I ignored him. "Pretty good haul," I excogitated as I hefted the bags of metal. "Here, Ztul, catch!" "You always make me carry everything!" he complained. Grandfather caught us as we lowered ourselves from the airlock. I figured he must have been getting suspicious or otherwise he'd never have left his beloved engines. "What's this you youngsters have?" he wanted to know, pouncing on our bags. "Metal, eh? I suppose you were going to make another fake meteorite out of it for me, were you?" "I thought you wanted metal, Grandfather," I sulked. He could have been more appreciative. "Certainly I want metal. You know I need it to get the drive working again. But what I want to know is where you got it from. I'd think you stole it, but how could even little _muhli_ like you steal out here in space?" "They have always brought you metal from time to time, Father," Mother projected, coming out as she overthought us. "So clever of them, I always thought." "Yes, but I've been thinking that their encountering so many meteorites was a singularly curious coincidence. And they were curious meteorites, too. I suppose the young ones made them themselves." "But out of what, Father? You know we don't have any spare metal on the ship. That's why you haven't been able to get the repairs finished before. Where else could they get the metal but from meteorites?" "I don't know where they get their metal from, but certainly not from meteorites. These pieces here are artifacts. Look, the metal has been more or less refined and roughly formed into shapes with crude designs upon them. Tell me the truth, Qan, where did you get these?" "Some people gave them to us," I replied sullenly. "People?" asked my mother. "What are people?" "Natives of this solar system. They call themselves people." "Nonsense!" my grandfather interjected. "It's just another one of your fantasies. You know what the astronomers say--none of the planets of this little system is capable of supporting life." "They come from the third planet," I persisted, trying to keep from disgracing myself by _fllwng_ in front of the other young ones. "There is life there. All of us have seen them. Besides, there is the metal." My companions chorused agreement. "You see, Father," my mother smiled, stroking my head with three hands, "the wise ones are not always right." * * * * * My grandfather nodded his head slowly. "It is not impossible, I suppose. I hope it is true that these--people _gave_ you and your friends the metal, Qan." "Oh, yes, Grandfather," I thought anxiously. "Of their own free will." "Well--" he continued, not altogether convinced--"this lot should be enough to repair the engines. Perhaps, when we take off, we should have a look at the youngsters' third planet on the way home."