"Why all this discussion of robots?" Vilbis said. "They're just dogs. Not even that. They were dogs for six months of their existence before their brains were transplanted into synthegell fluid by the mind transplant machine." His eyes took on a far away look. His voice became regretful. "I had a hundred thousand scientists working on that problem. If the mind of one dog could be transplanted into synthegell without destroying the dog's brain there would be no limit to the production of robot brain cartridges. If we could have licked that problem I'd have won the war." "If!" Paul spat. "You're a renegade Earthman. I'm putting in my application to be the one to hang you as soon as we get home." "How do you--" Vilbis clamped his lips closed and scooped up his cards. "How do we know we'll get home?" Bill Ford said. "Is that what you were going to say?" Vilbis looked at his cards casually. "No," he said absently. "I was going to say how do you expect to play cards and talk at the same time?" A raucous blast exploded in the room. Bill and Paul stared at each other in surprise. Vilbis smiled. Bill leaped across the room to the cm board. He jabbed at buttons. A giant screen lit up, showing a spaceship. Smaller screens lit up, revealing robot ship commanders. "Look at that ship, Paul," Bill said. "You know them all. Aquilanean, Centaurian, Cygnian. It isn't any known type--and with a war just over, there hasn't been time to mass-produce new types." He jabbed at a button. "All ships," he said. "All ships. Defense formation five. Five. Operation three. Three." He listened to the repeats. * * * * * Paul Belcross had leaped to the huge tri-di sphere and turned it on. Seconds later both men, Vilbis forgotten but watching with bright eyes, were studying the small dots in the tri-di. The flight formation in the shape of a giant arrow was quickly changing shape as the fleet formed a defensive sphere around the flagship and its human occupants. The _Rover_ was the only bright blue dot. The others were red. But now other dots were materializing at the outer fringe of the tri-di, too many new dots to count. Approaching ships. Across the room a voice from a loudspeaker was saying, "Eighty seconds to contact. No response. No response." "Another second and they'll be within range," Paul said. "God!" Bill's voice exploded. His eyes were on the large area of the tri-di where ships had abruptly ceased to exist. "Something's wrong with the tri-di," Paul said. "No weapon could do that." "Nothing's wrong with the tri-di," Bill said sharply. "And we don't have that kind of weapon. They're something alien. Have to be. Some other galaxy. There's always been that possibility."