"A while ago?" Magnan repeated with a rising inflection. "Why, we've only just met!"

"I don't understand. Mister. I'm Herby. You know me!"

"Nonsense! Herby is a little chap growing under a tree a mile from here."

"Of course! I grow everywhere, naturally. After all, it's my island, isn't it? Not that I'm not willing to share it with a few friends."

"Utter nonsense!" Magnan sputtered. "I might have known a potato was incapable of coherent thought!"

"Herby's telling the truth," Retief said. "It's all one plant: the trees, the gra.s.s-everything. Like a banyan tree, only more so." He examined a flower closely. "There's a tympanic membrane that serves as both microphone and speaker. Very ingenious of Mother Nature."

"In that case-they-or it-"

"He," Retief amended.

"He's overheard every word that's been spoken since we landed." Magnan addressed the blossoms directly: "Look here, Herby-you're aware that we're distressed diplomats, marooned here by an unfortunate accident-"

"I thought Slith and that other-fellow-Okkyokk-were responsible," Herby corrected. "They seem dreadfully argumentative chaps. I do wish they'd lower their voices."

"Quite. Now, you're aware of their hostile intentions toward Mr. Retief and myself-"

"Oh, my," Herby interrupted, "they do seem upset. Such language!"

"Yes. Now, as I was saying..." Magnan paused. "What do you mean, 'such language'?"

"I was referring to Grand Commander Slith's rather graphic use of invective," Herby explained. "Not that General Okkyokk isn't holding his own, of course. I must say my vocabulary is expanding rapidly!"

"You speak as though you could hear them now," Magnan commented, puzzled.

"Ummm. On the ship-to-sh.o.r.e band."

"But-you don't have a radio-do you?"

"A what?"

"If he has organs for detecting sound," Retief said, "why not organs for picking up short wave?"

"Why-that's remarkable!" Magnan exclaimed. "But short wave? It would be rather too much to hope that you can send as well as receive...?"

"Why, I suppose I could transmit, via my snarf nodes, if there were any reason to."

"Retief-we're saved!" Magnan caroled. "Herby-send the following message at once: Ah... Special Priority-Z Mayday, CDT Sector HQ, Aldo Cerise. CDT 87903 subject unprovoked attack-no, make that unwarranted attack-resulting in emergency planetfall-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, mister," Herby cut in. "I couldn't send that."

"But-why not?"

"Why, if I did, some nose parker might come and take you away."

"I sincerely hope so!"

"I've waited two hundred standard years for someone to talk to," Herby said in a hurt tone. "Now you're talking of rushing off. Well, I won't do it."

"The SOS is our sole hope!" Magnan cried. "Would you stand in the way of our rescue?"

"Please-calm yourself, mister. Look at Retief: he's not making a scene. Just resign yourself to the fact that you'll spend the rest of your life here, and we'll get on famously-just as Renfrew and I did-right up until the last few days."

"The rest of our lives?" Magnan gasped. "But-but that's unthinkable! We may linger on for another fifty years!"

"Not if Slith has his way," Retief said. "Where are they now, Herby?"

"I was about to say," Herby began, "they would be arriving any moment..." The vegetable voice was drowned by a rising drone that swelled swiftly to a bellowing roar. A sleek, shark-nosed shape swept overhead, followed by another, two more, then an entire squadron. Sonic booms crashed across the jungle, laying patterns of shock ripples across the still water of the lake. Treetops whipped in the turbulent wakes as two battle fleets hurtled past at low alt.i.tude, dwindled, were gone.

"You see?" Herby said a trifle breathlessly into the echoing silence. "Two's company, but a crowd is altogether too much!"

Retief twisted the k.n.o.b of the radio slung at his belt.

"...pinpointed our quarry!" Slith's breathy voice was keening. "If you will employ your units in enrircling the south sh.o.r.e of the island. General, I shall close the pincer to the north."

"Looks like they've spotted us," Retief said. "Slith must carry better optical and IR gear than I gave him credit for."

Sunlight winked on distant craft circling back to spread out on the far side of the lake, sinking down out of sight behind the ma.s.sed foliage of the forest. Other vessels were visible to left and right, and behind them.

"Not much point in running cross-country," Retief said thoughtfully. "They've got us surrounded."

"What are we going to do?" Magnan yelped. "We can't just stand here!"

"Ouch!" Herby said suddenly. "Ooh! Ahh!"

"What's the matter?" Magnan leaped in alarm, staring around him.

"Why, that hurts like anything!" Herby exclaimed indignantly.

"It's the landing blasts." Retief indicated the smoke rising from points all around the compa.s.s. "The Groaci still use old-style reaction motors for atmospheric maneuvering. Must be scorching Herby quite painfully."

Magnan gasped. "You see what sort of uncouth ruffians they are?" he said indignantly. "Now, wouldn't you like to change your mind, Herby, and a.s.sist us-"

"And collect a new crop of third-degree burns when your friends arrive? No, thank you! It's out of the question!"

A deep-toned whickering sound had started up, grew quickly louder.

"A heli," Retief said. "They're not wasting any time."

In the shelter of the tree the two Terrans watched the approach of the small, speedy craft. It swung out over the lake, riffling the water, and hovered two hundred feet in the [probably something missing here].

"ATTENTION, TERRY SPIES!" an electronically amplified voice boomed out from it. "SURRENDER AT ONCE OR SUFFER A FATE UNSPEAKABLE!"

"Herby-if those barbarians get their hands on us, our usefulness as conversationalists will come to an abrupt end," Magnan said urgently.