Things began to change when the Jolly Swagman landed on Altair. By rights he and Schussler should have had a lot in common, since one of them had been raised by aliens and the other had been rebuilt by them; but the accumulation of other people’s property was the driving force in the Swagman’s life—while Schussler, who was property, found all forms of private ownership immoral.

Still, each of them had a major stake in Cain’s meeting with Altair of Altair, so they quickly reached an accommodation and awaited the outcome.

It was midafternoon when Cain emerged from the labyrinth, shielding his eyes from the pale yellow sun with his hand. He looked around the barren red landscape and saw a very small spaceship of inhuman design about eighty yards away. An elegantly dressed man was leaning against it, but when he saw Cain he immediately began walking toward him.

“I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you survived!” he said with a distinct accent.

“You’re Schussler?” asked Cain, starting to sweat already.

“I’m afraid not. People call me the Jolly Swagman.”

“Virtue MacKenzie sent me a message that I might be running into you,” said Cain. “Aren’t you a little out of your bailiwick?”

“Not while you’re here, I’m not,” replied the Swagman easily. He looked around at his bleak surroundings. “Though one could wish for a more interesting world, I suppose. I can’t imagine why anyone chooses to live here: I suspect the only things that grow on Altair Three are dust and bugs.”

“Any deal Virtue may have cut with you was hers, not mine,” said Cain firmly. “Where’s Schussler? Aboard the ship?”

“In a manner of speaking.” The Swagman grinned. “He is the ship.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Cain, slapping at a large red insect that had landed on his neck.

“Schussler,” said the Swagman. “He’s a cyborg.”

Cain looked at the ship, its hull shining in the midday sun. “There’s never been a cyborg like that,” he said with conviction.

“Well, there is now. Orpheus gave him three verses.”

“Orpheus writes so damned much, it’s hard to keep up with all of it,” replied Cain.

“Maybe you should have tried,” said the Swagman. “Then you’d have known about Schussler.”

Cain stared at the ship again. “He’s really a spaceship?” he asked dubiously.

“Why should I lie to you?”

“Offhand, I can think of a hundred reasons.” He waved his hand at a cloud of tiny, gnatlike insects, frightening them away. “How does he communicate?”

“He’s got a speaker system. It sounds just the same as a ship’s intercom.”

“I’ve got to talk to him.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” said the Swagman, turning slightly to protect his face from the dust raised by a sudden hot breeze. “Why don’t you talk to me first?”

“About what?”

“About Santiago.”