"Sit," the minister commanded as lounges were brought forward. "May I introduce you to Et Avian, my nephew," he went on, indicating the noblekone, "and to Chief Scientist Samamkook, my science advisor." Et Kalass bowed graciously to an ancient commoner standing on all fours. Moth and Dowornobb politely leaned onto their hands. Samamkook reciprocated, and pleasantries were exchanged. Dowornobb was honored to meet the great astronomer, whose published works in their field constituted the final authority. The minister allowed social niceties to run their full course, which Dowornobb determined to be most peculiar if they were being arrested. And why bring along the venerable scientist?

"I come on behalf of the Supreme Leader.. and of the royal families," the minister said, going immediately to the point. "Your report on the nature of the signals intercepted during the invasion piques our interest. It is quite easy to conclude that we repulsed a nonaggressive force. That, in itself, does not concern us overmuch. The horrible events marking the end of the Rule of Ollant will not be repeated. We have acted in the best interests of our race. Nevertheless, we want to know what happened, and you of the Imperial Astronomical Institute have a unique perspective. There are rumors you have uncovered additional intelligence of interest." Et Kalass gave Dowornobb a pointed look.

"Yes, my Lord," Director Moth nervously volunteered. "We have completed an exhaustive analysis of all radar trajectory information recorded during the engagements—massive data accumulations. We started the first iterations several days ago, and the results have only just today become, eh…publishable. Scientist Dowornobb has finished the compilation and will have his final report ready by, er.. soon."

Dowornobb looked nervously to Samamkook, who stared impassively at the wall.

"Scientist Dowornobb," commanded Et Kalass. "Please summarize your report. I am told you have interesting conclusions. I could never read through scientific journals. Some reference to Genellan, I believe."

Dowornobb glanced nervously at Moth and proceeded to give a detailed synopsis of his findings. He was allowed to finish without interruption.

"A compelling set of deductions," Samamkook said. "According to your theory, the alien vessels entered our system, loudly announcing their presence with electromagnetic emissions on all frequencies. These signals were overtures—attempts to establish communications." Dowornobb nodded his agreement.

"We reacted quickly," continued the old scientist, "too quickly to realize the nature of the visitors. Or perhaps we did not fall into their trap—a possibility that cannot be discounted. Though I am inclined to do just that, given subsequent events. We attacked! The aliens barely defended themselves, choosing to retreat, somehow to, uh.. disappear, leaving behind a few smaller vessels. These unfortunate vessels were destroyed during the engagements, except for a mysterious ship that managed to elude our interceptors. That single visitor may have found refuge." Samamkook held his wide jaw in a massive hand.

"Genellan is no place for higher orders of civilization!" Moth blurted. "They may have gone into orbit, but to what purpose? The planet is bitterly cold and noxious—hopeless!" He sat back and looked about.

"Hopeless for us, Director," Samamkook said. "Yet life abounds on that cruel planet. Assuming they had the means to leave orbit—a large assumption—then it is no less likely they could endure."

Dowornobb could not imagine living on Genellan. He had seen the queer fur-covered animals brought back for the zoos, but the conditions on the surface seemed so adverse. The miserable landscapes and weather were beyond even his fertile imagination. The sulfurous atmosphere—

"…nobb. Scientist Dowornobb!" The minister was calling his name.

"Ah, yes m-m-my Lord," Dowornobb sputtered.

"You have made progress on their language?" Et Kalass returned to stare at the star mural.

"Well, m-my l-lord," the young scientist replied. "Their language is not yet revealed. I have run the signals through language programs, but it has not given us much to work on. It has provided symbology that might be useful—pictographs and signs. We could establish some communication, somewhat like children talking."

"Excellent. We can help you improve on that." The minister exchanged a meaningful glance with the young noblekone and then stood and walked out, his entourage following. Moth and Dowornobb assumed positions of respectful farewell and were soon alone.

The door to Dowornobb' s apartment crashed open in the early hours of the morning. The kone, reluctantly awake, sat up in his bed.

"Who's there?"

A dark form shifted silently in the bedroom entryway. Other hulking shadows followed, filling the short corridor leading to his small sitting room.

"Who's there?" pleaded Dowornobb, now fully awake. Fear swelled within his great breast. He prayed for the intruders to be robbers or thugs—criminals. For if they were not outlaws, then that could only mean they were government agents.

"Sergeant Shannon sure was tight-jawed," Petit said as they left the tundra of the central plateau; the granite slabs and rocky scrabble of the higher elevation made for easier hiking. "I thought sure he was going to ream me for letting those critters get close to the cave. He didn't say nothing about it."

"Good thing, too," Tatum said. "The mood Sarge was in, once he started chewing tail, he wouldn't have never stopped." "So, what's up his butt?" Petit asked.

"Commander Quinn didn't want to send out a search party," Tatum replied. "I don't think the commander wants anyone to move out of sight of camp."

"Why?" Petit asked. "He afraid we'll get lost, like Mac and Jocko?"

"Who knows? Maybe," Tatum said, looking around; no cover was afforded by the flat, featureless terrain.

"Wouldn't none of us be on patrol if the lieutenant hadn't waded in," Jones added. "Heard 'em talking. Lieutenant Buccari wouldn't take no for an answer."

"She said we should also be looking for a better place to settle. She says winter on the plateau is going to be miserable," Tatum said.

"She's something else, ain't she?" Jones replied. "Best damn officer in the whole damn fleet."

"So why's Shannon so jacked?" Petit persisted. "He got his patrol."

"Yeah," Tatum said, "but he wanted to go himself. He's worried about MacArthur and Chastain. And he needs a break from old mother Quinn."

The patrol headed east, arriving at the plateau's edge early in the afternoon. Tatum was uncomfortable. A noxious sulfur odor bit at their sinuses, and the raw height of the plateau was intimidating. The brink was not sharp, but curved gently away from his feet, rapidly gaining in pitch with each advancing step. The rolling plains far to the east, hazy in the distance, were part of some other world. Their world was flat, and it ended, abruptly, only paces away. Petit and Jones stayed clear of the edge. Tatum shuffled backward to join them.

With no apparent way down, Tatum hiked along the meandering brink of the precipice, hoping a navigable cleft or rift would show itself, enabling them to descend and backtrack along their original parafoil flight path. They found nothing.

Sentries sounded the alarm. Strange beings were reported on the salt trail. Kuudor sent for Braan, and the leader of hunters quickly arrived, Craag at his side. The hunters studied the long-legs struggling up the steep path traversing the cliff face. One had his arm around the neck of the other, being half-carried along.

"The smaller one is damaged," Kuudor observed.

"The larger one is deeply fatigued, but thou art right, captainof-the-sentry, the smaller long-legs is near death," Craag agreed, impressed with the efforts of the big creature.