And yet, she found it difficult to believe that this charming and seemingly honest race was involved in piracy and illicit salvage. Of course it wouldn't be illicit for them them to remove parts from a derelict ship; they wouldn't know it was a legal requirement to post a claim to a wreck with the space agencies. The Sayad had no rules dealing with space salvage yet. And yet, griffins-Thelerie-had been aboard the ships chasing them with mining lasers. Who was fooling whom? to remove parts from a derelict ship; they wouldn't know it was a legal requirement to post a claim to a wreck with the space agencies. The Sayad had no rules dealing with space salvage yet. And yet, griffins-Thelerie-had been aboard the ships chasing them with mining lasers. Who was fooling whom?

She began to build up a dossier of facts to accompany her message. In it, she stressed the pre-electronic environment in which the Thelerie lived. The most intriguing fact about the modern developments that she and Keff had observed was the limitation of their use. It said clearly that the Thelerie did not understand the mechanisms or the physics behind them. Therefore...therefore, another agency was at work. Or was it? Couldn't there simply be a group of griffins who had demanded an education in practical science from spacegoing captives? Then, how had they reached into space in the first place? She and Keff needed that final link in the pattern. With luck, they'd have it before her message reached the CenCom.

On her screen, the Sayas stretched out his beautiful wings and dipped down toward a cluster of buildings on the open plain. Their body-harness glinting in the bright sun, the six guards flew into a protective formation around him. What a picture! Keff and the Cridi dropped back a hundred meters, allowing the Thelerie to approach the installation first.

"My, what a nice little fuel storage facility," Carialle said, just before the image of the square stone building with fluid transfer towers disappeared from Keff's camera eye.

"Isn't it, though?" Keff said. "Now our surmise has another leg to stand on."

Thunderstorm's office was very elegantly furnished, though the structure itself was little more than a stone roof on pillars. The walls consisted of corner-to-corner screens that let in the fresh breezes and bright, yellow sunlight. The cool wind felt so good to Keff after the dusty flight that he opened his filters a little more to allow the circulating air to touch his face. The atmosphere contained really very little ammonia, more of a far-off smell than an all-round stink. It might still harm tender Cridi hides, but exposed human skin might be able to last for longish periods. He thought he could almost take off his envirosuit, but then Carialle would probably go spare. Keff wanted to prevent anything from upsetting her during the investigation of this world. She had trials enough with the entire Mental Sciences division clamoring for brain scans, thanks to the Inspector General. Though it might put him in the brig, Keff would love to relieve the itch in his big toe by burying it halfway up the IG's excretory tract.

Keff occupied himself while they waited for Thunderstorm by studying his surroundings. This installation, at least, was accustomed to receiving humans. The doorframe was over two meters high, instead of the meter and a half that would be adequate for Thelerie to enter on four feet. That seemed to be the only structural consideration. The furniture was all made for griffin comfort-not that Keff would have found it onerous to stretch out on floor pillows, and the sling behind the desk was perfectly adequate as a backless chair. As in the government building, Keff saw very little wood, all of it used as ornament rather than in construction. Some of the small outbuildings around the office seemed to be built of adobe, others of fieldstone and concrete. The Thelerie might have had only one main building material, but they used it with imagination.

To his surprise, they also had paper. Keff grinned at himself. He'd been looking for computer terminals in a culture that still had open cesspits. The broad-topped desk was heaped with white, squarecut sheets, covered with the same square script he recognized from the attack ship's files. Those Those computers had been the aberration. This setting seemed more in line with their sociological development. computers had been the aberration. This setting seemed more in line with their sociological development.

"Cari, there's hardly any trees here. What's this made of?" he whispered, moving close to the deskful of documents. His forefinger pointed at the paper, in clear view of the camera eye.

"Straw fiber," she replied at once. "A combination of rice and some native fiber; hard to tell which one without a closer molecular scan. The ink's a combination of an organic compound and finely ground mineral powder. Like India ink, it'd last for centuries. Here comes someone."

