"That's not fair! I'm taking all these notes because-"

She never finished the remark. Max interrupted, shouting, "Take cover!"

The sudden whistle of split air became a rocking boom as something white flashed past nearly at treetop level. Fallen leaves whirled and floated out upon the meadow in its wake. Fiben did not remember diving behind a knotted tree root, but he peered over it in time to see the alien craft rise and come about at the crest of the far hill, then begin its return run.

He felt Gailet nearby. Max was to the left, already high in the branches of another tree. The others had flattened themselves over to the right, closer to the verge of the orchard.

Fiben saw one of them raise his weapon as the scoutcraft approached again.

"No!" he shouted, realizing he was already too late.

The edge of the meadow erupted. Gobbets of earth were thrown skyward, as if by angry demons. In the blink of an eye the maelstrom ripped through the nearest trees, propelling fragments of leaves, branches, dirt, flesh, and bone through the air in all directions.

Gailet stared at the chaos, slack-jawed. Fiben threw himself onto her just before the rolling explosion swept past them. He felt the wake of the white fighting craft as it roared past. Surviving trees rattled and shook from the momentum of displaced air. A steady rain of debris fell onto Fiben's back.

"Hmm-mmmph!"

Gailet's face emerged from under his arm. She gasped. "Get friggin' offa me before I suffocate, you smelly, flea-crackin', moth-eaten ..."

Fiben saw the enemy scout plane disappear over the hill. He got up quickly. "Come on," he said, hauling her to her feet. "We've got to get out of here."

Gailet's colorful curses ceased abruptly as she stood up. She gasped at the sight of what the Gubru weapon had done, staring as one does at what is too horrible to believe.

Bits of wood had been stirred vigorously with the grisly remains of three would-be warriors. The chims' rifles lay scattered among the wreckage.

"If you're plannin' on grabbing one of those weapons, you're on your own, sister."

Gailet blinked, then she shook her head and mouthed one word. No. She was convinced.

Then she whirled. "Max!"

She started toward where they had last seen her big, dour servant. But just then there came a rumbling sound.

Fiben stopped her. "Troop transports. We haven't got time. If he's alive and can get away he will. Let's go!"

The drone of giant machines drew closer. She resisted, still. "Oh, for Ifni's sake, think of saving your notes!" he urged.

That struck home. Gailet let him drag her along. She stumbled after him for a few paces, then caught her stride. Together they began to run.

Some girl, Fiben thought as they fled under the cover of the trees. She might be a pain in the a.s.s, but at least she's got s.p.u.n.k. First time she's ever seen anything like that, and she doesn't even throw up.

Yeah? Another little voice seemed to say inside him. And when did you ever see such a mess, either? s.p.a.ce battles are neat, clean, compared to this.

Fiben admitted to himself that the biggest reason he had not puked was that he'd be d.a.m.ned if he'd ever let himself lose his breakfast in front of this particular chimmie. He'd never give her the satisfaction.

Together they splashed across a muddy stream and sought cover away from there.

47 Athaclena It was all up to Benjamin now.

Athaclena and Robert watched from cover up on the slopes as their friend approached the grounded Gubru convoy. Two other chims accompanied Benjamin, one holding high a flag of truce. Its device was the same as the symbol for the Library-the rayed spiral of Galactic Civilization.

The chim emissaries had doffed homespun and were now decked out in silvery formal robes, cut in a style appropriate for bipeds of their form and status. It took courage to approach this way. Although the vehicles were disabled-there had not been a sign of activity for more than half an hour -- the three chims had to be wondering what the enemy would do.

"Ten to one the birds try using a robot first," Robert muttered, his eyes intent on the scene below.

Athaclena shook her head. "No bet, Robert. Notice! The door to the center barge is opening."

From their vantage point they could survey the entire clearing. The wreckage of the Howletts Center buildings loomed darkly over one still smoldering hover tank. Its sister, useless barrels drooping, lay canted on its shattered pressure-skirts.

In between the two wrecked fighting machines, from one of the disabled barges, a floating shape emerged.

"Right," Robert sniffed in disgust. It was, indeed, a robot. It, too, carried a flapping banner, another depiction of the rayed spiral.

"d.a.m.n birds won't admit chims are above the level of groundworms, not unless they're forced to," Robert commented. "They'll try to use a machine to handle the parlay. I only hope Benjamin remembers what he's supposed to do."

Athaclena touched Robert's arm, partly to remind him to keep his voice down. "He knows," she said softly. "And he has Elayne Soo to help him." Nevertheless, they shared a formless feeling of helplessness as they watched. This was patron-level business. Clients should not be asked to face a situation such as this alone.

The floating drone-apparently one of the Gubru's sample collection 'bots, hastily adapted to diplomatic functions-came to a halt four meters from the advancing chims, who had already stopped and planted their banner. The robot emitted a squeal of indignant chatter that Athaclena and Robert could not quite make out. The tone, however, was peremptory.

Two of the chims backed up a step, grinning nervously.

