“We felt we could not afford to risk any further such embarrassment,” the Minister of Alien Spheres continued. “So we maintain a number of potential transfer host bodies—such as the one you now occupy—and we have every Kirlian field on record.” He paused. “Unfortunately the technique of transfer itself has eluded us. We cannot transfer the mind of an individual of our species into another body.” He made a small gesture of apology, as though this were a minor matter. “We just don’t have the know-how.”

Pnotl turned on him a polite yet uncanny glance. “We grant it you,” the alien said.

It was as though a stun-bomb had detonated in their midst. There was now no pretense of unconcern. “The secret of the galaxy!” the Minister of Alien Spheres exclaimed.

The Regent held up one hand. “We cannot conceal our interest,” he said. “But such information is extremely valuable. We must know what you require in return, before we make any commitment.”

“What price?” the Minister of Technology rasped, almost drooling in his eagerness and apprehension.

That sobered the others. All eyes returned to the envoy. Surely the secret of the galaxy would exact the ransom of the millennium.

“No price,” Pnotl said evenly. “We wish you to have this capability.”

Now there was open suspicion. “Why?” the Regent asked.

“Our entire galaxy is in imminent danger. Unless we unify the Spheres and utilize our maximum capabilities, all of us may be destroyed. We have no other way to form a galactic coalition.”

“Forgive us for our cynicism,” the Regent said grimly. “We have a fable about Greeks bearing gifts. This means that we do not trust seemingly unmotivated largesse. And we are not likely to react to nebulous, undocumented threats.”

“And why us?” the Minister of Alien Spheres demanded. “Sphere Sador has a radius of almost five hundred light-years—a volume of controlled space a hundred and twenty-five times as great as ours. They are the obvious candidate for your coalition.”