“_We_ will, you mean, and we _will_, too,” Joan’s thought came forcibly at first, then became dubious: “That is, if it doesn’t mean getting _you_ blasted, too.” “Just what?” Nordquist’s thought was sharp. “Oh, I see . . . and, being a Vegian, as well as a Patrolman, and the acknowledged friend of both the dead man and his sister. . . .” “Who’s a Vegian?” Cloud demanded. “You are, and so are the other five of your group, as you would have been informed if the party had not been broken up so violently. Honorary Vegians, for life.” “Why, I never _heard_ of such a thing!” Joan exclaimed, “and I studied them for years!” “No, you never did,” Nordquist agreed. “There haven’t been many honorary Vegians, and to my certain knowledge, not one of them has ever talked. Vegians are very strongly psychic in picking their off-world friends.” “You mean to tell me that that bleached blonde over there won’t spill everything she knows fifteen minutes after we leave here?” Cloud demanded. “Just that. You can’t judge character by hair, even if it were bleached, which it isn’t. You owe her an apology, Storm.” “If you say so, I do, and I hereby apologize, but. . . .” “But to get back to the subject,” the Lensman went on, narrowing his thought down so sharply as to exclude Joan. “You can do something. You’re the _only_ one who can. Such being the case, and since you are no longer indispensable. I withdraw all objections. Go ahead.” Cloud started a thought, but Joan blanked him out. “Lensman, has Storm been sending—_can_ he send information to you that _I_ can’t dig out of his mind?” “Very easily. He is an exceptionally fine tuner.” “I’m sorry, Joanie,” Cloud thought, hastily, “but it sounded too much like bragging to let you in on. However, you’re in from now on.” Then, aloud, “Vesta, I’m staying with you,” he said, quietly. “I was sure you would,” she said, as quietly. “You are my friend and Zamke’s. Although your customs are not exactly like ours, a man of your odor does not desert his friends.” Cloud turned then to the four lieutenants, who stood close-grouped. “Will you four kids please go back to the ship, and take Joan with you?” “Not on Thursdays, Storm,” Joe said, pointing to an inconspicuous bronze button set into a shoulder-strap. “We both rate Blaster Expert First. Count us in,” and Bob added: “Joan has been telling us an earful, and what she didn’t tell us a couple of Vegian boys did. The Three Honorary Vegian Musketeers; that’s us. Lead on, d’Artagnan!” “Bob and Joe are staying, too, Vesta,” Cloud said then. “Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you myself about being adopted, but I knew somebody would. But you, Joan and Barbara and Helen, you three had better go back to the ship. You can be of no use here.” Two of them were willing enough to go, but: “Where Neal Cloud goes, I go,” Joan said, and there was no doubt whatever that she meant exactly that.