Then everyone became solicitous and grateful, and said that by all means he should get some rest.

"You, too,' he said to Raisha and Bert. 'No sleep last night.

Not good. Minds must be rested to learn how to fly Baby." He caught Kris with one hand, Raisha by the other, and gestured for Bert to follow them out.

There was a brief lull in the various conversations all over the barn but, by the time they reached the door, these had picked up again, including several arguments, with sheets of Zainal's meticulous diagrams and the manual being passed around.

All four walked wearily to one of the less crowded end barns.

A 'people' door had been cut into the larger one and a narrow entry area established before three aisles sectioned off the floor space. Screens of woven reeds divided areas into living spaces, affording a certain degree of privacy. Single pallets stuffed with fluff weed, spare blankets, a rough box to hold possessions and two stools comprised the furnishings of the one Zainal and Kris took. He moved two pallets together. Kris got her boots off, emptied her pockets of the comunit and items she hadn't realized she still had with her and lay down. Zainal covered her with a blanket before removing his boots and settling down beside her, reaching out to grasp her hand before he took one deep breath and fell asleep at the end of it. She wasn't far behind him.

Still unaccustomed to Botany's longer diurnal period even after nine months, and despite the excitements and exertions of the previous day and night, Kris found herself waking before sunrise. Zainal was awake, too, lying on his back with hands behind his head.

"What's up?" she asked in a low voice.

He released one hand, curled his arm around her head to stroke her cheek.

"Thinking."

"Good thoughts?"

He nodded.

"Share them?" He rubbed his knuckles against her cheek: she could see his teeth in a smile in the dim light. 'I must out-think Catteni." She caught his hand, holding it against her cheek as she turned into him, her lips closer to his ear. 'Then there could be trouble over the scout." 'Not here yet." She could feel his cheek muscles lifting as his grin broadened. 'Lenvec may not be . . . fooled. Or is it joke this time?" 'Fooled. Why?" She tried not to stiffen against him in concern but he sensed it, far too aware of her body language now, and his hand flattened soothingly against her head.

"He does not wish to do Eosi duty."

"Is he the other male you meant yesterday?" She felt Zainal's shoulder twitch and the rumble of amusement in his chest. 'He is next, but may not be chosen." That seemed to amuse him even more. 'He has life-mate and several childs already,' Zainal added, as if that should be a consolation.

"Children,' she corrected automatically. 'Don't you?" she heard herself ask.

"No chosen has life-mate, but I have two males. Too young to be chosen."

"So if Lenvec is chosen, we don't have to worry?"

"He did not say how soon the chosen must go. If there is time, maybe. He will be commanded where to search first." Then Zainal paused, and she sensed he deliberated on whether or not to continue as he stroked her head slowly. 'Maybe . . . he gets better satellite over Botany."

"Higher tech? More sophisticated?"

Zainal nodded. 'But even that will take time." And she felt his laugh. Felt him stop, too. 'I must be very careful."

"Shouldn't we tell Mitford all this?"

Zainal gave his head one shake. 'Not now. He has enough troubles with - what did you call them - the brass? Beverly, Scott, Rastancil, them?" 'Yeah, they're all brass, admirals, generals: Marrucci was a colonel, I think. Watch out for Scott." Zainal grunted agreement and surprised her by smiling. 'I like a good fight." "You mean, convincing Scott you're all right for a Catteni?

Or getting Phase Two and more fuel for the scout?" 'Both." He gave her hand a warm squeeze. 'This gets interesting."

"Don't get smug, Emassi Zainal."

The? Never. This Catteni bastard watches his step."

"Zainal! Where did you pick up that language?"

"Is it not correct?" She knew he was teasing and laughed. 'I'm damned glad you know as much as you do, particularly right now . . ."

"For the brass-heads."

She giggled, ducking her head into his chest to muffle the sound.

"Brass-heads' - she must remember to tell that to the sergeant.

At Lenvec's insistence, which was beginning to annoy Perizec both as patriarch and commander, he listened to the record tape and replayed the satellite's recording of the scout's takeoff, the suddenly erratic course which straightened into a dive towards the subject planet's second moon, disappearing beyond the satellite's visual limitation.

"But analysis proves that is not Zainal's voice. None of them are. What has Personnel said about Arvonk?" That was the one flaw in Lenvec's arguments. 'There is none of Arvonk, who was only a woman and not in service as

Emassi. She was used because Zainal had chosen her several times for intercourse." 'There are no other Catteni down there. Who else but another scout could have responded?"

"Some of the Terrans have learned our language."

Perizec snorted. 'But not how to operate comunits." 'Zainal could teach them." Lenvec spoke through his teeth with aggravation, an unwise attitude to show his senior and parent but he had absolutely no doubts that Zainal had somehow escaped capture: had probably piloted the scout off the planet. And then, for reasons Lenvec could not understand in a Catteni Emassi who had been chosen to serve the Eosi, Zainal had returned to the planet. He had not taken refuge anywhere in Catteni space because everywhere he would be hunted; nowhere would he find asylum.

Zainal's taunt - 'I drop, I stay' - was like a pulse in the back of Lenvec's brain. What good did it do Zainal to go back to the planet, no matter what technology had been found there?

Could Zainal know the origin of the original occupants of that planet? Was that why he took the scout? What good would such a move do?

"He has somehow made friends with the Terran dissidents,' Lenvec went on, desperate to persuade his father to believe him. 'Now he has transportation. He has some plan in mind." Perizec dismissed that consideration as he rose. 'For all the good it will do him." 'Sir, for the honour of the family, insist on a second orbital satellite.

Geo-synchronous does not have sufficient capability to keep a watch on his next moves." 'Next moves?" Perizec regarded his son steadily and with such malice that it was all Lenvec could do not to recoil from such scrutiny. 'Your next move is to attend the Eosi Selection.

No further delay is possible. Is that understood?" 'Maybe the Eosi will not be so blind,' Lenvec said in a bitter tone, and when the nerve-whip suddenly appeared in his father's hand he braced himself for the blow. Despite that, the agony rocked him to his knees.

He had to be helped to his quarters by his life-mate, where she disobeyed the protocol that required the recipient to endure a whip-lash by administering a nerve block. Clern stayed by his side until the medication took effect. Which was more than she ought to have done but it did not, as she had probably hoped, appease his bitter resentment sufficiently for one final sexual interlude. Lenvec could think only what he had been deprived of because Zainal had been the chosen of their bloodline: the opportunities and promotions that Zainal had enjoyed because he had been the chosen. Eosi liked their 'subjects' to have rich experiences to bring for them to enjoy, to use as guides in their manipulation of their subject species. Lenvec had had to be satisfied with a circumspect life, learning to manage the family estates and accepting simpler rewards than Zainal gathered.

Lenvec had even had to rear Zainal's children with his own, since being chosen kept Zainal from having a mate. That was the one privilege which Lenvec had had which Zainal did not.

And now Clern had to be set aside because Zainal had escaped.

During those long last hours of his single being, Lenvec toyed with suicide, but the dishonour would have deprived Clern of wealth and protection and his sons of their inheritance, which would be considerable. If he could have also deprived his father of honour by taking his own life, Lenvec might well have murdered himself.

His hatred of Zainal, his sense of betrayal, his keen awareness of the injustice done consumed Lenvec even when, supported by a blood pride he had not known he possessed in such depth, he was accompanied by Perizec to the vast complex reserved for Eosi. He entered with the three other Catteni being presented by their fathers, and Lenvec's resentment flared and deepened. They had been chosen: they had had the privileges Zainal had enjoyed and he had been denied. But he had as large a measure of Emassi pride as any of them and so he went, seething with hatred and the now deeply embedded ambition to somehow get even with Zainal.

That kept his back straight, his knees stiff as he faced the Eosi mental who would engulf him, making him no more Lenvec but all Eosi. A fearsome entity even to an Emassi who had seen what Catteni became when subsumed by Eosian mentats: that shining immensity in a giganticized Catteni form.

That one thought, of eventual triumph, sufficed Lenvec as the subsummation occurred. It kept him from screaming as two of the others, previously willing and proud young men, did as they were engulfed.

Certainly the intense emotion intrigued the Eosian as it settled into the strong new body as the shell that it had been using drifted like the dead thing it had been for centuries onto the highly polished floor of the chamber. Quite unusual, in fact, for the Eosian had made such transfers frequently and was delighted by a novel experience as the last of the personality which had once been Lenvec totally dissolved within the mental.

The shell, crumbling into dust, was swept into a receptacle and returned with proper ceremony to Perizec, who waited with other fathers to receive the husks of their greatgrandfathers. Of them all, Perizec was the most relieved. He had greatly feared that Lenvec would be found unacceptable and the dishonour to their bloodline would have been catastrophic. But honour had been served, and their family would continue to supply young men to the Eosi and reap more worldly rewards than other, less favoured families.

However, Perizec must still discover where the cowardly Zainal was hiding and make sure he paid the price of his evasion. Perizec smiled at the thought of a suitable execution.

Private, of course, but the event could be enjoyed by Clern who had been deprived of her mate, and should be seen by Zainal's sons so that they would have to live with his dishonour as their lifelong penance.

Perizec took the receptacle containing his great-grandfather's dust to the family crypt and placed it in the niche prepared for it.

He looked at the array of ancestors who had done their duty.

Then did his final one: listing first Zainal and then Lenvec as dead. Too bad he could do nothing punitive to the sons, but that would give a lie to the reason why Lenvec had to stand in for his brother. But there were other, subtler ways to make them pay for their father's defection.

Quite a considerable galactic distance from the Eosi home planet and its expanding sphere of influence, the homing device arrived in the slot designed to receive it on the huge moon installation where such devices were processed. When no message was displayed, the container was routinely overhauled for the malfunction. Such homing missiles were rarely despatched without cause. No malfunction was discovered.

The device had been well engineered and had always operated within its design parameters. But the lack of any message was unusual and the container was sent to Processing to identify its point of origin.

Since that planet was not one in any sense critical, or even very important, the errant device was shunted to the agency that, from time to time, investigated anomalies. The appropriate galactic coordinates were tagged for investigation during the next regular maintenance Circuit.

If those intimately connected with Phase One slept, it became obvious to Zainal and Kris when they quietly exited their quarters at dawn that others had not.

A weary duty-cook had propped her chair back against the wall, her head lolling to one side as she caught what rest she could while the knot of men and women at the table furthest from her murmured urgent conversations and passed papers back and forth.

Though Kris and Zainal had entered quietly, their arrival immediately curtailed the discussions. Almost every head turned to see who entered.

"Zainal! Kris!" Peter Easley half-rose from his seat and beckoned them over. 'Grab something to eat and drink, will you?

And join us?" The cook slept on, snoring slightly, so Kris and Zainal helped themselves to the food kept warm in the pans and the tea in the kettle.

Kris identified not only Scott and most of yesterday's 'brass'

but others' obviously called in from the other camps for this session.

"You started something, Zainal,' Peter said, rising and gesturing for Zainal to take his place, while he hooked over chairs from the next table for Kris and himself.

"Phase Two?" Zainal asked, settling himself and eyeing the mass of papers, charts and lists that littered the table. He sipped.

"You bet,' said Easley, while several men at the other end of the table resumed their interrupted debate. 'I sent Mitford off to bed at third moonrise. He couldn't keep his eyes open."

"How can you, then?" Kris asked.

"Oh, I caught a couple hours before we changed guard,' and Easley winked at her conspiratorially.

She was somewhat reassured, although she had not previously considered Easley, for all the help he gave Mitford during Drops, as a surrogate for the sergeant.

"We have discovered a lot of dropees have had military training, and more than enough have commando, SAS, or similar training in their own countries, so that we can have our pick of the force to make Phase Two successful,' Easley explained in a low voice. 'What is needed now is information from you on . . ." 'What weapons there are aboard the scout,' and now Scott interrupted, 'some idea of the interior of a transport ship and what weapons they'd have so we can properly train our personnel." Zainal took a sip of the hot beverage and gestured that he be given paper and a writing implement.

"Breakfast first?" Kris said in a caustic tone, lifting a spoonful from her bowl of porridge. 'Army . . . and navy, I'm sure . . . still function better when fed."

"Miss Bjornsen,' Scott began ever so politely.

"Knock it off,' Zainal said in a very quiet voice, but he gave Scott a brief, warning look before he began to sketch the long ovoid of a transport ship outline, sipping as he did so. 'Twenty

crew, only Drassi armed with weapons. Others have nervewhips . .

." Zainal gave Scott a long look. 'You know about nerve-whips?" Scott nodded slowly, and it pleased Kris no end to realize that he had had at least one incident of intimate knowledge.with that persuader.

"Crew carry on back,' and Zainal demonstrated tying the whip-lash to a handle and slinging the imaginary item to his back. "People unconscious no problem." He outlined the bridge area, the main crew quarters where they seemed to sleep stacked nearly as closely together as their passengers would be, and then indicated the engine room, air plant and other essential elements of the transport, including cargo areas that did not have oxygen.

That left an empty midsection across which Zainal now drew a series of parallel lines.

"Sleepers don't need much space. Empty one deck, remove, shift upwards, empty two deck . . ." 'We were crammed in like sardines then,' Easley remarked with a bit of a shudder. 'What do they use to keep us in suspended animation?" 'Asleep?" Kris whispered, because she knew Zainal would recognize those words." 'Eosi make. Not even Emassi know in-gred-ee-ents,' Zainal said with one of his indifferent shrugs.

"So we would have to get the guards, storm through here to secure the bridge . . ." Kris didn't recognize the voice, nor identify the slight accent, much less the long non-white finger that had done the walking, and looked up. The slender man had angled in beside Scott and Fetterman. He grinned at her and touched a non-existent hat brim.

"Hassan Moussa, late of the Israeli forces,' he said.

"No,' and Zainal shook his head. 'First, they unload, then we do not risk lives. They will not expect attack. With dropping done, they are also tired. We stun those outside, maybe all will be. THEN we .

