en absolutely nobody outside of
the fleet could possibly imagine where the fleet had gone. On Kandar it
must be assumed, by now, that it was dead.

His ship's boat clanked into position in the lifeboat blister. The
valves closed on it. A moment later there was a whistling murmur, and
the boat's vision-ports clouded over outside and then cleared. He
stepped out into the ship's atmosphere. His second-in-command greeted
him in the control-room.

"I was trying to reach you at the flagship, sir," he said. "The yacht
_Sylva_ is lying a few miles off. Her owner has forwarded news reports
to the flagship. He asks that you receive him when you can, sir."

Bors's apparent lack of surprise was real. He wasn't surprised. But he
was annoyed with himself for expecting something so impossible as the
_Sylva_ tracing the fleet through an overdrive voyage of days to a most
unlikely destination like Glamis.

"Tell him to come aboard," he commanded.

He went to talk to the mess officer, reflecting that he would ask the
Morgans how the _Sylva_ had known where to come, and they'd tell him,
and it would be extremely unlikely, and he would accept the explanation.
The mess-officer looked harassed at the news of fifty additional crewmen
to be fed.

"Principles of prudence and common sense," said Bors, "don't apply any
more. We'll feed them somehow."

He went back to the control-room. When Morgan appeared, beaming
expansively, Bors was again unsurprised to see Gwenlyn with him. Logan,
the Mathematics Talent, followed in their wake, looking indifferently
about him.

"We wiped out the fleet headed for Kandar," Bors observed. "I don't
suppose that's news, to you?"

Morgan cheerfully shook his head.

"And we're in considerably more trouble than before. Is that news?"

"No," admitted Morgan. "It's reasonable for you to be."

"Then, damnit, I'm going off on a pirating-news-gathering-food-raiding
cruise alone," said Bors. "Is that news?"

"We brought Logan," said Morgan, "to go with you. He'll be useful.
That's Talents--"

"--Incorporated information and I can depend on it," said Bors dourly.
"In plain common sense the odds are rather high against my accomplishing
anything, such as coming back."

Morgan looked at his daughter. He grinned.

"We heard gloom from him the other day before a certain space-battle,
didn't we?" He turned back to Bors. "Look, Captain. Our Talents don't
prophesy. Precognition simply says that when there are s