Rynason found Manning in the back, sitting under a cheap print of a Picasso nude with cold light trained on it in typically bad taste.  He had a woman with him.  Rynason recognized her—­Mara Stephens, in charge of communications and supplies for the survey team.  She was a strange girl, aloof but not hard, and she carried herself with a quiet dignity.  What was she doing with Manning?

He passed a waiter on his way to the table and ordered a drink.  Malhomme saw him as he passed:  “Lee Rynason!  Come and join me in repentance!  Give your soul to God and your money to the barman, for as the prophet sayeth, lo, I am dry!  Join us!”

Rynason grinned and shook his head, walking past.  He grabbed one of the light-metal chairs and sat down next to Mara.

“You wanted to see me,” he said to Manning.

Manning looked up at him to apparent surprise.  “Lee!  Yes, yes—­sit down.  Wait, we’ll get you a drink.”

So he was in that kind of a mood.  “I’ve got one coming,” Rynason said.  “What’s our problem today?”

Manning smiled broadly.  “No problem, Lee; no problem at all.  Not unless you want to make one.”  He chuckled goodnaturedly, a tacit statement that he was expecting no such thing.  “I’ve got good news today, by god.  You tell him, Mara.”

Rynason turned to the girl, who smiled briefly.  “It just came over the telecom,” she said.  “Manning has a good chance for the governorship here.  The Council is supposed to announce its decision in two weeks.”

Rynason looked over at Manning, his face expressionless.  “Congratulations.  How did this happen?”

“I’ve got an inside track; friend of mine knows several of the big guys.  Throws parties, things like that.  He’s been putting in a word for me, here and there.”

“Isn’t this a bit out of your line?” Rynason said.

Manning sat back, a large man with close-cropped dark hair and heavy features.  His beard was trimmed to a thin line along the ridge of his jaw—­a style that was popular on the inner worlds, but rarely seen here on the Edge.  “This is my line,” he said.  “God, this is what I was after when I took this damned job.  Survey teams are a dime a dozen out here, Lee; it’s no job for a man.”

“We’ve got sort of a special case here,” Rynason said evenly, glancing at Mara.  She smiled at him.  “We haven’t run into any alien races before that were intelligent.”

Manning laughed, and took a long swallow of his drink.  “Twenty-six lousy horsefaces—­now there’s an important discovery for you.  No, Lee, this is peanuts.  For that matter, they may be running into intelligent aliens all over the Edge by now—­communication isn’t so reliable out here that we’d necessarily know about it.  What we’ve found here isn’t any more important than all the rubble and trash the Outsiders left behind.”

“Still, it is unique so far,” Mara said.

“I’ll tell you exactly how unique it is,” Manning said, leaning forward and setting down his glass with a bang.  “It’s just unique enough that I can make it sound important in my report to the Council.  I can make myself sound a little impressive.  That’s how important it is; no more than that.”