"They haven't explicitly answered several of our questions," Bent admitted. "Directly below us is the opening through which our Shmoos emerge to confer with us. There are two other openings we know of, both quite small—no more than a meter wide. Nothing has emerged from them. We haven't sent anybody in to investigate the openings. We think it best to trust them—not to look gift horses in the mouth, no?"

Arthur nodded dubiously.

"What would you have done?" Bent asked, showing a flash of irritation and perplexity.

"The same, probably," Arthur said.

The helicopter circled the Rock twice and then landed near the conference trailer. The engine noise declined to a rhythmic groaning whine and the blades slowed. Arthur, the Australians, and Rotterjack walked across the red dust and pea gravel to the gray and white trailer. It rose a meter above the ground on heavy iron jacks and concrete blocks, its eight rugged tires dangling sadly.

Bent pulled out a key ring and opened the white-painted aluminum door, ushering Gordon, Rotterjack, and Warren in, but going ahead of Forbes and French. Inside, an air conditioner hummed quietly. Arthur mopped his brow with a handkerchief and reveled in the cool air. Forbes and French pulled seats up to the spare conference table. French switched on a monitor and they sat to watch the opening in the Rock, waiting intently for the Shmoos to emerge.

"Have they ever asked to travel elsewhere?" Arthur asked.

"No," Bent said. "As I said, they don't leave the vicinity."

"And they haven't revealed whether they're going to land others soon?"

"No."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. Three gleaming gourd-shaped objects emerged from the two-meter-wide hole, descending to hover thirty or forty centimeters above the rugged ground. Bobbing and weaving gracefully, the Shmoos traversed the half kilometer between the trailer and the Rock, three abreast, reminding Arthur of gun-slingers approaching a showdown.

His hands trembled. Rotterjack leaned toward Arthur and said matter-of-factly, "I'm scared. Are you?"

Bent looked at them both with a drawn, ambiguous expression.

We've brought him into our nightmare. He was innocent until we arrived. He was in a scientist's heaven.

A wide hatch opened on the opposite side of the trailer, letting in a draft of hot air and the hot, dusty-sweet smell of the mulgas. In the sunlit glare outside, the Shmoos ascended a wide ramp and floated into the trailer, arraying themselves on the opposite side of the conference table. The hatch swung down again. The air-conditioner compressor rattled faintly on the roof.

Arthur surveyed the gleaming robots. Beyond their shape and the bluish-gunmetal gleam of their surfaces, they were featureless; no visible sensor apparatus, no sound-producing grilles or extruding arms. Blank.

Bent leaned forward. "Welcome. This is our fifteenth meeting, and I've invited three guests to attend this time. More will be attending later. Are you well? Is everything satisfactory?"