“It would be fascinating to have the five of you together. That is something to think about.”

“Fascinating, yes,” he admitted, “but I’m not sure I’d be the one in the group who’d be the most popular.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps. I suspect we would have four equally clever, equally ambitious, but different individuals. Still, I thank you for your warning and your offer. I will convey the details to the proper authorities. I, too, hope that massive war can be avoided—but wiser heads than mine will be needed.” He paused. “Good luck, my enemy,” he added sincerely, then broke the connection.

He sat there, just staring at the blank console, for several minutes. You have not considered all the implications…

He was missing something. Morah had been too casual, too sure of himself. One piece, one vital piece, remained. Perhaps it would be found on Medusa. It had to be.

Mirror, mirror…

He didn’t want to go back into that room. Death waited there, death not only for himself but for millions more at the least.

I’m of two minds about this …

Morah’s attitude, now—was it bluff and bravado? Would he pull something? Or was he serious in his hard confidence?

Would 1 He to you?

Sighing, he rose from his chair and walked back to the lab cubicle attached to the rear of the picket ship.

The door to the cubicle he generally called his lab opened for him and then hissed closed with a strange finality. The entire module was attached to the picket ship, but was internally controlled by its own computer. Everything was independent of the ship if need be—power, air, and air-filtration systems, it even had its own food synthesizer. The door was, of necessity, also an airlock; the place was essentially a container with a universal interlock, carried in a space freighter and then eased into its niche in the picket ship by a small tug. Since the module did not have its own propulsion system, it was definitely stuck there until its securing seals were released and it could be backed out by a tug.