"To say nothing of the loss of the scout boat. If the Undersecretary holds me responsible-holds us responsible, I should say-that is, in the event he doesn't hold you personally responsible, Retief, as pilot-why, you'll be years paying it off," he went on more cheerfully. "Still, I'll put in a word for you. After all, Slith was shooting at us."

"There is that."

"And actually, who's to say it was my friendly attempt to offer a compromise that precipitated the invasion? I daresay the hotheads would have embarked on their conquest in any event."

"Possibly," Retief agreed.

"Actually, by engaging them in conversation, I doubtless delayed the inevitable for a... a length of time."

"Several seconds, at least."

"Why, actually, Retief, by offering myself as a sacrifice on the altar of interbeing chumship, I may have saved countless lives!"

"I suppose a certain number of bacteria were lost in our crash landing," Retief pointed out.

"You scoff," Magnan charged. "But history will vindicate my stand! Why, I wouldn't be surprised if a special posthumous medal were struck-" He broke of with a start. "There it is again!" He scrambled up. "It sounded like an enraged hornet! Where did it go?"

Retief c.o.c.ked his head, listening, then leaned over to examine the clumps of apricot-colored flowers nodding on long stems, beside which Magnan had been sitting.

"Don't waste time plucking nosegays!" Magnan yelped. "I'm under attack!"

"Mr. Magnan, I don't think there are any insects in the vicinity," Retief demurred.

"Eh? Why, I can hear them quite plainly!" Magnan frowned. "It sounds like one of those old-fashioned hand-crank telephones still in use out on Jawbone, when you leave it off the hook."

"Close, Mr. Magnan," Retief said, and leaned down to put his ear to the trumpet-shaped bloom.

"Well, I thought you'd never speak!" a tiny voice said distinctly in his ear.

5.

"Buzzing blossoms is quite fantastic enough," Magnan said wonderingly, "but talking tulips! Who'd ever believe it?"

"...somebody to converse with," the cricket-sized voice was saying. "I'm dying to know all the news. Now, just tell me all about yourself: your hopes, your dreams, how you happened to be here-everything!"

Retief held a blossom to his lips as if it were indeed the mouthpiece of a phone. "I'm Retief; this is my colleague, Mr. Magnan. Whom have we the honor of addressing?"

"Well, nice to know you, Retief. And Mister Magnan, too. May I call you 'Mister' for short? First names are so much more sort of informal. I'm Herby. Just a nickname, of course. Actually, I don't have a name. At least I didn't have, until dear Renfrew came along. You have no idea what a sheltered life I'd led up until then. Why, do you know, I had the idea I was the only sentient intelligence in the Galaxy?"

"Who... who are you?" Magnan blurted. "Where are you? Why is the microphone camouflaged to look like a plant?"

"Camouflage? Why, there's no camouflage, mister. You see me just as I am."

"But-I don't see you at all!" Magnan complained, looking around warily. "Where are you hiding?"

"You're squeezing me at this very moment," Herby said.

"You mean-" Magnan held the faintly aromatic blossom at arm's length and stared at it. "You mean-I'm... you're... we're..."

"Now you're getting the idea," the voice said encouragingly.

"Talking flowers-here, in the middle of nowhere-and speaking Terran at that? I must be hallucinating! I've been driven mad by hardship!"

"I doubt it, Mr. Magnan," Retief said soothingly. "I hear it too."

"If I can imagine I hear voices coming out of posies, I can imagine you hearing them too," Magnan retorted tartly.

"Oh, I'm real enough," the voice said rea.s.suringly. "Why should you doubt me?"

"Who taught you to speak Terran?" Retief asked.

"Renfrew. I learned so much from him. Curious-but before he came, it never occurred to me to be lonely-"

"Who is Renfrew?"

"A friend. A very dear friend."

"Retief, this is fantastic!" Magnan whispered. "Are there... are there many like you?" he inquired of the bloom.

"No-just me. After all, there'd hardly be room, you know-"

"What a coincidence!" Magnan exclaimed. "One talking plant on the entire world, and we stumble on it in the first hour! I'm beginning to think our luck is still holding!"

"Now, where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?" the plant inquired.

"We're Terrans," Magnan said. "And I'm sure we're going to get on famously, er, Herby."

"But-I understood Terra was the name of Renfrew's home planet...?"

"Quite so. Marvelous place, you'd love it, now that all the jungles have been cleared and replaced by parking lots..." Magnan caught himself. "Ah, no offense intended, of course," he added hastily. "Why, some of my best friends are plants."

"Heavens-all three of you from one planet? No wonder you left! Such overcrowding."

"Yes-now, Mr. Herby-if you could just tell us the way to the nearest native settlement..."

"Buildings, you mean, and streets, s.p.a.ceports, that sort of thing?"

"Yes! Preferably not one of these dismal provincial towns. Something in a modest metropolis will do-"

"Sorry, there isn't one-though Renfrew told me about them, of course."

Magnan groaned. "No towns at all? Then..."

"Just jungle."

"If this fellow Renfrew has a ship, we may be able to catch a ride with him. I wonder-could we meet him...?"