The tsiongi would leap at them, miss, and then turn an indignant eye turret toward Nesseref, as if to say, They are not supposed to be able to do that. They are not supposed to be able to do that. To Orbit, the unexpected abilities of the birds were as confusing and demoralizing as the unexpected abilities of the Big Uglies had been to the males of the conquest fleet. To Orbit, the unexpected abilities of the birds were as confusing and demoralizing as the unexpected abilities of the Big Uglies had been to the males of the conquest fleet.

Once, one of the gray feathered creatures with green heads waited so long before taking to the air that Orbit's leap after it was even higher and more awkward than usual, though no more successful. The tsiongi crashed back to the pavement with a piteous screech.

As the disgruntled beast picked itself up, a male called, "Does he think he is going to learn to fly, too?" His mouth gaped wide; he plainly enjoyed his own wit.

Nesseref didn't. "He has a better chance of learning to fly than you do of learning to be funny," she snapped.

"Well, pardon me for existing," the male said. "I did not know the Emperor had come to Tosev 3."

"There are, no doubt, a great many things you did not know," Nesseref said acidly. "By the evidence you have shown so far, you demonstrate this every time you speak."

She and the male were eyeing each other's body paint before they exchanged more insults. The male was only a data-entry clerk; Nesseref outranked him. If he tried coming back at her again, she was ready to blister his hearing diaphragms. He must have seen as much; he turned and skittered away.

Orbit kept on trying to catch birds. So did the other tsiongyu Nesseref saw in her walk along the streets of the new town. Noting that made the shuttlecraft pilot feel better, though it did nothing for her pet.

And then, as she was heading back toward her apartment building, a beffel trotted past with one of those plump gray birds in its mouth. Orbit saw the beffel-and the prize the beffel had, the prize the tsiongi hadn't been able to get-an instant before Nesseref did. That instant was all Orbit needed. The tsiongi streaked after the beffel and, catching Nesseref by surprise, jerked the leash out of her hand.

"No! Come back!" she shouted, and ran after Orbit. The tsiongi, unfortunately, ran faster than she did. Tsiongyu also ran faster than befflem. The beffel, looking back with one eye turret, saw Orbit gaining on it. Hoping to distract its pursuer, it spat out its prey.

The ploy worked. The beffel dashed away as...o...b..t stopped in front of the feathered Tosevite creature and stuck out his tongue to find out what it smelled like before devouring it. Only then did the tsiongi discover the beffel had seized the bird without killing it. With a flutter of wings, the bird, though hurt, managed to get into the air and fly off. Orbit snapped at it but missed, even though its flight was as slow and awkward as that of a badly damaged killercraft.

Before the tsiongi could go after it, Nesseref came dashing up and grabbed the end of the leash. "No!" she said once more when Orbit tried to break loose. This time, because she had hold of the leash, Orbit had to listen to her.

Nesseref scolded the tsiongi all the way back to the apartment building. That probably didn't do much good as far as...o...b..t was concerned: he was going to keep right on chasing befflem and trying to catch birds. But it did make the shuttlecraft pilot feel better.

When she got into the apartment building, she discovered the day's mail had come. She didn't expect much; most things where time mattered came electronically instead. But some of the local shops advertised themselves on paper, and she'd already found a couple of good bargains by paying attention to their flyers. Maybe she would be lucky again today.

Along with the bright-colored printed sheets, her box held a plain white envelope of peculiar size. The paper was strange, too: of coa.r.s.er manufacture than she'd ever seen before. When she turned it over, she understood, for it had her address written not only in the language of the Race but also in the funny-looking characters the local Big Uglies used. Something had been pasted in one corner of the envelope: a small picture of a Tosevite in a lorry partly obscured by a rubber stamp with more Tosevite characters. Nesseref needed a moment to remember that was how the Big Uglies showed they'd paid a required postage fee.

"Why would a Tosevite want to write me?" she asked Orbit. If the tsiongi knew, he wasn't talking; his experience with all things Tosevite had been less than happy. Nesseref scratched him below his hearing diaphragm. "Well, let's go up and find out."

Once she'd closed the door to the apartment behind her, she opened the envelope-awkwardly, because it wasn't made quite like the ones the Race used. She tore the letter inside, but not badly. After she got it unfolded, she turned both eye turrets to the page.