Keff looked around. Carialle must have detected the approach of a flying body on sensors. Yes, there...Keff saw a shadow, steadily growing in size as the body that cast it neared the ground. He heard voices, the Sayad guards calling out greetings, and a single mellow reply, as a Thelerie of middle years rounded the corner of a pillar, and entered.

Thunderstorm looked remarkably like his mother, but with a broader head and wider feet that lent him an endearingly awkward gait. His coat had only begun to show flecks of white. His smile, when he saw Keff, was an echo of Noonday's sweet expression. Thunderstorm looked suddenly wary as he came closer, and realized he did not recognize Keff. But the evidence was clear: this being interacted frequently and closely with humans.

"We've found our connection, Cari," Keff muttered under his breath.

"A...stranger?" Thunderstorm asked, in very good Standard, attempting to show surprise. "Forgive, I am rude. Parent, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?" He sat back on his haunches and made the gesture of respect to Noonday. The elder returned it. When he raised his eyes, they were worried.

"My child, I come on the gravest of errands," the Sayas said. "This human has told me many things that in- imm-?" he looked up at Keff apologetically, "favrekina Thelerieya."

"Implicate, parent," Thunderstorm said, smoothly, but Keff saw his tailtip switch. He was nervous. "Implicate Thelerie in what?"

"Crimes against other races of feings," Noonday said, so agitated she was unable to keep the upper halves of his lip together to pronounce the "b" in "beings."

"But I beg an explanation," Thunderstorm said, turning his head, to avoid making eye contact with his mother or Keff. He knelt behind the sling and lifted his upper body across it. With his right claw hand, he picked up a pen and made a few marks on a sheet of paper. "Why come to me?"

"I am told you are the head of the Thelerie space program," Keff said. "Is that true?"

"It is," Thunderstorm said. "It is wrong to lie."

"Then my business is with you. I come on a matter of peace. I am not alone. Perhaps you may have heard?"

The younger Sayas looked uneasy. "I have heard rumors."

"I won't conceal anything from you," Keff said. "Allow me to introduce my friends."

The globes sailed one by one out of the side of the pavilion, where they had been waiting out of the hot sun. Thunderstorm's pupils nearly spread to the edges of his eyes, and he sat up on his haunches at bay, his wings batting.

"I cannot believe you would bring them here," he gabbled out, staring. "Parent, what have they done to you?"

"Nothing at all," Noonday said, refusing to let Thunderstorm distract her. "What do you know about them?" She lifted her eyelids warningly.

"I have encountered them," Thunderstorm said at last, his wings wavering. "When I served my apprenticeship with the Melange. They are evil beings."

"Not evil," Tall Eyebrow protested.

"By the temple, it can speak!"

"You didn't know, did you?" Keff asked, leaning across the stone desk. "You never saw one alive. Did you assist in the ambush and destruction of one of their spacecraft?"

A Thelerie might not lie, but evidently it would fight to keep from telling a harmful truth. Thunderstorm stared silently down at the pen in his hand.

"Child, speak," Noonday commanded, sounding like the entire brass section of an orchestra. It took some time before Thunderstorm could bring himself to open his mouth.

"You recall our first friend, parent? Verje Bisman?" Thunderstorm asked, in a very low voice. Noonday nodded, still watching him carefully. The younger Thelerie turned to Keff. "I was so young, and full of awe for the strangers. Before a formal arrangement had been made between our two peoples, I begged to have him take me in his ship. He apprenticed me and my friend Autumn. He seemed fascinated with the Center, though he could not find it himself, and called us great assets because we could. We flew with him for some years, going from place to place, accomplishing missions for his ship. We gathered things no one wanted, or received them from donors who bargained hard for their goods," Thunderstorm said, looking ashamed. "So I thought. I was naive. On the cusp of the nearest star, we caught a ship that my friend, Verje's child, Aldon, said contained the greatest prize of all, and the Slime would not yield it. We were young and on fire, so we stopped the ship and took it. It was a great battle, for the Slime seemed to have mystic power to attack us without touching us. We were very frightened, but in the end we prevailed."