. ." Zainal grinned at Moussa, 'storm through to bridge and surprise Drassi."

Moussa wasn't the only one who chuckled at Zainal's suggestion to let the Catteni unload.

"I'm reliably informed that not everyone is unloaded with any caution,' said the British Ainger.

"I will be there, of course, to see,' Zainal remarked.

"Hey, wait a minute,' Kris said, and she wasn't the only one to see the folly of that.

"Not when the Catteni tried to kidnap you . . ." frowning.

"Drassi will not know that,' Zainal said, 'but they obey Emassi orders any time." Open disagreement broke Out and, after listening a few moments, Zainal began to eat his porridge, ignoring the dispute.

"He tells us he's a kidnap victim . . ."

"A transport was slated to pick him up the first time, wasn't it?"

"Can we really trust him?"

"If it's that easy to take the transport, why hasn't anyone tried?"

"You haven't seen bare hands against nerve-whips, have you?"

"So, if Drassi and Emassi never mix, who would recognize him?"

"And the risk is better than the twenty-five percent casualties."

Kris identified Leon Dane's voice. 'Leon can make like an Emassi from the shadows,' she said, broadcasting her suggestion over the other voices. That stopped them. 'It's the tone they respond to, not the figure." 'Good idea,' Zainal said, licking his lips. 'He sounds Emassi.

Could . . . fool . . . me." And he cast a mischievous side glance at Kris as he continued to eat his breakfast.

"We can decide on that stratagem later,' Scott said firmly. "If you've finished,' he addressed Zainal, who had indeed just emptied both bowl and cup, 'let's go through the numbers . . .

of the crew . . . again." 'One Drassi captain,' and Zainal dutifully ticked off on his fingers, 'one Drassi navigator, one Drassi com, one Drassi engineer, four more to take turns, and twelve to unload."

"Rastancil said, "That makes twenty. Do all unload?"

Zainal nodded. 'Off-duty help so sixteen unload. Others relax here,' and he pointed to the bridge. 'Not much security,' he added.

"Stand from here,' and he put his finger on the portal, 'and stun all."

"Stun?" The look on Scott's face was ludicrous.

"Why not? Killing weapons messy." 'And wasn't it decided,' Kris got in, 'that they'd at least have a chance to run for it?"

"Why?" The mood around the table turned ugly.

"Because then we're not the same as Catteni,' John Beverly said, raising his voice above the vengeful babble.

"General, I don't think the population here will appreciate leniency,' Bull Fetterman said.

"I don't see why not,' said Hassan Moussa with a vulpine grin.

"It could provide some sport." 'Now, wait a bloody minute,' and Kris felt her breakfast roiling about in her stomach. 'We are not Catteni. We are human beings . . ." 'They can be tried as war criminals,' Moussa said, still grinning, and he looked down at Zainal to see his reaction, but the Catteni was adding details to the sketch, apparently oblivious to the moral issue.

"Take a camp vote,' Yuri Palit said, standing up at the end of the table.

"That's always assuming that we take the damned transport in the first place,' Beverly put in.

"Now wait a minute, general . . ."

"Beverly, if we can't overpower twenty . . ."

"Referendum!'

"Everyone needs to know

"Those guys murdered . . ."

"We don't have to do the same . . ." Kris got up from the table, taking her dishes and Zainal's before she heaved up breakfast, listening to such vengeful talk.

She did, she told herself as she stalked to the clean-up area, understand why they wanted to take it out on any Catteni they could, but the slaughter still made humans no better than Catteni and polluted this new world, and this fresh start, with all the old hatreds and prejudices that bubbled just skin-depth and could be sublimated by attacking a new species-victim. So who hit the goat now?

She almost threw the dishes down, but spotted the still sleeping cook and slipped them quietly in the warm dishwater to soak. Possibly, if she had to, she could kill a Catteni in cold blood. She hadn't minded when Fek and Slav had killed the kidnappers, but her blood certainly hadn't been cold then - it had been frozen with fear that the ruse would be uncovered and Zainal taken. All the arguments were specious. It was the principle that was important. And more important here on Botany than at any other time in her life . . . even when she had feared rape by the brutish Catteni steward on Barevi.

"Kris!" Zainal's voice had not been pitched loudly but he stood at the exit and beckoned to her. The 'strategists' were so involved in arguing points of honour, law, principle and integrity that his departure had not been noticed. Except by Easley and Rastancil, who hurried towards him.

"Zainal?" Easley's quiet voice held a note of apology and Rastancil's expression was entreating.

"We will see what weapons and other useful junk is on scout,' Zainal said. 'That is next step to take to prepare for Phase Two." He exited first, turned to wait for Kris, Rastancil and Easley and added, "You are men of sense." Then he strode off at such a pace that even the long-legged Easley had trouble keeping up. Abruptly he stopped, staring ahead as the predawn sky outlined the hangar which Kris realized had acquired the most peculiar outline. Zainal snorted and walked on.

"What'd they do to it?" Kris asked, though she thought she knew the answer.

"Mitford suggested we disguise the contents,' Easley said.

"Just enough in case someone should scan. All they'd see is metal hunks. Rooftll take the weight. The engineers checked."

The moment they cracked the inset door, a shadowy figure got to its feet and challenged them: in Vic Yowell's unmistakable tones. He even had a lance at the ready. 'Who's there?" 'Zainal, Kris, Easley and Rastancil,' Zainal said, taking him literally.

"Oh,' and Vic let out a relieved sigh. 'More damned people poking their noses in,' and he changed his voice to a whine, '. . . I didn't get to see it when it landed . . ." He altered tone again.

"I want a lock on that damned door."

"No-one could get into the ship, Vic,' Kris said.

"I told 'em that, but they wanted to see the outside at least if they couldn't see in." 'Go get some proper sleep, Vic,'Easley suggested. 'We'll need you later on, and I appreciate your taking charge here." Vic gathered up his blanket and pallet and grinned as he passed them.

"Never thought I'd have a chance to land anything ever again.

Don't want it messed up." Rastancil gave him a genial slap on the back as he went and, when Vic had closed the door behind him, the hangar was dark again. Rastancil cursed, but Easley turned on a hand beam, which Kris recognized as one that had been lifted from the kidnappers' bodies.

"You're quick,' she said with a grin up at Easley.

"Spoils of war are meant to be used,' he said.

Kris wondered was the man ever out of sorts? He'd been up all night arguing with brass-headed types and his equanimity seemed not the least bit strained.

"You always this way?" she asked.

"Which way?"

She could see his so-innocent grin in the light.

"Zainal calls them brass-heads,' she added since he wasn't answering her question.

"Brass-heads?" He chuckled. 'Indeed, indeed."

"Lord, I can't even get you to commit yourself to a joke."

'Oh, I commit myself, Miss Bjornsen. Believe me, I do."

The hatch opened and lights inside came up, surprising an exclamation out of both Easley and Rastancil.

"Do not,' Easley murmured, lowering his head to Kris's ear, 'let them get Zainal's control away from him." 'He isn't planning to let them,' she whispered back under the noise of Rastancil stumbling up into the ship. So Easley had committed himself- and to the right people - she thought, hauling herself up inside the ship. It had been easier from the aircushion vehicle.

A low noise started, and Kris felt fresh air drawn in past her.

"You can vent to the outside?" Rastancil asked.

"Air is . . . old,' Zainal said; he made a gesture of a spinning blade. Then he indicated for them to go towards the stern rather than the pilot's compartment. They'd only taken a half dozen steps when he stopped and pulled at handles set flush in the wall.

The closet he had opened was stocked with an assortment of ordnance, much of it unfamiliar to Kris but Rastancil sighed with unadulterated delight and, looking to Zainal for permission, picked up a rifle-type affair with a thick cartridge-case and a stumpy muzzle.

Zainal pointed and named what each knob or toggle did. 'Safety, power up is red, white is empty.

Make thin or fat spray of. . ." He turned to Kris.

"Bullets?" She made a space between thumb and forefinger.

"Metal? Kill?" Zainal closed the distance to almost very thin.

"Needle?"

He nodded.

"Oh, I heard about them on Earth. They started using toxic tips just before I was rounded up. Nasty." Rastancil carefully returned the weapon. 'Any single-shot, revolver-type weapons?" Zainal frowned.

Kris made her hand into a gun shape and enunciated a single 'pow!' "Stunner,' Zainal said and touched the rack of eight. Then he laid his hand on their neighbour, a thick long barrel. 'Groundto-air."Then nodded towards the bow. 'Space stuff up front." 'What sort of armament do you have?" Rastancil asked eagerly.

Zainal gave a little laugh. 'Space, air-to-ground, small satellite to mark places. Not much. This is fast, and moves well."

"So you count on its speed and manoeuvrability more than its ordnance?" Kris wondered which words needed translating, but Zainal was looking at Rastancil and then gave a brief nod. 'Yes, speed and . . . other word . . ." He did look at Kris now, flipping his hand and fingers.

"Flexibility,' she supplied.

"Any telepathy in your family, Kris?" Easley asked.

"None, but I've been partnered with Zainal since we were dropped.

I know what words he has learned . . . and he's got a very good vocabulary,' and Kris stressed that, 'so it's less guess and more acting as synonym finder." Easley chuckled. 'I suspect he understands far more English than people think." 'I don't suspect,' Kris replied, and she mean' that as a tacit warning. 'I know." 'I shall keep that remark under my . . . hair, since my wardrobe does not run to a hat." Whether or not Easley might just be jollying her along, Kris sensed that Peter Easley was on Zainal's side and wanted to be considered a friend.

By the time Zainal had revealed the other goodies the scout contained, like very high-powered binoculars with thermal readings and nocturnal settings, a variety of comunits, emergency lights, beacons, maps, and the completed photos that he had taken on the way in, as well as hand cameras, Catteni-style, exploratory equipment, compasses, ropes, backpacks, winter and summer gear, thermal suits, and a lot of other gear that would see the scouting teams far better equipped, her head was reeling with such riches. Mitford would go bananas! There was even diving equipment and two water craft, dismantled and packed for transport.

"Sail? Or powered?" Easley asked, coming alive with interest at their appearance. He diagrammed a sail in the air and made a put-put noise for the power.

Zainal grinned. 'Both."

"It's Christmas!" Kris said, wanting to clap her hands together.

"Well, to a degree,' Easley amended, but he was grinning too.

"You've done so well with so little, don't let all this stifle ingenuity. There isn't even eight of everything." 'There's eight of everything we'd need for Phase Two,' Rastancil said in a sober tone, eyeing the weapons cache.

Zainal nodded, but he was far more interested in Kris's reaction to the photos he offered her. She wasn't quite sure why she should be interested in mountains and valleys, until his index finger touched first one and then another point.

"Oh, more dead ends, like the valley we found?"

And he nodded. 'Many."

"All empty?" she asked.

Zainal shrugged one shoulder and grinned. 'We go see?"

"What?" Easley wanted to know, peering over her shoulder.

"Our scouting project,' Kris said, not wanting to go into much detail.

"Oh, blind valleys like the one your team discovered which Mitford told me about?" said Easley and his face wore a hopeful expression, soliciting their confidence in him.

"Is a thing kept in? Or gut?" Zainal said, giving it.

"Out would be my educated guess, considering the nocturnal horrors Botany has,' and Easley gave a little shudder.

"You've seen them?"

He pretended a repugnance that was probably sincere. 'Don't care to, either, but then I never go . . . went . . . to horror pictures either." Rastancil craned his neck, nodding approval at the prints.

"Very clear! What sort of camera equipment do you have on board?" Zainal chuckled. 'I let experts tell me. Baxter says he was cameraman on films . . . no, Vellums."

"Films,' Kris said as clearly as possible.

Zainal grinned. 'Whatever. I push button and later,' he nodded to the slot in the wall, 'picture comes out. Show these to Mitford, Kris, please."

"We can both show him,' she said.

Zainal shook his head. 'My duty is here today, showing off."

'Show me around a couple more times, Zainal, and I'll spell you,' Rastancil offered.

"Many will want grand tour,' Zainal said, his eyes sparkling with such open amusement that Rastancil regarded him with surprise. 'I learn much from Kris,' he said, dropping a proprietary arm across her shoulders.

"Ah, yes, well,' Rastancil said, ducking his head in what Kris thought was as close to embarrassment as a brass-head was likely to get. "There wouldn't be an inventory of what's on board Baby, would there? I know it'd be in your language, but we've got a couple of personnel down here now who learned to read Catten." 'Come,' and Zainal beckoned Rastancil to walk forward to the pilot's compartment.

"You take a good look around, Kris, Peter,' he added, pointing to the other doorsalong the narrow hall. 'Familiarize yourselves." Easley was shaking his head respectfully as Zainal followed Rastancil.

"He's quite a guy. I'd never have thought a Catteni had an active sense of humour." 'Maybe they just never have the opportunity,' Kris said and slid back the first door. 'Phew! This needs an airing.

What slobs!" Clothing was thrown about floor and bunks, while used cups and plates attached to the surface of the table had not been collected for washing. There was a blank screen and a hand control unit which Easley picked up, examined and replaced as the markings meant nothing to him. There were four bunks, wide enough for Catteni bulk, and all unmade and messy.

Easley did look into the nearest locker, pinched his nose and shut it up. But he glanced in at the others. 'Some of the gear can be useful. Especially the uniforms for Phase Two . . . once they'd been washed." There were two more compartments, one with three bunks and one - the captain's, Kris thought - with one, which contained command equipment. A viewer plate like the one she'd seen the steward on Barevi use, and racks of the disks used in it. Easley homed in on that. He was familiar with such things, neatly inserting a disk and turning on the viewer. A Catteni voice in monotone added comments to whatever was printed in the glyphs.

"Well, very interesting, I'm sure,' he said, clicking it off and absently returning the disk to its rack. 'Now where did they eat and wash - if they did?" One of the doors in the captain's unit slid back to disclose what had to be a shower compartment, complete with what Kris thought resembled a urinal and another odd opening. Well, Catteni had much the same alimentary requirements as Humankind. Easley gave a mild grunt when he peered in over her shoulder.

