"No," Jissek replied. The compulsion to correct was reflexive. "Just two."

They were progressing back in time, toward the war's beginnings.

The Shapieron's doctor pronounced that the uninjured sailor from the raft had slept, eaten well, and was strong enough for visitors. His companion was still unconscious after surgery, with chances of recovery that were not good. The situation did not call for the pestering of a crowd of interrogators. Frenua Showm, who was technically in charge of the political mission, decided that she and Hunt would talk to him. His name was Jissek, the medics had established, and he appeared to be a Lambian.

ZORAC had increased its proficiency as a translator rapidly with the contacts made in the course of these reconnaissance visits. Approaches had been restricted to isolated individuals, which did have the risk that the individual approached might have little of value to tell them. Hunt had suggested keeping things simple and saving time by putting a probe down in the middle of a university campus with a concentration of people who would be able to answer anything, and wrapping the whole thing up in one operation. Danchekker, however, felt that in all the hysteria and excitement that a stunt like that was likely to cause they would probably end up being too deluged with questions and demands for explanations themselves to have much chance of asking any, and the present policy had prevailed.

Showm was silent as Hunt walked with her along the corridor of pale yellow walls and glowing luminescence panels to the clinic and medical bay. Her decision to handle this herself was more than just to complement his scientific perspective and show a Thurien presence, Hunt knew. For her this had become a deep personal matter, involving aspects of her nature that she desperately needed to understand better and to master to progress toward in the inner development that Thuriens regarded as the fulfillment of existence. Hunt had seen her shaken reaction when one of the Shapieron's probes sent back views of the aftermath of a Lambian air strike on an industrial suburb of a city, and watched her face as an intercepted news broadcast showed young orphaned children, some blinded, others missing limbs, telling their stories. For her, the possibility of creating even a sliver of reality in which such things could be avoided was becoming an object of almost religious fervor.

An orderly admitted them to the room. Jissek was sitting in an easy chair by a small table in the outer room of the suite, wrapped in a robe, with baggy hospital pants and fluffy house socks. ZORAC had mentioned ahead that he had expressed a reluctance to receive visitors in bed. He stared at Hunt in surprise. Hunt was the first human Jissek had seen since coming aboard. He had watched over his companion through the probe's trip back to the Shapieron, and lost consciousness as soon as the Ganymean medics took charge.

Showm began. ZORAC's translation came from a grille above the table. "The doctor tells us it would be comfortable for you to talk now." Jissek's eyes strayed back to Hunt. "My name is Frenua Showm. We are here just for a short time, from a world that is far away. This is Dr. Hunt, a scientist. We would like to ask you some questions."

"Is there news of Ensign Thorke? The one who was with me. I was told he was being operated on."

"It does not look good, I'm afraid," Showm told him. Typically Thurien, Hunt thought. Incapable of bending anything, even a little. Jissek nodded. He seemed to have been ready for it. Hunt sat down in the other chair at the table. Showm took the couch by one wall.

"You are the Giants, who inhabited Minerva long ago?" Jissek said. "The stories we've heard are true? You went to another star?"

"That is correct."

Jissek looked at Hunt in puzzlement again. "So… are you a Lunarian?"

Hunt clasped his hands together on the table, looking affable. "This could get complicated. We've probably all got lots of questions to ask. But you owe us…" He paused while ZORAC queried Jissek for a translation of the phrase. "So why don't you answer ours first?"

Jissek nodded. "I'll try."

Hunt looked toward Showm. She consulted some papers she was carrying and verified Jissek's name, that he was from Lambia, a naval officer, and other details that the doctor had already established. It was just to get a dialogue moving. Showm came to the subject of the war. "How long has it been going on now?" Jissek seemed unsure how to answer.

"Was there a formal declaration at some point?" Hunt asked. "A day when Lambia or Cerios announced that a state of war existed with the other?"

Jissek shook his head, as if such an idea were new to him. "It just… grew, year by year."

"How did it begin?"

"There was always a problem with the Cerians, for as long as I remember. They were driven by private greed and corruption, even at a time when the survival of all of us depended on working together as one race. We wanted to move everybody to Earth…"

"Yes, we know about that," Showm said. The Cerians they had talked to put a different interpretation on it, of course.

Jissek went on, "Our king had tried to reason with them, to make them see that what they were doing would destroy the chances for everybody. But they said they would make us do things their way, and they began manufacturing weapons. Lambia had to do the same, to defend itself. The Cerians sent planes over our country to spy on us. One of their spy ships came into our coastal waters. When Lambian naval craft went out to turn it back, it fired on them, and it was sunk in the engagement that followed. That happened before my time in the Navy. But it was probably when the actual fighting began."

"You're talking about the Cerian frigate Champion," Showm said, glancing at her notes.

Jissek's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Yes."

The Cerian version was that the Champion had been attacked in international waters.

"And that was how long ago?"

"Two to three years… Something like that."

"Does the name Xerasky mean anything?" Showm asked. Xerasky had been the Lambian dictator at the time of the final war.

"No."

So Xerasky hadn't succeeded Zargon yet.

Showm went on, "You mentioned your king. Do you still have a king in Lambia now?"

"Yes."

"King Perasmon?"

Jissek looked surprised again but this time shook his head. "No. He was killed. Freskel-Gar is king now."

Showm glanced at Hunt pointedly. This was interesting. Freskel-Gar had been the last of the kings before Lambia became a dictatorship under Zargon. "How about the name Zargon?" Hunt inquired.

Jissek nodded. "Oh yes. He's one of the king's generals. Very powerful. He commands the advanced weapons program. Highly secret. Cerian Intelligence has been trying to penetrate it-and with some success, due to Lambian traitors and double agents."

"What kind of weapons are we talking about?" Hunt asked curiously. When no immediate response was forthcoming, he prompted, "Nuclear fission, fusion? Particle and radiation beam? Advanced nucleonic?"

"I… don't know anything about such matters."

Hunt let it go at that. "How about this General Zargon? Can you describe him?"

"Yes, everybody has seen him in the news and on TV. Not all that tall but very broad." Jissek brought his hands up to indicate his chest and shoulders. "Darkish skin, like a heavy tan, and a black beard-short beard, trimmed and neat. Big chin, pugnacious teeth." Hunt leaned back in his chair and gave a satisfied nod. It sounded like Imares Broghuilio all right. He would have staked an arm on it.

"Tell us about Zargon's background," Showm said. "His career, his record. Which part of Lambia is he from?"