"How long ago?" Carialle's voice demanded.

"How long ago?" Keff echoed.

"Forty-three Standard years," Thunderstorm said, without looking up. "I knew then we committed crimes. It was the greatest shame of my life."

"Then he wasn't on any ship that touched me," Carialle said. Keff felt some of the tightness in his chest relax, but he grieved for the Cridi, who were only now discovering the truth about their losses.

"The second of our ships," Narrow Leg said, his wide lips flat with disapproval. "Fifteen Cridi lost in that one."

"Why did you never tell?" Noonday asked.

"I had vowed obedience and silence to the Melange," Thunderstorm said, looking up at his parent. "And I knew shame. I begged to be involved in no more assaults, and the humans agreed. After that, I came home to found the space program, finding apprentices for the Melange to train in the art of maintaining and flying craft. They do learn everything they are taught!" he cried, his eyes darting between Keff's and Noonday's. "We are good pupils, and we consider the trust sacred. When we were told these," he gestured at the globes, "were enemies, we believed. We believed, because the humans were the fulfillers of our dearest dream! Those of us who finished with our apprenticeships never speak of it, but some of us know know we have done wrong. That is why some have left the space program. I stay. I am weak." The Sayas hung his head. "I thought some day when our own ships were spaceworthy, I would go back and see who the Slime were. I was Centered. I knew how to find my way. And now I am too old, and possibly weaker still." we have done wrong. That is why some have left the space program. I stay. I am weak." The Sayas hung his head. "I thought some day when our own ships were spaceworthy, I would go back and see who the Slime were. I was Centered. I knew how to find my way. And now I am too old, and possibly weaker still."

"I am disgraced. What punishment would you demand of this one?" Noonday asked, turning to Tall Eyebrow, who deferred at once to Big Eyes and Narrow Leg. Keff could see the pain in her eyes, but she faced the Cridi without wavering.

"Only weeks ago we might have demanded his life," Narrow Leg said, eyeing his daughter and Big Voice, who rolled forward, bursting to talk. "We want cooperation. Such raiding must stop. We want peace. We want friendship. At what point in our requirements of reparation would such things be impossible?"

"I am the Sayas," Noonday said. "And Sir Keff is of the fourlimbs of the legends. Though Thunderstorm is my child, his life is in my gift. I would prefer to withhold such a gift, if I can. But in the name of peace, we will do anything you ask. We can't keep back one life when you have lost so many."

The two councillors rolled away from the group, followed by Narrow Leg and Tall Eyebrow. Long Hand, glancing over, decided she'd better be part of the discussion, paddled her globe into the circle, leaving Small Spot by himself, staring up at the Thelerie.

"We, too, have recently reconciled with a deadly enemy," the Ozranian said. "I know what I would say about you, but it is not my decision."

Thunderstorm went down on his belly and folded his wing-hands under his chin to the younger Cridi. "I do not deserve the consideration," he said. "I understand my crime, and I have abetted others. Time does not dull my shame."

"What are they doing?" Noonday asked, watching the Cridi sign furiously among themselves. "Is it a ritual? Why do they not talk?"

"They are talking," Keff said, always happy to teach. "They speak both with their mouths and their hands." He spread his arms, palms outward. "This is the first word of theirs I ever learned. It means 'help.'"

"Perhaps we shall learn this tongue, too, child," Noonday said, miming the symbol with his wing-fingers. "It has grace."

"I will do anything I can to make amends," Thunderstorm said earnestly, getting to his feet. "If I am given a chance."

"First, you will stop calling us Slime," Small Spot said, with emphasis.

