Finally, Limila discarded the flex-lined Tilaran den- tures; they were stretching her face past the point at which her lips could close naturally. The abrupt shortening seemed odd at first, but that, too, would go away to some extent, and meanwhile Barton pretended not to notice.

One day Vertan came to announce that a Tilaran ship, from Sisshain, had arrived. It was at the aux port, having been turned away from the main one where its captain had expected to land. But the exchange between ship and ground had alerted Karsen ap Fenn, and the admiral wanted to put the crew on the griddle. Or so Barton stated it Then he said, "You going to let him?

You don't have to, you know."

Vertan spread his bands. "I will let him speak to the i captain, in my own official place of work. And I have told *

her that she is not to give this man any of the confidential reports she has from Tarleton. Progress of events, only, in dealing with the Demu, she will relate to ap Fenn."

Confidential reports, huh? Barton was curious. But the packets were labeled restricted, Vertan said, to channels that did not include Barton. "And do you get to see them?" Barton said. Vertan signed a negative. Barton thought about it, and nodded. "How about you and I go talk with this captain, first?"

"That," said Vertau, "was to have been my next sug- gestion."

Barton hadn't been on Tilaran ships much; the layout differed quite a bit. He and Vertan had come alone; a

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crewman met them at the boarding ramp and took them to captain's quarters. The woman who greeted them, Barton thought, had to be as old as the hills, because her face had deep lines and her hairline had thinned and receded considerably. Of course, if he didn't know Limila was Earth-eighty, he'd have pegged this one at maybe sixty. But as it was ...

In hoarse, gruff tones, but obviously intending to sound pleasant, the woman introduced herself. "Etraig, Captain, at your service. It is of pleasure, your presence here, Vertan. And Barton-we had not, before, been of meet- ing." Barton shook her hand, Vertan embraced with her, and she offered them seats and klieta. Once settled, she said, "You would be of knowledge?"

"I would." Barton asked, and she answered straight- forwardly enough. On Sisshain, things were going to plan.

Allied ships paired with Demu escorts had been sent to the various Demu worlds, to announce the end of Demu raiding and the start of peace- Only from the two nearest planets had word come back, but on those the treaty had been accepted. Well, Barton thought-when Sholur, Keeper of the Heritage, laid down the law to Demu, they heeded.

While Barton was trying to think what to ask next, Etraig said, "A recorded message for you, Barton, I have of the young Demu. Eeshta. Whose egg-parent, Hishtoo, is largely of recovery."

"Eeshta? No kidding? I've wondered how the1 youngster was doing." Well, a couple of times he'd wondered, be- tween other worries, so it wasn't quite a lie. But now Barton found himself eager to hear what young Eeshta had to, say to him. "Etraig, will your equipment here handle the recording?"

"It will. But if the message is of confidence ... ?"

He thought quickly. "Couldn't be- Not anything that you and Vertan can't hear, Vertan trusting you as I know he does."

So she put the capsule into a recess. Dressed switches and turned a dial. Then the high, clear voice^^me.

"Hello, Barton. I am Eeshta, speaking. I hope all goes well with you." Then came a pause, and the sound of the pulsed hiss that was Demu laughter, before Eeshta spoke again. And this time, in the Demu language. ""Barton, it is that Tarieton worries. That although no trouble comes

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from my people, since agreement, Tarieton would hear word from you or from Earth. It is that the second Earth fleet of ships is overdue, in his reckoning, that this frets him." Pause again. "Barton, it is not that I laugh at Tarleton's worry, I should reassure; only that I laugh at others hearing this, who perhaps should not, and cannot, know what I say to you." And yet another pause, while Barton gave the kid some points for smart. Then: "It is that Tarieton would know from you what occurs on Tilara-and if possible to say, on Earth." A click came, and Barton recalled that sometimes that sound came with the tifted-tongue gesture that was the Demu smile. And then in English: "That is all. Barton. I am well, and Hishtoo improves with slow sureness. It is certain that he will be able to allow himself to live, and he has not called a non-Demu an animal for some days now. Since shortly after you departed Sisshain, in fact.

"Barton, I hope I will see you again; the Demu owe you much, and perhaps only I and Sholur appreciate how much, yet. And I nearly forgot-I bear Sholur's greet- ings, also. And now, from Eeshta to Barton, good-bye."

The recording clicked to aa end.

