Ev looked uneasy. “I wanted to apologize to you for driving the rover. I didn’t know it was against regs to use nonindigenous transportation. The last thing I wanted to do on my first day was to get you and Dr. Carson in trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it. We still had wages left over this expedition, which is better than we’ve made out the last two. The only things that really get you in trouble are killing fauna and naming something after somebody,” I said, staring at him, but he didn’t look especially guilty. C.J. must not have gotten around to her sales pitch yet.

“Anyway,” I said, “we’re used to trouble.”

“I know,” he said earnestly. “Like the time you got caught in the stampede and nearly got trampled, and Dr. Carson rescued you.”

“How’d you know about that?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? You’re—”

“Famous. Right,” I said. “But how—”

“Evelyn,” C.J. called, dripping honey with every syllable, “can you help me set the table?” and he was off again.

I got 181’s log again and then changed my mind and asked for the whereabouts. I checked them for the two times we’d been in Sector 248-76. Wulfmeier’d been on Starting Gate both times, which didn’t prove anything. I asked for a verify on him.

“Nahhd khompt,” Bult said.

I looked up. He was standing next to the computer, pointing his umbrella at me.

“I need the computer, too,” I said, and he reached for his log. “Besides, it’s almost dinnertime.”

“Nahhd tchopp,” he said, moving around behind me so he could see the screen. “Forcible confiscation of property.”

“That’s what it is, all right,” I said, wondering which was worse, being stuck with his bayonet of an umbrella or another fine. Besides, I couldn’t find out what I needed to know with all these people hanging over my shoulder. And dinner was ready. Evelyn pushed the kitchen door open with his shoulder and brought out a platter of meat. I asked for the catalog.