Gailet stared at the chaos, slack-jawed. Fiben threw himself onto her just before the rolling explosion swept past them. He felt the wake of the white fighting craft as it roared past. Surviving trees rattled and shook from the momentum of displaced air. A steady rain of debris fell onto Fiben’s back.

“Hmm-mmmph!”

Gailet’s face emerged from under his arm. She gasped. “Get friggin’ offa me before I suffocate, you smelly, flea-crackin’, moth-eaten …”

Fiben saw the enemy scout plane disappear over the hill. He got up quickly. “Come on,” he said, hauling her to her feet. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Gailet’s colorful curses ceased abruptly as she stood up. She gasped at the sight of what the Gubru weapon had done, staring as one does at what is too horrible to believe.

Bits of wood had been stirred vigorously with the grisly remains of three would-be warriors. The chims’ rifles lay scattered among the wreckage.

“If you’re plannin’ on grabbing one of those weapons, you’re on your own, sister.”

Gailet blinked, then she shook her head and mouthed one word. No. She was convinced.

Then she whirled. “Max!”

She started toward where they had last seen her big, dour servant. But just then there came a rumbling sound.

Fiben stopped her. “Troop transports. We haven’t got time. If he’s alive and can get away he will. Let’s go!”

The drone of giant machines drew closer. She resisted, still. “Oh, for Ifni’s sake, think of saving your notes!” he urged.

That struck home. Gailet let him drag her along. She stumbled after him for a few paces, then caught her stride. Together they began to run.

Some girl, Fiben thought as they fled under the cover of the trees. She might be a pain in the ass, but at least she’s got spunk. First time she’s ever seen anything like that, and she doesn’t even throw up.

Yeah? Another little voice seemed to say inside him. And when did you ever see such a mess, either? Space battles are neat, clean, compared to this.

Fiben admitted to himself that the biggest reason he had not puked was that he’d be damned if he’d ever let himself lose his breakfast in front of this particular chimmie. He’d never give her the satisfaction.

Together they splashed across a muddy stream and sought cover away from there.

It was all up to Benjamin now.

Athaclena and Robert watched from cover up on the slopes as their friend approached the grounded Gubru convoy. Two other chims accompanied Benjamin, one holding high a flag of truce. Its device was the same as the symbol for the Library — the rayed spiral of Galactic Civilization.

The chim emissaries had doffed homespun and were now decked out in silvery formal robes, cut in a style appropriate for bipeds of their form and status. It took courage to approach this way. Although the vehicles were disabled — there had not been a sign of activity for more than half an hour — the three chims had to be wondering what the enemy would do.

“Ten to one the birds try using a robot first,” Robert muttered, his eyes intent on the scene below.

Athaclena shook her head. “No bet, Robert. Notice! The door to the center barge is opening.”

From their vantage point they could survey the entire clearing. The wreckage of the Howletts Center buildings loomed darkly over one still smoldering hover tank. Its sister, useless barrels drooping, lay canted on its shattered pressure-skirts.

In between the two wrecked fighting machines, from one of the disabled barges, a floating shape emerged.

“Right,” Robert sniffed in disgust. It was, indeed, a robot. It, too, carried a flapping banner, another depiction of the rayed spiral.

“Damn birds won’t admit chims are above the level of groundworms, not unless they’re forced to,” Robert commented. “They’ll try to use a machine to handle the parlay. I only hope Benjamin remembers what he’s supposed to do.”

Athaclena touched Robert’s arm, partly to remind him to keep his voice down. “He knows,” she said softly. “And he has Elayne Soo to help him.” Nevertheless, they shared a formless feeling of helplessness as they watched. This was patron-level business. Clients should not be asked to face a situation such as this alone.

The floating drone — apparently one of the Gubru’s sample collection ’bots, hastily adapted to diplomatic functions — came to a halt four meters from the advancing chims, who had already stopped and planted their banner. The robot emitted a squeal of indignant chatter that Athaclena and Robert could not quite make out. The tone, however, was peremptory.

Two of the chims backed up a step, grinning nervously.

“You can do it, Ben!” Robert growled. Athaclena saw knots stand out in his well-muscled arms. If those bulges had been Tymbrimi change glands, instead… She shivered at the comparison and looked back to the scene below.

Down in the valley, Chim Benjamin stood rock still, apparently ignoring the machine. He waited. At last its tirade ran down. There was a moment of silence. Then Benjamin made a simple arm motion — exactly as Athaclena had taught him — contemptuously dismissing the nonliving from involvement in sapient affairs.

The robot squawked again, this time louder, and with a trace of desperation.

The chims simply stood and waited, not even deigning to answer the machine. “What hauteur,” Robert sighed. “Good going, Ben. Show ’em you got class.”

Minutes passed. The tableau held.

“This convoy of Gubru came into the mountains without psi shields!” Athaclena announced suddenly. She touched her right temple as her corona waved. “That or the shields were wrecked in the attack. Either way, I can tell they are growing nervous.”

The invaders still possessed some sensors. They would be detecting movement in the forest, runners drawing nearer. The second assault group would arrive soon, this time bearing modern weapons.

The Resistance had kept its greatest power in reserve for the sake of surprise. Antimatter tended to give off resonances that were detectable from a long way away. Now, though, it was time to show all of their cards. By now the enemy would know that they were not safe, even within their armored craft.

Abruptly, and without ceremony, the robot rose and fled to the center barge. Then, after a brief pause, the lock cycled open again and a new pair of emissaries emerged.

“Kwackoo,” Robert announced.

Athaclena suppressed the glyph syrtunu. Her human friend did have a propensity for proclaiming the obvious.

The fluffy white quadrupeds, loyal clients of the Gubru, approached the parlay point gobbling to each other excitedly. They loomed large as they arrived in front of the chims. A vodor hung from one thick, feathery throat, but the translator machine remained silent.

The three chims folded their hands before themselves and bowed as one, inclining their heads to an angle of about twenty degrees. They straightened and waited.

The Kwackoo just stood there. It was apparent who was ignoring whom this time.

Through the binoculars Athaclena saw Benjamin speak. She cursed the need to watch all this without any way to listen in.

The chim’s words were effective, however. The Kwackoo chirped and blatted in flustered outrage. Through the vodor came words too faint to pick out, but the results were nearly instantaneous. Benjamin did not wait for them to finish. He and his companions picked up their banner, turned about, and marched away.

“Good fellow,” Robert said in satisfaction. He knew chims. Right now their shoulder blades must be itching terribly, yet they sauntered coolly.

The lead Kwackoo stopped speaking. It stared, nonplussed. Then it began hopping and giving out sharp cries. Its partner, too, seemed quite agitated. Now those on the hill could hear the amplified voice of the vodor, commanding “. . . come back! …” over and over again.