I greet you, superior female, she read. she read. Mordechai Anielewicz here. I do not often try to write your language, so I am sure this will have many mistakes. I am sorry, and I hope you will excuse them. Mordechai Anielewicz here. I do not often try to write your language, so I am sure this will have many mistakes. I am sorry, and I hope you will excuse them. She had already noted and discounted a couple of misspellings and some strange turns of phrase, and had dismissed them-she couldn't have written Anielewicz's language at all. She had already noted and discounted a couple of misspellings and some strange turns of phrase, and had dismissed them-she couldn't have written Anielewicz's language at all.

He went on, The reason I am writing to you is that I want you to find for me whatever sort of treat a beffel might like most. My hatchling brought one home, and it may have saved our lives, because it woke him when a fire started in the building where I lived. We lost our goods, but otherwise escaped without harm. We are very grateful to the beffel, as you will understand. The reason I am writing to you is that I want you to find for me whatever sort of treat a beffel might like most. My hatchling brought one home, and it may have saved our lives, because it woke him when a fire started in the building where I lived. We lost our goods, but otherwise escaped without harm. We are very grateful to the beffel, as you will understand.

Nesseref turned one eye turret toward Orbit; the tsiongi had gone to rest on the couch. "It is a good thing you do not understand what is in this letter," she said. Orbit, fortunately, didn't understand that, either.

Whatever you find, please mail it to me at my new address, Anielewicz wrote. Anielewicz wrote. Here it is, in characters a Tosevite postal delivery male will understand. You have only to copy them. Here it is, in characters a Tosevite postal delivery male will understand. You have only to copy them. He'd printed the characters very plainly. Nesseref thought she could imitate them well enough to let a Big Ugly make sense of them-or she could scan them into her computer and print them out. Her Tosevite friend finished, He'd printed the characters very plainly. Nesseref thought she could imitate them well enough to let a Big Ugly make sense of them-or she could scan them into her computer and print them out. Her Tosevite friend finished, Let me know what this costs and l will arrange to pay you back. Let me know what this costs and l will arrange to pay you back.

Exchange between the Big Uglies and the Race was often problematical. That didn't matter, though, not here. Nesseref wouldn't have expected repayment from a male or female of the Race for such a favor, and saw no reason to expect it from Anielewicz, either.

She went to the computer and wrote, I greet you. I am glad to be able to greet you. How strange that an animal from Home should have saved you from the fire. How did it start? I greet you. I am glad to be able to greet you. How strange that an animal from Home should have saved you from the fire. How did it start? That question loomed large in her mind. The Race's buildings were nearly fireproof, and were equipped with extinguishing systems in case a blaze did somehow break out. She'd seen, though, that the Big Uglies didn't build to anything like the same standards. That question loomed large in her mind. The Race's buildings were nearly fireproof, and were equipped with extinguishing systems in case a blaze did somehow break out. She'd seen, though, that the Big Uglies didn't build to anything like the same standards.

With this letter I will send a cloth animal full of ssrissp seeds, she continued. she continued. Befflem like the scent very much. You need not pay me back; it is my pleasure. I am glad you are safe. You write my language well. Befflem like the scent very much. You need not pay me back; it is my pleasure. I am glad you are safe. You write my language well. That was an overstatement, but she had been able to understand him. That was an overstatement, but she had been able to understand him.

After printing the letter, she scrawled her name below it. "How strange," she said to Orbit. One of the tsiongi's eye turrets turned toward her He knew she was talking to him, but not why. She explained: "Who would have thought a Big Ugly would take charge of a beffel?"

Orbit rolled onto his back and stuck his feet in the air. Maybe he followed more than she thought, for every line of his body said that he cared nothing for befflem-or for Big Uglies, either. He'd always ignored the rubbish collectors and other Tosevites he sometimes saw on the streets of the new town.

Even so, Nesseref went on, "And who would have thought a beffel could-or would-save a Tosevite's life?"

Still on his back, the tsiongi opened his mouth in an enormous yawn. He probably would have been just as well pleased to learn that a lot of Big Uglies had burned, so long as that meant the beffel went up in flames with them. Nesseref understood the att.i.tude, but didn't sympathize with it.

The next day, after she got back from the shuttlecraft base not far outside the new town, she visited the pet store where she'd bought Orbit. When she chose a ssrissp-seed animal, the female who ran the place remarked, "I hope you know that tsiongyu care nothing for these toys."

"Of course I know that," Nesseref said indignantly. "Do you think I hatched out of my eggsh.e.l.l yesterday? This is not for me-it is for a friend who has a beffel. Does that meet with your approval, superior female?"

Nesseref was in fact of far higher rank than the other female. But the pet-shop proprietor seemed to have trouble recognizing sarcasm. She answered, "I suppose you can get one if you really want to."

