"It's bad for the Admiralty if happyfeet hold old science. I think Wayne's almost given up on taking his Captain's seat. The pressure suit is as much power as he'll ever have, and he takes his responsibilities-"

They were back: Wayne Mickl and Raym Wilby and Jonthan. Raym was unwontedly quiet. Mickl said, "And what were you discussing with the Bosun?"

Sectry was flustered; Rather answered first. "I was suggesting that if you did have a fourth pressure suit, you'd need twelve dwarves to man them."

Sectry tried to cover her laugh with her hands. Booce laughed outright. Doheen's mouth was rigidly straight. Mickl was about to explode.

And Rather had learned little from Sectry, but it might be enough. Go for Gold. Before Mickl could speak, he asked, "Does it fly better than your suits?"

Mickl's face didn't change. "Yes. How did you know that?"

"You said it outflew you. Besides, I heard something once."

"You'll tell me."

"Privately, if you don't mind, Captain-Guardian."

They took the kitchen. Mickl said, "That fringe-addled Dark diver makes you a poor witness."

"I don't know anything about your Chairman's Court."

"You'll see a court soon enough. Talk to me, boy."

"I don't know anything about your mutineer pressure suit either-"

"Then-"

"I once heard that there's a way to make little holes on a pressure suit spray fire. Then it can fly without wings."

"Go on."

"Maybe I can find a man who can do it. He doesn't have a pressure suit, so he's never tried it."

"Take me to him."

"They don't deal with Navy. They don't even come into the Admiralty." Rather visualized a mysterious happyfeet tribe, isolated and distrustful. "They sent copsiks once. The Scientists don't come themselves."

"Give me a name."

He picked one he could remember. "Seekers."

"There's no such tribe."

Rather shrugged.

"Well, what are we doing here, Rather?"

"What happens is, you give me your pressure suit-"

Mickl laughed.

"I take it somewhere." Payment? Not money; the Seekers might not use money. "I take fringe too, maybe twenty kilos. I take tools. I bring the suit back. They keep the fringe and the tools. Maybe the jets work and maybe they don't."

"Let me tell you why I can'tgive you my pressure suit," Mickl said gently. "First, it belongs to the Admiralty. Second, it alternates among three Guardians. My triad would notice. Third, turning a pressure suit over to savages would certainly be judged as mutiny, especially since-fourth-you might not bring it back. Stet?"

"Not stet. Let me think."

"While you're thinking . . . This mysterious tribe, did they ever have a pressure suit to practice on?"

"They say they did-"

"Could they have got it working again?"

This was taking Rather into empty sky. Treefodder! Maybe it was lost, or stolen, or-

"Talk to me!"

"I was trying to remember. They threw it away."

"What?"

"It killed three citizens."

"How?"