There was another unit next in line down the passageway which would accommodate two at once. The galley was just beyond it, almost the last door in the passage.

"One-butt, at that,' she said, looking at the 'kitchen' side and its equipment. A table with padded seating around it was evidently where the crew ate, if not in their rooms. But the place was neat and tidy. Even clean. Ah, but Raisha had said that they'd eaten aboard the ship so she had probably also cleaned it up.

"Wonder what's back here, though,' he said after the briefest glance in the wardroom, turning his attention to the final, large door that took up the end of the passageway. It was dogged tight with large Catteni glyphs in white.

"If empty is white on Catteni guns, would it be caution on equipment?" Kris asked.

The moment Easley put his hands on the toggles, an alarm sounded.

"Don't enter." Zainal's voice issued from an intercom right above their heads. 'Please,' he added.

"He's not totally assimilated, is he?" Easley remarked. 'Let's see what they're up to. Unless you want to clear out those lockers.

We might need clean Catteni uniforms." Kris gave him a stern look.

"We might, but I think it would count as a morale booster for others to see just what slobs the Catteni can be."

"Point!'

"What I really want to do is itemize all that lovely gear I hope we scouts have first pick of,' she said, rubbing her hands together.

"Damn, I've no paper." 'Voile!" Easley said, taking a wad of small sheets out of one thigh pocket and a pencil from his chest pocket.

"Hey, the comforts of home. Mitford can't operate without a pad and pencil, either."

"Where do you think I got them?"

Sharing a grin over that, Kris and Easley began to take stock.

They were interrupted by a clanging on the open hatch.

"Who's on board?" an irritated voice demanded.

"Scott?" Easley called back.

"With Fetterman, Reidenbacker and Marrucci,' and the four men climbed on board, crowding the passageway. 'Didn't see you leave, Easley." Easley smiled, ignoring the implied accusation. 'Decided to inventory what's here before the crowd gathers. Rastancil's forward with Zainal, doing print-outs or something operational. I have six only of what looks like pack frames,' he went on to Kris and put the first one back in its slot.

When they heard the newcomers moving forward, Easley grinned at Kris.

"Took 'em long enough to miss us, didn't it?"

"I wonder,' she replied, grinning back at him, 'if they ever reached any conclusion." 'Oh, probably not until they've gone over Baby with a finetoothed comb. The Catteni don't seem to stock such items, do they? Not even toothbrushes or soap."

"I found what looks like liquid soap, remember?"

"Oh yes, drawer nine."

The inventory turned out to be the pleasantest part of the day.

Once that was finished, Kris went to find Mitford. Easley, who had initially gone forward to see how Zainal was faring, ran to catch up with her half-way to the barn where Mitford held office in Camp Narrow.

"The compartment's jammed back with those who need-toknow. I'll wait for a quieter time,' Peter said.

Kris gave a- snort. 'No matter what he explains, they'll still need him to fly the thing."

"I expect so,' Peter replied equably.

Chuck Mitford's eyes bugged out when he spread out the.

pages of available equipment. He was flabbergasted when he saw the aerial photos.

"Clearest recon photos I ever saw,' he said, amazed, picking up one after another and scanning them.

"Look, here . . . here . . . and here,' Kris said, pointing out spots on the various photos. One was quite close to Camp Narrow, although it was in an area that had been lightly explored. 'More

ill of those dead-end valleys. Zainal thinks they have, or had, a purpose." 'If they didn't before, they may now. Especially as we've got enough personnel - AND the equipment,' and Mitford's voice rang with satisfaction, 'so a team could hang around, safe enough, and see what comes up." He tapped the near valley with his index finger. 'If we can secure this area . . ." He broke off as his shoulders convulsed in a shudder. 'I want us out of the Farmers' facilities. I got a hunch about 'em." He gathered the inventory sheets into one neat pile and the photos into another one. 'Anyone seen these yet?" 'No,' Easley replied, 'you're in charge of exploration. And were I you, I would secure these supplies for your teams and start sending them out." Mitford grinned crookedly. 'Appreciate the advice, Pete." He turned to Kris. 'The rest of your team's doing kp, but they should be finished by now. I'll just rev up the load-bed trundler and secure those supplies. Any weapons?" 'Some, but I'd leave them where they are until Zainal drills us in their use,' Peter said. 'Some of'em'll make right nasty holes in people. You know,' and he scratched his head, contorting his features as the sort of prelude that Kris decided was his way of leading up to an utterance of a diplomatic suggestion, 'we might take a page from the Catteni book of colonial administration and drop the next bunch of Turs into one of those valleys. Come back in a few weeks and see how they've got on." He paused. 'Oh, better still, dump any Catteni prisoners we take in them. A bit of turnabout's fair play." Mitford stared, frowning at Peter Easley.

"You a bleedingheart or something?" 'It was Yuri Palit's notion, actually,' Easley replied, slightly abashed. 'I mentioned that you'd discovered the one. I don't see the need for gratuitous violence or killing. There's been quite enough of that. I'd rather we Humans fell on the side of the Angels than the Eosi. Besides, it rounds things gut,' end he made a cage of the fingers in both hands, rotating one around the other, 'and they get back a little of what they've been dealng out besides supplying us with guinea-pigs for whatever might lurk in one of those valleys." Mitford was unconvinced. 'They want this referendum first, don't they?" 'I think you'll have trouble getting the notion of lenience across to anyone who's tangled with a nerve-whip,' Kris said.

"I can see it for the Turs, Easley,' Mitford allowed. 'I've never liked just turning them loose. They're dangerous and, if there's enough of them, they constitute a menace." He rubbed his jaw.

"Actually, we could use them as a detention facility. That's less messy than staking a guy out at night for the crawlers." Then, with a shrug, he dismissed that topic and split his attention between the photos and the inventory.

"The print won't fade,' Kris said, pulling his sleeve. 'Let's go get what we need before someone else requisitions it." 'Damn well told,' and Easley and Kris had to run to keep up with Mitford.

Vic Yowell was back on duty, standing squarely in the inset door, his expression inscrutable until Mitford leaned out of the driver's side.

"Open up, will ye, Vic? I've requisitioned some of the gear on board to outfit my scouting teams." Vic took no exception to that and pushed the main door back. So Mitford reversed the vehicle right up to the hatch, the load-bed almost level with it. With Joe, Sarah, Whitby, Leila, Pete and Mitford working quickly and quietly, Kris checked off the items they were taking from the inventory list. Soon they had emptied the passageway lockers.

While the others were stowing the last acquisitions, Mitford took a quick look at the arsenal and closed that compartment firmly.

Temptation, step behind me, Kris thought.

Just then Scott appeared in the forward end of the passageway.

"What're you doing, Sergeant?"

"Looking at the arsenal, sir. Could be useful." 'Pete and I have just finished the inventory of the lockers, Admiral,' Kris added, holding up the pad.

"Good idea, Bjornsen. Carry on."

"We will,' she said jauntily and, stifling a giggle at her deception, she followed Mitford out.

"Get what you needed?" Vic asked as the flatbed silently moved out of the hangar.

"I think so,' Mitford said and elbowed Sarah before she laughed loud enough for Vic to hear.

They had their loot all neatly stored at the back of Mitford's office, covered with Catteni issue blankets. The rest of Kris's team went to get some lunch while Mitford called in Judy Blane, who'd been a cartographer; he wanted to match the photos to their appropriate areas on the map. Meanwhile, Mitford called in the recon squads he wanted, ordered travel food from the kitchen and was ready to equip them as soon as they reported in.

"Before the brass-heads find out where it's all gone to,' Kris said when the sergeant paused briefly.

"Brass-heads?" He chuckled. 'Zainal?" She nodded.

"Are you going to lead a group this time, serge, and get out of their way?" He shook his head with a rueful smile and grimace. "New, not this time. I figure I better hang around." 'I can't say I'm not happy you will, Chuck,' she said, tilting her head towards the hangar and the 'brass-heads' occupying it.

"But you deserve to get out of here for a while and clear your head. You've done more than your share. You need some R&R." 'I'll go after Phase Two's complete. And don't you worry, Kris. No matter what they decide in their conferences and brass-headed strategy meetings, they need Zainal more than he needs them. Or us." Then he levelled a cocky grin at her. 'With the exception of you . . . Bjornsen.?

"Scott doesn't trust him at all,' Kris said, perching on the edge of the worktop.

"The Admiral doesn't trust anyone,' Mitfordsaid with a snort, folding his arms across his chest. 'For starters, he's stuck on dry land which isn't really where he functions best. But distrust's not altogether a bad habit." A knock on the door which opened without his permission disclosed the first of the teams he'd called in, Ninety Doyle's.

The Scandinavians arrived, breathlessly eager, before Mitford could brief Ninety's squad on the current situation. Kris left him to it and eased herself out of the now crowded office and went to get some lunch.

Part of the original strategy and tactics group were still busy at the end table, and those coming in to eat left a sort of noman's land of unused tables around the area to maintain their privacy. She picked up her lunch of soup and fresh bread and made her way to where Sarah' Joe, Leila and Whitby were sitting.

"Are we going to get to use some of that beaus gear?" Joe asked.

"We won't be going out . . ."

"Until the brass start believing Zainal?" Sarah asked in a caustic voice.

"Oh, I think they believe him,' Kris said.

"It's trust that's lacking,' Whitby added when she paused.

"I would rather wait until Zainal comes with us,' Leila remarked in her quiet but firm way, and sipped soup.

"Besides which, I wouldn't want to miss Phase Two for anything,'Joe added. 'Got any update on that, Kris?" She shook her head and gave a little snort, jerking her thumb towards the earnest knot of men at the end table. 'They have to make up their minds first." "Whaddya bet they'll end up doing what Zainal suggested in the first place?" Joe asked, looking around the table.

"Just so long as they make up their minds before the next transport gets here,' Sarah said. 'It could come any day now, too, judging by the frequency we've been getting Drops

"You'd think they were planning World War III,' Whitby

said, entering the conversation, 'instead of a minor commando action." They had just finished their meal when the rumble of male voices was audible, heralding the arrival of Scott, Fetterman, Rastancil, Beverly, Marrucci and Zainal. He halted at the door, surveying the room, spotting Kris and, cocking his finger at her, indicating she was to join them at the Strategy table.

"I've been paged,' she said, cleaning the corners of her mouth of any traces of soup with two fingers and brushing breadcrumbs off her front with the other as she rose. 'Hang about, will you?" 'Over at Mitford's, dear,' Sarah said, also rising. 'I don't want to get sucked into another session of kp just because we're all sitting here, looking as if we're doing nothing." 'Which we are,' said Joe, but he got up, too, and, as Kris joined Zainal, they all left the mess hall. Peter Easley passed them on his way in, sauntering in that easy bent-knee gait, pausing to exchange a few words and a laugh.

As he came up, he winked at Kris.

"There you are, Easley,' Scott said. 'When can the next transport be expected?"

"Any time now,' Easley replied indifferently.

Everyone turned around to stare at him.

"They come when they have a full load, evidently,' he said and looked to Zainal who shrugged.

"Last one was eight days ago. Sometimes there's twenty-one days between Drops." He dismissed that concern with a flick of his fingers.

"Deskis hear the best. Deskis spread out . . ." and now he waved his big hand, splayfingered, over the map that occupied one end of the long table. 'They hear. They report." 'And they have been using the same field they dropped us in?" Scott asked.

"Lately at any rate,' Easley said, grinning at Zainal, 'ever since Zainal had a little word with them."

"Can the Deskis be trusted?" Rastancil asked.

"With what?" Kris asked. 'Hearing or reporting?" 'Do they know how to use ermilnitc9' Pratt a her remark.

"The ones we have, even your grandmother could manage,' Kris snapped back, 'begging your grandmother's pardon,' she added, making herself grin at Scott's indignant reaction.

"Are they capable of giving a detailed enough report, though?" Beverly asked, slightly more respectfully. 'I mean, I've never heard them use more than one word." 'What more is needed? Hear ship. Comes down near. Comes down far. Your way,' Zainal said, and Kris was delighted to hear him effect the odd-tonality of the Deski voice.

"A Deski did all right warning us about the scout,' she added.

to use `;umumS! Scott asked, Ignoring

and telling Worrell exactly where it had landed."

"Point,' Beverly said. 'So we can count on their ears . . .

"And eyes,' Easley added. 'Deskis and Rugarians are also blessed with exceedingly acute night vision."

"Send a human along if you're worried,' Kris suggested.

"No need,' Zainal said, and then took out of his coverall a sheaf of pictures, evidently second copies of the ones now being examined in Mitford's office. He spread them on the table, while some of the other tacticians exclaimed and reached out for one to examine. Zainal found the one he wanted. 'This is hne I flew m.

It had been taken at an altitude of the descent well above the cliffs in which Camp Narrow was located, but showed the fields leading to what was now called the Drop Field. The scope of the photo included the third Drop area, and the boggy swamp where Zainal had lain, wounded by the toxic thorns.

"Drop made here, too." And he put his finger squarely on the little patch of field.

"But all the others have been made here,' and Easley pointed to Drop Field.

"Good cover for troops in those hedges. We can improve on it, though,' Fetterman said, indicating the three upper sides.

"And move forward when enough crates have been positioned,' and Rastancil tapped a pencil on where the supplies were usually unloaded.

"There are some spare Catteni uniforms on the scout . . ." Kris said. 'They'll have to be washed first, but I saw them in the lockers.

So guys stocky enough could actually get on board easily." 'Catteni don't talk much when unloading,' Easley said, having watched the procedure often enough in his official capacity as In-flow Officer.

"Most don't even carry whip or stunner." The whole procedure was then gone over and over until Kris felt her stomach roiling. She hated meetings where the obvious got repeated and repeated and no conclusions made. Once, when she shifted impatiently, she felt Zainal, who was sitting next to her, press his leg against hers and she settled for a little while longer.

