ers for it to head for Glamis immediately, in overdrive.

Communication had been three-way, and Gwenlyn said quickly;

"_Just a moment! Did you pick up any news-reports on Tralee?_"

"Hm. Yes. I'd better send them--"

"_You'd better?_" echoed Gwenlyn, scolding. "_My father stayed with the
fleet to try to explain what Talents, Incorporated can do! He kept most
of the Talents with him, for demonstrations! The Department for
Predicting Dirty Tricks is there! Don't you remember what that
Department works on? Of course you've got to send those news-reports!_"

Bors ordered a space-boat to come from the cargo-ship for the reports.

"_Would you like to come to dinner on the yacht?_" asked Gwenlyn.
"_You're all living on emergency rations. Nobody asked us to divide our
supplies with the fleet. I can give you a nice meal._"

"Better not," said Bors curtly, and mumbled thanks.

He ordered the cargo-ship to send as much of its stores as the
space-boat could conveniently carry.

"_Then how about some cigars?_" asked Gwenlyn. She seemed at once amused
and approving, because Bors would not indulge himself in a really
satisfying meal while his crew lived on far from appetizing emergency
foodstuffs.

"No," said Bors. "No cigars either. You said you had some news for me.
What is it?"

"_I brought along our ship-arrival Talent_," said Gwenlyn blandly. "_He
can only tell when a ship will arrive at the solar system where he is,
so he had to come here to precognize._"

Bors felt again that stubborn incredulity which Talents, Incorporated
would always rouse in a mind like his.

"_There'll be a ship arriving here in two days, four hours, sixteen
minutes from now_," said Gwenlyn matter-of-factly. "_He thinks it's a
fighting ship, though he can't be sure. It could be a cruiser or
something like that doing mail duty, coming to deliver orders and
receive reports. You can't run an empire without a regular news system,
and Mekin wouldn't depend on commercial ships for government business._"

"Good!" said Bors. "Thanks!"

There was a pause.

"_What will you do now?_"

"Try to raise the devil somewhere else," said Bors. "Try to pick up
another food-ship, probably. Maybe I ought to let this ship alone, to
carry news of the pirate ship _Isis_ back to Mekin, but-- No. They use
booby-traps as police devices!"

It was not reasonable, but Bors could not think of missing a Mekinese
warship. The idea of a government using booby-traps to