"They have always brought you metal from time to time, Father," Mother projected, coming out as she overthought us. "So clever of them, I always thought."
"Yes, but I've been thinking that their encountering so many meteorites was a singularly curious coincidence. And they were curious meteorites, too. I suppose the young ones made them themselves."
"But out of what, Father? You know we don't have any spare metal on the ship. That's why you haven't been able to get the repairs finished before. Where else could they get the metal but from meteorites?"
"I don't know where they get their metal from, but certainly not from meteorites. These pieces here are artifacts. Look, the metal has been more or less refined and roughly formed into shapes with crude designs upon them. Tell me the truth, Qan, where did you get these?"
"Some people gave them to us," I replied sullenly.
"People?" asked my mother. "What are people?"
"Natives of this solar system. They call themselves people."
"Nonsense!" my grandfather interjected. "It's just another one of your fantasies. You know what the astronomers say—none of the planets of this little system is capable of supporting life."
"They come from the third planet," I persisted, trying to keep from disgracing myself by fllwng in front of the other young ones. "There is life there. All of us have seen them. Besides, there is the metal."
My companions chorused agreement.