CLOSE TO CRITICAL

scale. There was no way to tell who was talking, much; less what was being said, and Raeker settled back un-: easily in his seat.

"Couldn't the handling equipment of that robot be used for fighting?" The shrill voice of the Drommian interrupted his worries.

"Conceivably, under other circumstances," Raeker replied. "As it happens, we're too far away. You must have noticed the delays between questions and answers when I was talking to Nick. We're orbiting Tenebra far enough I out to keep us over the same longitude; its day is about four Earth ones, and that puts us over a hundred and sixty thousand miles away. Nearly two seconds delay in reflex would make the robot a pretty poor fighter." t

"Of course. I should have realized. I must apologize' for wasting your tune and interrupting on what must be a very bothersome occasion." j Raeker, with an effort, tore his mind from the scene so far below, and turned to the Drommians.

j

"I'm afraid the apology must be mine," he said. "I knew you were coming, and why; I should at least have appointed someone to do the honors of the place, if I couldn't manage it myself. My only excuse is the emergency you see. Please let me make up for it by helping you now. I suppose you would like to see the Vinde-miatrix." i

"By no means. I would not dream of taking you from this room just now. Anyway, the ship itself is of no interest compared to your fascinating project on the planet, and you can explain that to us as well here, while you are waiting for your agent's answer, as anywhere else. I understand that your robot has been on the planet a long time; perhaps you could tell me more about how you recruited your agents on the planet.

Probably my SOD would like to be shown the ship, if someone else could be spared from other duties."

"Certainly. I did not realize he was your son; the

Explanation; Concatenation; Recrimination 35

message telling us of your visit did not mention him, and I assumed he was an assistant."

"That is perfectly all right. Son, this is Dr. Helven Raeker; Dr. Raeker, this is Aminadorneldo."

"I am delighted to meet you, sir," piped the younger Drommian.

"The pleasure is mine. If you wait a moment, a man is coming to show you over the Vindemiatrix—unless you would rather stay here and join conversation with your father and me."

"Thank you, I would rather see the ship."

Raeker nodded, and waited hi silence for a moment or two. He had already pressed the call button which would bring a crewman to the observing room. He wondered a little why the younger being was with his father;1 presumably he was serving some purpose. It would be easier to talk without him, though, since the two were virtually indistinguishable to Raeker and it would be rather embarrassing to get them mixed up. Both were giants from the human point of view; standing on their hind legs— a highly unnatural attitude for them—they would have towered nearly ten feet tall. Their general build was that of a weasel—or better, an otter, since the slender digits which terminated their five pairs of limbs were webbed. The limbs themselves were short and powerful, and the webs on the first two pairs reduced to fringes of membrane along the fingers—a perfectly normal evolutionary development for intelligent amphibious beings living on a planet with a surface gravity nearly four times that of the earth. Both were wearing harnesses supporting sets of small gas tanks, with tubing running inconspicuously to the corners of their mouths; they were used to an oxygen partial pressure about a third greater than human normal. They were hairless, but something about their skins reflected a sheen similar to that of wet sealskin.

They were stretched hi an indescribably relaxed attitude on the floor, with their heads high enough to see 36