ut we
need information about you. You have our position--can you send up a
spokesman to tell us your problem?"

A long pause, and then the voice came back wearily. "It will be done.
Stand by to receive him."

Tiger snapped off the radio receiver and looked up triumphantly at the
others. "Now we're getting somewhere. If the people down there can send
a ship out with a spokesman to tell us about their troubles, we've got a
chance to sew up a contract, and that could mean a Star for every one of
us."

"Yes, but who are they?" Dal said. "And where were they when the
Confederation ship was here?"

"I don't know," Jack said, "but I'll bet you both that we have quite a
time finding out."

"Why?" Tiger said. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we'd better be very careful here," Jack said darkly. "I don't
know about you, but I think this whole business has a very strange
smell."

* * * * *

There was nothing strange about the Bruckian ship when it finally came
into view. It was a standard design, surface-launching interplanetary
craft, with separated segments on either side suggesting atomic engines.
They saw the side jets flare as the ship maneuvered to come in alongside
the _Lancet_.

Grapplers were thrown out to bind the emissary ship to the _Lancet_'s
hull, and Jack threw the switches to open the entrance lock and
decontamination chambers. They had taken pains to describe the interior
atmosphere of the patrol ship and warn the spokesman to keep himself in
a sealed pressure suit. On the intercom viewscreens they saw the small
suited figure cross from his ship into the _Lancet_'s lock, and watched
as the sprays of formalin washed down the outside of the suit.

Moments later the creature stepped out of the decontamination chamber.
He was small and humanoid, with tiny fragile bones and pale, hairless
skin. He stood no more than four feet high. More than anything else, he
looked like a very intelligent monkey with a diminutive space suit
fitting his fragile body. When he spoke the words came through the
translator in English; but Dal recognized the flowing syllables of the
universal language of the Galactic Confederation.

"How do you know the common tongue?" he said. "There is no record of
your people in our Confederation, yet you use our own universal
language."

The Bruckian nodded. "We know the language well. My people dread outside
contact--it is a racial characteristic--but we hear t