and gestures full of bewilderment. “No sense, no sense. It’s not your place to do something like this. You cannot. What of your assignment, your work?”

“It can be done by others.”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re about to be promoted to Company council. The hive thinks well of you—And what of us? You have other responsibilities.” She slid off the lounge and firmly entwined antennae with him. “You have other responsibilities.” She caressed him warmly.

He tried to think of a better way to put it, could not. “It’s a thing I have to do, Fal.”

“But you don’t say why. Can’t you explain?”

“No better than I already have.”

She let loose his antennae, backed away. “I can’t accept decision without reason. You must not do this. I will not permit it.”

But Ryo was already moving through the apartment, slipping on day vest and pouch, stocking items in his clothing. “I’ll contact you as soon as I’m able. I am sorry, Fal. There’s nothing else I can do.”