Then orders were issued, for Deski teams - Easley, Beverly and Rastancil backed Zainal's assurance that the aliens would manage such a duty without a human counterpart - to spread out in a wide circle around the sprawling human settlement, equipped with comunits, to report the first rumble of an approaching transport ship. They were given extra rations and blankets and a translation in Deski by Zainal of their orders, in case they hadn't understood Beverly's. They had grinned broadly enough when they had listened intently to the black general, but they hiccuped with amusement after Zainal's remarks. Kris saw that he was grinning back at them, a grin which left his face as he turned back to the brass-heads.

"Now, we wait,' he said.

"No, now we train the assault forces,' said Scott, and he marched off with those who were assisting him in that. The others drifted away, gathering up their notes, maps and papers and leaving, probably to get some sleep.

"You cleared equipment?" Zainal asked Kris as he guided her to the buffet table to get some lunch.

"Everything that looked useful - except the dirty uniforms."

She asked for a cup of the herbal tea and joined him at the table he took, set at the opposite end of the mess hall from the conference area, in an unoccupied corner. All day and night people drifted in and out of the mess hall, eating whenever their duties permitted. Kris noticed Aarens coming in, arguing with a man she recognized as a senior design engineer. However, Aarens had lost a lot of his arrogance though he still maintained a unique position as a clever adapter of useful gadgets from the Farmers' materials.

"By now the sergeant probably has sent most of it out with the scout teams he called in."

Zainal grinned slightly. 'Did he go?"

Kris shook her head. 'He's got the right to be in on Phase Two."

Zainal nodded. 'He is."

"Oh, was that decided in the scout?" 'I believe so." Something else about his morning amused Zainal and although she tried to get him to tell her, he shook his head.

"Not to worry,' he said. 'He is in his office?"

"Probably." She stood as Zainal did. When they had carried their dishes to the proper place and the weary young woman who was handling that chore, they made for Mitford's office.

Although he called a cheery 'come in' when they knocked at the door, he was not alone. A rather officious young man with a receding hairline, holding a clipboard fashioned from a piece of supply crate, was jotting down notes as fast as he could write. Glancing to the back of the office, Kris noticed that the equipment - which had reached nearly to the ceiling when they had finished unpacking it that morning - was now down to a single level in most places.

"I'm in charge of recon groups and I sent all of them out, properly equipped for the first time. You tell Admiral Scott that we took nothing else." He flipped an indolent finger at the neatly stacked inventory sheets Kris had made. 'All signed out or accounted for. Not a damned thing he'd need for an assault force or training. Ah, Zainal, come to brief me on the overall picture? Well, this in-die-vidjual's just leaving. Aren't you'i son?"I

"As I told you earlier, sergeant,' the man said in an icy

tone, stressing the rank, 'I was Admiral Scott's aide in the resistance . . ." 'And still no doubt an admirable aide in this one,' Mitford said, 'but, lieutenant, we're all dropees here on Botany, ain't we, Zainal?" 'We dropped. We stay." And Zainal held the door politely open for the lieutenant to leave by.

As soon as he was gone, Mitford dropped his chair on all four legs and whistled softly. 'Damn fool! Scott, too. Not a fragging thing he'd need, and my teams do." 'Good on you, serge,' Kris said, chuckling as she settled down on a stool. Zainal pulled one up closer to the desk and she let him tell Mitford what had happened so far.

As it occasionally happens with well-laid plans, and just about the time everyone in Camp Narrow started to get real antsy from the waiting, a Deski called into the command post in the dim light of false dawn five days later. Mitford happened to be duty officer on that shift.

"Comes now. Bad noise. Bad smell,' she said. 'Wrong noise."

"What could she mean by that?" Beverly asked. He'd jumped out of his cot in the duty of lice and was hunched over the handunit which Mitford had politely tilted so that he could hear the report which Mitford asked Tul to repeat.

"Let's ask Zainal." He rose and shook awake the runners who'd been stationed in the office for this contingency. Each of the youngsters knew who they were to waken and where they were bunked.

Then he turned to the diagram on the wall which showed the position of each Deski. 'Hmmm. Tul's here,' and he pointed. 'If it was coming in properly, we should have heard from Fek." He moved his finger, and drew it in a straight line down to the Drop Field. 'Off course?" Beverly ran a straight line from Tul's position and wound up Flicks away from the usual area. 'We'd better get vehicles ready."

He was gone before Mitford could remind Beverly that they

had plenty of leeway to get to a different position, and still mount the rehearsed assault.

Narrow was not the only camp alerted. The Deskis followed Zainal's orders to contact Narrow first, and then their Camps.

Worrell called in to ask for instructions. Even Bella Vista Camp, up in the hills, had been included in the contingency plans that the brass-heads had made. Well, it had been something to do to keep busy until Phase Two actually started. It had!

Fek's report came in a moment before Zainal, Kris and the rest of their team arrived.

"It comes. Noisy,' Fek said.

"Where is it headed, Fek?" Mitford asked.

"You,' she answered.

"Thanks, Fek. Keep listening. Tul said the noise is wrong." 'Is,' Fek agreed and Zainal nodded to indicate he had heard and understood.

"Kris, find Beverly and tell him it's headed here after all,' Mitford said. 'He'll be at the main garage. Why would a transport be making a "wrong noise", Zainal?" Zainal cocked his head. 'I told you ships not in good condition.

I must hear noise to make a guess. I go up!" And he pointed to the roof of the office.

A ladder had been affixed in one of the alleys between barns to reach the cliffs against which they were backed.

Mitford swore, but stayed on the comunit desk for any further reports.

Two more Deski listeners reported in, also remarking on 'wrong noise'. A runner came back and Mitford beckoned him to the desk and the comunit while he went outside to listen. There was so much noise now, with men and women running up and down, seeking their assigned vehicles and getting their gear on, that he gave up and went back inside.

His comunit went off again. This time it was Zainal.

"I hear wrong noise, too. Ship in trouble. Drive is bad." 'Fraggit. -We need an operational ship,' Mitford said, hopes blasted by the news.

"Not to worry. Attack plan may need change."

"Not if Scott has anything to say about it, and he is in charge of Phase Two." 'Phase Two is my idea,' Zainal said, and the comunit went dead.

It wasn't long before everyone could hear the transport, wheezing and rumbling and giving off hoarse metallic shrieks, landing lights blazing and on-board sirens audible. The surface force made it to the Drop Field, and into their assigned positions, before the ailing transport came into view, barely skimming the ridge-pole trees and skidding to a stop rather than landing. As many landings as Mitford had already seen, some bouncing several times, others skidding toga stop, this was the worst. He dreaded to think of the unconscious bodies being thrown around inside the shallow decks.

I''Steam poured out of the base of the transport. The main

hatch opened and Catteni - coughing, sneezing, staggering made a disorderly descent from the vessel. All of them. Mitford counted twenty, which Zainal had estimated was the usual crew complement. And they were running as fast as they could, away from the ship.

Zainal ran into the light, waving a stunner and barking orders.

He pointed to one of the faster runners.

"Get him!" he called in English and roared louder in Catteni.

The vanguard did not slow and Zainal let off a stun bolt, hitting the Catteni in the head - a mortal shot. The next two he got in the legs and they fell, moaning in frustration. That was enough to halt the others and make them turn around, hands in the air. He barked another order and they reluctantly retraced their steps, their eyes wide and frightened, darting anxiously from Zainal to the hulk they had somehow managed to land.

Zainal called out a question. He got a response and immediately gestured for those hidden in the shadows to come out.

"Ship's circuitry in overload. May blow. We must get people

out. Dane, Chavell, Rastancil, take control of them. Scott, we need every man you have." He raced up the ramp, Kris and the rest of their team right behind. He went to controls set just inside the main hatch, throwing open the lid which was hot. He was muttering or cursing in Catteni. 'Schkelk!" She felt herself go rigid with attention at his Catteni 'listen'. 'They will not breathe, Kris. No air. You pull down this type,' he said, pulling the flat lever, 'to open hatch. Push up to close. This one to change decks. Got it?

Good! BERT! MARRUCCI! YOWELL!

DOWDALL! Come with me! I go to bridge. Things can be done. I need engineers, any mechanics, pilots. AARENS!" Looking over her shoulder, she saw the deck part its horizontal doors and lights came up to reveal the pitiful mounds of people who had been thrown about in the landing. She didn't need to shriek for rescuers: they were already running up the ramp and ducking into the fetid level. The frightened Catteni crewmen were back, too, each encouraged by a settler holding a stunner on him to unload the passengers.

The evacuation began. Catteni managed to lift two or three bodies, while their captors managed one in a fireman's hold.

More help arrived as the ship trembled and shuddered and made the most hideous and frightening of metallic noises while steam hissed out from unlikely places. Kris's right hand was caught in a gush just behind the control board. Whimpering from the pain, she licked and then blew on it.

"Got them all out,' someone yelled at her.

"No, you haven't,' she yelled back. And switched decks. The smell that issued was appalling. Those going in to rescue coughed and gagged, but they kept at their grim task.

Men carrying tool kits hurried past her, kits bearing Baby's markings. Then a group raced aft, Zainal shouting instructions at them about gauges and controls. The heat and the smells were almost more than Kris could manage, even as close as she was to the outside, and her stomach heaved in rebellion. Her hand was really hurting, and blowing didn't much help.

Leaning around the open door, inhaling the fresher air outside, she managed to filter some of the stench by drawing the front

of her coverall over her mouth and nose, hunching down in a cramped position to do so.

"Got that lot." Yuri stopped by her side, his face a dirty mask, his coverall blood-smeared. 'How many more to go?" 'Two more decks." She worked the controls, although with the noise the machinery made she wasn't sure if the mechanism would shift decks at all. The metal must have warped in the heat. But slowly the third deck level was accessible. 'Have many survived?"

"Others tend them."

"We should salvage the cargo, too,' Kris said.

"Cargo? The living first." Yuri dismissed her suggestion with a wave and ran into the newly exposed deck, ducking under the half-raised hatch.

Suddenly the levels of noise from around the ship seemed to abate, and some were silenced. More men and women ran around, both aft and forward, some holding tools, carrying hoses and other equipment she realized they must have found in the transport.

One more tremendous gout of steam erupted from the deck plates beneath her feet and she jumped and skipped about, trying to find some place not burning hot. As soon as she could get the machinery to turn to the last deck, she darted in to help unload. The heat was almost unbearable. How long had these unconscious people endured such temperatures? Or had they?

She slung an arm over her shoulder and hoisted a body, a woman's, and staggered out and down the ramp.

"That way. Make it to the next field,' she was told, a hand turning her in the proper direction. The sun was up and at least she could see where she was going. There were only two bodies in this field - one Catteni, one unidentifiable, and both dead.

She staggered along, more conscious now of the sting in her steam-burned hand and very tender feet. The hedgerow had been cut down and boards put on either side over the ditches.

This field was covered with bodies. Many of them, she thankfully saw, were moving and being attended: water poured over them or cups held to their mouths so they could drink. The field was one cacophonous moan, with weeping woven in. She staggered until she could find a free spot to lay her burden down. And seeing the awful stillness in the grey face, she felt for a pulse in the neck. There was none and with a cry of despair she curved in on herself, weeping.

"Easy, Kris,' a familiar voice said, and she looked up at Sandy Areson, who was holding out a cup of water to her.

"Drink." Sandy's gentle hand soothed the hair back from her sweating face and patted her shoulder. 'We've saved a great many.

Thanks to Zainal." Kris started to rise. Maybe they weren't all dead on that level. But Sandy's hand held her down.

"Oh no, you don't,' Sandy said and pushed her back. 'Hey, what happened to your hand? It's blistered." 'It is?" and Kris held it out and looked stupidly down at it.

"So it is,' she heard herself say as she slipped sideways into unconsciousness.

It took several days for the events of the momentous morning to be sorted out. Of the 728 left alive, many were injured: broken bones being the least of the problems for the triage teams that checked over each survivor. All were dehydrated, and that was almost the first need addressed. Internal injuries as well as concussions were more serious, due to a rough landing which had pitched the inert bodies of the passengers around the shallow decks, piling up and injuring those beneath them.

Severe heat prostration had caused twenty major and minor heart attacks, which had probably been the cause of many more of the deaths.

Of those from the lowest deck, only 39 survived: 4 humans, 9

Deski, 12 Turs, 6 Ilginishs oozing green goo, and 14 Rugarians who had almost all their body hair singed off.

Even those who had suffered no major injuries needed reassurance, proper food and counselling in that order to recover from their ordeal.

The only true advantage the consolers had was that they had been through much the same experiences and really did understand how it affected people. Easley worked tirelessly in directing his teams, asking only for their names and their origin before turning them over to Yuri Palit's resettlement people, transporting the 'walking wounded' to calmer surroundings as soon as possible.

The injured were transported by the air-cushion machines to Narrow for emergency treatment. 'Great ambulance service,' Leon Dane commented, 'nothing to bump or jar 'em!" The Tur contingent were unusually docile from their recent horrific experience and pathetically grateful for the water and soup passed out to them. The uninjured ones - forty in all were given such dire and terse warnings by Zainal in their own language about the dangers of the avian predators and nightcrawlers that they remained subdued as they were driven off to their new quarters. Joe and Whitby headed the expedition with a well-armed guard contingent. The first night out, Whitby also arranged a demonstration of what night-crawlers did to a dead loo-cow, and that had kept them cowed the rest of the trip.

They did not even struggle when they were lowered, with cups, blankets, knives and generous supplies of the Catteni food bars, into the valley.

Zainal also won a second victory, aided and abetted by Easley, Yuri Palit and, surprisingly, Mitford. The nineteen surviving Catteni crewmen were sequestered in the nearer blind valley which Ninety Doyle's team had explored. They had also had an object lesson before their departure, when Zainal forced them to watch the night-crawlers ingesting the bodies of those who had not survived the crash landing.

He had also required Scott, Fetterman, Rastancil and Reidenbacker to attend. It was a salutary lesson for each group.

