"Brute! Shut up and eat!"

Through the meal, Parmay explained the new job.

"—so I'll have to pick a good crew to do the job right," he finished.

"You sound as though you're glad to be rid of the old position. Why?" Alina asked, offering a cigarette.

Parmay dragged it into light before answering.

"In a way, I am. I'm tired of telling new colonists bad news. I'm sick of feeding Ancestors half-truths. How would you like to tell a hundred thousand people, over a span of eighty years, that things are terrible, and tell them in such a way that they will think things are fine?"

Alina frowned. "Is it as bad as all that? Just because we've left them behind? Weren't they prepared for that when they left? They should know that Earth would have changed in all that time, that we would be ahead of them. Why should they be so shocked to come out of the fitzgerald and find that it's so?"

Parmay shook his head. "It's not that, honey. I have to tell them just the opposite. Look—do you realize that I have to tell them that we are losing the race with the aliens?

"I have to tell them that we have invented hypersee vision transmission—and the aliens had it first. I have to tell them that we have had hypersee ships for seventy years and the aliens have had them for twice that long.

"I have to tell them that the aliens have made a great deal of progress, and that we have lagged pitifully behind in copying them. Have we done anything on our own? No."

Alina closed her eyes. "God, what pessimism. Gimme 'nother cigarette; mine went out."

Parmay handed her a cigarette. "What do you mean: 'pessimism'? What have we done?"

His wife held up a hand and began counting off fingers.

"One: Increase in the standard of living. The five-hour work week.

"Two: If and when it comes to a pitched battle between us and the aliens, we have the ionic disruptor. I can guarantee that no known conductor can stand up against it. And—"

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