"All right," he said, flipping a switch. He turned to his equipment and spoke his strange language into it. It was rough and she liked it. "Now," he began. "Give me the tape," Juba interrupted. He jostled a flat box out of the wall, held the tape up to the light and snapped off a small portion and handed it to Juba. "Come outside," she said, taking his hand. "My world is more beautiful than your space ship." "Can't deny that," he said, watching the branches of the Untouchable Bush draw away as they walked through it. "Now," he said, when he was stretched out on the undulant moss. He felt at the patch of moss sprouting under the warmth of his palm, and watched while an exploratory tendril curled around his little finger. "Now--do you know what it is I want of you?" "I have," Juba said, "some idea." She hadn't known they talked about it. She thought they just did it. "Well, you're wrong." "Oh," she said, and stood up and walked over to the brook so he would not see her face. For she wondered wherein she was lacking and she was embarrassed. "Then," she asked, "what _do_ you want of me?" "There is, as I said, a war on. I am, as I said, a scout. I'm looking for a communications base halfway between a certain strategic enemy outpost and a certain strategic allied outpost." "Why?" "Why? I don't know why. Does the grain of sand know where the beach ends? And if I did know, what would it matter?" "But why _this_ planet? There are other systems. Even other planets in this system." The moss curled under her feet and pricked at her. She was not doing this right. What did she care about his war? But she did not know what to do. She had been prepared for Seduction, Step II, and had even thought up a few things to say, though conversation is not included in the manual, because there is usually a language barrier. It was his speaking the language that made the difference. "This is the only immediately habitable planet. You don't realize how expensive and cumbersome and logistically difficult it is to set up the simplest station on an abnormal planet. Tons of equipment are needed just to compensate for a few degrees too much temperature, or a few degrees too little, or excessive natural radiation, or a slight off balance of atmosphere. Or even if a planet is _apparently_ habitable, there's no way of being absolutely sure until there have been people actually living on it for a while. There isn't time for all this. Can't you just believe me?" "I believe you," Juba said, "and the answer is no. It is not my decision to make. I cannot decide for my people. And if I could, the answer would still be no. That is exactly why we cut ourselves off from the rest of civilization. To stay out of your wars, to carry on civilization when you have laid it waste. That is why we are a planet of parthenogenetic women."