"They expected to be thrown into the field last night, didn't they?" Doyle asked Zainal when the biggest air-cushion vehicle was finally free of its ambulance duty and the Catteni crewmen were loaded aboard.

"They expected death,' Zainal replied. 'They did not expect an Emassi to be in charge."

"Catteni better learn not to underestimate us humans,' Doyle replied as he waved his stunner to speed up the loading process.

The two crewmen Zainal had stunned were still not very steady on their feet, but none of their companions lent any assistance.

"Mean sonsabitches even to their own, ain't they?" 'One of their most endearing traits,' Zainal said in such a facetious tone that Doyle nearly missed the sarcasm.

As the vehicle glided silently off, the Drassi captain gave Zainal a look, compounded of hatred, fear, and indignation that one of his own species was responsible for this total humiliation.

"He wanted to sear Zainal's skin off him,' Sarah told Kris, and gave her shoulders a shake to rid herself of that memory.

"Hope it doesn't turn out later that it would have been wiser to stake 'em out." 'No, we'd be no better than they are, doing an eye-for-an-eye bit,' she said and then inhaled sharply in pain. Sarah was checking the blisters on her steam-burned hand. There was nothing to treat it, nor the very tender soles of her feet. The soles of her Catteni boots had melted on the hot deck-plates and, had she waited much longer, the injuries might have been even more severe. Leon had seen her, rueful that he had nothing, even from the medical stores of the scout, with which to treat the burns.

"I think there won't be any lasting damage, Kris,' he said, gently laying her hand back in the sling. 'Once that main blister has popped, it'll ease off and your body will take over the healing process. We do have that salve Patti made up which the cooks all swear by, to keep the skin supple. Might ease the soles of your feet, too." 'I'm not complaining,' she said. 'Sarah was a little officious, taking you away from the ones who really need you." 'Oh, never fear, m'dear,' Leon said, grinning. 'We've got quite a list of specialists these days, you know. And a supply of the gas they use; it makes an effective anaesthetic." He gave a little shudder. 'Thank God. Some of the repair work would have been barbaric without it."

Kris had refused to go back to the Rock - wanting to stay

near the hub of activity, and Zainal, and very eager to hear how they had kept the ship from blowing. Sarah and Leila kept her informed and helped her down to the main mess hall where she could listen to the 'hourly bulletins' as Sarah called them, updating those not involved with various aspects of what was going on.

Zainal and the engineers had managed to jury-rig the control board, venting the build-up to an explosion. A pump was found, disconnected from the ship, and dropped into the nearby stream. By combining all the hose on the Catteni ship, the fuel tanks had been kept from exploding and the reduction in temperature had saved other systems from reacting to the intense heat.

"If they hadn't managed, the explosion would have altered the landscape considerably,' Sarah went on, talking to distract Kris from her tender ministrations to the raw sole of her right foot. 'But the fuel got saved and there's plenty for Baby now." 'So that's why the Catteni were running away as fast as they could,' said Kris through clenched teeth. 'Was the ship badly damaged inside? Can we make use of anything?" Granted all she had seen was just inside the cargo area, with bursting conduits and pipes and hot deck-plates, but surely something was salvageable.

Sarah grinned up from bandaging her feet with sufficient fluff to form a protective layer. 'You better believe it! The entire bridge!'

Really?"

Sarah chuckled in a mock-malicious way. 'Well, what there actually is of it. Anyone who's ever flown anything is wondering how the damned thing stayed in the air, much less made journeys out into space. However, Scott wanted it where it can be used. And the interior of the transport still stinks to high heaven, so it was dismantled and it's been reconstructed in the hangar. They've even got the communications up and running.

And solar panels on the hangar to power it.

"Everyone's over the transport like ants, taking it apart. It's nothing but a shell now - which still stinks. The mechanics and engineers are having a field day with all these new treasures, even if most of the loot is secondhand, slightly damaged goods.

But it's more than we've ever had to work with.

"Then there's real competition over who can sound more Catteni than another. More learned the language than you might think." 'I suppose a knowledge that didn't make you all that popular on Earth,' Kris mused. 'But why is there a competition?

You said the crew was sequestered in a valley." She tried to concentrate on what Sarah was saying, rather than the painful dressing of her feet.

"Sorry, love, I keep thinking you've been in on all the briefings. The Drassi captain sent out a mayday, or whatever Catteni call an emergency, to another transport which said, and I quote, "they'd get around to picking up the crew when they were on their way back to Base." That is, if they survived the crash landing." 'So that's why Scott wanted the bridge operational,' Kris grinned, for it was easy to see what was likely to happen next.

"So, have they reported they survived?" Sarah nodded, grinning from ear to ear. 'Leon did it. He's still the best, but not for long."

"When do they expect this rescue vessel?"

Sarah shrugged. 'From what Zainal discovered in questioning the crew - the captain wouldn't say doodly to him - it's a bigger, newer ship, with a longer range, and so we have to wait for another message from them when to expect them. So there's plenty of time to prepare, rehearse and drill for their arrival." 'A bigger, newer ship?" Kris repeated. Then she chuckled to herself, thinking of Admiral Scott's bridge being run from a hangar. 'And we'll have three ships!" She was so proud of Zainal that she wriggled in the bed.

Sarah grinned fatuously at her. 'Scott's even acting as if Zainal's not so bad after all. And he's got a committee working to find out something that will add the necessary grey tinge to human skin. Those loose uniforms they wear will camouflage who's in them, but they gotta have grey skin. Leon's dying to

take part, but he's really too tall to play a Drassi."

"So is Zainal." Kris began to worry again. Zainal was taking so many risks. A bigger, newer ship would be better captained and crowed.

But then surprise was still on their side.

The dressings now complete, she glared down at her feet.

They'd better be completely healed; she had to be able to be at this second enactment of Phase Two.

Scott insisted on interviewing them first as to their Earth-side activities. Once satisfied, he turned them over to Zainal who tested their skills by having them read out loud from log entries.

"They read Catten well,' Zainal said, passing all three.

Later, Easley asked if he'd spoken truthfully or merely to get.

out himself out of a very boring task.

"I said true. They can copy what they do not understand and I will translate . . . if I can,' and Zainal grinned from Easley to Kris.

Scott next had him interview every male who had listed some understanding and speaking knowledge of Catteni in their Drop interviews. With Kris's help, Zainal made a list in order of fluency and vocabulary of over seventy men. Scott then had his choice of those he felt would be most useful in the commando unit he was training to stand in for the transported stranded crew.

"You're certain they're coming back for the crew?" Beverly asked Zainal at the very beginning of this new venture.

"That was the message,' and Zainal had shrugged. 'They will not hurry to do so. The crew would be safe in ship, away from us who are dropped." Scott might not have been certain of Catteni altruism in collecting a stranded crew, but he was also counting on it as a replacement for the useless hulk in the Drop Field.

Zainal gave Kris a list of the most frequent commands, which she wrote down with phonetic translations, so that all could learn them and learn the proper responses of both Drassi and ordinary crew to commands. Rank had some privileges.

"Catteni crew don't talk much,' Zainal said. 'Just obey."

"They must also know what is being said so they can act on their initiative if that becomes necessary,' was Scott's reply.

"Not Catteni,' Zainal replied, shaking his head.

"So long as the real Catteni obey, there's no problem,' Scott said, a stubborn look coming into his eye.

"So the surprise will be even greater,' said Easley, smiling at Scott, 'and that will work in our favour, won't it?"

Scott gritted out a surly 'Yes' and went back to the diagrams

When Zainal spent more time explaining to the mechanics and engineers what the salvageable material had been used for, they could more knowledgeably adapt it to their needs. Once the bridge was sited and up and working again, Scott preempted him to translate the data on the transport's log files.

"Much is routine,' Zainal said, scrolling at a fast pace through the entries.

"But we need to know where they have been, how long it takes, the protocols they use . . ." Scott said, scowling.

"I think I've found someone from the latest Drop who can manage to translate routine reports,' Easley said, once again diplomatically inserting his presence. 'In fact, several someones who have a good working knowledge of the glyphs. Learned to help decipher Catteni documents captured during raids." Beth Isbell was the only uninjured member of the three 'someones'who were summoned. Sally Stofers, a petite brunette with an extremely innocent expression, arrived on crutches for a broken leg, while Francois Chavell had his left arm in a sling.

Zainal had contrived of what he 'thought' the interior of the new transport should be. He hadn't had an opportunity to inspect any himself.

"Designed to carry more with fewer deaths,' he said in summary.

"Just being newer is improvement."

The engineers and mechanics at the meeting agreed to that.

"Some of the controls were wired together, and I dunno what they used to keep the drive units operating,' Peter Snyder said.

He'd been a jet-engine propulsion engineer and was fascinated by the Catteni drives: especially how they kept working in the state they were in. By using the schematics in the manuals, he and the other aviation and space shuttle personnel were trying to reconstruct one working system from the remainders of four.

"To know how it should work, mainly,' Snyder had said with a grin. He was an amiable fellow, medium in build and neighs, and usually either whistling or humming, on key, as he and the team worked to rebuild the engine. 'We're in a sort of no-man's land here, with bits and pieces we know worked in a high-tech society and should work if we re-assemble them right, but we are working with the equivalent of early Iron Age tools. Aarens is miraculous; sometimes, if you tell him what you want a tool to do, he manages to provide one which does it.

The problem is knowing what tool you need next and how long you'll have to wait until he can contrive it." Kris, now hobbling on crutches with well-wrapped feet and a bandaged hand, accompanied Zainal to the various meetings as she still seemed to be the necessary verbal bridge for vocabulary for him. Half the time she was floundering for technical jargon even worse than he was, but she was not about to admit that failing to anyone. Probably Easley had guessed, but he was on their side. Kris would be very glad when she, Zainal and their team could get back to what they were best at: exploring.

Sometimes it seemed to her that Scott resented what Zainal had had no reason to learn - as far as details of his own species' space-drive technology included - and yet was forced to include the Catteni in all major meetings because of the little he did

know and the insights he could provide on other details.

"Scott's got an incredible mind for detail,' Easley murmured to Kris one evening during a long session.

"He comes across ultra-suspicious and snide to me,' she whispered back.

"Suspicion is detail, too, you know, but I happen to know that he is impressed by Zainal." 'You could have fooled me,' Kris replied, glaring at the end of the table where Scott, Rastancil, Ainger, Marrucci and Beverly were crouched, heads together, in inaudible conversation.

"But I don't,' Easley said, his low voice vibrant with sincerity.

"He knows a man of integrity when he sees one, and he sees Zainal as one. I don't think many of us had any idea of the role the Eosi play in what the Catteni do. So he's abandoned the position of detesting the Catteni for what was done on Earth to come half-way to absolving the tool for the work it's been put to. Zainal's responsible for that adjustment, without losing either dignity or respect in Scott's eyes." Kris absorbed that speech, feeling a little better about what seemed like Scott's persecution of her lover. But she was only half-way there herself.

Once again, when the extra-acute hearing of the Deski sentries caught the first sound of the approaching vessel, they alerted the camps before the landing ship announced its imminent arrival on the communication band.

The 'bridge' accepted the message with typical Catteni stolidity as Zainal had drilled them, reaffirming the coordinates of their downed ship's position. Though Leon had prepared a report of what had disabled the ship, he wasn't asked for it.

Zainal had told him it wouldn't be required, but had helped him to learn the terms.

The camps in the line of the ship's descent - Bella Vista, Ayres Rock and Shutdown - cleared away any signs of orderly living.

All the air-cushioned vehicles were stowed out of sight and there was some concern over people, scouts and hunters, who might be seen out and about. Narrow, particularly, must appear deserted from the air.

"They will know from heat signs people are on the surface,' Zainal had said, 'but not what they are doing or what they live in.

Wiser for them to see men out hunting."

"You mean they'll be counting noses?" someone had asked.

Zainal laughed at the notion. 'No, just the presence of sufficient life signs to suggest survivors down here."

"So they can send us more?" Mitford had asked in a sour tone.

"At this point, it's the more the merrier,' Easley had said, grinning so infectiously that Mitford had smiled back.

Guess you're right."

The instrumentation on the bridge in the hangar was now working with an efficiency it had lacked for many voyages, and the descent of the rescue vessel was easily estimated. The assault team, in position from the moment the first Deski alarm had come in, lounged about the downed transport: some were outside, others sitting on the ramp, while the "Drassi' would not appear until their counterparts called for them.

Camouflaged in the hedgerows and up the trees in strategic positions were sharpshooters with crossbows and lances. Zainal had had no information about the crew complement of the new transports. The Catteni to be rescued were armed with stunners, which might be all that was needed. Surprise was on their side.

It was, and the take-over of the transport ship was even smoother than the one hijacking the scout. The supercilious Drassi of the rescue vessel had been so eager to mock the stranded captain that he had been first down the ramp, the other Drassi staff following, while the crewmen began to unload what passengers they had remaining. They were laughing and chatting, pleased to be on the last leg of this journey and going home.

They were also looking forward to making the rescued Catteni work while they loafed.

Flat on her stomach in the next field - Zainal by her, chuckling softly to himself - Kris watched as the Catteni Drassi strolled arrogantly across to the damaged transport.

The mock-Catteni crew had, of course, jumped to an appropriate alert stance, calling out - in an excellent accent, Kris thought proudly - to those inside that the Drassi captain was coming aboard.

They followed in, a respectful distance behind, and one remained at the open hatch, leaning against it as the rescuers finished unloading the latest unconscious dropees.

They had no sooner finished than they were called to come aboard the wreck.

"Now what do we have to do?" one Catteni demanded of another as they made their way across the field - or so Zainal translated for Kris.

"Probably dismantle equipment the beasts might use,' the other replied.

"Beasts, huh?" Joe muttered on the other sideof Zainal. 'We'll beast them." Zainal translated the first part of the Catteni response: 'Let's hope it doesn't take too long, then. I need my . . ." And he refused to translate that rather long sentence to Kris. Considering the nasty way the two Catteni chuckled, she was glad he hadn't.

