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anything he’d ever imagined. But their attitudes seemed much less alien than those of the wess’har.
    He sat and waited. A thought struck him. What about snakes? What about jellyfish? Here he was mentally arguing the finer points of difference with himself: but he was talking, yes talking , with aliens who had communal lives and built cities and had wars over concepts he understood. The only reason he could even begin to misunderstand them was that they were so very similar to him and that they could exist in an environment so like his own in universal terms as to be identical. So he had no chance of even starting to grasp the nature of other forms of alien life. And he was suddenly gripped with sadness at his own limitations.
    Serrimissani nudged him irritably. “You are distracted,” she said. “Ual is waiting.”
    Eddie struggled to regain excitement. Chin up. You’re talking to your third species of alien interviewee. Be glad.
    â€œSorry,” he said. “A tear for all the things that are beyond me.” And he ached to recall who said that. It defined humanity.
    An isenj aide showed them into another polished water-colored chamber, and Minister Ual was seated on a dais in the center of it, as if to emphasize the luxurious, privileged distance around him. Eddie was ushered to a box covered with layers of something soft and yielding; as near, he thought, as they could get to a chair. He smiled at Ual.
    Isenj were as appealing as only spiders with piranha faces could be. But they were sociable and polite and generous. Minister Ual was enjoying a cup of something fluid, lapping it from a shallow vessel with the ease of a Mandarin potentate. His ovoid bulk glittered with hundreds of smooth, transparent green beads strung on quill-like projections from his body, and he rattled like a chandelier when he moved. Eddie hoped the noise wouldn’t play hell with the mike.
    Ual had one other characteristic that Eddie could not ignore. He had a vague scent of the woods, like a forest floor after rain. It was not unpleasant, but neither was it a fragrance that Eddie associated with government ministers.
    Serrimissani wasn’t needed. Ual had made speaking English his priority, despite the effort it took to control his breathing enough to force out recognizable English words. The ussissi stayed in the room nonetheless, watching the bee-cam wander round the interviewee, and Eddie tried to crush the fear that she might pounce on it and crunch it up. She reminded him too much of snakes and Kipling. He looked back at Ual. There were no eyes that he could see to make contact with.
    â€œThe enclosed environment outside Jejeno is small, but I believe it will be more comfortable for your fellows than living on board Actaeon indefinitely,” Ual said. There was a rhythmic gulping between every word, like someone learning to speak again after a crude laryngectomy. Eddie struggled silently for him with every syllable. “Once it is established, the environment will be cooler, more moist and more breathable. It will be soothing for you, and we will learn a great deal about biospheres into the bargain.”
    â€œIs that how you see the human-isenj relationship developing?”
    â€œMutual aid is a good basis for any bargain. You will benefit from improved communications. We’re open to ideas for improved food production and we want to learn about terraforming. You’ve now seen our most pressing problem for yourself, in every street.”
    Eddie hesitated before asking the next question, but it had to be asked. The bee-cam responded to his discreet hand signal for a close-up of Ual’s face. “Is population control not an option?”
    â€œIt’s more complex than that. No two states can agree upon a common policy for fear of being overrun by their neighbor. There’s a psychological element to this, you see, as well as a biological one. The more overcrowded we became,