simply. _Enjoy_ Piloting! It was his entire life!
Without a ship, he was nothing.

"Not all Grom feel that way," the Chief said. "I don't understand it
either. All my ancestors have been Invasion Chiefs, back to the
beginning of time. So of course _I_ want to be an Invasion Chief. It's
only natural, as well as lawful. But the lower castes don't feel that
way." The Chief shook his body sadly. "I've told you this for a
reason. We Grom need more room. This unrest is caused purely by
crowding. All our psychologists say so. Another planet to expand into
will cure everything. So we're counting on you, Pid."

"Yes, sir," Pid said, with a glow of pride.

The Chief rose to end the interview. Then he changed his mind and sat
down again.

"You'll have to watch your crew," he said. "They're loyal, no doubt,
but low-caste. And you know the lower castes."

Pid did indeed.

"Ger, your Detector, is suspected of harboring Alterationist
tendencies. He was once fined for assuming a quasi-Hunter shape. Ilg
has never had any definite charge brought against him. But I hear that
he remains immobile for suspiciously long periods of time. Possibly,
he fancies himself a Thinker."

"But, sir," Pid protested. "If they are even slightly tainted with
Alterationism or Shapelessness, why send them on this expedition?"

The Chief hesitated before answering. "There are plenty of Grom I
could trust," he said slowly. "But those two have certain qualities of
resourcefulness and imagination that will be needed on this
expedition." He sighed. "I really don't understand why those qualities
are usually linked with Shapelessness."

"Yes, sir," Pid said.

"Just watch them."

"Yes, sir," Pid said again, and saluted, realizing that the interview
was at an end. In his body pouch he felt the dormant Displacer, ready
to transform the enemy's power source into a bridge across space for
the Grom hordes.

"Good luck," the chief said. "I'm sure you'll need it."

* * * * *

The ship dropped silently toward the surface of the enemy planet. Ger
the Detector analyzed the clouds below, and fed data into the
Camouflage Unit. The Unit went to work. Soon the ship looked, to all
outward appearances, like a cirrus formation.

Pid allowed the ship to drift slowly toward the surface of the mystery
planet. He was in Optimum Pilot's Shape now, the most efficient of the
four shapes alloted to the Pilot caste. Blind, deaf and dumb, an