Like little mice, she remembered, but she shuddered a little less this time.

In fact, she found herself smiling. Robert’s strange confession had put matters — almost laughably — on a logical plane. “Amazing,” she said. “As usual, there are parallels in Tymbrimi methodology. Our own males must take chances as well.”

She paused then, frowning. “But stylistically this technique of yours is so crude! The error rate must be tremendous, since you are without coronae to sense what the female is feeling. Beyond your crude empathy sense, you have only hints and coquetry and body cues to go on. I’m surprised you manage to reproduce at all without killing each other off well beforehand!”

Robert’s face darkened slightly, and she knew he was blushing. “Oh, I exaggerated a bit, I suppose.”

Athaclena couldn’t help but smile once more, not only a subtlety of the mouth, but an actual, full widening of the separation between her eyes.

“That much, Robert, I had already guessed.”

The human’s features reddened even more. He looked down at his hands and there was silence. Athaclena felt a stirring within her own deepself, and she kenned the simple sense-glyph kiniwullun . , . the parable-boy caught doing what boys inevitably do. Sitting there, his open aura of abashed sincerity seemed to cover over his fix-eyed, big-nosed alien-ness and make him more familiar to her than most of her peers had been back in school.

At last Athaclena slipped down from the dusty corner where she had wedged herself in self-defense.

“All right, Robert,” she sighed. “I will let you explain to me why you were ‘strongly motivated’ to attempt this classical human mating ritual with a member of another species — me. I suppose it is because we have signed an agreement to be consorts? Did you feel honor bound to consummate it, in order to satisfy human tradition?”

He shrugged, looking away. “No, I can’t use that as an excuse. I know interspecies marriages are for business. It’s just, well — I think it was just because you’re pretty and bright, and I’m lonely, and… and maybe I’m just a bit in love with you.”

Her heart beat faster. This time it was not the gheer chemicals responsible. Her tendrils lifted of their own accord, but no glyph emerged. Instead, she found they were reaching toward him along subtle, strong lines, like the fields of a dipole.

“I think, I think I understand, Robert. I want you to know that I …”

It was hard to think of what to say. She wasn’t sure herself just what she was thinking at that moment. Athaclena shook her head. “Robert?” she said softly. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything, Clennie. Anything in the world.” His eyes were wide open.

“Good. Then, taking care not to get carried away, perhaps you might go on to explain and demonstrate what you were doing, when you touched me just then… the various physical aspects involved. Only this time, more slowly please?”

The next day they strolled slowly on their way back to the caves.

She and Robert dawdled, stopping to contemplate how the sunlight came down in little glades, or standing by small pools of colored liquid, wondering aloud which trace chemical was stockpiled here or there by the ubiquitous trade vines, and not really caring about the answer. Sometimes they just held hands while they listened to the quiet sounds of Garth Planet’s forest life.

At intervals they sat and experimented, gently, with the sensations brought on by touching.

Athaclena was surprised to find that most of the needed nerve pathways were already in place. No deep auto-suggestion was required — just a subtle shifting of a few capillaries and pressure receptors — in order to make the experiment feasible. Apparently, the Tymbrimi might have once engaged in a courtship ritual such as kissing. At least they had the capability.

When she resumed her old form she just might keep some of these adaptations to her lips, throat, and ears. The breeze felt good on them as she and Robert walked. It was like a rather nice empathy glyph tingling at the tips of her corona. And kissing, that warm pressure, stirred intense, if primitive feelings in her.

Of course none of it would have been possible if humans and Tymbrimi weren’t already so very similar. Many charming, stupid theories had circulated among unsophisticated people of both races to explain the coincidence — for instance, proposing that they might once have had a common ancestor.

The idea was ridiculous, of course. Still, she knew that her case was not the first. Close association over several centuries had led to quite a few cases of cross-species dalliance, some even openly avowed. Her discoveries must have been made many times before.

She just hadn’t been aware, having considered such tales rather seamy while growing up. Athaclena realized her friends back on Tymbrim must have thought her pretty much of a prude. And here she was, behaving in a way that would have shocked most of them!

She still wasn’t sure she wanted anyone back home — assuming she ever made it there again — to think her consor-tion with Robert was anything but businesslike. Uthacalthing would probably laugh.

No matter, she told herself firmly. I must live for today. The experiment helped to pass the time. It did have its pleasant aspects. And Robert was an enthusiastic teacher.

Of course she was going to have to set limits. She was willing to adjust the distribution of fatty tissues in her breasts, for instance, and it was fun to play with the sensations made possible by new nerve endings. But where it came to fundamentals she would have to be adamant. She wasn’t about to : go changing any really basic mechanisms… not for any human being!

On the return trip they stopped to inspect a few rebel ioutposts and talk with small bands of chim fighters. Moralewas high. The veterans of three months’ hard battles askedwhen their leaders would find a way to lure more Gubru upinto the mountains within reach. Athaclena and Robert laughed Iand promised to do what they could about the lack of targetpractice.

Still, they found themselves hard pressed for ideas. Afterall, how does one invite back a guest whose beak one hasrepeatedly bloodied? Perhaps it was time to try taking the war !to the enemy, instead.

The problem was lack of good intelligence about matters !down in the Sind and Port Helenia. A few survivors of theurban uprising had wandered in and reported that their orga- Inization was a shambles. Nobody had seen either GailetJones or Fiben Bolger since that ill-fated day. Contact with a ifew individuals in town was restored, but on a patchy, piece- meal basis.

They had considered sending in new spies. There seemed i to be an opportunity offered by the Gubru public announcements, offering lucrative employment to ecological and uplift experts. But by now the avians must certainly have tuned their interrogation apparatus and developed a fair chim lie detector. In any event, Robert and Athaclena decided against taking the risk. For now, at least.

They were walking homeward up a narrow, seldom-visited valley, when they encountered a slope with a southern exposure, covered with a low-lying expanse of peculiar vegetation. They stood quietly for a time, looking over the green field of flat, inverted bowls.

“I never did cook you a meal of baked plate ivy root,” Robert commented at last, dryly.

Athaclena sniffed, appreciating his irony. The place where the accident had occurred was far from here. And yet, this bumpy hillside brought back vivid memories of that horrible afternoon when their “adventures” all began.

“Are the plants sick? Is- there something wrong with them?” She gestured at the field of plates, overlapping closely like the scales of some slumbering dragon. The upper layers did not look glassy smooth and fat, like those she recalled. The topmost caps in this colony seemed much less thick and sturdy.