"You can do it, Ben!" Robert growled. Athaclena saw knots stand out in his well-muscled arms. If those bulges had been Tymbrimi change glands, instead . . . She shivered at the comparison and looked back to the scene below.

Down in the valley, Chim Benjamin stood rock still, apparently ignoring the machine. He waited. At last its tirade ran down. There was a moment of silence. Then Benjamin made a simple arm motion-exactly as Athaclena had taught him-contemptuously dismissing the nonliving from involvement in sapient affairs.

The robot squawked again, this time louder, and with a trace of desperation.

The chims simply stood and waited, not even deigning to answer the machine. "What hauteur," Robert sighed. "Good going, Ben. Show 'em you got cla.s.s."

Minutes pa.s.sed. The tableau held.

"This convoy of Gubru came into the mountains without psi shields!" Athaclena announced suddenly. She touched her right temple as her corona waved. "That or the shields were wrecked in the attack. Either way, I can tell they are growing nervous."

The invaders still possessed some sensors. They would be detecting movement in the forest, runners drawing nearer. The second a.s.sault group would arrive soon, this time bearing modern weapons.

The Resistance had kept its greatest power in reserve for the sake of surprise. Antimatter tended to give off resonances that were detectable from a long way away. Now, though, it was time to show all of their cards. By now the enemy would know that they were not safe, even within their armored craft.

Abruptly, and without ceremony, the robot rose and fled to the center barge. Then, after a brief pause, the lock cycled open again and a new pair of emissaries emerged.

"Kwackoo," Robert announced.

Athaclena suppressed the glyph syrtunu. Her human friend did have a propensity for proclaiming the obvious.

The fluffy white quadrupeds, loyal clients of the Gubru, approached the parlay point gobbling to each other excitedly. They loomed large as they arrived in front of the chims. A vodor hung from one thick, feathery throat, but the translator machine remained silent.

The three chims folded their hands before themselves and bowed as one, inclining their heads to an angle of about twenty degrees. They straightened and waited.

The Kwackoo just stood there. It was apparent who was ignoring whom this time.

Through the binoculars Athaclena saw Benjamin speak. She cursed the need to watch all this without any way to listen in.

The chim's words were effective, however. The Kwackoo chirped and blatted in fl.u.s.tered outrage. Through the vodor came words too faint to pick out, but the results were nearly instantaneous. Benjamin did not wait for them to finish. He and his companions picked up their banner, turned about, and marched away.

"Good fellow," Robert said in satisfaction. He knew chims. Right now their shoulder blades must be itching terribly, yet they sauntered coolly.

The lead Kwackoo stopped speaking. It stared, nonplussed. Then it began hopping and giving out sharp cries. Its partner, too, seemed quite agitated. Now those on the hill could hear the amplified voice of the vodor, commanding ". . . come back! ..." over and over again.

The chims continued walking toward the line of trees until, at last, Athaclena and Robert heard the word.

". . .come back . . . PLEASE! . . ."

Human and Tymbrimi looked at each other and shared a smile. That was half of what this fight had been about.

Benjamin and his party halted abruptly. They turned around and sauntered back. With the spiral standard in place once more they stood silently, waiting. At last, quivering from what must have been terrible humiliation, the feathered emissaries bowed.

It was a shallow bow-hardly a bending of two out of four knees-but it served. Indentured clients of the Gubru had recognized as their equals the indentured clients of human beings. "They might have chosen death over this," Athaclena whispered in awe, though she had planned for this very thing. "The Kwackoo are nearly sixty thousand Earth years old. Neo-chimpanzees have been sapient for only three centuries, and are the clients of wolflings." She knew Robert would not be offended by her choice of words. "The Kwackoo are far enough along in Uplift that they have the right to choose death over this. They and the Gubru must be stupefied, and have not thought out the implications. They probably can barely believe it is happening."

Robert grinned. "Just wait till they hear the rest of it. They'll wish they'd chosen the easy way out."

The chims answered the bow at the same angle. Then, with that distasteful formality out of the way, one of the giant avioids spoke quickly, its vodor mumbling an Anglic translation.

"The Kwackoo are probably demanding to speak with the leaders of the ambush," Robert commented, and Athaclena agreed.

Benjamin betrayed his nervousness by using his hands as he replied. But that was no real problem. He gestured at the ruins, at the destroyed hover tanks, at the helpless barges and the forest on all sides, where vengeful forces were converging to finish the job.

"He's telling them he is the leader."

That was the script, of course. Athaclena had written it, amazed all the while how easily she had adapted from the subtle Tymbrimi art of dissemblement to the more blatant, human technique of outright lying.

Benjamin's hand gestures helped her follow the conversation. Through empathy and her own imagination, she felt she could almost fill in the rest.

"We have lost our patrons," Benjamin had rehea.r.s.ed saying. "You and your masters have taken them from us. We miss them, and long for their return. Still, we know that helpless mourning would not make them proud of us. Only by action may we show how well we have been uplifted.

