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All the more reason, he felt, to take his leave as soon as possible. But with no means of contacting the Teacher while it was making its way back to the Blasusarrian system from deep space, he could only wait, be thankful he was still alive, and do his best to satisfy the curiosity of his hosts while hiding his true identity, abilities, and resources from as many as possible.

As promised, several Blasusarrian ten-days passed before the communit built into his suit signaled for attention. It was not necessary for him to check the signal's origin. Only one offworld individual knew his location, and it was not organic.

“I have successfully entered orbit in the new guise of a private research vessel from Orakkum.” Though anxiety was not an emotion programmed into the Teacher's manifold speech patterns, Flinx chose to believe that he could hear a smidgen of concern in the message. “Please acknowledge if you have survived.”

“Survived and thrived, I think—much to my own surprise.”

“I understand survived,” the ship responded promptly, “and am joyed to receive the information. In the context of the circumstances that mandated my hasty departure, I do not comprehend ‘thrived.’”

Alone in the comfortable and well-secured first-floor room that had been provided by the government for the duration of his stay, Flinx was able to speak freely. He had discovered that he enjoyed lying on his back in the basin of heated sand that was a favored means of relaxation among the AAnn. It reminded him of the picture-perfect beaches on Nur.

“You know how sometimes I enter into seemingly simple situations and they blow up out of all proportion?” he began.

“Not you, Flinx. I have never observed that happening to you.”

The ship's exterior might have been reconfigured during its hiatus in space-plus in order to fool Planetary Security, Flinx mused, but its integrated sarcasm remained unchanged.

“Several incidents of significance have occurred in your absence.” Head turned slightly to the right, he addressed the communit pickup inside the head of the suit, neatly shucked nearby. “The bad thing is that many more AAnn have become aware of my presence here. The good thing is that I have been able to turn that to my advantage.”

“I cannot conceive,” the Teacher responded, “of how your presence on Blasusarr becoming known to additional AAnn could in any way become advantageous.”

“A few months ago, neither could I,” he replied. “I'll explain it all when I'm back on board.” Sitting up on the sand, Flinx let the heated grains trickle through his bare toes.

“When should I send down a shuttle?”

Flinx looked around his chamber. Normally spare and utilitarian, it was filled with gifts from AAnn acquaintances and admirers. Dominating the display was a glistening, vitreous sculpture that was a present from Lord Eiipul IX himself and his extended family. Unexpectedly, Flinx found his eyes growing moist. Chraluuc of the Ssaiinn should have been there with him.

“That won't be necessary. Provide your coordinates. It would be impolite not to offer my hosts the opportunity to supply the necessary extra-atmospheric transportation.”

“Your ‘hosts’ … ?” The shipmind contemplated possible interpretations of this seemingly contradictory designation. “You are not confined or under duress and are speaking freely?”

“Analyze my speech and decide for yourself.”

As a matter of security, the Teacher had already done so. “It is clear that a most remarkable turn of events has taken place in my absence. Not the first time something like it has occurred.”

Flinx shrugged, though there was no one present to see it. “It's how I was raised, ship. To adapt to difficult circumstances.”

“I suppose I should not be surprised. I will provide the coordinates. When should I expect your arrival?”

“As soon as my hosts can arrange it. I'll alert you.” Unexpectedly, he heard himself asking, “Everything is all right with you? Have you been seeing to the maintenance of