Kennebec explained his reasons for playing the Little Man's game.
"O.K., chief. I've heard of this cat race," said Downing.
"You have?"
"Only malcontent rumors. Tramps, adventurers, and the like are inclined to take runs like that for the sheer loneliness of it—and the desire to set foot where no man ever stood before. It's about the limit of run with even a Guard ship. I suppose any rumors can be discounted, but I've been given to understand that they are a rather nasty kind of personality."
"Being cats they would be," added Lane.
"Not necessarily," objected Thompson. "We are basic primate-culture, but we don't behave like apes."
"No?" asked Kennebec with a sly smile.
"O.K."
"Now," said Kennebec. "They've chosen you two for the job in spite of our explanations that you are slightly inclined toward dangerous rivalry. Why they insist I do not know. Be that as it may, gentlemen, you have this project. You have twenty-five ships each, all armed to the best of Solar technique. You'll have to play it close to your vest, I gather, since this machine or bomb is at present running through their system. Therefore I order you, officially, to refrain from any competitive action until this project is completed. The Little Man has detectors to locate the thing, you'll each get one of them. Track it down and analyze it. Destroy it after you could reproduce it. Thompson, your only job is to remind this pair of worthies that their prime job is to finish this project."
"It may be not too hard," smiled Thompson. "I won't have any trouble."