After a lot of argument about their duty– on their side– and their safety– on Sir Jonnie's side, they were persuaded to at least come to the plane where they could be given a food package and maybe some weapons. So they all pushed their way through this mob of people back to where the Russians held a defense perimeter and got into the plane.

Sir Robert was there. He sat the two Scot Coordinators down in one of the big Psychlo bucket seats.

“Was there a third one of you?” Sir Robert wanted to know.

“Well, yes,” said MacCandless. “There was Allison. But a couple of days ago he fell in a river and some scaly beast got him.”

“Did you see this?” said Sir Robert.

Well, no, they hadn't seen it. The general had told them and there were plenty of rivers and lots of scaly beasts.

Sir Jonnie was saying something now: “Did Allison talk Psychlo?"

“He was in pilot training,” said MacCandless. “The Federation needs its own pilots sometimes. I suppose he did.”

“Yes, he did,” said the other Scot. “He could talk some Psychlo. They pulled him out of the class to come here. The order to lift these people out came very suddenly from the Council and we were short-'

Sir Robert said, “Do you recall hearing him talk Psychlo to these ruffians around here?”

They thought for a while. The rain was drumming on the marine attack plane roof and it was awfully hot.

“Aye,” said MacCandless finally. "I heard him talking to one of the officers that was finding it remarkable he talked Psychlo. They chattered away in it quite a while. I don't speak-'

“That's all we wanted to know,” Sir Robert was saying. He looked up at Sir Jonnie meaningfully. "Interrogation! They wanted him for interrogation!”

And Sir Jonnie was nodding.

Then Sir Robert pulled out something Bittie didn't know he had. A tam-o'-shanter with blood on it. He handed it to the two Coordinators.

They found some thread initials in it. Yes, it was Allison's. Where'd Sir Robert get it?

Sir Robert blasted them very proper. He told them, and Bittie was shocked to learn that the Brigantes had sold Allison to the Psychlos! And the

Psychlos must have wanted him for interrogation and god help Allison now. Sold Allison? A human being? To the monsters? Neither Bittie nor the Coordinators could get their wits around that.

There was a dreadful row then. Sir Robert ordered the two Coordinators to come along with them. The Coordinators said this was their duty: to lift these people out; it was a Council order! And Sir Robert thundered at them that he was the War Chief of Scotland and he damned well wasn't going to leave them here. The two Coordinators tried to leave and Sir Jonnie and Sir Robert, using the cargo lashings Bittie hastily found, simply tied them up. They put them on top of the supplies at the rear of the plane.

They withdrew their defense perimeter and took off, and Bittie was not surprised to hear one of the pilots ask permission to strafe these creatures from the air. Sir Robert said no, if they tried that the creatures would just run under the trees; they weren't equipped to handle them right now and they had other things to do; but if they'd done what they appeared to have done, they'd have a bloody feud on their filthy hands. Everybody was pretty upset about Allison.

When they had taken off and were flying back to the compound, Bittie got to pondering those people down there.

He leaned over to Sir Jonnie and said, “Sir Jonnie, how in all this rain can they be so dirty”

The big marine attack plane landed in the night near the branch mine. It was still deserted. The rain still came down. But there were quarreling sounds of animals over where the skirmish had been fought. The snarls and spits of angry leopards, the shattering barks of some other beast, the eerie cackling laughter of yet another predator. They were fighting over the bodies of the dead.

The flatbed with the flying platform and blast mortar was where it had been prepared just inside the hangar door. There was no sign that the other flatbed had returned in retreat. It must still be following the convoy.

Jonnie looked through the deserted compound again. The lights were still on. The distant mine pumps still pounded away. Unless disturbed by some outside force, all such machinery would probably continue to run for decades.

The planetary traffic printer was still sitting there spewing out paper that recorded current traffic. Jonnie glanced through it. "MacIvor, can you please bring extra fuel to Moscow?” “This is the traffic controller at Johannesburg. Are there any planes en route this way? If not, I can close down for the night.” "Isaac, please come in, Isaac. Listen, Isaac, were there any serviceable ore freighters left in the Grozny minesite? And can they be converted for passengers? Please let me know by morning. We're a wee bit shy of carriers right now.” "Lundy, we're cancelling you on the Tibet run. We need you and your copilot back here to help with an airlift. Please acknowledge, laddie.” Most of it in the pilot jargon of Psychlo.

It struck Jonnie that this stream of messages would give an attacker a

pretty good idea of what areas were actively operating. It was almost a catalogue of targets for Mark 32s.

If the convoy got through and these Psychlos mounted an overall attack, they could take back the planet.

He wondered whether he shouldn't put out a general call on this set and order a seventy-two-hour radio silence. But no, the damage was done. These same messages were probably reeling out of the Lake Victoria minesite printer too. And any transmission he made here might be picked up by the convoy, alerting it. Well, he would just have to succeed with the convoy, that was all.

He walked back through the empty, echoing levels. The Psychlos, he noticed, had mainly stripped the place of armament. They were leaving no blast guns or portable weapons behind to fall into Brigante hands. Lucky they'd overlooked the mortars in their haste.

The flatbed was out of the hangar now, waiting in the dark yard. Jonnie shut the doors of the compound– no use letting in the leopards and elephants and snakes.

He went back to the big plane and did a rapid review of the actions that were about to occur. He told them to fly in very low indeed– hugging ground– from way over to the east and come in behind the ambush point. He didn't want that plane on convoy tank screens. Then deploy along this ridge...this one here that flanked the road...and when the convoy was well into the ravine, give them a flanking fire. What if they turned around and started back? Well, he'd be back there with a mortar on the flying platform to keep them from retreating.

What? an incredulous Robert the Fox was saying. One mortar against tanks? That's impossible. The convoy would be able to get back into the forest and they'd never get them out. Oh. You want this plane to take off and help block that. Well, that's all right. It is a battle plane.

“Just try to roll the tanks and trucks over without exploding them,” said Jonnie. “Use no radiation bullets. Just blast gun force. Keep your weapons on 'Broad Blast,' 'No Flame,' and 'Stun.'

We don't want to kill them. As soon as they're all strung out along this ravine, block the road from the ambush. I’ll block it from the rear. The rest of you flank it from the ridge. This battle plane is to help if they get loose and head back toward the forest. Right?”

“Right, right, right.” A Coordinator tried unsuccessfully to make up for the absence of the Russian Coordinator, who was now with Ivan, and then said, "I’ll make sure the Russian Coordinator explains it when we get to the others.... Oh, I’ve got it straight. I can tell them then.”

“Remember,” said Jonnie, “there's a slim possibility that Allison is in that convoy, so keep your eye out for him and if he gets away in the fight, don't shoot him.”