Gerd gasped. Their own Fuzzies-the ambassadors- were coming out of the woods, followed by a group of Upland Fuzzies. Whereas woods Fuzzies just moved over the ground in a disorderly bunch, the Upland Fuzzies-well- they were quite a different gang-apparently.

The Upland Fuzzies were arranged in two staggered files, several meters apart.Flankers were spaced out from the edge of the main body, and there was a skirmish line to the front, with three point-men moving ahead of that.

As the two groups drew closer, Jack and Gerd could see that there was a great deal of conversation between Little Fuzzy-who loved being the self-appointed intermediary between the Hagga and all Fuzzydom-and another specific Fuzzy in the Upland group. That suggested that this group of Fuzzies had a group/headman society, which suggested entirely different things about this example of Fuzzy culture, which suggested that a lot of things the Terrans had "deduced" about the evolution of Fuzzy civilization were flat wrong, which suggested that much Fuzzy research was really going nowhere on hyperdrive, which suggested et cetera.

This bunch was just as wary of the first contact with Hagga as any woods Fuzzy, but they were better organized about it. The skirmish line filled out with some members from the column. Chopper-diggers at high port, watchful eyes fixed on the aliens-in other words, the Terrans-and scouts maintaining an air-watch for harpies; very businesslike bunch of Fuzzies.

The leader advanced, with Little Fuzzy, and a rather dignified palaver took place. Jack and Gerd had to use their ultrasonic hearing aids. Upland Fuzzies still spoke in a frequency range too high for Terran hearing. As it was, they only caught about every other word, enough for them to be visually responsive but not really understand. Little Fuzzy translated-and enjoyed every minute of it.

The-by-now-rather-mythic explanation of Hagga was well received. The leader's delight with Extee-Three was ill-concealed, but handled with a certain dignity that only involved the widening of eyes and some yeeks of pure ecstasy. Gifts of steel shoppo-diggo and canvas shodda-bags were handled in a businesslike manner, the group came up in increments of five each, expressed approval at the trade of new for old chopper-diggers, the gift oishodda-bag, and yeeks of profound pleasure about the ration of esteefee.

The Fuzzy unit-no other word seemed quite as appropriate-almost spooked and ran when George and Ahmed arrived on the contragravity skid. Gerd's portable lab floating off the ground was one thing, but a thing that did that and moved as well, almost stretched the flee-or-fight reflex beyond its intellectual constraints. As negotiations proceeded, some of the bolder Fuzzies were persuaded to go for short rides on the skid-especially after being challenged with the example of the southern Fuzzies riding it and obviously enjoying it.

Eventually, the Uplanders seemed to think it was fun-at least they still had Fuzzies' traditional attitudes about fun, which is to say they really couldn't resist it.

Ahmed picked up the microray scanner and wandered off up the slope of what they were now calling "Mount Fuzzy," taking random readings-more for something to do man anything else.

The discussion broke down on only one point, but it was a sticking-point.

Jack's suggestion that they all come down to Holloway Station and get away from this grim hand to mouth existence was met with a flat refusal. The Upland Fuzzies were adamant about staying where they were. It was traditional, you know; stick close to the valley. They couldn't explain the why of it, but there was no shaking them from the fact of its necessity-another basic difference between the Uplanders and the woods Fuzzies, which suggested a whole bunch more of "and so ons" about the state of the art in Fuzzy research.

Attempts to convince them were useless."How are you going to persuade them?" George asked. "It's a cinch these folks are having a hard time putting beans on the table. Look at them. There isn't a one that isn't seriously underweight."

"And, as a result of malnutrition," Gerd added. "A lot of them need medical attention. I can see it from here. It would be for their own good, Jack, if we-"

"It's not my job to persuade them about anything," Jack snapped. "My job is to protect them. If they won't come to us, we'll have to come to them. Your job is to implement the Commissioner's policy and wants-namely mine. So, make some notes. You are opening a branch office of Fuzzy Institute."

Gerd started to reply, but Jack cut him off with a gesture. "Little Fuzzy, tell them we will leave all thehoksu-fusso we have with us, and will bring back more in less than a hand of days. Ask if there are more Fuzzies up here than this bunch."