The conference ended. Big Voice led the group back to the waiting griffins. Narrow Leg confronted Thunderstorm.

"We will not be guilty of spilling more blood," the Cridi captain said, "so we do not want yours. Our council will be made to agree that we are doing the right thing by sparing you. But until you learn what is right, you don't belong among the stars if you cannot respect those you meet there. We will dismember those ships we saw when we landed. They are unsafe anyhow. Your space program is cancelled as of now. One day you will learn right."

Thunderstorm's mouth fell open. "Don't take away my people's dream!" he exclaimed. He again dropped to his belly before the globes. "Take my life, here, now, honored ones, but don't let a foolish few close the door for all the others!"

"And yet, that is what you and your Melange have done to us," Narrow Leg said, severely. "We have colonies we have not visited in revolutions, nor have we been able to explore new systems."

"But the humans gave us this gift," Thunderstorm wailed. "If we had not been intended to fly among the stars, the humans would not have come!"

"Technically speaking," Keff put in unhappily, "the Central Worlds would forbid anyone giving a new species sophisticated systems until their own culture had developed the requisite sciences. Your own development would seem to be rather far below the minimum."

"This is terrible," Noonday said, clenching his hands. "I do not wish to lose the gift of flight, either. What can we do?" Everyone looked at Keff.

"Nothing at all until you've found the humans responsible," Carialle reminded her brawn.

"We need more detail on the Melange," Keff said. "Everything. How to find them, what they do when they're here, what their ships bring in, what they take with them. We need verification, first, for my government's information, whether this is the same group who destroyed the DSC-902 in the Cridi system."

"If it is in the Slime system, it was the Melange, I promise," Thunderstorm assured them, unhappily. "They are jealous of their territory. I am sorry to use the wrong name," he said bowing his head to Small Spot. "But I have known them fifty years, and you only minutes."

"I understand," Small Spot said.

"Do you believe them, Sir Knight?" Carialle asked.

"I think so," Keff said, tapping the desk with his fingers. "We can confirm to CW that those Thelerie that we left behind on the fifth planet were part of a network of pirates. They'll be on the lookout for more ships with the same modus operandi."

"But not all Thelerie are involved," Carialle said, with a sigh of relief. "I'll put that in my message to CW. They'll be very interested to hear about human involvement in this culture."

"Bets on whether the CenCom or Xeno gets back to us first?" Keff asked, playfully.

"Get back to the job," Carialle said, with a wry inflection. "We need data. We still haven't laid hands on the masterminds, and now we only have until the message reaches the CenCom."

"It's incredible that the secret of the Thelerie hasn't leaked to the rest of the Central Worlds in fifty years," Keff said. He settled on one of the spare slings in Thunderstorm's office. The Cridi stayed near him, not yet trusting their new acquaintances, but curious.

"We thought that it had," Noonday said, a little sadly. Thunderstorm could not meet his parent's eyes.

"Would you give up a free source of fuel?" Carialle asked. "This is a remote corner of the sector yet. If it wasn't for the bulk transport difficulties they might have been bootlegging it to exploration ships and miners. And here's an intelligent workforce who do complicated work without asking awkward questions. I think we ought to be amazed they weren't enslaved by this Melange. There's some vestige of morality in there, whatever else is going on."

"That brings me to another question," Keff said, looking from parent to child. "Why did the Melange take you into space in the first place? No offense, but I'd be afraid beings who had never known space travel might be a...liability."

Thunderstorm's upper lip parted in a smile. "I think to test a hypothesis. We are at the Center, and they wanted to understand Centering."

"Centering?" Keff asked.

"So you truly do not know," Thunderstorm said in surprise, settling down on a cushion in the sun with his wings on his back and his foreclaws thrust out before him like the Sphinx. "This is the heart of the universe." A wing claw rose to gesture from ground to sky to his own breast. "Its heart is our heart. Where we go, we can always return to here. It draws us. It is a part of us, and we a part of it."

