"Clancey, this may be the calm before the storm. But from what I hear, both of them will be a long way from Sol when the tornado winds up. They're heading for the Big Man's office right now. He'll tell 'em." * * * * * "I think I get it," said Lane. "He wants us to analyze it. That's why this motion of our heads to the thing." "You may be right." "This is a long way from here, though. I don't quite get it." Kennebec explained his reasons for playing the Little Man's game. "O.K., chief. I've heard of this cat race," said Downing. "You have?" "Only malcontent rumors. Tramps, adventurers, and the like are inclined to take runs like that for the sheer loneliness of it--and the desire to set foot where no man ever stood before. It's about the limit of run with even a Guard ship. I suppose any rumors can be discounted, but I've been given to understand that they are a rather nasty kind of personality." "Being cats they would be," added Lane. "Not necessarily," objected Thompson. "We are basic primate-culture, but we don't behave like apes." "No?" asked Kennebec with a sly smile. "O.K." "Now," said Kennebec. "They've chosen you two for the job in spite of our explanations that you are slightly inclined toward dangerous rivalry. Why they insist I do not know. Be that as it may, gentlemen, you have this project. You have twenty-five ships each, all armed to the best of Solar technique. You'll have to play it close to your vest, I gather, since this machine or bomb is at present running through their system. Therefore I order you, officially, to refrain from any competitive action until this project is completed. The Little Man has detectors to locate the thing, you'll each get one of them. Track it down and analyze it. Destroy it after you could reproduce it. Thompson, your only job is to remind this pair of worthies that their prime job is to finish this project." "It may be not too hard," smiled Thompson. "I won't have any trouble." "Look, Downing, if this thing is as important as they claim, we're fools not to work together. Right?" "As corny as it sounds--the fate of races depends--I believe the Little Man. Until this fool project is over, no fight." "Shake." Downing made a "wait" gesture. He picked up an ornate dinner candle from the mantelpiece and lit it. He took cigarettes, offered one to Lane, and they shook hands. And they lit their cigarettes in the same candle flame. And Thompson said to Kennebec: "A pair of showmen." "And the best flight commanders in the Guard, confound it!" * * * * * Stellor Downing, out of his Martian uniform and wearing the dress uniform of Terra, piloted Patricia Kennebec through the tables to a seat. "Stop worrying," he laughed. "I suppose I should," she admitted. "Then please do." "I will. It isn't complimentary to you, is it?" "I wouldn't worry about that." "All right. But I still think I'm fostering trouble for both of you."