Buccari stared at Tonto. Tonto stared back, blinking frequently, immense eyes the darkest brown, almost black, with catlike pupils. Eyelids serviced the eyeball from top and bottom, giving the eyes a sinister quality. Fenstermacher had just finished changing the blanket beneath the animal after the creature had fouled it.

"He was trying to tell us," Buccari said, putting her face close to the animal's. "That's why he was looking so panicky and squirming around. We should untie him. Next time he acts like that we should take him outside. Look at those eyes!"

"Don't get too close, Lieutenant," Lee cautioned from her sleeping bag.

"Hush, Les, and go to sleep," Fenstermacher said. "I'm on watch."

"That sure makes me feel better," Lee responded, turning her back.

Buccari was fascinated with the creature. She insisted on helping care for it, feeling responsible for bringing it to camp. She was pleased when it began drinking and eating small amounts of fish. Everyone was amazed at how docile it was. Lee suggested that the head injury had rendered it senseless and unaware, no longer capable of survival in the wild, but Buccari was certain the creature realized it was being helped.

Buccari reached down and touched the callused finger tips at the end of the beast's good arm. The spidery fingers immediately closed on her extended finger, but not tightly. She left it there momentarily and then pulled gently away. She wrapped her hand around the animal's closed fist and pressed softly. The animal watched her intently, blinking, seemingly content with unspoken reassurance.

Suddenly, the creature's head jerked to the side and it struggled against its bindings.

"What's wrong, fellow?" Buccari asked, recoiling in alarm.

Tonto squeaked loudly, a broken high-pitched trill. His mouth and throat worked vigorously but emitted only intermittent chirps. Fenstermacher joined Buccari at the animal's bedside, staring down at their agitated patient. Lee threw off her sleeping bag and came over. Dawson looked up from the radio but stayed where she was.

The sentry had been the only obstacle. Craag had distracted it by rolling rocks down the incline. Braan easily moved past the perplexed guard, silently hopping along the large boulders before the cave mouth. The hunter leader looked at the long-leg camp spread beneath him; he was in full view, darkness his only shield. Braan whistled softly. Brappa responded, too loudly.

"Hush!" Braan answered. "I hear. Art thou well? Art thou in danger?"

"I am injured, my father," Brappa replied. "I was foolishly injured."

"The nature of thy injuries? Canst thou escape?"

"My arm is broken. I cannot fly. Also, I am bound." "Art thou in danger?"

"I think not, my father. The long-legs seem interested in my well-being. They have made efforts to repair my arm, and I am encouraged. They feed me, and the pain lessens."

Their activity was attracting attention. The long-legs below stirred, and shouts went up to sentries on both sides of the cave.

"Thy news is good, my son. I am encouraged. Make no effort to escape unless thou perceive danger. We will make a plan," Braan said. "Be of stout heart. Our sentry post is moved to the middle island." Harsh beams of light played against the cliff face. Killing sticks were visible.

"I understand. Please go now, my father!" Brappa pleaded.

The sentry moved closer to Braan's position. The hunter leader furtively shrilled the signal to take flight, and Craag, higher on the rock face, leapt into the night, attracting the attention of the searchers. Braan launched from his position next to the cave, exploding the air with his wings, pushing his body over the longlegs' camp and struggling mightily to gain altitude. Light beams jerked into the blackness, following the noise, and the white rays found Braan as he flailed desperately for clear air. Screams of longlegs increased, and killing sticks were raised.

Buccari's voice rose above the crowd, "Hold your fire?" I'll shoot anyone that discharges a weapon. Hold your fire." She stood silhouetted at the mouth of the cave, pistol in the air. Shannon towered at her side. Flashlight beams held the airborne beast captive in midflight, its wings beating slowly and evenly, ratcheting it higher into starlit skies. Finally it made the limit of the man-made light, wings set, gliding into the night. The spacers, sober after Buccari's threatening order, burst into excited discussions. Their injured guest had had visitors of its own kind.

"There were four of them!" Petit shouted from his sentry post.

"How the hell did four of them get that close? They were practically inside the cave! You awake, Petit?" Shannon excoriated the sentry.

"They musta flown in, Sarge," he replied weakly.

"Flown in, my ass!" Shannon snarled. "I'll talk to you later."

The big Marine stared with disgust into the night skies. Buccari left him on the cave terrace and walked back to the side of the injured animal. Tonto rested quietly on his back, large eyes fully open in the dimness, glinting softly, reflecting light from the lamp across the cave.

"So you had visitors, eh, little buddy?" said Buccari, untying the bindings. "Tell 'em to stick around next time. We could use the company."

The Public Safety truck skidded to a halt inside the front gate of the Imperial Astronomical Institute; a squad of militia troopers spewed forth, securing the gate. Scientist Dowornobb was with Director Moth when they received word that all gates had been similarly impounded.

"They are going to take me away!" Moth whined. "Charged with incompetence and seditious behavior. They will shut down the institute."

"Surely, Director," Dowornobb said, "our work is too important." Yet Dowornobb's fear also expanded. The director had been permissive with the freethinking scientists, largely at Dowornobb's instigation. Perhaps Director Moth was correct; repressive disasters had happened at other institutions. Not knowing what else to do, Dowornobb watched the soldiers deploy throughout the grounds. He could smell the director's fear—and his own.

A second motorcade rumbled through the institute's main gate. An escorted convoy of Internal Affairs vehicles moved expeditiously into the courtyard of the main compound, and a contingent of officials and their bodyguards were disgorged. Dowornobb stared in disbelief as Et Kalass, the Minister of Internal Affairs, garbed in luminous black and white, moved from an armored car. The slight noblekone stood on his hind legs and transported himself thus through the main doors. Dowornobb and Moth hastened to the lifts. Grim-faced guards intercepted them en route and provided a silent escort to the main reference room, where the minister and his party awaited.

"Honored, my Lord," Director Moth fawned, bowing prone before the minister. Dowornobb attempted to slink against the wall, but a guard muscled him to room center.

Et Kalass ignored them, studying instead an expansive mural, a rendering of the night sky as seen from above the planet's milky atmosphere. Minutes dragged by in silence.

The minister at last broke the spell. "Quite nice. Determine who commissioned it. I would have a similar production in my home." An aide acknowledged the command. The minister turned to face the scientists, and Dowornobb could hear and smell Director Moth's fear glands exploding into action. His own immediately followed.

"Be at ease, scientists," Et Kalass commanded as he reclined on a reading couch. "There is no need of apprehension. Relax! Control your temperatures." A powerfully built noblekone, dressed in militia garb and standing on his hind legs, leaned presumptuously against the back of the minister's couch.