While the observers waited, nervous and anxious, for what seemed an interminable time, suddenly the mock-Drassi captain - actually Vic Yowell, who was not only the right size but had known enough Catteni to handle the necessary interchanges appeared and, with his men, strode purposefully across to the newly arrived ship and up its ramp.

There was a brief interval before he reappeared, waving his cap and showing the difference between his Catteni make-up and his own skin colour.

"It's ours now!'

The hedges sprouted humans, cheering and dancing with glee at the success of the second Phase Two assault. Then they hurried to attend to the newly arrived, 114, all from Earth and in far better condition than many of the most recent arrivals.

The Catteni prisoners were sent off to join their compatriots in the valley.

Yuri Palit, another mock Catteni with his skin now back to

its original shade, headed the guards who accompanied the prisoners. On the way they were given an example of night-crawler activity and so descriptively warned of other dangers of Botany that they were thoroughly cowed by the time they arrived.

When the new transport had been gone over, Scott was actually smiling at everyone. This had been the maiden voyage of the KDT, according to its log and the look and smell of still-new equipment.

Zainal, Kris, Bert Put, Peter Snyder, Rastancil and Beverly were up all night, translating manuals and understanding the improvements incorporated in its systems.

Best by far was the discovery of two small airships, capable of short-range planetary flight, and one large well-equipped ground vehicle, suitable for rough terrain, with exterior plating to resist many corrosive-type atmospheres. Looking at its specs on its control board, Zainal said that it was also probably 'water-going'.

"Amphibious,' Kris had murmured, and they had locked eyes and smiled. They would not have to risk using the scout being seen in order to get to the other continents. This craft would hold twelve passengers and three crew, and would transport safely to at least the closest land-mass. They'd better pick a day when the channel waters were calm because she didn't like to think of being seasick in such confines.

But that sort of exploration was not in their immediate future.

The next scenario to be played out was to take off in the brandnew transport and head back towards Barevi, its base.

As many as could fit aboard the KDL-45A - which is how the glyphs on its side translated - took off, and that took in just about everyone who had worked in NASA or on air-force jets from various countries.

The decks could be arranged in a variety of heights and ways, according to cargo or passengers, awake or unconscious. Rather an ingenious arrangement, Marrucci and Beverly agreed, when Zainal showed them how to achieve various combinations. So the KDL could actually accommodate the many who had some reason, or claim, to make the journey. Some were going to have a chance in space; others because they had to learn how to manage the transport; and all would help jettison the traces of the sudden and complete destruction of a brand-new ship. Zainal had found log references to several minor incidents with the propulsion unit on the outward bound journey: one severe enough for the captain to shut down the engines and send an EVA team to clear the tubes.

That had been reported to their Base since it had delayed their touch-down at Botany to collect the transport crew.

Pete Snyder headed a team to figure out just what malfunction could now result in a fatal accident. They had plenty of debris from the damaged ship - fortunately the components were all constructed of similar alloys. With a little ingenuity in their messages to their Base, each describing further problems, and then . . . a delayed action explosion, sufficient detritus would be left floating in space to convince anyone who cared to examine it that the KDL had, indeed, exploded on her way home. An appropriate outer panel had been taken from the old transport, and paint found in the KDL's supply bay to duplicate her glyphs.

The bogus outward-bound voyage was scheduled for a week, since Zainal wished to get beyond the system's heliopause, beyond the satellite's range, before conducting the explosion.

Kris had remained behind, her hand insufficiently healed for her to be useful on the voyage . . . especially when so many, like Raisha and other space-trained women pilots, deserved the chance. Truth to tell, she was tired from late nights and long sessions of translating.

And then Mitford had asked for and got the land vehicle for his scouting teams. She'd be much more use familiarizing herself with that piece of machinery than being a supernumerary on a space flight.

They should be back by now, shouldn't they?" she asked Mitford, as they were storing their equipment on the land-sea vehicle, nicknamed the Tub. When Zainal returned Mitford was planning a trip, with himself as leader, to cross the channel that separated this continent from its nearest neighbour. He was combining two teams for the project, and happier than Kris had seen him since he handed debriefing newcomers to Peter Easley.

"Yeah, in fact they're three days overdue. But the destruction went off okay. You know that." The link between the old transport's bridge and the KDL was open and all the mounting hysteria orders and counter-orders, as the propulsion system 'failed' - had been duly followed by those on the ground . . . including the final bang.

So that part had gone well.

The Deski sentries were ordered to keep their ears wide open since their senses were trusted far more than the obsolete and erratic detection system on the 'bridge' in the hangar.

Kris accompanied Mitford when they did a check on the Catteni prison valley and found them alive, but certainly not making any move to 'settle' in.

"No initiative,' Mitford muttered to Kris. 'Just like Zainal said. Not even that pair of Drassi captains." These seemed to be concentrating on a small space of dirt in front of them, but neither moved.

"Chess?" Kris asked, for they had that sort of concentration about them.

"Chess?" Mitford regarded her with surprise. 'They haven't the wits for checkers, much less chess." 'Well, there's someone trying to fish,' Kris said, pointing to the one man poised over the stream with a thin lance in his hand.

"So he is. Even Catteni get tired of those dry rations,' he said and turned away.

Yuri Palit, in his authority as head of Resettlement, had gone to check the Turs and came back with the information that they had already made a few shelters, chopping down the lodge-pole trees. There also seemed to be several wounded lying in the sun: broken legs and arms, and one with raw wounds visible down his side.

"Trying to climb out?" asked Astrid.

"How stubborn can Turs be?" Yuri Palit asked of Mitford.

The sergeant shrugged. 'Damned stubborn. Leave 'em alone."

"And let them ruin that lovely valley?" Kris demanded.

Mitford jerked his head towards the photos that adorned his back wall, those showing the other closed valleys Zainal had seen

on his way in. 'There are others as well as the other continents."

"Now, about them . . ."Astrid began.

Mitford held up one hand, grinning at the tall attractive Swede.

"Gotta wait until Zainal checks us out on the amphibian." Which reminded everyone that the KDL was now six days overdue. Kris tried to appear unconcerned but possible disaster scenarios kept her awake most nights.

"What could have happened?" Astrid asked the morning of the seventh day. 'Surely they should be returning now?" 'That bang wasn't for real,' said Mitford, avoiding Kris's eyes, but speaking as positively as if he had consummate faith in Zainal's return.

"There'll be a good reason, I'm positive," Kris said so firmly that Mitford shot her a quick look.

"Yeah, there would be kid. I just can't imagine what." 'Asteroids, some technical difficulty, or operational problem, there could be dozens of good reasons."

"Yeah."

"It would be a good idea for him to get in touch, either, and give it all away since the ship's been destroyed and that damned satellite would catch any message he sent." 'You're right there,' Mitford acknowledged and then went to do something else.

"New satellite,' Zainal told them as soon as the hatch opened to the crowd waiting so anxiously. 'We go . . ." and he gestured a circuitous course. He looked for and found Kris at the side of the hatch. 'Lenvec's work." He dropped down beside her, touching her cheek just briefly as the rest of the space-farers exited, exultant in their shouts to the welcoming committee.

The biggest smile was on Scott's face as he came down the ramp with Beverly, Rastancil and what were now being called the High Command following closely.

"Mitford, Easley,' Scott called out, and added other names,

'meeting at 19.30 at Narrow. Beggs,' and now the officious lieutenant Kris disliked so came running up to meet him, clipboard in hand. 'I want all these men and women to make that meeting if humanly possible . . ." And he continued giving orders while proceeding to the nearest air-cushion vehicle and gesturing for it to take off towards Camp Narrow.

Zainal, taking Kris by the arm, steered her off to one side, away from the general jubilation around the hatch.

"Lenvec got them to put up a more powerful satellite spy?" she asked.

"Someone did. We had to time its orbits to sneak back in.

KDL is very good at glide."

"You glided? From where?"

Zainal grinned at her astonishment. 'Not hard. Your space shuttles did it. Catteni still better space jockeys." 'Jockeys?" Kris had to admit to herself that she didn't like him picking up slang from other sources. And she severely curbed her reaction.

"Bert brought her down. (food man, Bert. Now, where can she hide?" And Zainal frowned over that problem.

Kris looked up the field at the hulk still sitting there. 'Put it there. They expect a wreck in that place. How much detail will the satellite be able to make out down here on the surface? The name glyphs?" Zainal began to chuckle. 'Why not? The KDL masses more, but not that much more." 'Hiding it right out in sight always confuses a searcher,' Kris said.

Scott will agree?"

Kris shrugged. 'That thing's too big to fit in any garage except maybe the one we can't get into at the seaside. Who will come looking for it? You had us all excited, listening to orders and counter-orders and all the hysterics . . ." Zainal chuckled louder now, his yellowy eyes reflecting his laughter, most un-Catteni-ish.

"And if you guys avoided the satellite's eyes on the way in, surely we've succeeded in deceiving them." 'Some one of your wise men said once,' and he tipped his head back a moment, recalling the exact words which he carefully enunciated, 'that you can fool most of the people part of the time, but not all of the people all of the time."

]She had to smile at him, he looked so pleased with remembering the apt quote. And she was so pleased he was back, safe.

"You think Lenvec is that vindictive?" 'Not think. I know. When I was chosen . . ." He paused briefly and then went on, 'I was given privileges the chosen have, Lenvec was . . . jealous. If he is now to take my place as chosen, he will feel like he got robbed." He gave her a sideways glance, to see her reaction to his slang, and she grinned at him. He was also speaking with a less guttural tone to the English words.

Soon his accent would be indistinguishable from a native-born speaker.

"Hmmm, yes, if he's the jealous type he would feel robbed. But maybe he's been . . . chosen already. How much of him is left in the Eosi?" Zainal nodded his head slowly over that point. 'I do not know that. Fortunately,' and now he put his cheek down against hers, holding her tightly, 'I was dropped and I stay."

Kris was not the only one who thought of leaving the KDL right out in the open. An artistically scorched glyph took the bright new KDL-45's place, but there were actually no other options, even if they could find a Farmer facility big enough to house it.

The ship was not just a trophy, gathering dust, although how it would be used was yet to be decided. Scott had approved Phase Two but who knew if the admiral, who seemed to have taken charge of the military aspect of the High Command, felt they should attempt Phase Three.

The KDL settled itself on the wreck, compressing its empty shell.

The Deski sentries would give enough advance warning of any landings .

. . should other transports be sent here . . . so that she could lift and settle down a few fields over, and camouflaged from casual inspection. The Catteni rarely looked around during the process of hauling out their passengers and what supplies accompanied them. A certain risk was taken, but Scott had come to agree with Zainal's assessment of the Drassi: do as little work as possible and get back to base.

"You know someone might just think it was odd that there have been three ships blown up in this area,' Leon Dane remarked at the end of the final debriefing, 'and decide it isn't worth visiting this sector of the vast Eosi-Catteni empire, and leave us alone." 'I doubt that,' Easley said with a sad grin. 'According to the latest arrivals, Earth's resistance is growing and the Catteni are still taking anybody they think might be saboteurs and ringleaders into custody. We had a troop of Sea Scouts in the last group, and all they were doing was holding their monthly meeting. We may end up with more of Earth's population here . . . and wherever else they've been dumped . . . than on good old Terra Firma." 'If we can maintain a good fresh start

approach on Botany and ditch the attitudes that made trouble back on good old Terra Firma,' Mitford said, with good reason to doubt the ability of people to forget ingrained intolerance and bigotry.

Serving time in the stocks right now were three men and a woman who had revived an old prejudice in an hour-long brawl.

The injured would serve their sentences when they had sufficiently recovered. 'The more people we get in, the more trouble we acquire." "We've got four continents . . . well, two, if we leave the Farmers theirs,' Leon said. 'There's enough space for everyone, isn't there?"

"For some types, there's never enough space,' Sarah said.

"Too right,' Dane agreed, exhaling tiredly.

Once the excitement of procuring and hiding the KDL calmed down, Scott and others of the High Command, military branch spent hours debriefing the latest arrivals from Earth, trying to figure out what had happened from reports which were necessarily incomplete. Not much news was broadcast any more in a world which had had twenty-four-hour news bulletin coverage.

"Disasters every time of the day or night,' Kris had said.

"Do they do that on Catten or Barevi?" Sarah had asked Zainal when they were all sitting around their table after the evening meal in Narrow.

"Tell everyone everything? No,' and Zainal chuckled at the notion. His grey hair had grown so long now that he was wearing it in a pony-tail, a style that suited him better than most.

Kris had offered to braid it - Amerind fashion, as she did her now much longer hair- but he had declined. 'Only need-to-know is told." Then he gave a shrug. 'And evenings of lies about new worlds and brave Catten."

"Recruiting?"

Zainal considered the word, squeezing Kris's hand to indicate he was going to figure that one out himself. 'Yes, to join spacearmy." He got a thumb's-up for accuracy from the others at the table, their scouting partners and those from Astrid's six-strong team.

They spent a lot of time together, learning how to drive the amphibious machine so that anyone could. The mechanics had been all over it, too, familiarizing themselves with its equipment, engines, systems, communications and life-support. While Mitford was ranked a senior in the High Command Committee now governing the settlers, he still had to get 'proper clearance' to take such a valuable piece of machinery. He also needed Scott's clearance to take Zainal away when he might just be needed.

For something, any damned thing, rather than let us function as a team,' Mitford had ranted the previous night. They've got both bridges manned, and the KDL working off solar power, and we still have the Deski perimeter listeners, so little can sneak up on us down here. If they really needed him, Marrucci could fly over in one of those atmosphere planes now that he's learned how not to kill himself in it.

And it doesn't leave the sort of trail visible to the spy sat." Zainal wasn't exactly reassuring on that count because he didn't know exactly how sophisticated the new satellite was, just that it was on a full global orbit, checking the surface of the world once every thirty-four hours. He was positive that the reconditioned air-cushion Farmer vehicles would not show up on the satellite since they ran on solar power. The amphibious vehicle might possibly be visible - since it was no longer supposed to exist - so he had plotted a course and they would move only when the satellite was at another point around Botany's globe. It might take slightly longer to reach the coast but once in the water, he thought that the Tub would be undetectable since water would not only cool its exterior but mask its emissions.

