The Plumie gazed about with an air of lively curiosity. Then he drew out a flat pad with a white surface and sketched swiftly. He offered it to the _Niccola's_ skipper. "We want this on record," he growled, staring about. Diane's voice said capably from a speaker somewhere nearby: "_Sir, there's a scanner for inspection of objects brought aboard. Hold the plate flat and I'll have a photograph--right!_" The skipper said curtly to the Plumie: "You've drawn our two ships linked as they are. What have you to say about it?" He handed back the plate. The Plumie pressed a stud and it was blank again. He sketched and offered it once more. "Hm-m-m," said the skipper. "You can't use your drive while we're glued together, eh? Well?" The Plumie reached up and added lines to the drawing. "So!" rumbled the skipper, inspecting the additions. "You say it's up to us to use our drive for both ships." He growled approvingly: "You consider there's a truce. You must, because we're both in the same fix, and not a nice one, either. True enough! We can't fight each other without committing suicide, now. But we haven't any drive left! We're a derelict! How am I going to say that--if I decide to?" Baird could see the lines on the plate, from the angle at which the skipper held it. He said: "Sir, we've been mapping, up in the radar room. Those last lines are map-co-ordinates--a separate sketch, sir. I think he's saying that the two ships, together, are on a falling course toward the sun. That we have to do something or both vessels will fall into it. We should be able to check this, sir." "Hah!" growled the skipper. "That's all we need! Absolutely all we need! To come here, get into a crazy right, have our drive melt to scrap, get crazily welded to a Plumie ship, and then for both of us to fry together! We don't need anything more than that!" Diane's voice came on the speaker: "_Sir, the last radar fixes on the planets in range give us a course directly toward the sun. I'll repeat the observations._" The skipper growled. Taine thrust himself forward. He snarled: "Why doesn't this Plumie take off its helmet? It lands on oxygen planets! Does it think it's too good to breathe our air?" Baird caught the Plumie's eye. He made a gesture suggesting the removal of the space helmet. The Plumie gestured, in return, to a tiny vent in the suit. He opened something and gas whistled out. He cut it off. The question of why he did not open or remove his helmet was answered. The atmosphere he breathed would not do men any good, nor would theirs do him any good, either. Taine said suspiciously: "How do we know he's breathing the stuff he let out then? This creature isn't human! It's got no right to attack humans! Now it's trying to trick us!" His voice changed to a snarl. "We'd better wring its neck! Teach its kind a lesson--" The skipper roared at him.