Felless hurried to Veffani’s office. The ambassador said, “I greet you, Senior Researcher. I am glad to see you resuming your full range of duties after laying your eggs.”

“I thank you, superior sir,” Felless replied. Either Veffani or Ttomalss, an experienced researcher in Tosevite psychology, had fertilized those eggs; they’d both mated with her when ginger made her seasonal pheromones spring to life. Had she been a Tosevite, she knew she would have cared which one was the father. Luckily, being a female of the Race, she didn’t need to worry about that. Business came first. “Superior sir, I regret to report that the Deutsche appear unyielding on the matter of ginger smuggling.”

“I am disappointed, but I am not surprised,” the ambassador said. “Corrupting us appears to be part of their strategy.”

“Truth,” Felless said, though Veffani had been tactless. He could scarcely help knowing she was one of those ginger had corrupted, not when he’d been stimulated to mate with her. She feared he also knew she still craved the herb, though penalties for females who used it grew ever more severe.

“They do not fear our countersmuggling efforts, then?” Veffani said.

“If they do, they give little sign of it,” Felless said, “though you have warned me they are adept at bluffing.”

“They are better than adept. They are liars from the moment they leave their eggshells-uh, that is, the bodies of their mothers,” Veffani corrected himself.

“What is our course to be, then?” Felless asked.

“I shall have to consult with my superiors,” the ambassador replied. “My own inclination is to continue on our present course until its failure is manifest. That has certainly not been proved. The Deutsche will smuggle. We should do the same, to show them the game has its prices.”