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Admiral Peary, do you read me?” Major Nichols asked. “Are you there?”

“Where else would we be?” Flynn asked reasonably. “Ah, forgive me for asking, Major, but is the Commodore Perry armed?”

“That is affirmative,” Nicole Nichols said. “We are armed.” She used an emphatic cough, which answered that. “We did not know for certain that you had arrived when we departed, and we did not know what kind of reception we would get when we entered this solar system. Can you please summarize the present political situation?”

“I do believe I would describe it as a mess,” Flynn said, a word that summed things up as well as any other for Glen Johnson. Flynn went on, “You’ll need more details than that. I can put you through to Lieutenant General Healey, our commandant, and he can patch you through to Sam Yeager, our ambassador.”

That produced a pause a good deal longer than required by speed-of-light. “Sam Yeager is your ambassador? Where is the Doctor?” Major Nichols asked. She used interrogative coughs, too.

“They couldn’t revive him from cold sleep,” Flynn said.

“I… see. How… unfortunate,” Major Nichols said. “Well, yes, please arrange the transfer, Colonel, if you’d be so kind. Whoever the man on the spot has been, we’ll have to deal through him.”

Flynn fiddled with the communications controls. Lieutenant General Healey said, “It’s about time I get to speak for myself, Colonel.” Whatever he said after that, he said to Major Nichols. Johnson and Flynn shared a look. If the commandant hadn’t liked what the pilots were saying, he could have interrupted them whenever he pleased. But what really pleased him was complaining.

“Five and a half weeks from Earth to Home. Five and a half weeks. We can go back,” Johnson said dizzily.

“Maybe we can go back,” Flynn said. “If it’s not weightless aboard the Commodore Perry, I wouldn’t want to try it.”

Johnson said something of a barnyard nature. That hadn’t occurred to him. “I wonder how they did it,” he said, and then, “I wonder whether I’d get it if they told me.” Would his own great-grandfather have understood radio and airplanes? He doubted it.

Understood or not, though, the Commodore Perry was there. The Lizards were still trying to call it, a rising note of panic in their voices. One of them must have figured out what Major Nichols had said. And how would they like that?

16

Atvar awaited the shuttlecraft descending from orbit around Home with a sinking feeling in his liver. He made the negative gesture. No, that wasn’t true. As a matter of fact, his liver felt as if it had already sunk all the way down to his toeclaws. Even in his wildest nightmares, he had never imagined a day like this might come.

And Straha had. Of all the males of the Race the Americans might have picked to rub Atvar’s snout in his own failings, Straha was the prize example. Did they know that? Atvar laughed bitterly. Of course they did! They had to.

Faster than light! The Big Uglies could travel faster than light! The Race had decided that was impossible even before Home was unified, and hadn’t worried much about it since. Some Tosevite physicist had come to the same conclusion, and the Big Uglies had believed him… while Atvar was on Tosev 3, anyhow. Unlike the Race, the Tosevites had kept worrying at the idea, though. The Race had got a scent of some of their earliest experiments, but…

Yes. But, Atvar thought bitterly. The difference between what the Race had and what the Big Uglies had was the difference between a scent and the beast it came from. And the Big Uglies’ beast was a starship.

Now what? the fleetlord wondered. Blasting the Commodore Perry would have been tempting-if another American starship might not be only days behind, might escape, and might bring word of war back to the United States long before the Race’s colony on Tosev 3 could hope to hear about it. That was a recipe for disaster.

Preventive war seemed to have gone up in smoke. Too late, too late, too late. Again, how could you hope to attack someone who knew the bite was coming long before your teeth sank in-and who could bite you whenever he pleased? Home, at least, could defend itself. What about Rabotev 2 and Halless 1? If the Big Uglies wanted to, they could smash the Empire’s other worlds before Home warned them they might be in danger.

Too late, too late, too late. The words tolled again, like a mournful gong inside Atvar’s head.

After a moment, he realized not all that noise was internal. Some came through his hearing diaphragms. The terminal at the shuttlecraft port was efficiently soundproofed. All the same, the braking rockets’ roar penetrated the insulating material and filled the building.

The windows facing the fire-scarred landing field were tinted. Even so, nictitating membranes flicked across Atvar’s eyes to protect them from the glare. The shuttlecraft settled smoothly onto the concrete. Crashes were vanishingly rare; computer control made sure of that. Atvar wouldn’t have minded seeing one of those rare, rare accidents now. No, he wouldn’t have minded a bit. Watching Straha cook…

Didn’t happen. The shuttlecraft’s braking rockets cut off. Silence returned to the terminal. Atvar didn’t quite let out a disappointed hiss. He hadn’t really hoped the shuttlecraft would crash-or, if he had, he hadn’t really expected it to.

Down came the landing ladder. The female who descended first wore the body paint of a shuttlecraft pilot. That would not be the pilot of this craft, but Nesseref, the traveler from Tosev 3. Behind her came a male of about Atvar’s years. Straha had at least not had the effrontery to wear a shiplord’s body paint, but rather the much plainer colors of an author. Last off the shuttlecraft was the Halless who’d brought it down from the Commodore Perry. Atvar forgot about the Halless right away; his attention was all on the newly arrived members of the Race.

Guards surrounded them and escorted them into the terminal. Straha said something to one of them. Her mouth fell open in a laugh. Straha had always been charming. That made Atvar like him no better.

Nesseref bent into the posture of respect as soon as she saw Atvar. “I greet you, Exalted Fleetlord,” she said.

“And I greet you,” he replied as she rose.

“Hello, Atvar,” Straha said. “Well, now we know-it could not have turned out worse if I had been in charge.” He added a sarcastic emphatic cough.

Atvar’s fingerclaws started to shape the threat gesture one male used against another in the mating season. He forced them to relax. It wasn’t easy. Neither was keeping his tone light as he answered, “Oh, I am not so sure of that. You might have lost the war against the Big Uglies instead of managing a draw. Then we could have had this to worry about even sooner.”

Straha glared at him. “Do not project your incompetence onto me.”

“I do not need to,” Atvar said. “You have plenty of your own.”

“Excuse me, superior sirs,” Nesseref said, “but quarreling among yourselves will not help solve the problem the Race faces.”

“Neither will not quarreling among ourselves,” Straha replied, “and quarreling is much more fun.”

“No, the shuttlecraft pilot speaks truth,” Atvar said. “I thank you, Shuttlecraft Pilot. I need to know first of all how you are certain of the Big Uglies’ claims about the speed of their starship.”

“We were conscious throughout the flight,” Nesseref said.

“Could you not have been drugged while asleep, put into cold sleep, and then revived the same way?” Atvar knew he was desperately searching for any escape from the Race’s predicament.

Nesseref made the negative gesture. “I do not believe so, Exalted Fleetlord.”

“Forget it, Atvar,” Straha said. “For one thing, the Big Uglies already have word of things that will just be reaching Home now. Even as we speak, researchers here will be corroborating what they say. For another, when they go back to Tosev 3, they are willing to take more members of the Race along and then return them to Home. They are not willing to let them communicate with the colonists in any way, for fear you might do something foolish like order an attack, but if the males and females get there and come back here in something less than a large number of years, that should convince even the stubbornest-perhaps even you.”