Kris's hand was still slightly red but her feet had healed, even if she was careful to keep a layer of fluff as an insole. And she

dearly wanted to leave Camp Narrow for Mitford's sake as well as Zainal's. She tried to convince herself it was just the wanderitch that made her restless because she didn't think she had a trace of precognition in her, but she did very much want to leave.

To go explore the neighbour continent.

Fully accustomed now to its new form, Eosi Mentat Ix was bored.

It had returned to pleasures that its weakening husk had been unable to perform, and now these no longer satisfied its seeking for unusual experiences. The form had been relatively circumscribed, not having had the training of the young originally chosen from that Bloodline.

That was when it remembered the animosity and bitterness of the

Catteni mind when it had been subsumed. And Ix accessed the memories.

A brief exploration would discover if the entity's suspicions had been valid. Ix was somewhat startled to discover that a more powerful satellite had been put in position around the subject planet. The entity's traces grew alarmed within the Mentat as the most recent report was mentally gleaned from those on duty.

The scout ship had disappeared, and no trace of it been found anywhere in Eosi space: it had not refuelled at any station, planetary or space. Nor could the satellite find that sort of metal shape on the subject planet. The matter of the wreck of the transport was resolved by the interchange of communications between the KDL and the downed ship. The KDL, the newest of the transport fleet, had taken off after discharging its cargo and been tracked out of that solar system by both satellites.

And the tape of its final emergency and explosion was on record.

Ix carefully reviewed that tape, the details of the final moments of the ship's life and the efforts of the crew to remedy the fault. It also reviewed the fault in the light of the KDL's sister ships now coming on line, and found that such a backsurge in the propulsion was indeed a possibility, however improbable.

The Eosi Mentat ordered a search for the log of the KDL which should be found in the space debris. It was. Within the tiny fraction of Ix's great mentality, an infinitesimal scream insisted that such events were suspicious.

Ix screened the orbiting satellite's records and found only the wreck that had been left where it had landed. Then Eosi Mentat Ix was called to a meeting of its peers, to determine what must be done with the increasing problems experienced by Catteni occupying forces on the latest planet they had subjugated. Such continued resistance was unique, even bizarre, and the Ix was caught up in deciding what punitive measures to take that would completely solve this problem.

However, all Eosi found themselves rather fascinated by the scope and originality of the opposition to their benign rule.

The general maintenance orb reached the target planet and found its near space occupied by two technological items: one orbiting in a thirty-hour, total global pattern, and the other geosynchronous. These objects were thoroughly examined before the orb descended to a level at which it could investigate why a homing missile had been despatched from the command facility without a message. The orb discovered some life forms resident in the facility, for what purpose it was not programmed to discover, but their presence was noted. It proceeded on its orderly inspection of the agricultural facilities placed around the more arable continents and discovered anomalies throughout a large area, suggesting malfunction of the indigenous equipment on an unprecedented scale. Checking inventory against what should have been idle at this time of the planet's growing season, it could discover parts of the equipment but not in the usual form. This abnormality was duly noted. There did appear to be more life forms than the natural propagation of the indigenous

species would ordinarily produce. There was no possible way inI

which such a bovine species could damage, much less alter, the machinery that husbanded it. The orb was programmed only for mechanical devices, inventory and supply: it did not examine life!

forms; that was another department.| It completed the necessary circuits at the altitude programmed into it for the maximum efficiency of requiredI investigations, sent its findings back to its home world and continued on its scheduled maintenance cycle.

The Deski were covering their ears, cowering, but still managed to report in to their bases that there was the most fearful noise in the air. The boards on both bridges reported a spatial object, travelling at an impossible speed, spinning about Botany at what Marrucci stammered had to be damned near the speed of light. Its manifestation on the bridge boards was of a continuous pattern of light, encompassing Botany.

"Then it can't be Catteni,' replied Rastancil, watching behind Marrucci. 'They don't have that capability . . .

"Yet,' Marrucci added, sotto voce.

The team at the Command Post reported a terrifying moment.

"I felt like X-fles and being scanned by E.T.s.`reported the generally sanguine Colonel Salvinato in a voice that noticeably shook.

"Well, you're not alone. Something's giving us a real goingover,' Rastancil replied, which he hoped would reassure the colonel; his body still tingled from whatever it was that had touched him.

Salvinato reported in later that there were now two homing devices where recently there had been only one.

"Replacements by matter transmitter?" Rastancil suggested, condescendingly.

'"Beam me up, Scotty,"' Marrucci said, and this time he didn't lower his voice. 'The Catteni also don't have anything that can do that." 'That would account for how the Farmers' ships managed to load up so fast,' said Mitford when he was called in to give his interpretation of the curious incident. 'I felt it, too, like someone going over me with a mild electrical current." And then he smiled.

"The Farmers have finally noticed us."

"Do we really want them to?"

Mitford thought that over for a long moment and then shrugged.

"Beats me, general,' but he grinned because this was not his problem any more. And yet, it was. Anything to do with Botany was. 'It was the only option I had at the time. Still seems a good one. Only no-one hung around long enough to speak to us. So, what happens next?" Scott called an immediate meeting of as many of those from Camp Rock as had witnessed the fly-past of the Mech Makers'/Farmers' space-ship.

Rumours circulated, and each lap doubled in improbability, stupidity and frightfulness, especially about the scan. It was now variously supposed to have infected everyone with a deadly disease, and the entire population would die in twenty-four hours. Others included the fabrications that the Farmers had counted them and would shortly come and round them up, process them in the abattoir and ship them back as delicacies. All of them were 'marked' now and would be enslaved or converted into the six-legged loo-cows or sentenced to turn into night-crawlers.

There was certainly tension as the First Drop folk gathered in the mess hall at Narrow, late that afternoon. Benches (made of old machine parts, and these were the last places where the arrivals sat) and stools formed a semi-circle around a table at which sat Jim Rastancil, Geoffrey Ainger, Bill Fetterman, Bob Reidenbacker, John Beverly, Pete Easley, Yuri Palit and the former judge, Iri Bempechat, who had recently taken over the disciplinary duties for work evasion or inadequacy. Ray Scott, with his insufferable aide, Beggs, taking notes and counting noses, rose when it was evident that all who intended to come had arrived.

"I hope none of you have suffered any repercussions from those ludicrous rumours started after our recent visitation,' Scott began, with a rueful expression.

He looked directly at Chuck Mitford, who sat with Zainal on his right and Kris to his left, with Dowdall, Cumber, Esker, Murphy and Tesco - his original assistants during the retreat from the First Drop field - ranged along the row: defenders who had made very certain that no hystericals got near the sergeant.

Patti Sue sat just behind him with Jay Greene, Sandy Areson, Bart, Coo, Pess, Slav, Bass, Matt Su and Mack Dargle. More from the First Drop spread out behind them: Janet, Anna

Bollinger, the Doyles, Joe Latore and Dick Aarens.

Mitford, arms crossed over his chest, grinned. 'You and me both know the problem with rumours, admiral, but I'm not going into decline over 'em, scanned or not. Especially when everyone'll wake up tomorrow in the same shape they went to sleep in." 'Yes, that will solve that problem, but not the bigger ones we must seriously consider,' Scott said. He looked at Zainal. 'I take it that phenomenal display had nothing to do with either Eosi or Catteni space-craft?" "Absolutely nothing. The satellites' reports are going to cause a big stir, I know that much,' and Zainal grinned broadly. 'The Eosi won't like to see what came. They will be very worried.

Finally." 'You were a scout, weren't you, Zainal?" Bill Fetterman asked.

"You ever encountered any traces of them in this galaxy?" Zainal shook his head. 'This is new solar system for Eosi and Catteni. Which is why we,' and he emphasized the plural as he glanced around to include everyone there in the pronoun, 'are colonizing it. What I know is that their technology is far superior to Eosi. I also do not fear them as I do Eosi." 'You don't?" Scott was not the only one surprised by that admission. 'How do you arrive at that conclusion considering what just happened?" 'Because of what just happened,' Zainal said, as if that should be obvious. 'No-one was injured by scanning. The homer was replaced. No, I do not fear the Farmers. A . . ." and he put his hand flat against his stomach, 'a . . . gut feeling." 'Does anyone else share this . . . gut feeling?" Scott asked, more amused than patronizing.

"After seeing that valley, I'm inclined to agree,' Kris said.

There was something about the ambience in the valley that she thought the entire team shared: its tranquillity, carefully saved and preserved by the blocked entrance. 'These are not killers, like Eosi.

They nourish this planet carefully." 'Why don't they get rid of the night-crawlers, then, I'd like to know?" Dowdall asked sourly.

"Very efficient in clearing up waste and garbage,' said Kris.

"They made safe places to keep something in, or something out.

Eosi do not do such things. The Farmers are very different from Eosi .

. . and Catteni." Lenny Doyle raised his hand, grinning. "I'd be a bit more apt to believe him if the Mechs . . . the Farmers . . .

hadn't nearly chopped us up for the crates. But Zainal got us out before they could - and besides, the machines weren't programmed to know the difference between us and loo-cows."

Dick Aarens made a low disclaimer.

"Would that suggest the Farmers aren't bipedal?" Scott asked.

"No, it only suggests that the Farmers' machines were not programmed to differentiate between warm-blooded species,' said Kris.

"Could the Mechs have been made in the form of their makers?" Janet asked, her eyes flicking around for reassurance.

Lenny began to guffaw at the notion, laughter he tried to stifle when he saw how he offended Janet.

"C'mon, Janet,' Aarens said rudely, 'spare us that religious tripe . . . made in their image? Shit, no! Every single piece of equipment on this planet is a masterpiece of design, using renewable power sources and with easy access for self-repair and maintenance.

No-one's been able to figure out what sort of alloy was used, but the machinery is practically indestructible." 'Until you came along,' Janet said angrily, stung by Aarens' snide manner.

"That does not, however,' and Ray Scott jumped in quickly, waving for both of them to sit down, 'give us any insights into what course of action the Farmers might take when that orbiting whizz-ball of theirs reports that all the machinery in a goodsized section of their farmlands is no longer in operating condition." Kris covered her mouth to hide her grin. She wouldn't have expected that sort of wry assessment from the admiral.

"Let us not digress into useless speculation,' Scott went on.

Will the Eosi do anything to Botany while they're studying the reports? Like a blockade?" 'Or at least stop shipping us more colonists?" asked Pete Easley in a plaintive tone.

"That is more likely,' Zainal said.

"What I had more in mind is sending a team to investigate a planet that has been the last point of call for a scout-ship and two transports." 'What about blaming the E.T.s for disappearing those ships?" asked Lenny Doyle with a bright grin.

"That would be too much to hope for,'Jim Rastancil said, but he grinned back at Lenny.

"The Eosi do not care what happens to a colony like this one,' Zainal said. 'But they will not like what happened today when they see the reports. The Eosi believe that their technology is best." 'And they'll find it hard to swallow that it isn't,' Ra'stancil put in, quite satisfied with that turn.

"So, it's the Eosi who are your inventors?" Ainger asked.

"Yes. They supply the plans. Catteni build." 'You're sure they won't come after Botany because it has attracted such extra . . ." Rastancil asked, pausing for the appropriate tem, 'stellar visitations?"

Zainal considered this.

"How the hell can Zainal answer that, General?" Mitford asked with some acrimony. 'The Eosi have been supreme in space so far - at least to hear Catteni tell it, and I heard all their tales when I was stuck in Barevi." 'There will be much worry and many meetings,' Zainal said, obviously enjoying Eosian consternation. 'You,' and he gestured to those around the table, mostly the newest to arrive on Botany, 'do not realize how low Earthmen are in their great minds and . . .

serfs." He looked at Kris to see if he had the right word. 'They will spend much effort and time trying to find out who sent that very, very fast space machine. Not,' and he paused for emphasis, 'why it should appear here around their penal colony."

"That's a relief,' murmured Anna in the row behind.

"That's some relief,' echoed Rastancil, sitting back.

'So we can put the Eosi response to this in the slow lane, then,' Scott said, 'but I doubt we can ignore the response of the Farmers." 'He thinks by calling them "Farmers", they won't scare us as much,' Janet remarked to Anna.

Kris grinned over her shoulder at Janet, but the woman was whistling in the dark: her eyes were scared and her chin trembled slightly. Anna Bollinger, who had left her baby son with someone for this meeting, looked even more frightened.

"I hoped to get their attention, Admiral, as the one chance I saw - then - of getting off this planet and back home. Best scenario would be to make them notice the Eosi/Catteni combine,' Mitford said.

"A bit naive of you, wasn't it, sergeant?" asked Geoffrey Amger.

"Now, wait just a minute, Ainger,' said Kris, sitting up straight with the anger that bit of condescension roused in her. She was not placated by Easley leaning over to murmur something to the British naval officer.

"My apologies, Miss Bjornsen, I forget how little you had at your disposal in the early days,' Ainger said, elevating his butt off the chair, 'Sergeant Mitford, no offence intended." 'None taken,' Mitford said equably and waved his hand, accepting the apology. The hand came down on Kris's leg, a reminder that he was well able to defend himself.

"It was at the very least what any noncom should do,' Bull Fetterman said. 'Establish what escape route is possible to return to his regiment." 'We established a lot more than that,' said Dick Aarens, jumping to his feet. 'And we've done a damned good job of converting the Mech Makers' stuff to human needs. Give us some credit, damn it!" 'We do, I assure you, Mr Aarens, especially since you contrived so many of the improvements . . ." Reidenbacker began.

"We'd better stop congratulating ourselves,' Mitford put in, 'begging your pardon, sir, but I'd like to hear what Admiral Scott now has in mind." Kris covered her mouth quickly because it was obvious from Scott's expression that he had nothing in mind . . . yet.

