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told them how much trouble they were in. Sandy darted a furious glance at the goldsmith for turning them
in, but there was no time to argue.  I did not believe the Thenior when he called, but it th true, MyThara
went on.  You are both where you have no buthiness being! Meet me at onthe in your quarterth,
Lythander! And you, Oberon, get back to the thimulator chamber where you belong!
When MyThara got to the cohort s quarters, slower than Lysander because she was limping more than
ever, she found him at his carrel, gazing at the picture of his mother. It wasn t entirely guile on his part.
When he was in trouble he had always found solace in gazing at the only memento he had of the woman
who had given him birth. But it wasn t entirely without guile, either, because he had learned early on that
MyThara s wrath at any transgression could often be muted if he played on her sympathy.
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 That ithno uthe, Lythander, she said sternly.  You have been very wicked today!
 I know I have, MyThara, he said in penitence. But he added, anyway,  MyThara? Why is this the only
picture I have of her?
She hissed reprovingly at him, but he could see that she was taking the bait.  It ith not a Hakh hli
cuthtom to keep picturth of dead people, she reminded him.
 But I m not a Hakh hli!
 Indeed not, she agreed, with sympathy creeping into her voice.  Well, thith ith the betht we could do.
We found it in your father th  wallet. It ith a good likeneth, though.
 You know what she looked like? he asked eagerly.  Of courthe, said MyThara, and added
considerately,  She wath very beautiful. For an Earth perthon, I mean. You look like her, I think.
Sandy gave her a skeptical scowl.  What are you talking about? She s so skinny, and I m so fat!
 You are not fat, Lythander. That ith muthle.
 But look at the difference between us!
 Of courthe there ith a differenthe. The differenthe ith becauthe you grew up here on the ship. Earth
gravity ith only eight-twelfthth of ship normal. If your mother had come to uth ath a baby she would be a
lot thtockier, too.
 Yes, Sandy said reasonably,  I see that, but 
MyThara s patience had worn out.  Thandy! Don t think I don t know what you are doing.
 I beg your pardon? he said, trying to look innocent.
She wrinkled her nose in sorrow, looking weary as well as disappointed.  Oh, Lythander, she said,
shuddering in sadness.  How could you?
 That s Lysander, he snapped, to hurt her feelings.
 Ekthcuthe I mean, she said, angrily forcing out the sibilants,  excuse me. I am quite tired, dear
Lysander, but I am also disappointed. May I tell you a tht a story?
 I don t see any way of stopping you, he said.
She looked at him sadly, but began her story.  Once, long ago, when I was only half-tailed, a hawkbee
queen escaped. She flew into the thpatheth between the wallth and laid eggth  she was lisping badly
again, but Sandy didn t have the heart to tell her  and there wath a whole hawkbee netht that no one
knew about. Then she laid queen eggth. When they hatched, the new queenth flew away, and new
nethtth were thtarted, all out of thight. No one knew. Only people kept complaining. Where do all thethe
hawkbeeth come from? What can they be living on, there aren t any bugth here, are there?
 And then  She paused, looking dire.  And then there came a time when the pilot wanted to make a
courthe adjuthtment, and he fed hith inthructionth into the thentral command controller machine and it
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didn t rethpond! The ship didn t change courthe!
 Golly, Lysander said.
His nurse waggled her tongue solemnly.  Golly, indeed, she said.  Of courthe, the backup thythtemth
took over, and the courthe change wath made. But when they checked out the mathter machine, it hada
hawkbee netht in it! The netht had short-thircuited itth relayth! And, oh, Thandy, you would not believe
how hard it wath, for twelveth of dayth after that, to thcan every thpan of the ductth and ventth and
pathageth! Everyone wath working an extra twelfth-day every day until it wath cleaned up and the latht
wild hawkbee netht wath wiped out. Do you thee the moral of the thtory?
 Of course, Sandy said promptly.  Or, no. Not exactly. What is it?
She touched the tip of her tongue to his arm before she spoke.  The moral, she said,  ith that even
good thingth can do great harm if they are done in thecret. Now do you thee what I mean?
 Certainly I do, said Lysander, certain that she would go on to explain it anyway.
 Thertainly you do, she agreed.  The moral ith that you muthtnever keep thecretth from your
thuperiorth.
Sandy thought that over for a moment.  They keep secrets from me, he objected.  They didn t tell us
why Theseus and the rest aren t allowed to see us any more.
 But that th very different, ithn t it? You don tneed to know thothe thingth. At leatht you don t need it
now, and when you do, you ll be told. But the Theniorth need to know, becauthe they re the oneth who
have to make the dethisionth, after all. You don t, do you?
 No, Lysander said thoughtfully.  I don t make any decisions. But he wished, all the same, that at least
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