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and farmers, your fishers and flyers may not be able to tell you the method by which they have so successfully worked, but the fact of that method and its success are surely beyond dispute here. Let us reason and compare, to be sure, when we investigate the discoveries of others. But let us experiment and test when we wish to make new discoveries ourselves.”
    As he spoke, he glanced from face to face, and here and there he saw agreement, even—and it thrilled him to see it—enlightenment dawn, but these occurrences were few. The overwhelming mood of the assembly was bafflement, even affront. Theocritus Gionno was simmering, and jumped to his feet as soon as Volkov stepped back.
    “Of course,” said Gionno, “many of us here do appreciate the value, and understand the significance, of what the esteemed Colonel rightly calls the empirical or experimental method. Some here have devoted their lives as scholars to such works of the masters Bacon and Popper as have reached us. The commentaries upon The Advancement of Learning alone would fill a not insignificant shelf, and those upon The Logic of Scientific Discovery a small library. But there are many deep problems with such a method, and until they are resolved, it is best left to guide, consciously or otherwise as it may be, the crude blundering of mechanics, artisans, and herbalists. Such methods are no doubt good enough for them. The requirements of exact science are considerably more rigorous.”
    Volkov laughed. He had not intended to, and he saw at once that its effect was bad, but he could not help himself.
    “Somewhere in one of the works of science in the de Tenebres’ cargo,” he said into a shocked silence, “you’ll find a quote from a great scientist of Earth, one Poincare, who said: ‘Science advances, funeral by funeral.’ I see that its truth is universal, and I bid you good day.”

    “Well,” puffed Esias, having caught up with Volkov in the shade of a cloistered quadrangle, “that did not go down well.”
    Volkov ran his hand over his brush-cut hair. “No, it did not,” he said. “My apologies, my friend. I hope I haven’t dragged you down with me. But these scholars, my God! They’d sooner die than think. And they will.”
    Esias chuckled. “Some of them. Perhaps not all. Let us proceed to the refreshment patio and wait there, in as dignified a fashion as we can muster, and see if there are any exceptions to the rule.” He clapped Volkov’s shoulder. “The scientific method!”
    “I don’t want to hear those words again for a week,” said Volkov. “But you’re right. And I’m parched.”
    They sat at a table under an awning and gulped one glass and sipped a second glass of what Esias insisted was beer. Volkov knew better than to press the point. He relaxed and watched the students, at the other tables or walking in the quadrangle. Apart from the black bat-sleeved short robes they wore like overalls, they looked on the one hand like younger versions of the Academicians, and on the other like students everywhere, alternately earnest and relaxed. The proportion of female students was a good deal higher than it was among the scholars, though nowhere near parity. What a bloody waste, Volkov thought. Changing that alone would speed up development.
    “You know,” said Esias, “you may be underestimating the Academy. They are not dullards. They have millennia of experience behind them of teasing out unexpected implications. Your journey here will not be wasted. It may take them time, longer than you might wish, but the knowledge we have brought back will be assimilated and extended.”
    “All right,” Volkov said. “Let the Academy rummage through books if it wants. What I’m more concerned about is the other institutions. Are they as hidebound? Because time is what we don’t have. If the aliens turn up before this place has a space defense capability, then the question of longevity is, you might say, academic.”
    “Ah yes,” said Esias. “The aliens.” He glanced around.