"You honor us," Smooth Hand said, bowing over his moving hands.

At each side of the document were blank blocks enclosed in festoons of scrollwork, images of vines, flowers, insects and birds. Keff figured out that those were the signature blocks when he managed to decipher his name, picked out delicately in filament-thin characters, running in a border around the right-hand block.

The aide floated over the heads of the crowd and laid the squares of wood neatly beside one another in the center of the table. Smooth Hand followed to stand with one long hand touching each.

Smooth Hand nodded to Keff to join him. The crowd of reporters parted, flowing back into the main audience. Keff fumbled at his tunic pocket and drew out two small devices.

"I'm so excited I nearly forgot these," he said. "These are short-run permanent recorders which I would like to use to immortalize this moment for the CenCom. One is a gift to you, to keep in your admirable archives."

"We thank you for your thoughtfulness," Smooth Hand said. "Your request is granted. Set them where they will catch all of this great moment."

"Well," Keff said, picking up the silver scriber the aide handed him. He tested it against his palm and found it sharp-edged enough to skim off a layer of skin. "This is it, Carialle."

"This is it," she agreed. "A moment for all the Central Worlds, and for us as well. Go for it, Sir Galahad."

"I do it all for you, Lady Fair." He grinned to himself and nodded to the senior councillor.

Smooth Hand looked out across the sea of faces. "All of you bear witness to this moment, in which we find we are not alone in this great galaxy, but among friends." He took his scriber and incised his name in the left-hand block on both blocks of wood. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. He signalled to Keff, who stepped forward and bowed over the first of the documents.

"Hold it," Carialle's voice said sharply in his ear. "Don't do it."

Keff stopped, arrested with his hand centimeters above the wood. "Why not? What's wrong, Carialle?"

"What is it?" Smooth Hand asked, seeing the human's mouth moving almost silently. "Is something wrong?"

"Cari?"

Her voice in his ear was as crisp and sharp as an artificial-intelligence generated construct. "Don't sign a thing. The entire deal is on hold. I have just received a message back from the CenCom. There's a ship at the perimeter of this system, and they are here to take over negotiations. We are off this mission as of now!"

"What?" Keff demanded. "They can't do that!"

"They can, and have! The CenCom sends its compliments, compliments, but we are ordered to step back to avoid any 'unforeseen difficulties.' It's the Inspector General's doing. I am so mad that I could just flame out!" but we are ordered to step back to avoid any 'unforeseen difficulties.' It's the Inspector General's doing. I am so mad that I could just flame out!"

Keff didn't like the edge in her voice. "Try and stay calm, Lady Fair. I'll get out of here and come to you. We'll discuss this." He looked up at the crowd, who were fluttering surreptitious messages at one another, and at Smooth Hand, clearly wondering what was going on. Swallowing his concern for Carialle, he forced a smile to his lips. He hoped his growing command of the Cridi language would sufficiently support him through this delicate moment.

"Gentle-males and gentle-females, I sincerely beg your pardon," he said, setting down the scriber. A few in the audience gasped at his action, and he made a gesture intended to show humility. "I have just been informed that, er, that diplomats senior to Carialle and myself have just arrived in your star system. This is such an important matter that they wish to take part in this ceremony themselves. If you will forgive this terrible breach of manners, may I beg a short delay until they may join us?"

Smooth Hand's face, compressed into a frown of concern, opened up in comprehension. "Ah!" he squeaked. "I see. With the greatest of reluctance, friend Keff, I see no reason why not to allow. We know and trust you you, but we understand the pressures of state."

There was a general murmur, only partly of agreement, from the rest of the council. Keff heard undertones of distrust and dismay beneath it. Big Voice scowled and crossed his arms as if to say he'd assumed all along the humans would back away at the last minute.

"Thank you, Councillor Smooth Hand, and all the rest of the conclave, gentle-females and gentle-males. I must go and prepare for the arrival of our senior delegates. I...we'll be back as soon as we can. If you will excuse me?" He barely waited for the council to signal their assent before he was running up the aisles in a crouch.

"Hold on, Lady Fair," he murmured as he ran out of the hall and into the muddy street. "I'll be with you in just a moment. Don't do anything rash."

"I'm not going to do anything anything," Carialle said, but her voice rose in volume and pitch until he winced. "But Dr. Sennet Maxwell-Corey is going to pay heavily for this. I am not not crazy!" crazy!"

Chapter Seven.