"Extraordinary!" Keff exclaimed. "You mean that if I blindfolded you-covered your eyes-and took you anywhere on this planet, you could get home unaided?"

The sharp teeth showed in a quick smile. "Any child could. All do, to prove adulthood. We are never lost. Our legends of long ago said the Center would lead us home from anywhere, even the stars. But the wise ones of the past didn't provide us with the means to try the theory."

"An internal homing beacon. Whew!" Keff whistled. "But this Melange provided the means."

"Don't lead the witness," Carialle said in his ear. "If we give the CenCom this tape, we want it to be clear he is volunteering this information."

"Yes," Noonday answered, from another divan cushion. Her large eyes lifted skyward and turned dreamy. "One bright day in my youth, the humans came from the stars, and took some of our people away with them, including my child." A wingtip swept toward Thunderstorm. "The legends proved true. Those of our young people who travel far with the Melange learn to go other places with relation to our Center, but always return." The wing-finger twirled around but came to rest in front of Noonday's breast. "The Melange were fascinated by our natural talent, and said we could aid them. They find us worthy to travel with them, to fulfill our dreams of sailing where there is no air to tuck beneath our wings. It is a sacred destiny. One which, alas, has been defiled."

"And in return, you give them things of value," Keff said. "What besides innate navigators?"

"It is only fair to trade value for value," Noonday said with gentle conviction. "They have brought us electricity, useful machines such as distant talkers, knowledge, and the friendship of another race. We are pleased to know them. They have been benefactors to the Thelerie. Metal, ores, handworks, cut stones, smelly fuel-water, the use of a few years of a young Thelerie's time-all seem of little worth in comparison."

"So for fifty years someone's been cashing in on these people and giving them stolen spacecraft parts in return," Carialle said.

"The Interplanetary Revenue is gonna give us a rewaa-ard," Keff chanted in a sing-song under his breath.

"Don't count it yet," Carialle said. "Let's catch these brutes, first. We need the Thelerie to help us."

"I know," Keff said, and looked up at the two griffins, who eyed him curiously every time he stopped to talk to himself. He smiled at them, which seemed to make Noonday relax. Thunderstorm looked even more worried, his wingtips clattering together over his back.

"I represent the Central Worlds, an affiliation of thousands of planets, and many different species," Keff said. "We have rules against the introduction of technology to civilizations that have not yet developed it themselves. Still, there are immense benefits to membership, if you were interested in joining."

"Then we would really become one with humans?" Noonday asked.

"Much more so than with the Melange. From our point of view, they have interfered with your development." Noonday looked puzzled. Keff struggled to explain in Standard, then in pidgin Thelerie, and gave it up as a bad job. "Well, what was it like before the Melange came?"

"Colder at night without house heaters," Noonday said. "Less cohesive among our people."

"The coms," Thunderstorm explained. "Most families have one now."

Keff sighed. "The CW won't actually take something like those away from a people, would they, Cari?"

"Probably not. There's no destructive potential in personal communications or home furnaces. The spaceships, on the other hand, will have to go."

"All these are good things that the Melange shares with us," Noonday said, the beatific smile on her face. "We joined with them, and it has been of benefit to us all. They always assured us that the gifts they brought were traded from outposts, or scavenged from floating space debris."

"I was some of that debris," Carialle screamed.

Keff winced as his aural implant went into overload. "They couldn't know, Cari," he reminded her. It was the first crack in the reserve she'd shown since they had landed.

"How dare the Melange force this lovely people into piracy," Carialle said furiously. "It violates fifty-seven sections of interplanetary law, it's immoral, and it violates the Prime Directive."

"That's fictional," Keff pointed out.

"I don't care. It's still a good idea. I want these people, and I want to be the one who brings them in to Central Worlds. Now there's no excuse for having picked away at my exoskeleton: there isn't a spacer who flies in the Central Worlds who wouldn't recognize a shell capsule."