"We are therefore doing as they have taught us-behaving as sapient creatures of thought and honor.

"In honor's name then, and by the Codes of War, I now demand that you and your masters offer their parole, or face the consequences of our legal and righteous wrath!"

"He is doing it," Athaclena whispered half in wonder.

Robert coughed as he tried not to laugh aloud. The Kwackoo seemed to grow more and more distressed as Benjamin spoke. When he finished, the feathery quadrupeds hopped and squawked. They puffed and preened and objected loudly.

Benjamin, though, would not be bluffed. He referred to his wrist chronometer then spoke three words.

The Kwackoo suddenly stopped protesting. Orders must have arrived, for all at once they bowed again, swiveled, and sped back to the center barge at a gallop.

The sun had risen above the line of hills to the east. Splashes of morning light blazed through the lanes of shattered trees. It grew warm out on the parlay ground, but the chims stood and waited. At intervals Benjamin glanced to his watch and called out the time remaining.

At the edge of the forest Athaclena saw their special weapons team begin setting up their only antimatter projector. Certainly the Gubru were aware of it, too.

She heard Robert softly counting out the minutes.

Finally-in fact nearly at the very last moment-the hatches of all three hover craft opened. From each emerged a procession. The entire complement of Gubru, dressed in the glistening robes of senior patrons, led the way. They crooned a high-pitched song, accompanied by the ba.s.so of their faithful Kwackoo.

The pageantry was steeped in ancient tradition. It had its roots in epochs long before life had crawled ash.o.r.e on the Earth. It wasn't hard to imagine how nervous Benjamin and the others must feel as those to be paroled a.s.sembled before them. Robert's own mouth felt dry. "Remember to bow again," he urged in a whisper.

Athaclena smiled, having the advantage of her corona. "Have no fear, Robert. He will remember." And indeed, Benjamin folded his hands before him in the deeply respectful fashion of a junior client greeting a senior patron. The chims bowed low.

Only a flash of white betrayed the fact that Benjamin was grinning from ear to ear.

"Robert," she said, nodding in satisfaction. "Your people have done very well by theirs, in only four hundred years."

"Don't give us the credit," he answered. "It was all there in the raw from the start."

The paroled avians departed toward the Valley of the Sind on foot. No doubt they would be picked up before long. Even if they were not, Athaclena had ordered that word go out. They were to reach home base unmolested. Any chim who touched one feather would be outlawed, his plasm dumped into sewers, his gene-line extinguished. The matter was that serious.

The procession disappeared down the mountain road. Then the hard work began.

Crews of chims hurried to strip the abandoned vehicles in the precious time remaining before retribution arrived. Gorillas chuffed impatiently, grooming and signing to one another as they awaited loads to carry off into the hills.

By then Athaclena had already moved her command post to a spine-covered ridge two miles farther into the mountains. She watched through binoculars as the last salvage was loaded and hauled away, leaving nearly empty hulks under the shadows of the ruined buildings.

Robert had left much earlier, at Athaclena's insistence. He was departing again on another mission tomorrow and needed to get his rest.

Her corona waved, and she kenned Benjamin before his softly slapping feet could be heard padding up the trail. When he spoke his voice was somber.

"General, we've had word by semaph.o.r.e that the attacks in the Sind failed. A few Eatee construction sites were blown up, but the rest of the a.s.sault was nearly a total disaster."

Athaclena closed her eyes. She had expected as much. They had too many security problems down below, for one thing. Fiben had suspected the town-side resistance was compromised by traitors.

And yet Athaclena had not disallowed the attacks. They had served a valuable purpose by distracting the Gubru defense forces, keeping their quick-reaction fighters busy for from here. She only hoped that not too many chims had lost their lives drawing the invader's ire.

"The day balances out," she told her aide. Their victories would have to be symbolic, she knew. To try to expel the enemy with forces such as theirs would be futile. With her growing knack at metaphors she likened it to a caterpillar attempting to move a tree.

No, what we win, we will achieve through subtlety.

Benjamin cleared his throat. Athaclena looked down at him. "You still do not believe we should have let them leave alive," she told him.

He nodded. "No, ser, I do not. I think I understand some of what you told me about symbolism and all that . . . and I'm proud you seem to think we handled the parole ceremony all right. But I still believe we should've burned them all."

"Out of revenge?"

Benjamin shrugged. They both knew that was how the majority of the chims felt. They couldn't care less about symbols. The races of Earth tended to look upon all the bowing and fine cla.s.s distinctions of the Galactics as the mincing foolishness of a mired, decadent civilization.

"You know that's not what I think," Benjamin said. "I'd go along with your logic-about us scoring a real coup here today just by getting them to talk to us-if it weren't for one thing."

"What thing is that?"

"The birds had a chance to snoop around the center. They saw traces of Uplift. And I can't rule out the possibility they caught a glimpse of the gorillas themselves, through the trees!" Benjamin shook his head. "I just don't think we should've allowed them to walk out of here after that," he said.