“Maybe,” his wife chipped in, “they could take us back to Earth, but they just don’t want to.”

Reed frowned at her. “If they could but just won’t, why not?”

“Why yes?” she countered. “They have nothing to gain by returning us to Earth. They arrived there, they got what they wanted from our world, and they left. In a hurry.” Her gaze met each of theirs in turn as she continued to speak calmly. “Frankly, I’m more than a little surprised they haven’t shoved us out the nearest port already. We breathe their air, eat their food, and ask embarrassing questions. So why bother to keep us alive? We’re no good to them, no good for anything.”

Dev pondered his senior colleague’s observation. “Maybe,” he finally said, “we potentially are of some use to them.”

Everyone turned to look at him. “For what?” Reed said.

“I don’t know. But I do think that Chiasa is on to something. They have kept us alive, even provided us with living quarters, when they just as easily could have dumped us in a Saturnian orbit on the way out of our system. They must have a reason for not doing that. And I don’t think it has anything to do with, say, an Olone’s altruistic nature.” Pushing away from the wall, he headed for the apparently solid space where a doorway could be made to appear.

“Where are you going?” Reed asked him.

“To ask some more questions. Want to come with me? Or do you have objections, Gavin?”

The big man waved a noncommittal hand. “No, no. Just wondering. Go ask your questions. I look forward to hearing any new information when you come back.” He rose from his pod chair. “Me? I’m gonna take another shower. Then I’m going to experiment with each and every pod in my quarters until I know everything they can do. If you don’t come back,” he shrugged, “we’ll at least know not to press the subject.”

Dev ventured a thin smile. “I have always tried to make myself useful.”