"Thank you so much," Nesseref said. "My friend, by the way, is a Tosevite. He likes his beffel very much."

"A Big Ugly with a beffel?" The other female stared in undisguised horror. "What is this world coming to?"

She meant it as a rhetorical question, but Nesseref answered it anyhow: "Something no one on Home expected-a true blending of the Race and the Tosevites."

"I do not like it," the other female said firmly.

Although Nesseref wasn't so sure she liked it, either, she said, "It may just turn out to be... interesting."

David Goldfarb thought the Canadian shipping line that ran the Liberty Hot Springs Liberty Hot Springs might have changed the ship's name after acquiring her from the USA, but no one had bothered. He asked a sailor about it one day as the ship steamed west across the Atlantic. might have changed the ship's name after acquiring her from the USA, but no one had bothered. He asked a sailor about it one day as the ship steamed west across the Atlantic.

"No, we wouldn't do that," the fellow answered. "Hadn't been for the Americans, we'd be bowing down to the Emperor five times a day, too, or whatever it is the Lizards do."

He sounded like an American himself, at least to Goldfarb's ear. The RAF officer-no, the ex-RAF officer, the ex-RAF officer, he reminded himself-could gauge the home region and status of anyone from the British Isles just by listening to him for a couple of minutes. But American accents only put him in mind of evenings at the cinema, and all Yanks seemed to him to talk the same way. he reminded himself-could gauge the home region and status of anyone from the British Isles just by listening to him for a couple of minutes. But American accents only put him in mind of evenings at the cinema, and all Yanks seemed to him to talk the same way.

But when he remarked that the sailor sounded like an American screen actor, the fellow laughed at him. "You can tell the difference once you learn how," he said. "We say zed zed and and shedule, shedule, the same as you do in England. On the other side of the border, they say the same as you do in England. On the other side of the border, they say zee zee and and skedule. skedule. And when they go through a door, they go And when they go through a door, they go owt owt"-he exaggerated the p.r.o.nunciation-"but we go oat oat."

"Now that you tell me, I can hear the difference," Goldfarb admitted, "but I wouldn't have noticed otherwise."

The Canadian shrugged. Was that rueful? Resigned? Amused? Something of all three? Goldfarb wasn't sure. The sailor said, "Getting harder and harder for us to tell differences these days. Since the fighting stopped, we've looked more and more south to the USA and less and less across the ocean to England. Meaning no offense, pal, but you've had other things on your mind than us."

"I know," Goldfarb said bitterly. "Britain's looking south more and more these days, too-south across the Channel to the Greater German Reich. Reich. The UK is turning into a pack of little n.a.z.is because it's next door to the big ones." The UK is turning into a pack of little n.a.z.is because it's next door to the big ones."

"Yes, it's a shame," the sailor said. He sounded sympathetic but distant-what happened to the United Kingdom didn't matter much to him. And the Reich Reich wasn't the biggest danger loose in the world, and hadn't been for a long time. Next to the Lizards, who cared about Germans? wasn't the biggest danger loose in the world, and hadn't been for a long time. Next to the Lizards, who cared about Germans?

And, next to the sailor's duties, he didn't care much about keeping a pa.s.senger entertained. Oh, he was polite; he tipped his cap as he went on his way. But go on his way he did, leaving Goldfarb alone on the deck of the Liberty Hot Springs Liberty Hot Springs, with the Atlantic all around him.

The only long sea voyages he'd made before were to Poland and back during the fighting, when he'd rescued his cousin Moishe Russie from a Lizard gaol. He'd gone by submarine then, and hadn't had much-hadn't had any-chance to look out. Traveling from Liverpool to Belfast for his last RAF posting hadn't been the same, either, for he'd hardly gone out of sight of land. Now...

Now, for the first time in his life, he got a sense of how truly vast the ocean was. The ship didn't seem to move on it. Nothing came up over the western horizon, nothing vanished below the eastern horizon. From what his senses told him, the Liberty Hot Springs Liberty Hot Springs might sail on forever without seeing land again. might sail on forever without seeing land again.

Goldfarb wondered if it was the same out in s.p.a.ce. Airplanes were different. He knew about them. The sense of motion was never absent in them; neither was the sense that the journey, which by the nature of things could last only hours, would soon end. Traveling across the solar system as the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark had done, or from star to star as the Lizards did... Those were wider oceans than the had done, or from star to star as the Lizards did... Those were wider oceans than the Liberty Hot Springs Liberty Hot Springs was meant to sail. was meant to sail.