Little Fuzzy carried on a light-speed conversation with the leader, whose face brightened when he was told about the esteefee. He motioned some of his troops forward. Each grabbed a blue-labeled tin of esteefee and tenderly hoisted it onto his shoulder.

"All Fuzzies heh-yeh, Pappy Jack," Little Fuzzy said.

"He say, once many-many. Ha'hpy make off wif some. Some no tough enough-die in cold season. Many-many go off when zatku move souff-he no know."

Jack rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ' Tell him they have my promise we will take care of them," he said to Little Fuzzy. He was going to say more, but there was a curious catch in his voice, so he let it go at that.

As Little Fuzzy was translating, the leader's face began to soften for the first time from the grim, hollow-eyed expression of resolve that had gripped it all through the conference. That was one way the Uplanders were like all other Fuzzies-there was something in their nature that compelled them to love the Hagga and accept their protection. Leave the valley? Not a chance. But, make the Hagga happy; that was as natural to them as eating zatku.

Suddenly, there was a blood-curdling shriek from up on Mount Fuzzy. "Great Jumping Jezebel's Eyebrows!" Ahmed bellowed at the top of his voice. "Come here! Quick!"

The Upland Fuzzies quite reasonably took this to be a danger warning. They scattered in every direction-making sure that all the tins of Extee-Three accompanied them- and were out of sight of the Terrans in less than a minute.

Even Holloway's Fuzzies took cover and then peeped out anxiously from under, in, and behind where they had dived when Ahmed first shouted.

Jack, Gerd, and George leaped onto the skid and George sent it skimming up the mountain slope to where they could see Ahmed jumping up and down and waving the microray scanner.

Before the skid stopped, Jack jumped off and ran a few steps to adjust his forward momentum. "Now what the hell?" he asked Ahmed.

Ahmed pointed to the bare ground. He had made some little piles of stones, and scratched lines in the loose earth with the toe of his boot. "Look at the sizeof this sonofabitch!" he said.

George had grounded the skid. "What sonofabitch?" he barked.

"I don't know," Ahmed barked right back, "but look at the size of it!"

Gerd still had the rangefinder he had used to chart-spot his soil sample locations. He pulled it out of his pocket and took some shots of the area Ahmed had marked out.

"The 'size of it' is about eight hundred feet long and about seven hundred feet across, shaped something very much like a regular triangle," he said drily. "At risk of sounding redundant, what is it?"

"It's-it's-it's something," Ahmed said, "and it's all titanium, as near as I can tell."

"Oh for-" Jack said exasperatedly. "Here, give me that." He took the microray scanner, pointed it, shaded the readout with his hand, and then made a face.

He zeroed the readout, smacked the scanner smartly on its side a few times with the heel of his hand, and assumed an exasperated expression.

He handed the instrument to Gerd. "Here. See for yourself."

"Great Ghu's gallstones," Gerd said. "He's right. It's totally impossible, of course, but he's right."

George had to look next. The interruption pattern was quite clear on the readout pattern; a large triangle, with a hollow place in the middle, so that it looked much like a letter "A" on the readout screen. "Well, "George said, "it'snot all titanium. There's some other stuff there, too. I don't see why you guys are all coming unstuck. I told you there was a lot of titanium up here." He looked nonplussed.

"For God's sake, George ..." Jack said. "Look. If all the titanium in the entire crust of Zarathustra was to be collected, refined, and cast into a single chunk, it still wouldn't be as large as this thing is. That's what we're excited about."

What Colonial Governor General Bennett Rainsford was excited about was that Attorney General Gus Brannhard had emphatically informed him that the prerogatives of his office did not allow him to shoot a couple members of the constitutional convention out-of-hand, just to get the rest of them to take him seriously.

The idea kept running through his mind as he addressed the delegates, assembled in congress, that they would somehow more clearly understand what he was saying if he could just haul out his pistol and rap the butt of it on the lectern smartly from time to time to drive the point home.