Before he said anything, Barton thought. Then he nodded, and spoke. 'The part you didn't get, folks, was in Demu. Actually, it concerned something I already had in mind: we need to get word to Tarieton, down-Arm on Sisshain, of the situation here." Well, he'd mentioned it before, to Vertan, but somehow never got any real an- swers.

Now he got one. Twice, Vertan had dispatched ships from the aux port, for Sisshain. The first one, ap Fenn's patrols had hailed and turned back. The second had made a run for it and been overhauled, holed but not seriously disabled by the Earthani laser, stopped and boarded, brought back under escort.

"Why the heil didn't you say something?"

"I felt the problem was of Tilara, of myself to solve:

not of you. But I have become of willingness to ask your advice."

Barton frowned. "You could've raised hell with ap Fenn for firing on your ship. You didn't, so that means you want to avoid open conflict at any price." He shook his head. "Given a couple-three ships to work decoy tor each other, I'd guarantee to break at least one past the

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patrol ships. But if the admiral has even one ship fueled for a long chase, it'd catch us."

Vertan didn't look happy. "So there is no chance to warn Tarieton?"

Barton shook his head. Silently, he was lying. There was a chance, all right. But it would mean knocking the ships of the second fleet over like so many dominoes, and there had to be a way to circumvent one megalomaniac without doing that much damage.

Etraig and her first officer, a younger roan whose name Barton didn't quite catch, hosted Barton and Vertan a meal. Then it was time to get back to Tevann's place, and after the usual thanks and felicitations, Vertan drove them there, and left for his duties at the main port. In- doors, Barton returned Umila's greeting kiss and then called council and told the Ship One people what he'd learned. They didn't like it any better than he did.

Myra Hake reached to tug the bangs she no longer had.

"You mean, Terike's ass of an uncle has Tilara bottled up?"

"Sounds that way," said Cheng Ai. "Unless, as Barton said, we land a ship in the middle of the second fleet with the Shield on, and wreck things a great deal more than we'd really like,"

Abdul Muhammed spoke. 'There is another possibil- ity."

"Yeh?" Barton leaned forward, then sat back< The big man would tell it in his own way, as be got around to it.

"What?"

"Inhibitor," Abdul said. "It was developed to keep fuel stable for long storage in ground tanks, and must be electrolyzed out before the fuel is usable. If the Tilarans do not know of it, I can give Vertan the basic information needed to make the substance. Then in the normal re- fueling process he can introduce it into ap Fenn's ships, and-"

"One moment," said Limila. "We are speaking of how much time?"

Abdul shrugged. "Well, several months, I would Jfrink.

But-" ^

"Then you must speak to Vertan about this idea," she said. "But meanwhile-and in terms of time, there is no conflict here-Barton and Myra and Cheng will undergo the longevity treatments."

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Well, Barton thought, he hadn't really expected a re- prieve.

Limila's pregnancy was bulging a little. Her teeth hadn't quite grown to full length; the discrepancy bothered her. And her transplanted scalp itched where she couldn't scratch it So when it was time for Barton and Myra and Cheng to go in for the attempt at longevity treatments, she begged off from driving them,

All right; Barton had been over the route a few times.

Turn right where the valley forked, and cut off short of the main spaceport; from there he could find his way easily enough. He repeated the directions to Limila; she kissed him and sent the lot of them on their way.

Under the pale blue sky, with Tilara's sun warming through thin high cloud. Barton drove the car. A little apprehensive, he didn't feel much like talking. Myra and Cheng, together in the seat behind him, spoke low-toned;

he could hear no words so they didn't distract him.

Barton's mind went into daydream-mode and his driv- ing went onto automatic. When he saw the building they wanted, be was surprised to be there so soon. He parked the car and they went inside.

An hour later he lay trussed up in harnesses and tub- ing, with a variety of needles and syringes plugged into improbable parts of his anatomy. Again he was bald from the neck down, but that was the least of the changes-f now he saw his blood leave his chest, go into something that looked like a food blender, and return, all via tubes of more than a centimeter's thickness. The trouble was, the returning blood wasn't exactly what he considered to be the right color. And coming into him, it felt cold.

The needles inserted into his major joints-hips to ankles, shoulders to wrists-were electrical. On some of them he could guess the frequencies, pretty dose, }ust from being "bitten" a lot in his undergrad physics labs, The piece of metal in his neck, though, and the one enter- ing his abdomen Just under the sternum-those were low- freq, and gradually built within him a nauseous ache, and overwhelming fatigue. For a time he wasn't sure whether he was going to throw up or go to sleep, first. He didn't throw up.