A couple of other sailors hurried past him, intent on business of their own. On this ship, pa.s.sengers were an afterthought. On a liner, they wouldn't have been, but Goldfarb wouldn't have been able to afford pa.s.sage across the Atlantic on a liner. Serving his country all his adult life hadn't made him rich.

He wondered what serving his country all his adult life had got him. In some small ways, he'd helped make sure Britain wouldn't be occupied by the Germans or the Lizards, but he doubted that would have changed much had he stayed in London's East End instead of volunteering for the RAF.

Of course, if he'd played along with the ginger smugglers in the RAF, he might well be on his way toward getting rich now. But that wasn't why he'd joined. He might not know many things, but he was certain of that.

Some sort of bird flew by the ship. Pointing to it, a pa.s.sing sailor said, "Land in a couple of days."

"Really?" Goldfarb said, and the Canadian nodded. Goldfarb felt foolish; he knew when the journey had started and how long it was supposed to last, and shouldn't have needed the bird to remind him when they would approach Canada. Using it as a sign took him back to the days before steam engines, back even to the days before chronometers, when accurately gauging a ship's position was impossible and such portents really mattered.

Naomi came up from below and looked around. Seeing Goldfarb, she waved and made her way over to him. She'd always been very fair; in the moderately rough seas they'd met earlier in the journey, she'd gone pale as skimmed milk. She didn't have a whole lot of color now, either, come to that.

"Won't be too much longer," David said, and spoke of the bird as if it, and not the steady thud of the ship's engine, meant they would be coming to Canada soon.

Naomi accepted the news in the spirit with which he'd offered it. "Danken Gott dafur," "Danken Gott dafur," she said. "It's seemed like forever." A voyage that had been timeless in one sense for Goldfarb had been timeless in a very different sense for her. She gathered herself and went on, "The children will be disappointed." she said. "It's seemed like forever." A voyage that had been timeless in one sense for Goldfarb had been timeless in a very different sense for her. She gathered herself and went on, "The children will be disappointed."

"Yes, they've had a fine time," Goldfarb agreed. "They won't want to get off the ship when we get to Montreal."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "If I have to, I'll drag them off," she said. "Who would have thought my children would turn out to be good sailors?" She sounded as if they'd betrayed her by not getting sick.

When the Liberty Hot Springs Liberty Hot Springs reached Canadian waters, Goldfarb got another surprise: the scale of the country. The Gulf of St. Lawrence, protected from the greater sea by Newfoundland and the headland of Nova Scotia, was impressive, but nothing had prepared him for the St. Lawrence River itself. He had trouble seeing both banks at the same time when the ship first entered it: where gulf stopped and river began seemed very much a matter of opinion. Even when it eventually narrowed, it remained awe-inspiringly large. reached Canadian waters, Goldfarb got another surprise: the scale of the country. The Gulf of St. Lawrence, protected from the greater sea by Newfoundland and the headland of Nova Scotia, was impressive, but nothing had prepared him for the St. Lawrence River itself. He had trouble seeing both banks at the same time when the ship first entered it: where gulf stopped and river began seemed very much a matter of opinion. Even when it eventually narrowed, it remained awe-inspiringly large.

"There must be as much water going through here as there is in all the rivers in England put together," Goldfarb remarked to a sailor.

"Oh, more than that," the Canadian said smugly.

And, fighting against the St. Lawrence's fierce current, the Liberty Hot Springs Liberty Hot Springs took two and a half days to get to Montreal after entering the river. That journey alone was about as far as it was from the Isle of Wight in southern England to the Orkneys off the northern coast of Scotland-but it took in only a small bite of the vastness that was Canada. Goldfarb's notions of scale got revised again. took two and a half days to get to Montreal after entering the river. That journey alone was about as far as it was from the Isle of Wight in southern England to the Orkneys off the northern coast of Scotland-but it took in only a small bite of the vastness that was Canada. Goldfarb's notions of scale got revised again.

Only Montreal itself failed to overwhelm him. It was a fair-sized city, sure enough. But to a man born and raised in London, that was all it was. Britain might be small, but it had plenty of people.

When longsh.o.r.emen tied the ship up at a quay, he gave a long sigh of relief. "We're here," he said to Naomi. "We can start over now."

"Let's not be so happy till we get through customs," his wife answered. She'd been a refugee before, fleeing the Reich. Reich. If that wasn't enough to ingrain pessimism in someone, Goldfarb didn't know what would be. If that wasn't enough to ingrain pessimism in someone, Goldfarb didn't know what would be.