"I have no desire to stifle debate, ladies and gentlemen," he concluded, "but if you keep on with this debate as you have, you will legislate representative government on Zarathustra right out of business. If a Federation High Commission were to investigate the progress of this convention over the past ten months, they would, I am most certain, declare the body politic-the corpus comitatus-of the people of Zarathustra Colony to be incompetent to manage its own affairs. They-a Federation High Commission-would then appoint a guardian government for us-a political nanny, if you will-to look after us, since we had demonstrated mat we could not look after ourselves."I will not go that far-nor while I hold office, will I permit such a shameful occurrence. But, I'll tell you what I will do, and I'll tell you why. If you distinguished delegates do not complete the task of framing a constitution in a speedy and efficient manner, this entire colony is going to start coming down around all our ears.

"The request which you have duly filed," he continued, "for a one-year extension of the authority of this body is denied. Attorney General Brannhard will read the court order to you as soon as I have finished speaking, and furnish copies to those members who may wish to study it-on their own time.

During the remaining two months of life which this convention now possesses, the convention will complete the task to which it was appointed-namely to write a constitution for the Colony of Zarathustra. If that task has not been completed speedily, which is to say in less than the allotted time, my office will apply for an Order Nisi Quo Warranto, which the courts will issue. Such an order will dissolve the convention on a priori grounds of incompetence in office and form a possible cause of action against individual members on criminal charges of malfeasance in office."

Rainsford looked over the hall full of stunned faces before him. "I trust you all now know how I feel," he said, then turned and left the platform.

Chapter 19.

"Paperwork, paperwork!" snarled the small, wiry man behind the watch captain's desk. "Damn the double-damned paperwork!"

"Are the burdens of duty weighing heavily on your scrawny frame, Captain Pendleton?" George Lunt asked quietly.

"Dammit, George," Pendleton said. He shook a sheaf of printout in the air.

"What's all this crap with changing the patrol schedules-and the personnel-and the assignment areas?"

"Why, Ray," George said, "all I've done is shift the Marines from North Beta to the southern areas of the continent-essentially."

"Essentially, my Aunt Fanny," Pendleton grumped. "You've put different men on everything north of Fuzzy Divide, and changed the duty schedule for everyone else."

"Not everyone, Ray," George chided. "I've left all the lieutenants and captains right where they were on the roster schedule."

" Yeaaahhh," Pendleton said,"which means that all their sergeants and troopers are now men they've never worked with before."

"Well, that just has to be done once in a while, Ray-" George said, "-the way I want things run. I don't want people getting too comfy and routine about their work. When the ground is all so familiar that they get to screening in their report automatically, it's time to change the scenery. Keeps everybody awake."

"Sure," Pendleton said,"and makes your officers old and gray before their time."

George grinned. "But, you were old and gray when I appointed you, Ray."

"I was old and gray when I was born," Pendleton said. "That's how I was smart enough to live this long.""And sweetly, too," George said. "Your disposition is the most loveable part of you. I don't know whether that's a compliment or not." He continued quickly, so as not to leave space for. a rebuttal."lam going off duty shift at the moment. I will be at Mr. Commissioner Holloway's residence for cocktails."

Pendleton made a face.' 7 will be here slaving over all this damned paperwork," George heard him say as the screen door slammed behind him.

"Jack," George said,"we can quarantine the whole area. I've already changed the patrol assignments all around-you should hear how the watch captains are howling about that-and we can keep everyone else out on the grounds that the Upland Fuzzies are just too nervous about Hagga and it will take some time for them to become accustomed to Terrans. It's all inside the Fuzzy Reservation, anyway, so the only legal niceties involved would be a written order from you.

That will give us enough breathing-time to find out what the titanium thing is and decide how we're going to handle it. We don't want any curiosity for a while."

Jacknodded. "I agree, George. There are lots of questions to be answered, and the only chance we have of keeping control-short of asking for armed troops from Commodore Napier-is to stay one or two jumps ahead of everyone else with the answers."

"Questions?" George said. "There are nothing but questions, and I don't see any answers yet. To start with, why have Fuzzies built there in Fuzzy Valley and nowhere else?"

"Nowhere else that we know about," Ahmed corrected.

"Point well taken," Jack said. "It's the plants, of course, that pick up the titanium; that's what keeps them there. We could fly a one-item scan map of the planet from, say, fifty thousand feet, and probably depend on finding Fuzzies wherever we got a high concentration of titanium in the soil."

