[Querla still doesn't like the idea, but the sway of Philip's rational speech manages to mollify some of her irritations.] For now.

[Her brow arches at the mention of 'Planetary Bookshelves'. What could he mean by that? She peers over her folded arms to look at the tome held so precariously in Philip's hands.]

What network do you have access to that could provide you with that kind of data just at the touch of your fingertips?