After weeks with nobody but Lizards to talk to? What do you think? Aloud, Drucker said, “Yes, superior sir, I would very interested be.” He used an emphatic cough, then added, “I thank you.” Did the Lizards have a beautiful spy waiting to try to charm secrets out of him? Not likely-not that he’d be much interested anyhow, not when he hadn’t the faintest idea whether Kathe was alive or dead. Had he watched too many bad films and read too many trashy novels? That struck him as very likely indeed.

Ttomalss said, “The other male is from the not-empire of the United States. He is here on a… research mission, I suppose you would describe it.”

Something in the way he hesitated didn’t quite ring true to Drucker, but the German was hardly in a position to call him on it. And the Lizard had used the masculine pronoun. So much for beautiful spies. Drucker laughed at himself. “All right,” he said. “No matter who he is or where he is from, I look forward to meeting him.”

“Wait here,” Ttomalss told him, as if he were liable to wait somewhere else. The Lizard left the cubicle. Ttomalss could leave. Drucker couldn’t.

After about forty-five minutes-his captors had let him keep his watch-the door slid open. In came a young man with a shaved head and with body paint on his chest. He nodded to Drucker, ignoring his nakedness (he wore only denim shorts himself), and stuck out his hand. “Hello. Do you speak English?” he said in that language.

“Some,” Drucker answered in English. Then he shifted: “I must tell you, though, I am better in the language of the Race.”

“That suits me fine,” the American said, also in the Lizards’ tongue. He’s very young, Drucker realized-the shaved head had disguised his age. He went on, “My name is Jonathan Yeager. I greet you.”

“And I greet you.” Drucker shook the proffered hand and gave his own name. Then he eyed the American. “Yeager? It is a German name. It means ‘hunter.’ ” The last word was in English.