Bors ordered a space-boat to come from the cargo-ship for the reports. "_Would you like to come to dinner on the yacht?_" asked Gwenlyn. "_You're all living on emergency rations. Nobody asked us to divide our supplies with the fleet. I can give you a nice meal._" "Better not," said Bors curtly, and mumbled thanks. He ordered the cargo-ship to send as much of its stores as the space-boat could conveniently carry. "_Then how about some cigars?_" asked Gwenlyn. She seemed at once amused and approving, because Bors would not indulge himself in a really satisfying meal while his crew lived on far from appetizing emergency foodstuffs. "No," said Bors. "No cigars either. You said you had some news for me. What is it?" "_I brought along our ship-arrival Talent_," said Gwenlyn blandly. "_He can only tell when a ship will arrive at the solar system where he is, so he had to come here to precognize._" Bors felt again that stubborn incredulity which Talents, Incorporated would always rouse in a mind like his. "_There'll be a ship arriving here in two days, four hours, sixteen minutes from now_," said Gwenlyn matter-of-factly. "_He thinks it's a fighting ship, though he can't be sure. It could be a cruiser or something like that doing mail duty, coming to deliver orders and receive reports. You can't run an empire without a regular news system, and Mekin wouldn't depend on commercial ships for government business._" "Good!" said Bors. "Thanks!" There was a pause. "_What will you do now?_" "Try to raise the devil somewhere else," said Bors. "Try to pick up another food-ship, probably. Maybe I ought to let this ship alone, to carry news of the pirate ship _Isis_ back to Mekin, but-- No. They use booby-traps as police devices!" It was not reasonable, but Bors could not think of missing a Mekinese warship. The idea of a government using booby-traps to enforce its orders somehow put it beyond forgiveness, and with the government all those who served it willingly. "_You'll go to Garen then?_" asked Gwenlyn. Bors felt a sharp sting of annoyance. He had carefully kept secret the choice of Garen Three as the next planet to be invaded by the pseudo-pirate ship. It was upsetting to find that Gwenlyn knew about it. Blast Talents, Incorporated! "_The dowsing Talent_," said Gwenlyn, "_says there's a battleship aground there. There've been some riots. The people of Garen don't like Mekin, either. Strange? The battleship is to overawe them._" "How do you know that?" demanded Bors. "_The Department for Predicting Dirty Tricks was reading old news-reports_," she told him. "_We're leaving now. 'Bye._" "Goodbye," said Bors, and sighed, not knowing whether he felt regret or relief.