Tall Eyebrow caught up with Keff about twenty meters outside the door, and swept him up on a wave of Core power.

"I will take you swiftly to 'the One Who Watches From Behind the Walls,'" he said.

The two of them flew up over the jungle-fringed city blocks toward the spacefield. Luckily for Keff's atmospheric acrophobia, he had no attention to spare for looking down. He had enough on his hands trying to calm down his partner, who kept up a steady stream of diatribe in his ears.

"...Muck-faced, baby-eating, acephalitic bastard bastard," Carialle kept saying. "First, he rigged me with a booby trap, illegally, without my knowledge, and set it to go off without waiting to get full data on the situation. Now he sees to our disgrace before the entire Cridi population. What's next?"

"I'm sure we can work out the mistake," Keff said, over and over again. "Just exactly what did they say?"

With admirable control, Tall Eyebrow brought them to a perfect landing on the ramp of the ship. Keff threw a bare nod over his shoulder for thanks, and ran inside.

"Oh, they were polite," Carialle said. Her voice beat double on his eardrums, coming from the cabin speakers as well as his implant. When he cringed at the sheer power of her vocal volume, she relented and turned it down, deactivating the mastoid bone receiver entirely. "So sorry, but orders are orders."

Keff plumped down in his crash couch. Tall Eyebrow hovered sympathetically near Carialle's titanium pillar.

"Let's see the message," Keff said.

The screen in front of him filled with the hailing graphic used in all Central Worlds Fleet communiques. It vanished, and the image of a man appeared. His long jaws and heavy eyebrows made him look melancholy, but his voice was a pleasantly warm tenor.

"CK-963, this is the DSC-902. Respectful greetings. I am Captain Gavon. I am sending you a tightbeam of messages entrusted to me by the Central Committee. I know the content of these datafiles. I want to assure you in advance that I regret the intrusion as much as you do. Standing by."

The messages followed. As Carialle had dreaded, the first was from the head of Explorations, Dr. Michael Brinker-Levy. His pleasant, dark-skinned face glanced out at them from the screen. He gave them an apologetic smile.

"Carialle and Keff, we have just received communication from the Inspector General for your sectors, Dr. Corey. He had an emergency buoy that you had launched at this point," a star chart overlay his face. "The internal recordings from Telemetry showed you were in no physical peril at the time, but nevertheless show dangerous adrenaline and toxicity levels in your system, Carialle. No updates and no further messages from you were received, except for a routine query for a databank search you sent recently."

"Nonsense," Keff said. "The IG must have heard from SPRIM and MM within microseconds. And what about your complaint for illegal circuit-tapping?"

"He oversees all queries about illegalities and improprieties in this sector," Carialle said bitterly. "And who is watching the watchman?" oversees all queries about illegalities and improprieties in this sector," Carialle said bitterly. "And who is watching the watchman?"

Brinker-Levy continued. "...I have also had a complaint on your behalf from the oversight agencies, SPRIM and MM, citing personal interference from the Inspector General. Under normal circumstances I would be able to take those into account first. Because you're engaged upon such a delicate negotiation that affects matters at the highest levels, if there is anything wrong, and your judgement is in some way impaired...you must understand we cannot take chances, and at this distant remove we have no way of judging for ourselves. Please cooperate in every way with Captain Gavon. He's a good man, and will need your help. Your knowledge of the Cridi culture and language are unsurpassed, and I have always been satisfied with the job you do," here he smiled, "even if you are a little unorthodox. I will take up the subject of your complaints while you are on your way back to Central Worlds, and send you updated information in transit."

"On the way back? What is he talking about?" Keff asked.

"There's more," Carialle said. "This was on the sideband." The visual didn't change from the graphic left after the end of Brinker-Levy's message, but a resonant voice broke over the speakers.

"Hi, gal," Simeon said. "Greetings from SSS-900-C. I received your query. I'm at a loss for natural causes that would have destroyed three starships. No abnormal outbreak of ion storms, comets, or other anomalies observed in your pinpoint area. I'm uploading to you all the data I have for the last fifty years. There's not much. Some of it's your own. That spot between P- and R-sector is rarely explored.

"I'm piggybacking on Exploration's message to you because I heard some scuttlebutt you need to know. Maxwell-Corey's out ringing doorbells again. The first probe caused quite a sensation. Pa-lenty unorthodox. He was going to be in deep spacedust with SPRIM, until the second probe arrived. The data on it was garbled, and your voice sounded woozy. That added fire to his insistence that there's still something wrong with your mind, and you need specialized long-term mental care. I sincerely hope not. He's arguing at the least you're severely overwrought. Keep it together, gal. Greetings to Keff."