"Why is there so much titanium up there, anyway?" George asked.

"I don't know," Jack said. "It's contrary to everything in the current body of data about extraterrestrial geology." He shrugged. "But, there are a lot of things on a lot of planets that are contrary data."

"You think there could be other concentrations of titanium like this one?"

Ahmed asked.

Jack shrugged again. "Don't know."

"Well, what do you think that big hunk of it up in Fuzzy Valley is?" Ahmed asked.

"Don't know," Jack said, again.

"Could it be something the Fuzzies built a long time ago? I mean, archeological remains from their civilization?"

"Fuzzy archeology?" George said. "That's nuts."

"George is likely right," Jack said. "People who don't make any ancillary tools more refined than a low Paleolithic coup de poing axe and wooden shoppo-diggo are not too likely to have built pyramids or anything.""Oh, I don't know," Khadra said. "They could have once been a very high culture-which slowly slipped back and declined to minimum survival levels.

That would answer a lot of questions about what we've found."

"What you say is possible," George said, "but it raises just as many new questions as old ones it lays to rest."

"I know. I know," Jack said. "That's why I haven't been sleeping too well."

The communication screen image shattered, shimmered, and stabilized into a replica of Jack Holloway's face.

"Jack! By Ghu, it's good to see someone who's still sane," Ben Rainsford said.

"What can I do for you?"

"How about coining on over here to Beta tomorrow morning," Jack said.

Outside his bungalow on Beta, dusk was just falling. George and Ahmed were still there, but staying out of range of the screen pickup. In Mallorysport it was full night, somewhere just after the dinner hour, depending on one's eating habits.

"What the hell for?" Rainsford demanded. "I don't have the time to go tripping around visiting my friends-much as I'd like to."

Jack looked uncomfortable, hoping to convey the impression that he didn't want to discuss it on screen. "Aw, it's something scientific, Ben," he said. "We sure would like to have you over here tomorrow. It's going to be kind of special."

"Scientific, you say?" Rainsford said. "Jack, I can't go over to Beta for something that's scientific. I 'm up to my ass in alligators over here. The only way I can get this constitutional convention moving is to make a cattle drive out of it. I can't afford the luxury of science any more. Not just now, anyway."

Jack was aggravated, and didn't make any attempt to conceal the fact. "Ben, do you remember about a year ago-when you were on your way back from a field trip- and you stopped at the Constabulary post, Beta 15, at Red Hill? George Lunt told you a story that made you think he was the biggest liar in the known galaxy. Then, when you got home, you found a message from me on your screen recorder, and beat it straight over to my camp to see for yourself?"

"Well, of course I remember it, Jack. I'm not getting senile, or anything, you know. This job is driving me nuts, but I still got all my marbles."

George Lunt came into the arc covered by the screen pickup and spoke to the Governor General. "This is just as crazy, Governor Rainsford-and it could be just as important."

"All right. I see it, now," Rainsford growled. "You fellas have turned up something that's really big. You don't want to talk about it on screen, but you want my opinion about it. That it?"

"To say nothing," Jack remarked, "of the glory of your illustrious gubernatorial presence."

"Don't lay it on too thick, Jack," Rainsford grumped. "I got people over here in Mallorysport who do that for a living. What time and where shall I meet you?""Could your royal princeliness manage to be at Holloway Station at 0800?" Jack asked.

"0800!" Rainsford roared. "That means I have to get up at 0400 in order to leave here by 0500!"

"Love will find a way," Holloway said. "Seriously, Ben; this is very important."

Ben Rainsford hopped out of his aircar, looking a bit more rumpled than usual, and strode briskly into Jack Holloway's bungalow without knocking. He confronted Jack, George, and Ahmed in the living room. "You better have the damned coffee pot on!" he snapped. Abruptly, he relaxed, stretched his arms over his head, and stifled a yawn.

"I would think you 'd be awake by now," Holloway said.

"I slept all the way over," Rainsford said.

"And operated the aircar while unconscious?" George asked.

Rainsford took the cup of coffee Jack handed him and blew on it. "I am the Governor General," he said. "I am authorized to have my own driver. He operated the aircar. I stretched out in the aft compartment and slept."