The major spread his hands. "I'm not prepared to say. You'll have to take that up with our technicians. Out of my field, you understand. "I am also to ask you how soon you can get this into production. We'll need five thousand units." Klythe looked thoughtful. "It'll depend on the breakdown, of course; these things take time. Five thousand units. Hmmmm. Assuming increasing complexity--figure twice the time for a regular model and extra time for analysis--mmmm." He appeared to be figuring deeply. _Five days_, thought Crayley contemptuously. "It'll take all of a week to set up for it," Klythe said. "If we get three tunnels running, you can have your five thousand units in--say twelve weeks." "Fine," said Stratford. "I am also informed that our own technicians will be on hand for the recording. I have no idea what that may mean, but--" "I see. Very well, tell them we'll expect them to be here with the original!" Klythe said sharply. * * * * * The major raised his eyebrows at Klythe's voice. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Klythe?" "There is," Klythe said blandly. "But I'm not blaming you, of course. A question of the specialty." "I see," said the major. One did not question another's work too closely. Get nosy with other people, and they get nosy with you. "It's rather as though I hired you to take a cargo to Sirius for me and then insisted that you use my crew instead of your own," Klythe explained. "Perhaps the parallel isn't too good--I know nothing of interstellar commerce--but that may get the idea across." "I sympathize," said Stratford. "If there's anything I can do--?" "Nothing," said Klythe, smiling. "It isn't fatal. Now--" He rubbed his hands briskly. "Unless there's further business, perhaps you'd like a little something? I know I do; I have a cold kink in my guts." The major grinned. "Liaison officers are permitted to drink on duty. Pour away." Klythe poured. As he studiously watched the stream of liquor flow into one of the cups, he said: "Major, may I ask--ah--just how much danger there is to Earth?" The major appeared to consider this for a moment before answering. "At the moment, none. We know that they can not trace us back here, and they're quite a long distance away. Without violation of confidence, I can say that the distance is several thousand light years." "Thank you." Klythe passed the cups around. Crayley eyed the major suspiciously. He had answered the question too readily. Was he lying? No. What, then? The major ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, and Crayley understood. He was going to trade information for information. Stratford swirled his drink around in his cup and looked at the whirlpool it made. "Mr. Klythe, may I ask you a--a question?" It was properly worded, hesitation and all. "I shall not be offended by your question," Klythe replied with the standard friendly acceptance of the gambit, "If you will not be offended by my reply."