The graphic faded, and the unwelcome sight of the Inspector General's mustachioed face flicked into being. Keff found himself unable to resist a sneer. Maxwell-Corey's vendetta against his partner had attained foolish proportions over the years, and he was becoming tired of the pompous bureaucrat and his implausible hobbyhorse. A dozen shrinks had proclaimed Carialle sane, but this control freak could not acknowledge the truth, would not acknowledge it. The tragedy was, he might be able to "prove" it by forcing her into unwitting admissions, recording angry outbursts, and twisting data to suit his purpose.

"CK-963 Carialle, in light of your two communications with the Central Worlds I am ordering you to SSF-863 for a full evaluation. You will brief the replacement team in full and return immediately when you have received this message. Maxwell-Corey out."

The screen blanked. Keff relaxed a little, realizing that his hands were ground into tight fists, and he was standing on the balls of his feet, as if ready to meet an attacker.

Captain Gavon's face reappeared, his long face sympathetic.

"I am sorry," Gavon said, and the catch in his voice showed Keff the diplomat was under a tremendous strain. "We'll be with you in a matter of hours. Gavon out."

"They can't do that to us," Keff said. "We'll fight them, Cari. Cari?"

Carialle didn't answer. She ignored the input from her screens, antennae, and camera eyes. For a moment, just for a moment, at the sound of the Inspector General's mocking voice, her long-buried subconscious had flashed back to a memory she thought had been destroyed with her first ship. . . feeling not so much as hearing a slight vibration from the hull above her, as footsteps stopped-as if someone was laughing at her. Laughing at her helplessness!

No, she said to herself, pulling back into the inmost security of her shell. she said to herself, pulling back into the inmost security of her shell. I will not let myself be forced. I am not mad. I'm cured! I will not let myself be forced. I am not mad. I'm cured! she cried. she cried. I'm cured, I'm cured, I'm cured. I'm cured, I'm cured, I'm cured. But the tapping and the sounds of her own screams came back to her. She started counting the seconds again. But the tapping and the sounds of her own screams came back to her. She started counting the seconds again. One, two, three... One, two, three...

Her power levels all dropped for a dizzying, frightening millisecond. Carialle snapped out of her reverie, and went back on full alert. All scopes were back to normal. She wondered what had happened. Then she became aware that Keff was pounding on her titanium pillar and shouting.

"Carialle! Answer me! Cari!"

"What happened?" she demanded. "I felt a blackout."

The brawn staggered backward, limp with relief. "Tall Eyebrow blinked your power, just once. I'm glad it was enough."

"It was," Carialle said, vastly relieved. "I needed the shock. Thank you, TE." She made her frog image appear. It sketched a graceful half-bow and spread out its hands. The Frog Prince swept a self-deprecatory palm across.

"It was nothing. I was worried."

"I was going to pull the fire bell in a moment," Keff said. "We lost you there, lady."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I...I was back there there again. I was again. I was counting counting. Maybe in a way that bastard is right."

"He's not right!" Keff shouted. His normally cheerful face was a furious shade of red. Tall Eyebrow, hovering beside the brawn, shook his head vigorously. "If I could teleport in a blink to where he's laired up, I would find the nearest lavatory and stuff his grinning face down the head. Don't you worry. This is all a mistake. We'll show them the flight path and explain to them what happened. Let's tell Gavon the whole story. I'm sure all he knows is the gossip that's floating around, not the facts."

"I'm not giving up my mission," Carialle said. "We have earned earned this. We've earned the trust of the locals. We shouldn't be removed from the mission. I want to see it through." this. We've earned the trust of the locals. We shouldn't be removed from the mission. I want to see it through."

"So do I. Let's send a message to Gavon and ask him to reconsider. He can keep us here as aides, and then we can go back to CW." Keff threw himself into his crash couch, and scooted it up to be right in front of the video pickup.

Carialle calculated the location of the DSC-902, and put all she had behind the tightbeam message. All they could do until Gavon replied was wait.

During the time that passed, a few of the Cridi who had been in the amphitheater when Keff had to leave drifted by to visit and make their compliments. A few of the councillors were sympathetic. Unexpectedly, Snap Fingers was one of them.

