Words began to pour from him. He wanted to know if Panille was a free agent. Was Panille really sent by Ship? Could Panille be working for Oakes or this Lewis people mentioned in such fearful tones. Who? Who? Doubts—a cascade of doubts.

But why the hell should she have to seduce Panille to find out? There was no satisfaction in the answer Thomas gave.

“You have to get through all of Panille’s barriers, all of his masks.”

Damn!

“Just how important is this project to you?” Thomas demanded.

“It’s vital . . . not just to me but to the entire Colony.”

“Of course it is. That’s why you must seduce this poet. If he’s to be a working member of this very bizarre team, there are things we must know about him.”

“And a hold we must have on him!”

“There’s no other way.”

“Pull his records if you want to know whether he prefers women. I will not . . .”

“That’s not my question and you know it! You will not refuse my orders and remain on this team!”

“I can’t even question the wisdom of your decisions?”

“Ship sent me. There is no higher authority. And there are things I must know for this project to succeed.”

She could not deny the intensity of his emotions, but . . .

“Waela, you’re right that the project’s vital. We can’t play with time as we play here with words.”

“And I have nothing to say about the team?” She was close to tears and did not care that it showed.

“You have a . . .”

“After all I’ve been through? I watched them all die! All of them! That buys me some say in how this team goes, or it buys me the R & R I can collect shipside. You name it.”

Thomas, aware of the deepening flush in her skin, felt the intensity of her presence. Such a quick and perceptive person. He felt himself giving over to feelings he had not experienced in eons.

It’s been Shipcenturies!

He spoke softly: “We consult, we share data. But all key decisions are mine and final. If that had been the case all along, this project would not have been botched.”

Waela keyed the hangar door and they stepped inside to the brilliant focus of lights and activity, the noise and smell of torches. She put a hand on his arm to stop him. How thin and wiry he felt!

“How will seducing the poet make our mission succeed?”

“I’ve told you. Get to the heart of him.”

She stared across at the activity around the new sub. “And replacing the plasteel with plaz . . .”

“No single thing will make it for us. We’re a team.” He glanced down at her. “And we’re going in by air.”