"What I'd like to hear again . . . friends,' and Scott was having trouble finding an appropriately inoffensive group noun, 'is exactly your impressions of the arrival of the Leviathan you saw, collecting this planet's harvests." 'If you mean, were we scanned then?" Kris asked. 'No, we weren't." 'Hell, Admiral, the ship didn't even know we were there,' Jay Greene said. 'It just sailed overhead like some sort of . . ." and he waved his hand above his head, 'a monstrous dinosaur."

"It didn't land?"

"Not that we saw,' Mitford replied.

"Zainal led a group of us back here, because we thought that's where it hovered,' Ninety Doyle said. 'We weren't that far behind it when it took off again. There wasn't a bloody thing left of the acres of crates we had to climb to get out of here." 'So there was nothing in it of the speed and flexibility of what buzzed us?" Beverly asked.

"Nuh-huh,' and Ninety shook his head emphatically.

"Different yoke entirely." 'We sort of thought at the time,' said Jay Greene, 'that it was pre-programmed to do its job. That there wasn't any life form aboard it."

Rastancil whistled, impressed. 'Totally automated?"

"And a culture which has patently invented matter transmitters .

. ." Scott said, clearing his throat.

"That would have been the only way all that stuff could have been loaded in the time it hovered,' Ninety agreed. 'Just like on Star Trek." 'Then it is entirely likely that today's scanner is also totally automated,' Easley said, quickly changing the subject from that awesome concept.

"We couldn't get any idea of the mass-of the scanner,' Rastancil said. 'I was on the bridge when it began its orbit and the transport doesn't have much in the way of fancy detection devices . . ." He looked over at Marrucci, who had been in the scout.

The pilot shook his head, holding up his hands. 'I couldn't figure out what to activate on the board." He looked at Zainal.

"The scout will not track such speed,' the Catteni said.

"So essentially, we must wait until the device sends its reports to the Farmers,' Scott said, 'and then await results." 'Isn't there anything we can do to save us?" Anna Bollinger's voice had a slightly hysterical note in it.

"We can't just sit still and do nothing." Janet added her protest.

A slightly supercilious expression crossed Admiral Scott's face and Kris, who had started to like the man, changed her opinion again.

"If he asks her what she thinks we should do . . ." she murmured to Mitford, who once again clamped his hand on her leg in restraint as he turned round to Janet.

"There's a lot we can do, Janet, and that's why we're here.

Now, we've done pretty well so far, haven't we?" he asked, and waited until she gave her head an unwilling nod. 'So just hold tight a bit longer, huh?" Then Mitford turned back to the front table. 'Since it's a fair bet that the scanner saw that we've altered all the machines that are supposed to be in the various garages and barns we've been using, why don't we start by clearing them out? I'd also recommend that we explore that nearer continent with the view of taking up our residence there . . . that is, if we find the Farmers haven't set up shop there, too." Scott was nodding acceptance of these suggestions; even Ainger looked less dour.

"There're all those closed valleys on this continent, blocked to keep something in, or something out. How many did we discover, Zainal?" Mitford turned to his right.

"Several dozens. We must ask the map woman, Sheila, for details." 'The caves are ours,' Patti Sue said firmly, the last person Kris would have thought would speak up in such a meeting. "We've made them livable." 1' 1'

"But we have trespassed,' Janet said to her.

Kris didn't dare look round at Janet; what she was saying was so weird from a woman who was considered basically quite sensible. Maybe the scan had done something to some folks after all. She shuddered, deciding she wasn't going to think there could be the least bit of truth in those asinine rumours. All products of insecurity and lack of self-confidence: certainly nothing with any factual basis.

"If we give them back what we took . . . ,' Janet went on and then, hearing Dick Aarens' contemptuous snort at that idea, she whirled round on him, pointing her finger. 'You're the one who started taking their machines apart . . ." 'Janet!" Once again Mitford called her to order, twisting round to face her. 'You're not thinking this through, and you're not a silly woman. You've been such a strength to so Many who got here confused and scared." Sandy Areson had discreetly moved to sit on Janet's other side and now put a comforting arm around her shoulders, nodding once to Mitford to indicate she would take over now.

"What was done, is done, and I doubt even the best of our mechanical geniuses could put all the parts back together again,' Scott said in a conciliatory tone, 'not that that would be even remotely feasible since we'll need every single thing we've contrived from their machinery to effect an evacuation of their premises. If that is one of our options." 'I think retreat in the face of overwhelming strength is usually considered a sensible course of action,' Bull Fetterman said at his driest.

He got scattered laughter for his attempt to reduce the tension in the mess hall.

"Furthermore we can prepare places for everyone,' Beverly said with a big smile, 'if what I've seen of some of those valleys is any indication." 'The other continent's a better idea, General,' Mitford said, rising from his chair. 'Especially as we now have the Tub to do reconnaissance. Which I had planned to do anyway."

"Positive action is always admirable, Sergeant,' said Scott,

'and I suggest you complete your plans and get them under way as soon as possible." 'Will Yuri's group start immediate evacuations, too?" And Mitford swung half-way round, indicating Janet.

"You better believe it,' but it was Reidenbacker who answered the question and he gave Janet an encouraging smile and a thumb's-up gesture. She made a pathetic little sound in her throat but managed a brief smile, still twisting her hands nervously in her lap.

"They'd better consider that there'll be a lot more newcomers reacting like Janet,' Kris murmured to Mitford, who nodded his head.

"Shouldn't we clear out all the things we've made?" Dick Aarens asked.

"We need everything to function with. And the scout? Where can we stash that now if we've got to clear the barns?" Scott held up his hands. 'Give us a few hours here,' and he gestured to the specialists sitting behind him, 'and we'll formulate the necessary plans and set up teams to implement them.

Now, I know some of you have been upset by the whizz-ball we had this morning . . ." His label for the orbital caught everyone's attention, and he grinned to see its effect. 'But we don't want to start another batch of rumours with those who still feel insecure here on Botany. Let's be careful how we discuss this meeting outside the mess hall, shall we? I ask all of you, by whatever you hold sacred, not to start a second wave of ridiculous rumours. We'll do as much as humanly possible to rectify our misappropriation of housing and effects. Certainly our first priority is getting people out of our landlords' buildings and to safer places, like the valleys. Equally important is preserving the equipment we need to conduct an orderly evacuation." Chuck Mitford turned round to those behind him. 'Keep in mind, folks, it's taken the Farmers more than nine months to discover we're here. I'd say we have plenty of time to get elsewhere and at least sweep the garages and barns clean before we leave. Right, Janet?

Anna?"

"That should be long enough,' Patti Sue said so staunchly that Kris, remembering how fearful the girl had once been, nearly cheered out loud at that vote of confidence.

Both Janet and Anna obviously responded to her remark and looked less despondent.

"Of course,' Patti threw them all by adding ingenuously, 'they might not come until the growing season starts and we don't even know when winter ends, if this is winter." Zainal got to his feet again.

"I like the idea of moving us all to the other continent if it is okay,' he said. 'I think we should go soon. The airships can look at the other land-mass. It may not be as barren as it looks from space.

If it is, they can help us search." Ninety got to his feet as soon as Zainal sat down. 'There are a lot of those closed valleys, too, which obviously weren't used by the Farmers. Maybe we can put people in them." When he heard protests arise, he added, 'With stairs to get out when you have to. The valleys grow trees and bushes. We could transfer a lot of the stuff we've been growing to feed us to the valleys. And aren't the Turs and Catteni trying 'em out for us?" He grinned broadly, with a teasing glance at Zainal.

Mitford rose. 'I agree with Zainal, for what it's worth,' he said with an unusual touch of humility.

"Serge, you had the only idea feasible. Don't have a guilt trip over it now,' Kris said staunchly, and her remark was quickly seconded by many in the hall.

"We all helped,' said Joe Latore, and turning around in his seat, looked straight at Dick Aarens. 'Didn't we?"

Aarens noticeably ignored him.

"Yes, but what happens if we move to the other continent?" Anna Bollinger asked, her face crumbling with fear, 'and they come after us there?" Janet immediately put a reassuring arm around her shoulders and glared around.

"Hell's bells, missus,' Ninety said, 'there're caves all over the planet they'd never find you in. And probably caves across the channel, too, wouldn't you say, Zainal?"

Kris turned round, one hand going to Anna's knee. 'We know

it's your son you're really worried about, Anna, but why borrow any more trouble than we've already got?" 'Which brings me to the subject of the Catteni contribution to our present crisis,' Scott said.

"Zainal, what will your High Eosi do when the satellite reports that whizz-ball?" 'Worry,' Zainal answered succinctly, his yellow eyes glinting with mischief.

Scott allowed a slight smile at Zainal's facetiousness. 'Would they come back to inspect Botany or set up a blockade of warships or something similar?" 'First, it will be discussed. Second, the satellite checked for faults that what it reported is true. Third, they may send someone to see what happened to us." Zainal obviously doubted his third point was likely.

"Fourth, what if they send us more colonists?" Sandy Areson asked.

Zainal considered that for a moment, dropping his chin to his chest. 'I think no more colonists come for a while now, Sandy." "Especially since it's been unlucky for them to land on this planet,' Aarens put in, chuckling.

Zainal went on as if Aarens hadn't aired his wit. 'They will not believe the speed of the whizz-ball." 'And they will know that it did not originate in this solar system?" Scott asked.

Zainal nodded. 'They will think a long time before they do anything." 'Good,' Scott said, rubbing his hands together. "Then that will give us time to remove ourselves completely. As I understand Catteni colonial policy, Zainal, they might even abandon the planet as unsuitable. Is that right?"

Zainal nodded.

"So we might be all right after all?" Anna Bollinger asked, her tear-streaked face brightening.

"It is entirely possible,' Scott said with considerable and sincere aplomb.

The upshot of the discussion was not a referendum after all, but

the organization of scouting parties to check out every single one of what Ninety Doyle tagged 'lonesome valleys'. Small groups would quarter in the valleys to discover any unusual denizens, though none had been seen in either of the other two inhabited places. Once Mitford had organized the basics of those explorations, he left a sheaf of instructions with Easley as 'the manual' and roused the members of his combined team.

They set off before second moonrise since the amphibious vehicle had lights. It also had excellent suspension, because Mitford slept his usual six hours as Zainal drove it over surfaces rough and smooth.

The driver sat in the centre of this vehicle, with seating for two on either side and control panels across the width of the 'command' position. Zainal gave demonstrations to his relief drivers, Joe Marley and Astrid, conducting a running lesson on the vehicle's potential and what each control was supposed to show, what the various icons on the panel board meant.

"Have we got a periscope?" Marley wanted to know in a facetious mood.

"Third button on right, sun icon,' said Zainal.

"Why didn't I guess?" 'We can drive deep, cannot use scope. Says the manual,' Zainal replied.

"A man who will read manuals!" Sarah gave a sigh of exaggerated respect.

Joe gingerly tapped the 'glass' of the slit window beside him.

"How much pressure will this stand?" 'Enough. We will not go deep. Is more built for cor-ro-sive atmospheres,' Zainal added.

"Which is to close vents, Astrid?" he asked, testing her memory of the functions on the panel in front of her.

"This one,' she said, promptly pointing to it.

"Got it in one,' said Zainal and Kris, seated behind him, chuckled. He leaned back. 'I learn new ones every day, don't I?"

"I, too,' said Astrid proudly.

"You sure do, Astrid,' Joe agreed, grinning at her.

Sarah, seated behind him, tapped his shoulder. 'And what

have you learned today, Francis Marley?" she asked, teasing him with his hated Christian name.

"I'll tell ya later,' doe said, giving her a mock leer.

"Any time, cobber,' she replied.

The point at which they were headed was close to 500 miles from Camp Narrow, and the intention was to drive straight through to their destination with only brief halts to let air circulate through the Tub.

It was such a new piece of equipment that it reeked of paint, oil and other strong odours and needed to have its air system flushed out, especially before they submerged. So they stopped from time to time, to brew tea and relieve themselves.

By midmorning the next day, the sea sparkled ahead of them.

Visible without benefit of the binoculars was the irregular lavender coastline of the neighbour land-mass. The water before them was calm, with gentle ripples curling over onto the beach.

"Further away than Dover from Calais,' Astrid said, for she had travelled extensively in Europe in her college days.

Zainal said something in Catteni, flicked up his left hand when the number he wanted refused to come to mind. 'Six or seven plus seven tens,' he said.

"Seventy-six,' said Kris. 'And how fast will the Tub go underwater?"

"Not as fast as on land,' he replied. 'Half the speed."

"That's far from slow,' said Joe, impressed, and he peered at the sloping shoreline. 'Shallow?" he wondered.

"We'll find out soon enough,' Mitford said. 'All aboard,' end he called in Astrid, Bjorn and Jan who had been searching for clams on the pebbly shoreline.

They had no sooner reached the flotation point for the Tub than a quick ping began to echo from Joe's panel. 'Sonar?" he asked and then saw the gauge that was lighting up. 'Or something like it. Are you taking us down, skipper?"

Zainal shook his head. 'Distance to bottom."

Water was reaching the slit windows now and covering twothirds of the main one, and the slight movement of the waves could be felt.

"I forgot to ask,' Mitford said, 'does anyone on board get seasick . . . besides me?"

"Serge? You can't,' Kris said in mock-alarm.

Leila, who had watched as was her custom, now rose from her seat and went aft. She returned with a large basin which she offered to Mitford. He gave her such a disgusted look that she started to apologize.

"I was only trying to be helpful."

"He's teasing you, Leila,' said Kris.

"Maybe I'm not,' Mitford said, staring down at the basin.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Kris murmured.

He nodded.

"Oh,' she said, in as sympathetic a tone as she could manage.

No wonder he hadn't been so keen to fly in Baby.

"The way the Tub is moving, serge,' Joe said in a very cheerful tone, 'we'll be there in no time at all. No time at all!'

"Just think of it, Chuck . . ."