They had symbols aplenty that represented their clans, on the tapestries that adorned their great halls, but nothing they could look to that represented all the People everywhere. In addition to his heady dreams of the day before, it was a legacy that he thought the great uniting prophet, Siska-Ta, would surely approve of. The Americans had their flag and so did the Grik. It was time the People had one.

To cap the magical excitement of the moment, the great flying-boat descended out of the northeastern sky, thunderous motors adding to the joyful tumult of happy people. Keje watched as it skimmed low over the waves and made a proper landing for the first time, and the grace and power of the huge, flying metal contrivance took his breath away. It was a great day!

Walker hove to, her people returning Big Sal 's cheers. The launch went over the side and a few moments later arrived in Salissa's lee, crowded with passengers who immediately climbed the netting lowered for them.

An honor guard of excited Marines met them when the party reached the main deck, and a twitter of bone whistles simulated bosun's pipes.

Captain Reddy saluted aft, as he'd always done, and again Keje wished there was something to salute. Regardless, he fervently returned the gesture Matt offered him and then enclosed him in a mighty embrace.

"We were worried about you, my Brother," he said.

"We were worried about us too," Matt replied. "I never doubted the outcome of your battle."

Keje barked a laugh. "So certain were you? I was not! Not until the great guns spoke! It was . . . glorious!"

Matt couldn't help but catch Keje's infectious grin, but he asked a serious question. "Was the price very high?" Keje only smiled and allowed Jarrik-Fas to answer.

"We had no losses, lord. None! We slew the enemy with contemptuous ease! Our warriors never even drew their blades!"

"I'm grateful for that," Matt said, his smile fading. "We sustained . . . serious losses, I'm sorry to say, but the Marines and cadets fought bravely and well."

Keje lowered his voice in condolence. "Of course you had losses.

Yours was the more difficult task and the People who were slain will find honored places awaiting them in the presence of the Maker and their ancestors!"

"Of course."

"Now!" said Keje, practically rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "What have you learned?"

Matt forced a smile, and glancing at the throng encircling them, he lowered his voice. "We have much to discuss, Keje-Fris-Ar, and unless you want to destroy the celebration, we'd better do it alone."

"You were right to suggest privacy." Keje sighed, shaking his head. "The world has fallen upon me." He sat on his favorite stool beside his simple table in Salissa's Great Hall. Upon that table lay a Grik chart. He was revolted that the vile thing was in physical contact with the dark, warm wood. Other stools were occupied by his personal advisors, as well as Captain Reddy, Lieutenant Tucker, Lieutenant Garrett, and Sergeant Alden.

Adar hovered over the chart, sputtering with rage and indignation.

"Blasphemy!" he hissed. "Unrepentant, black blasphemy! They desecrate the Heavens by their very existence! These . . . counterfeit . . . things must be burned! Destroyed! To think they take the gift of Knowledge of the Path of Stars and do . . . what they do with that knowledge! It is a violation! A rape! I—" Adar was incapable of further speech.

Matt shifted uncomfortably. "Certainly you may destroy them, Adar," he temporized, "but first let's learn as much from them about the enemy as we can."

The Sky Priest looked sharply at him, and a terrible intensity burned in his eyes. "By all means, Cap-i-taan Reddy! Study them well! Do whatever you must to destroy the makers of this abomination and the doers of these evil deeds! When you have done, then I will burn these loathsome pages and I won't rest until I've helped you bring that day to pass."

Keje sighed. "You will lose much sleep." He looked at Matt, and his eyes almost pleaded for some reassurance that things weren't as bad as they appeared. Matt couldn't encourage him. "You say these three-pointed symbols represent their ships? Possibly hundreds more of their ships?"

"We think so. Their strategy seems clear, at long last. It's conquest, of course, but I always wondered why, if they were such a big deal, they were just trickling in." He sighed. "Your ancestors were right. They're scared of the water—at least the deep water." He pointed at the Indian Ocean on the chart. There were none of the small islands depicted. Just a large, scary-looking fish.

"Their version of `here be monsters,' I bet," Garrett offered.

"The Western Sea is vast and deep," Adar said. "And there are monsters there. That is why the enemy hugs the coast and why they have taken this long to find us—to conquer their way to us—it would seem."

Matt nodded. "That's exactly right. They seem to have all the territory bordering the . . . Western Sea, all the way to Singapore, although that seems a relatively new addition. Ceylon's their closest major concentration.

The tree symbols seem to indicate settlements of the People they know about. A few even have blood spots beside them. We think that shows where a battle took place."

Keje traced a claw slowly from one spot to the next. "A tree," he said bleakly. "They use a tree to represent us. How appropriate and how . . . wrong." He looked up. "You said you found a human skull as well?" Matt jerked a nod. "I'm sorry to hear it, but how can that be?"

"The same way it happened to your people, Keje," Matt replied woodenly. "He was eaten."

"Saak-Fas saw it?"

Matt nodded. "He described a human being brought aboard—`one like you,' he said—but he had no idea where it happened."

"But how did they . . . get this person?"

"We don't know." Matt gestured at the chart. "They know where Mahan is—or was. But judging by the position fixes the lizard captain noted on the chart, the ship we took was never anywhere near Mahan's last position."

"You think they got this person from another ship?"

"That seems likely, as well as the information where Mahan was."

"Do they have her?" Keje asked.

Matt could only shrug. "They will look for her, if they have not found her already." It wasn't a question but a statement of fact.

"They must not have her!" Adar cried. "For them to have the power you possess . . ." He trailed off.

"They must not have her," Matt agreed.

"What will you do? What must we do?" For the first time since Matt had met Keje, the Lemurian looked afraid.

"Two things," Matt responded. "First, we need help. Baalkpan's in it—they can't leave. But we need more help from Homes like Big Sal." He shook his head. "I really don't know what to do about that. Talk about isolationists! Otherwise, I suggest you put aside your differences, whatever they are, with the Surabayans. It looks like they're next on the list anyway. The enemy doesn't know about Baalkpan, but that can't last. The ships they sent to chart those seas have gone missing, and sooner or later they'll send more. If we help the Surabayans, it'll add depth to our defense and might gain us an ally."

"And second?"

"Find Mahan," Matt said, grimly determined. "We have to get her before the enemy does—or destroy her if they have her."

Keje still seemed overwhelmed. Well, that was understandable. "I never guessed the Grik could be so numerous," he whispered and glanced at Adar. "This map shows lands we never even knew to exist and all are in the realm of this evil!" He looked sadly at their faces. "Yesterday was a great day. A great victory. Or so we thought. Now I see it was less than nothing compared to that arrayed against us. We've won nothing! The fight has not begun!" He gestured vaguely toward the unseen Grik prize floating nearby. "Together, we've destroyed ten of their ships only to learn that is nothing compared to the strength they have! They were mere scouts!" He slammed his hand down upon the chart, claws extended.