* * * * *

Rynason found Manning that same afternoon, going over reports in his quarters.  As soon as he began his description of the orders given to Tebron he found that Malhomme’s warnings had been correct.

“What did this machine say about us?” Manning asked sharply.  “Why were the Hirlaji supposed to stay away from us?”

“Because we’re a warlike race.  The idea was that if the Hirlaji stayed out of space they’d have about five thousand years before we found them.”

“How long ago was all this?  I had your report here....”

“At least eight thousand years,” Rynason said.  “They overestimated us.”

Manning stood up, scowling.  There were heavy lines around his eyes and he hadn’t trimmed his thin beard.  Whatever he was working on, Rynason thought, he was putting a lot of effort into it.

“This doesn’t make sense, Lee.  Damn it, since when do machines make guesses?  Wrong ones, at that?”

Rynason shrugged.  “Well, you’ve got to remember that this was an alien machine; maybe that’s the way they built them.”

Manning threw a cold glance at him and poured a glass of Sector Three brandy for himself.  “You’re not being amusing,” he said shortly.  “Now, go on, and make some sense.”

“I’d like to,” Rynason said.  “Frankly, my theory is that the machine was a communication-link with the Outsiders.  It could explain a lot of things—­maybe even the similarities in architecture.”

Manning scowled and turned away from him.  He paced heavily across the room and looked out through the plasticene window at the nearly empty, dust-strewn street for a few moments; when he returned the frown was still on his face.

“Damn it, Lee, you’re not keeping your mind on the problems here.  While you were looking into Horng’s mind, how do you know he wasn’t spying in yours?  You had an equal hookup, right?”

Rynason nodded.  “I couldn’t have prevented him in any case.  Why?  Are we supposed to be hiding anything?”

“I told you not to trust them!” Manning snapped.  “Now if you can’t even match wits with a senile horsehead....”

“You were the one who said they might be more adept at telepathy than we are,” Rynason said.  “It was a chance we had to take.”

“There’s a difference between taking chances and handing them information on a silver platter,” Manning said angrily.  “Did you make any effort at all to keep him from finding out too much about us?”

Rynason shrugged.  “I kept him pretty busy.  All of the time I was running through Tebron’s memories I could feel Horng screaming somewhere; he must have been too upset to do any probing in my mind.”

Manning was silent for a moment.  “Let’s hope so,” he said shortly.  “If they find out how weak we are, how long it would take us to get reinforcements out here....”

“They’re still just a dying race, remember,” Rynason said.  “They’re not the Outsiders.  What makes you so sure that they’re dangerous?”