“It’s counting one’s eggs before they’re laid,” he told the Tymbrimi, who was always anxious to improve his grasp of Anglic metaphors. This time, however, Uthacalthing didn’t thank Robert. His wide-spread eyes seemed to flash as he looked back, sidelong. “Think about it,” he said.

Soon Uthacalthing was deep in conversation with the Kanten Chief Librarian. At a loss to follow their rapid, inflected Galactic, Robert started a circuit of the new Library, taking its measure and looking at its current users.

Except for a few members of the Grand Examiner’s team, all of the occupants were avians. The Gubru present were divided by a gulf he could henn, as well as see. Nearly two thirds of them clustered over to the left. They cooed and cast disapproving glances at the smaller group, which consisted almost entirely of soldiers. The military did not give off happy vibrations, but they hid it well, strutting about their tasks with crisp efficiency, returning their peers’ disapproval with arrogant disdain.

Robert made no effort to avoid being seen. The wave of stares he attracted was pleasing. They obviously knew who he was. If just passing near caused an interruption in their work, so much the better.

Approaching one cluster of Gubru — by their ribbons obviously members of the priestly Caste of Propriety — he bowed to an angle he hoped was correct and grinned as the entire offended gaggle was forced to form up and reply in kind.

Finally Robert came upon a data station formatted in a way he understood. Uthacalthing was still immersed in con-versaticn vith the Librarian, so Robert decided to see what he couk; ::.;d out on his own.

He made very little progress. The enemy had obviously set up safeguards to prevent the unauthorized from accessing information about near-space, or the presumably converging battle fleets of the Thennanin. Still, Robert kept on trying. Time passed as he explored the current data net, finding out where the invaders had set up their blocks.

So intense was his concentration that it took a while before he grew aware that something had changed in the Library. Automatic sound dampers had kept the growing hubbub from intruding on his concentration, but when he looked up at last Robert saw that the Gubru were in an uproar. They waved their downy arms and formed tight clusters around holo-tanks. Most of the soldiers had simply vanished, from sight.

What on Garth has gotten into them? he wondered.

Robert didn’t imagine the Gubru would welcome him peering over their shoulders. He felt frustrated. Whatever was happening, it sure had them perturbed!

Hey! Robert thought. Maybe it’s on the local news.

Quickly he used his own screen to access a public video station. Until recently censorship had been severe, but during the last few days, as soldiers were called away to combat duty, the networks had fallen under the control of the Caste of Cost and Caution. Those glum, apathetic bureaucrats now hardly enforced even modest discipline.

The tank flickered, then cleared to show an excited chim reporter.

“… and so, at latest reports, it seems the surprise offensive from the Mulun hasn’t yet engaged the occupation forces. The Gubru seem unable to agree on how to answer the manifesto of the approaching forces…”

Robert wondered, had the Thennanin made their pronouncement of intent already? That had not been expected for a couple of days at least. Then one word caught in his mind.

From the Mulun?

“… We’ll now rebroadcast the statement read just five minutes ago by the joint commanders of the army right now marching on Port Helenia.”

The view in the holo-tank shifted. The chim announcer was replaced by a recently recorded image showing three figures standing against a forest background. Robert blinked. He knew these faces, two of them intimately. One was a chen named Benjamin. The other two were women he loved.

“… and so we challenge our oppressors. In combat we have behaved well, under the dicta of the Galactic Institute for Civilized Warfare. This cannot be said of our enemies. They have used criminal means and have allowed harm to noncombatant fallow species native to a fragile world.

“Worst of all, they have cheated.”

Robert gaped. The image panned back to show platoons of chims — bearing a motley assortment of weapons — trooping forth from the forest out into the open, accompanied by a few fierce-eyed humans. The one speaking into the camera was Lydia McCue, Robert’s human lover. But Athaclena stood next to her, and in his alien consort’s eyes he saw and knew who had written the words.

And he knew, without any doubt, whose idea this was.

“We demand, therefore, that they send forth their best soldiers, armed as we are armed, to meet our champions out in the open, in the Valley of the Sind…”

“Uthacalthing,” he said, hoarsely. Then again, louder. “Uthacalthing!”

The noise suppressors had been developed by a hundred million generations of librarians. But in all that time there had been only a few wolfling races. For just an instant the vast chamber echoed before dampers shut down the impolite vibrations and imposed hushed quiet once again.

There was nothing, however, to be done about running in the halls.

“Recombinant Rats!” Fiben cried upon hearing the beginnings of the declaration. They watched a portable holo set up on the slopes of the Ceremonial Mound.

Gailet gestured for silence. “Be quiet, Fiben. Let me hear the rest of it.”

But the meaning of the message had been obvious from the first few sentences. Columns of irregulars, wearing makeshift uniforms of homespun cloth, marched steadily across open, winter-barren fields. Two squads of horse cavalry skirted the ragged army’s perimeter, like escapees from some pre-Contact flatmovie. The marching chims grinned nervously and watched the skies, fondling their captured or mountain-made weapons. But there was no mistaking their attitude of grim resolve.

As the cameras panned back, Fiben did a quick count. “That’s everybody,” he said in awe. “I mean, allowing for recent casualties, it’s everybody who’s had any training or would be any good at all in a fight. It’s all or nothing.” He shook his head. “Clip my blue card if I can figure what she hopes to accomplish.”

Gailet glanced up at him. “Some blue card,” she sniffed. “And I’d have to say she knows exactly what she’s doing, Fiben.”

“But the city rebels were slaughtered out on the Sind.”

She shook her head. “That was then. We didn’t know the score. We hadn’t achieved any respect or status. Anyway, there weren’t any witnesses.

“But the mountain forces have won victories. They’ve been acknowledged. And now the Five Galaxies are watching.”

Gailet frowned. “Oh, Athaclena knows what she’s doing. I just didn’t know things were this desperate.”

They sat quietly for a moment longer, watching the insurgents advance slowly across orchards and winter-barren fields. Then Fiben let out another exclamation. “What?” Gailet asked. She looked where he pointed in the tank, and it was her turn to hiss in surprise.

There, carrying a saber rifle along with the other chim soldiers, strode someone they both knew. Sylvie did not seem uncomfortable with her weapon. In fact, she appeared an island of almost zenlike calm in the sea of nervous neo-chimpanzees.

Who would’ve figured it? Gailet thought. Who would’ve thought that about her?

They watched together. There was little else they could do.