"You're in charge of the Cultural Relationships Free Bread and Blankets Foundation, aren't you? What good can your bunch do when the shooting starts?"
"None. But maybe we can put off the shooting. If you are trying to insult me—don't bother. My irritation quotient is very high."
The driver merely grunted at this, slowing down as they ran through a field of broken rock. "What is it you want?" he asked.
"We want to make a detailed examination of one of the magter. Alive or dead, it doesn't make any difference. You wouldn't happen to have one around?"
"No. We've fought with them often enough, but always on their home grounds. They keep all their casualties, and a good number of ours. What good will it do you anyway? A dead one won't tell you where the bombs or the jump-space projector is."
"I don't see why I should explain that to you—unless you are in charge. You are Hys, aren't you?"
The driver gave an angry sound, and then was silent while he drove. Finally he asked, "What makes you think that?"
"Call it a hunch. You don't act very much like a sand-car driver, for one thing. Of course your army may be all generals and no privates—but I doubt it. I also know that time has almost run out for all of us. This is a long ride and it would be a complete waste of time if you just sat out in the desert and waited for me. By driving me yourself you could make your mind up before we arrived. Could have a decision ready as to whether you are going to help me or not. Are you?"
"Yes—I'm Hys. But you still haven't answered my question. What do you want the body for?"
"We're going to cut it open and take a good long look. I don't think the magter are human. They are something living among men and disguised as men—but still not human."