They had moved hard by the gleaming central object. It floated just above them, relatively speaking. A gold, be-spiked, glassblower's nightmare. The smaller body held sharp and clear out the fore port.

M'wali had left to suit up, so Reinke occupied time in studying the immediate object of their attentions.

Interestingly, it appeared to float at the focal point of the three large, spiky projections of the central bulk. The pylons, or whatever they were, were a milky white, with faint shades of rose and light blue flowing across their surfaces every now and then. Glass or ceramic, looked like.

The detached spheroid had a few knobs and projections of its own, but nothing like the crazy-quilt above. It was pyramid-shaped. The base of the pyramid faced the larger object.

A body composed of more familiar curves and angles entered Reinke's view from the right. M'wali trailed vacuum cables and powerful pulse-jets behind him. The readyspark strapped to his partner's back sparkled in the glare from Repler's sun.

No conversation passed between the two men. None was needed. Both had performed similar operations dozens of times. The subject was new, but the procedure wasn't. Besides, M'wali liked quiet while he worked. He busied about the smaller object, setting himself for the routine task of arranging cables and jets on the alien construct.

Several moments passed. Reinke noticed that a single rectangular block, four times the height of a man and equally deep, had separated from the base of the pyramid. A single vacuum cable trailed from it. He perked up a bit, flipped open the ship-to-suit comm.

"Hey Ed, what's up? Is that thing going to come apart like a jigsaw puzzle?"

"Damnifino." M'wali's voice was sharp and clear across the intervening vacuum. "I- got close to the thing and this thick lid or whatever retracted. Nothing else happened, so I decided to go ahead and hook up the first cable. When I activated it, this big hunk detached itself and pulled right out, like a plug."

"What's it made of? Any indication of origin?"

The space-suited figure was down on the surface of the block. "Doesn't look any more familiar close up than it did from a hundred kilometers away, Myke. Damndest looking stuff you ever saw, though ...

**fssst ... sput** ... corrugated in places, like carved fluting ... almost has a greasy look ... seems to be a port or something a little higher up ... whole thing isn't very big ... yes, there is a transparent section ... got a reddish tinge to it ... I can see inside, I think ... OH SWEET JESUS..."

"For summasake, man!" Reinke fairly pounded the console in frustration. "Open up?" Heavy breathing came back over the comm. "You sonuvabitch, if you don't say something fast-quick I'm coming out there and-"

"Easy, Myke, easy. I'm fine. Just a little shocked. Calm down. You'll need all your expletives later."

"Okay, I'm calm. See? Now, what is it?" Reinke had to resist an urge to stomp on the floor. Breaking boot connection would send him floating helplessly about the cabin.

"It's small enough to bring back on the one cable. You'll see it soon enough." M'wali's voice was unnaturally subdued. "And brother, don't eat anything until you do:'

"If we weren't in such an awful hurry, I could almost enjoy the ride," Mal said. "Despite the crowding."

The five of them cramped the small forecabin of the hoveraft badly. Mal, in the only other seat, was trying to relax. Takaharu was handling the driving.

There was a slightly larger space for luggage and such located behind the forecabin, but it was completely enclosed. No one felt like sitting in the dark just now.

"I'll be pleased to clear all this up and get back to work, Captain," said the First Mate. "Devious intrigue isn't my line. I'm not mentally constructed for subtlety and evasion."

"We concur," Mal replied. "Not only don't I care for it, I'm not very good at it, either. But this young man, here . . ." he indicated the lanky form of Philip, draped angularly over an empty packing crate.

"What will you do now, Philip-al?" asked Porsupah.

"Well, I hadn't given it much thought. I could look for another job, but I think maybe I'll just kick around for a while. I can always get work. Something more interesting might turn up."

"Well; you shouldn't have to worry about credit for. a time," broke in Kitten cheerfully. "We promised you a reward in the name of the Church. They've a special fund for such situations. Even if they disagree with our recommendations, which they won't, they can't violate a promise made by one of their field operatives. Let alone two." She looked over at Porsupah and he nodded affirmatively.

"You're authorized to make that kind of decision?" asked Mal, a little skeptically.

"Ordinarily, no. But this isn't the sort of assignment we'd ordinarily draw."

"I'd guessed that."

"Now look," she said heatedly. "I admit Porsupah and I might not always have been right on top of the situation . . . what are you laughing at?"

Mal had doubled over. Long, basso peals of amusement filled the cabin.

"Listen to me, he-who-struts-like-an-ape!" she yelled.

"About that reward. I'm not much in need of credit yet," Philip interrupted hurriedly. "There wasn't much to spend on here. I've enough put away to keep me floating for a while."

"It needn't be in the form of credit, if you wish," said Kitten, calming slightly but still keeping a jaundiced eye on the snorting ship-Captain. He was trying unsuccessfully to muffle his laughter. "Something equitable can always be worked out."

"Okay, then. I want you."

Mal stopped chuckling. Porsupah only twitched his first pair of whiskers.

"I beg your pardon?" said Kitten.

The voice of the young engineer had changed slightly. It was no longer distant, half-subservient. Not that it had deepened or changed physically. But the inflections were different, assured, more confident.

"I said I want you. The government owes me a reward promised, in your name."

"Well, sure, but ... hey, you're serious, aren't you?"

"Look, lad," began Mal.

"My name is Philip, Captain." He looked evenly at Mal. In certain situations I respond to lad, kid, youngster, young fella, and many analogous appellations. This isn't one of them. The young lady can be no more than a year or two older than I- if that. It's rare enough that one chances across someone so attractive, intelligent, and, yes of a compatible size. I want to take advantage of it."

"Now just a minute, Philip-"

"Just a minute yourself, Captain," interrupted Kitten, a trifle upset. "I don't need you or anyone else to bargain or moralize for me." She turned and looked over at Philip. He stared back unflinchingly. "It's up to me to decide whether I want to reject the proposal or not. Under the circumstances, I think it carries the flavor of an almost forgotten gallantry. Not to mention compliment. I accept your offer, Philip."

"Thank you, Miss Kai-sung," he replied gravely, executing an awkward half-bow.

"Under the circumstances, don't you think you ought to," she glanced archly at Mal, "call me by my first name?"

"Agreed ... Kitten." He smiled broadly.

"You're quite right," Mal said evenly. "It's none of my business. Go and fantasize, if you will."

Kitten stood up and stretched ... lazily, languorously. Mal gazed unswervingly at the ocean, which gazed back.

"There's room in the storage area, wouldn't you say, Philip?"

"I believe so, Kitten." He unfolded himself, extended a hand. She took it.

"See you shortly, gentlemen. This won't take long." She pulled the sliding panel closed behind them.

Takaham hadn't budged throughout the entire exchange. Mal continued an unprecedented fascination with the sea. Porsupah stifled a laugh.