Helena Jansky stepped inside, closing the door after her. She had thinned, and there was darkness in her eyes, but she still bore herself erect. Donovan had to salute the stubborn courage that was in her. The unimaginative peasant blood--no, it was more than that, she was as intelligent as he, but there was a deep strength in that tall form, a quiet vitality which had perhaps been bred out of the Families of Ansa. "Sit down," he invited. She sighed and ran a hand through her dark hair. "Thanks." "Drink?" "No. Not on duty." "And the captain is always on duty. Well, let it go." Donovan lowered himself to the bunk beside her, resting his feet on Wocha's columnar leg. The Donarrian muttered and whimpered in his sleep. "What can I do for you?" Her gaze was steady and grave. "You can tell me the truth." "About the Nebula? Why should I? Give me one good reason why an Ansan should care what happens to a Solarian ship." "Perhaps only that we're all human beings here, that those boys have earth and rain and sunlight and wives waiting for them." _And Valduma--no, she isn't human. Fire and ice and storming madness, but not human. Too beautiful to be flesh._ "This trip was your idea," he said defensively. "Donovan, you wouldn't have played such a foul trick and made such a weak, self-righteous excuse in the old days." He looked away, feeling his cheeks hot. "Well," he mumbled, "why not turn around, get out of the Nebula if you can, and maybe come back later with a task force?" "And lead them all into this trap? Our subtronics are out, you know. We can't send information back, so we'll just go on and learn a little more and then try to fight our way home." His smile was crooked. "I may have been baiting you, Helena. But if I told you everything I know, it wouldn't help. There isn't enough." Her hand fell strong and urgent on his. "Tell me, then! Tell me anyway." "But there is so little. There's a planet somewhere in the Nebula, and it has inhabitants with powers I don't begin to understand. But among other things, they can project themselves hyperwise, just like a spaceship, without needing engines to do it. And they have a certain control over matter and energy." "The fringe stars--these beings in the Nebula really have been their 'gods'?" "Yes. They've projected themselves, terrorized the natives for centuries, and carry home the sacrificial materials for their own use. They're doubtless responsible for all the ships around here that never came home. They don't like visitors." Donovan saw her smile, and his own lips twitched. "But they did, I suppose, take some prisoners, to learn our language and anything else they could about us."