"I am in business," he signed. "I came up from the merest clerk to my position now as second continental chief. I hate it that bureaucrats would take an assignment away from you. That should not happen. It shows a lack of confidence in you, which I wanted you to know was an error on the part of your superiors. If you were Cridi, I would be proud to have you working for me."

"You are very kind," Carialle's amphibioid image said with its hands.

"I mean what I say," Snap Fingers returned. "We are on opposite sides of the expansion question, but that does not mean we cannot be friends."

"Good people," Tall Eyebrow said, as the councillor departed. "I am proud to know them."

"You are one of them," Keff assured them.

Narrow Leg arrived just as Carialle received Gavon's reply. Tall Eyebrow quickly brought him up to date in sign language while Keff and Carialle listened to the message.

Captain Gavon's thin face looked more haggard, and his long jaw was set. "I have received your transmission. I regret that I have no 'slack' to cut you. Very, very sorry. This is not my idea. I have to follow my orders, too, you know. They are unequivocal and absolutely clear. I sent the messages on in advance so you could prepare."

"Damn," Keff said, watching with chin propped on his fist. He saw the record light pop on, and sat up straight.

"I am sorry, too," Carialle said, sending on a reply. "We did appreciate the extra notice, but it doesn't change the situation here. I don't want to put you on the spot, but you must see how this affects us."

"And what about the psychological effect on the native population of replacing a trusted team with strangers?" Keff put in earnestly. "You must let us stay. We can be of inestimable help to you."

Carialle sent the message, all the while muttering. "Rotoscoped, animated bastard from a bad, grade-D, psycho-horror flick-in 2-D! I don't mean Gavon," Carialle said quickly, in Keff's ear. "I mean the IG."

"What is he?" Narrow Leg asked, listening with interest but no comprehension to Carialle's stream of invective. Tall Eyebrow attempted to translate, but gave up almost at once as the spare knowledge he had of Standard colloquialisms failed him. Carialle realized belatedly that she had left open the communication channels to the frogs' sign-language image, and swiftly blanked the wall. is he?" Narrow Leg asked, listening with interest but no comprehension to Carialle's stream of invective. Tall Eyebrow attempted to translate, but gave up almost at once as the spare knowledge he had of Standard colloquialisms failed him. Carialle realized belatedly that she had left open the communication channels to the frogs' sign-language image, and swiftly blanked the wall.

"The Inspector General has authority over our department, and he has a personal grudge against Carialle," Keff said, explaining more simply. "He is responsible for having us recalled, and the other team taking our place."

"We have no choice," Carialle broke in. "We'll have to lift sooner or later."

"Maybe I can slow down IT so we have to stay through the negotiations," Keff offered.

Carialle's laugh was bitter. "Hah! IT doesn't need to be slowed down. The holes in it leak data like a screen door."

"That's not fair, lady. IT's been doing a wonderful job here."

She was instantly contrite. "I know. That's true. I'm upset."

"You must not leave," Tall Eyebrow said, gesturing frantically, his black eyes wide. "We may never see you again. How will I and my companions return to Ozran?"

"Gavon will take you," Carialle said. "We have no choice. We're off the mission."

"Or I," Narrow Leg said. "My ship is all but ready to launch. I would be proud to escort you home. Besides," he added, with a shrewd and amused glance, "my daughter would not forgive me if I shortened your time together."

Tall Eyebrow looked somewhat mollified and a little abashed.

"But what about trade between my world and yours?" Narrow Leg asked Keff.

"That won't be affected. Even greater authority for decision-making rests with Gavon. We're not really diplomats. Our usual job is exploration of unknown space. Normally we file the preliminary report on a potentially sentient race. We've never been the follow-up team before."

"We prefer you," Narrow Leg said. "We understand one another, you two and I. A diplomat might not be such a seasoned risk-taker. We may not cooperate with this replacement. I can get the council snarled up for years to delay." The high-pitched voice described a geometric progression.

"Don't. Gavon's a good man," Carialle said. She was pleased by the Cridi's offer to side with them, but disliked the idea of fighting her battles unfairly. "Don't blame him for this. Let's see what he says about letting us stay on to help."

Two hours passed. Keff received more visitors from the conclave, and later served a synthesized meal to the Ozranian delegates, Narrow Leg, and Big Eyes, who turned up again in the late evening to sit with Tall Eyebrow. As he ate, Keff kept his eye on the chronometer, impatiently willing a message to come, to beat the next turn of the number.