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race. Except humans were the aliens here.
    She turned and looked at Gustav. He was leaning back in his crash couch, reading a novel he had borrowed from Cynthia Wu. Gustav was not simply one of the few Guardians interested in the books the CIs had carried for pleasure reading, he was the only Guardian who would think of politely borrowing—and later actually returning—books, rather than simply taking them.
    "You know, Gustav," she said, "try as I might, I can't make you look like the enemy."
    Gustav looked up at her, lay down his book, and gave her a wry half-smile. "That was exactly the thought I had when I first saw your people on your worlds."
    "I thought Guardians didn't travel outside the Nova Sol system."
    "They don't, except for spies."
    "Ah.' Lucille didn't quite know how to answer that.
    "Or, to use the more correct phrase, Intelligence operatives. And I guess I should thank the luck that got me kicked out of Intelligence to be XO on Ariadne —or else I'd have missed the chance to see whoever it is out there."
    "What got you kicked out of Intelligence?"
    "Telling the truth, I filed a report saying it would be a disaster to launch a war against the League."
    "And has it been a disaster?"
    "Too soon to tell. But numbers don't lie without help. Mine might have been the first un-jiggered statistics the big brass had seen in generations. And those honest numbers said we don't have a chance against you."
    "Why are you telling me all this?"
    "I suppose I don't really count on coming out of this alive. The Outposters could be hostile, or there could be misunderstandings. Too many variables, too many things to go wrong. I'll consider this mission a success if we can radio back a basic vocabulary for the next team to work with before we die of whatever this planet uses to kill people.
    "I've been to Earth, I've been around the League, and I don't like the idea of attacking you. I feel as if I ought to apologize." Gustav paused for a moment. "And I suppose I don t want the woman who's going to talk to the aliens to think that all our people are barbarians and fools. We're
    not. There are good people on Capital. Honest and decent. But the situation is out of control." And again, Lucille knew no way to answer him.
    The hours and days slid past. On the third day, the rains ended. The sight of blue sky and fleecy white clouds perked everyone up. Carlton, Mansfield, and McKenna were watching out the portholes, enjoying the chance to at least see something besides rain.
    "Sir, can't we at least take a little walk around the clearing?" Mansfield asked.
    "No,' Gustav said. "We stay here, we wait here. Passive. We play it safe and wait. It's hard on our patience, but we let them come to us. We don't want to seem threatening."
    "Are you threatening?" Lucille asked.
    Gustav sighed. "I'm not. And I doubt the Central Guardians want to be. If you want to know if we plan to conquer Outpost, no, we don't. Up until a year ago, when the Main Strike Fleet operation began, we didn't t even bother landing on it. We could tell from orbit it wasn't much good for human use, not particularly habitable. It's not land we need, it's people and skills and manufactured goods. The 'Posters are safe from us. So look on the bright side, Mansfield. You've got a nice soft duty. You could be out with those poor bastards in the Main Strike Fleet. God knows where they are."
    "Even you don't know the invasion target? Sir?" Mansfield asked.
    "Nope. That one they kept very tight."
    "Sir!' McKenna shouted. "They're out there!"
    Lucille rushed to join the three enlisted men at the port. "Can we transmit to Ariadne?" she asked.
    Gustav shook his head as he switched on the outside cameras and started all the recorders. "No. The station's below our horizon and there's nothing in line-of-sight with us at the moment. We'll tape it and transmit it all the first chance we get."
    Lucille grabbed a hand recorder and started it. If something happened, if they got eaten or