Malhomme flashed his sardonic smile again. "Perhaps not ... but if you
need help, call to God. The books say nothing about alien races, but
surely these must be God's creatures too. And I'm always ready to break
a few heads, if it will help." He turned and spat into the dust. "Or
even just for the hell of it," he said.

* * * * *

Rynason found Manning that same afternoon, going over reports in his
quarters. As soon as he began his description of the orders given to
Tebron he found that Malhomme's warnings had been correct.

"What did this machine say about us?" Manning asked sharply. "Why were
the Hirlaji supposed to stay away from us?"

"Because we're a warlike race. The idea was that if the Hirlaji stayed
out of space they'd have about five thousand years before we found
them."

"How long ago was all this? I had your report here...."

"At least eight thousand years," Rynason said. "They overestimated us."

Manning stood up, scowling. There were heavy lines around his eyes and
he hadn't trimmed his thin beard. Whatever he was working on, Rynason
thought, he was putting a lot of effort into it.

"This doesn't make sense, Lee. Damn it, since when do machines make
guesses? Wrong ones, at that?"