round-faced woman was still saying, “state your homeworld and your business, please. This is Namor Control.”Haviland Tuf cut into the other conversation, to talk to all three of them simultaneously. “This is the Ark,” he said. “I have no homeworld, sirs. My intentions are purely peaceful-trade and consultation. I learned of your tragic difficulties, and moved by your plight, I have come to offer you my services.

One showed a slender young woman with a large, crooked nose on a ship’s bridge, the other an elderly man before a console. They both wore green uniforms, and they were conversing animatedly in code. It took the computer less than a minute to break it, so Tuf could listen in.