In any event, there was nothing they could do about it. Search parties were sent out. They caught up with a party of Athaclena’s chims returning on horseback to the gorilla refuge. But by that time Prathachulthorn was no longer with them. He was high in the trees, being passed from one forest giant to another, by now conscious and fuming, but helpless and trussed up like a mummy.

It was a case of humans paying the penalty for their “liberalism.” They had brought up their clients to be individualists and citizens, so it was possible for chims to rationalize imprisoning one man for the good of all. In his own way Prathachulthorn had helped to bring this about, with his patronizing, deprecating attitudes. Nevertheless, Athaclena was certain the Marine would be delicately, carefully treated.

That evening, Robert chaired a new council of war. Athaclena’s vague status of house arrest was modified so she could attend. Fiben and the chim brevet lieutenants were present, as well as the Marine noncommissioned officers.

Neither Lydia nor Robert brought up going ahead with Prathachulthorn’s plan. It was tacitly assumed that the major wouldn’t want it put under way without him.

“Maybe he went off on a personal scouting trip, or a snap inspection of some outpost. He might return tonight or tomorrow,” Elayne Soo suggested in complete innocence.

“Maybe. We’d best assume the worst, though,” Robert said. He avoided looking at Athaclena. “Just in case, we’d better send word to the refuge. I suppose it’ll take ten days or so to get new orders from the Council, and for them to send a replacement.”

He obviously assumed that Megan Oneagle would never leave him in charge.

“Well, I want to go back to Port Helenia,” Fiben said simply. “I’m in a position to get close to the center of things. And anyway, Gailet needs me.”

“What makes you think the Gubru will take you back, after running away?” Lydia McCue asked. “Why won’t they simply shoot you?”

Fiben shrugged. “If I meet up with the wrong Gubru, that’s what they’ll probably do.”

There was a long silence. When Robert asked for other suggestions, the humans and remaining chims remained silent. At least when Prathachulthorn had been here, dominating the discourse and the mood, there had been his overbearing confidence to override their doubts. Now their situation came home to them again. They were a tiny army with only limited options. And the enemy was about to set into motion things and events they could not even understand, let alone prevent.

Athaclena waited until the atmosphere was thick with gloom. Then she said four words. “We need my father.”

To her surprise, both Robert and Lydia nodded. Even when orders finally arrived from the Council-in-Exile, those instructions would likely be as confused and contradictory as ever. It was obvious that they could use good advice, especially with matters of Galactic diplomacy at stake.

At least the McCue woman does not share Prathachulthorn’s xenophobia, Athaclena thought. She found herself forced to admit that she approved of what she kenned of the Earthling female’s aura.

“Robert told me you were sure your father was alive.” Lydia said. “That’s fine. But where is he? How can we find him?”

Athaclena leaned forward. She kept her corona still. “I know where he is.”

“You do?” Robert blinked. “But …” His voice trailed off as he reached out to touch her with his inner sense, for the first time since yesterday. Athaclena recalled how she felt then, seeing him holding Lydia’s hand. She momentarily resisted his efforts. Then, feeling foolish, she let go.

Robert sat back heavily and exhaled. He blinked several times. “Oh.” That was all he said.

Now Lydia looked back and forth, from Robert to Athaclena and back again. Briefly, she shone with something faintly like envy.

I, too, have him in a way that you cannot, Athaclena mused. But mostly, she shared the moment with Robert.

“. . . N’tah’hoo, Uthacalthing,” he said in GalSeven. “We had better do something, and fast.”

She awaited him as he led Tycho up the trad emerging out of the Valley of Caves. She sat patiently next to an overhanging fip pine, just beyond a switchback, and only spoke when he drew even. “Thought you’d just sneak out without saying goodbye, did you?” Sylvie asked. She wore a long skirt and kept her arms wrapped around her knees.

He tied the horse’s tether to a tree limb and sat down next to her. “Nah,” Fiben said. “I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky.”

She glanced at him sidelong and saw that he was grinning. Sylvie sniffed and looked back into the canyon, where the early mists were slowly evaporating into a morning that promised to be clear and cloudless. “I figured you’d be heading back.”

“I have to, Sylvie. It’s—”

She cut him off. “I know. Responsibility. You have to get back to Gailet. She needs you, Fiben.”

He nodded. Fiben didn’t have to be reminded that he still had a duty to Sylvie as well. “Um. Dr. Soo came by, while I was packing. I…”

“You filled the bottle she gave you. I know.” Sylvie bowed her head. “Thank you. I consider myself well paid.”

Fiben looked down. He felt awkward, talking around the edges of the topic like this. “When will you—”

“Tonight, I guess. I’m ready. Can’t you tell?”

Sylvie’s parka and long skirt certainly hid any outward signs. Still, she was right. Her scent was undisguised. “I sincerely hope you get what you want, Sylvie.”

She nodded again. They sat there awkwardly. Fiben tried to think of something to say. But he felt thick headed, stupid. .Whatever he tried, he knew, would surely turn out all wrong.

Suddenly there was a small rustle of motion down below, where the switchbacks diverged into paths leading in several directions. A tall human form emerged around a rocky bend, jogging tirelessly. Robert Oneagle ran toward a junction in the narrow trails, carrying only his bow and a light backpack.

He glanced upward, and on spotting the two chims he slowed. Robert grinned in response as Fiben waved, but on reaching the fork he turned southward, along a little-used track. Soon he had disappeared into the wild forest.

“What’s he doing?” Sylvie asked.

“Looked like he was running.”

She slapped his shoulder. “I could see that. Where is he going?”

“He’s gonna try to make it through the passes before it snows.

“Through the passes? But—”

“Since Major Prathachulthorn disappeared, and since time is so short, Lieutenant McCue and th’ other Marines agreed they’d go along with the alternative plan Robert and Athaclena have cooked up.”

“But he’s running south,” Sylvie said. Robert had taken the little-used trail that led deeper into^the Mulun range.

Fiben nodded. “He’s going looking for somebody. He’s the only one who can do the job.” It was obvious to Sylvie from his tone that that was all he would say about the matter.

They sat there for a little while longer in silence. At least Robert’s brief passage had brought a welcome break in the tension. This is silly, Fiben thought. He liked Sylvie, a lot. They had never had much chance to talk, and this might be their last opportunity!

“You never… you never did tell me about your first baby,” he said in a rush, wondering, as the words came out, if it was any of his business to ask.

Of course it was obvious that Sylvie had given birth before, and nursed. Stretch marks were signs of attractiveness in a race a quarter of whose females never bred at all. But there is pain there as well, he knew.

“It was five years ago. I was very young.” Her voice was level, controlled. “His name was — we called him Sichi. He was tested by the Board, as usual, but he was found… ‘anomalous.’ ”

“Anomalous?”

“Yes, that was the word they used. They classified him superior in some respects… ‘odd’ in others. There were no obvious defects, but some ‘strange’ qualities, they said. A couple of the officials were concerned. The Uplift Board decided they’d have to send him to Earth for further evaluation.