But he said, "Well, our papers are in order, so we shouldn't have any trouble." As she had up on deck a few days before, his wife rolled her eyes.

Clutching papers and suitcases and children, he and Naomi went over the gangplank, off the ship, and onto Canadian soil. He'd wondered if, in Montreal, he would have to deal with officials who spoke French. But the fellow to whose post he came wore a name badge that said V. WILLIAMS V. WILLIAMS and used English of the same sort as the sailors on the and used English of the same sort as the sailors on the Liberty Hot Springs. Liberty Hot Springs.

"So you are immigrating to our country, eh?" he said, examining pa.s.sports and immigration forms.

"Yes, sir." A lifetime in the RAF had taught Goldfarb the shortest answers were the best.

"Reason for leaving Great Britain?" Williams asked.

"Too many people getting too chummy with Himmler," Goldfarb said dryly.

Whatever Williams had expected by way of reply, that wasn't it. He was about Goldfarb's age; he might well have seen action against the Germans himself. "Er, yes," he said, and scribbled a note on the form in front of him. "So your claim would involve political liberties, then? We don't often see that from the mother country."

Naomi said, "You will see more of it, I think, as England comes closer to the Reich." Reich."

"It could be so, ma'am," the immigration officer said, and wrote another note. He turned back to David. "Now, then-what skills do you bring to Canada?"

"I'm just retired from the RAF," Goldfarb answered. "I served since 1939, and I've been working with radars all that time. I'll gladly pa.s.s along anything I happen to know that you don't, and I'll be looking for civilian work in electronics or at an airport."

"I see." Williams turned away and shuffled through some papers. He pulled one out, read it, and nodded. "I thought your name was familiar. You're the fellow who was involved in that ginger-smuggling mess last year, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's me," Goldfarb answered with a sinking feeling.

His old chum Jerome Jones had managed to clear away the obstacles to his emigration from Britain. What obstacles had Basil Roundbush and his pals managed to throw up against his immigration into Canada?

Williams tapped the eraser end of his pencil against his front teeth, "You and your family are to be permitted into the country," he said, still eyeing that sheet of paper. "You are to be permitted entry, but you are also to be transported to Ottawa for a thorough interrogation. Until that interrogation is completed to the satisfaction of the authorities, you are to remain under the authority of the Canadian government."

"What precisely does that mean?" Goldfarb asked. I should have known this wouldn't be easy. I should have known this wouldn't be easy. Gevalt, Gevalt, Naomi knew it wouldn't be easy. Naomi knew it wouldn't be easy.

"What it says, more or less," the immigration officer answered. "You are not free to settle until this process is finalized." He sounded every inch a bureaucrat.

Voice brittle, Naomi asked, "And how long is that likely to take?"

Williams spread his hands. "I'm sorry, but I haven't the least idea. That's not my bailiwick at all, I'm afraid." Yes, he was a bureaucrat, all right.

"We're prisoners, then," David Goldfarb said.

"Not prisoners-not exactly, anyhow," Williams answered.

"But not free, either."

The immigration officer nodded. "No, not free."

9.

Glen Johnson peered out through the s.p.a.cious gla.s.s canopy of his hot rod. That was the name that seemed to have stuck on the little auxiliary rockets the crew of the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark used to go exploring in the neighborhood of Ceres. He had radar and an instrument suite almost as complete as the one aboard used to go exploring in the neighborhood of Ceres. He had radar and an instrument suite almost as complete as the one aboard Peregrine, Peregrine, but the Mark One eyeball was still his instrument of first choice. but the Mark One eyeball was still his instrument of first choice.

Just for a moment, he glanced toward the shrunken sun. It showed only a tiny disk, barely a third the size it would have from Earth's...o...b..t. Lots of pieces of rock in the neighborhood looked bigger.

He watched the rocks and he watched the radar screen. At the moment, he was out ahead of Ceres, and moving away from it. Most of what he had to worry about was stuff he was approaching. He'd have to be more careful on the return trip, when he'd be swimming against the tide, so to speak. Hot rods were built to take it, but he didn't want to put that to the test.

From the back seat, Lucy Vegetti said, "That dark one over to the left looks like it ought to be interesting. The one that looks like a squash, I mean."

To Johnson, it looked like just another floating chunk of rock, with a long axis of perhaps a quarter of a mile. He shrugged. "You're the mineralogist," he said, and used the hot rod's att.i.tude jets to turn toward the little asteroid. "What do you hope we'll find there?"

"Iron, with luck," she answered.