Barton slumped as if she had let me air out of him.

"All right, Limila-you win. Ap Fenn lives unless he ac- tually attacks me-and I won't goad him into it. But I am going now, to tell him something."

"I may go with you. Barton?"

"No."

At Number Three, Helaise answered his knock. Bar- ton pushed in, patted her cheek, and spoke directly to ap Fenn. "I got your message." The man said nothing, only glared.

"Maybe I didn't get it quite straight; maybe you'd like to repeat it." Still no answer. "Let me ask you-did you understand the terms of Limila's offer?"

"I think so, yes."

**Then you know why you're still alive." Ap Fenn tried a smirk; it was not convincing. "AH right-by Tilar- an custom, this matter between us is at an end. I so agree." Ap Fenn did smirk.

"But," said Barton, "any further move by you-even one word-and it's a brand new ball game. In fairness, I have to tell you that" And he left

Limila asked for, and got, a verbatim report. Big-eyed, she nodded. "You have beaten him-you have freed me from the consequences of my act. Barton ... I I am very glad that you will never be my enemy."

For a few days Barton was edgy about the incident, but nothing more happened. He and ap Fenn spoke only in line of duty, but that was nothing new-they'd never had much in common. Barton had enough work to

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keep him busy, so eventually he relaxed and-mostly -forgot about it.

Except that he didn't trust Terike ap Fenn behind his back, and never would.

The next time he found Eeshta on comm-watch, he proposed the matter that had been on his mind since their last meeting.

"You wish to speak Demu, Barton?"

"Yes, Eeshta-for when we meet your people. Will you come to my quarters when you're off watch? After you've eaten and rested, of course." Eeshta was agree- able.

Limila spoke Demu, but Barton wanted to work both with her, the linguist, and with Eeshta, the native- tongued. He progressed more rapidly than he had ex- pected, and decided he must have absorbed more than he'd realized of what the Demu had tried to teach him in captivity. Then, he had refused to learn out of sheer stubbornness and resentment-and because he wanted to keep his own mind a mystery to his captors.

Only later had he learned that the refusal was all that had kept bis anatomy safe from the drastic surgery the Demu practiced on "animals" who learned their jailers'

speech.

Barton couldn't match the high-pitched Demu intona- tions, but he mastered the hissing sibilants well, to Umila's and even Eeshta's satisfaction. And as the fleet neared the end of the first leg of its journey, he decided to give his new accomplishment the acid test. Eeshta ac- companied him to Compartment Six; they entered. Sit- ting, the older Demu looked at them in silence-

"I greet you, Hishtoo," said Barton. "It is that we now may speak."

Hishtoo stood, then turned away. "I greet you, Hish- too," Barton said again. "Is it that we shall speak to- gether?"

Still facing away, Hishtoo spoke; the hood muffled the Demu's voice. "It is that you are not Demu, but animal.

It is that Hishtoo does not speak with animals."

Nothing that Barton-or Eeshta-could say, made any apparent dent in Hishtoo's obstinacy. Eventually, Barton shrugged and gave it up. He had bis answer, any-

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way-his speech had been understood, all right. It would do....

The fleet, slowing and tightening its formation, ap- proached Tilara without challenge, more closely than anyone had expected. But finally the hail came. Tarle- ton had comm-watch; since his fluency in Tilaran was minimal, he put out the squawk for Barton and Limila to come take the call.

Limila had briefed Tarleton, from her layman's un- derstanding, on Tilaran communications frequencies and modulation systems. She had done well; the controls re- quired very little adjustment to bring a clear picture and voice over the viewscreen.

Barton gestured for Limila to take over-if need be, he could supply answers to questions concerning Earth.

Automatically he transposed her Tilaran idioms into their English equivalents.

*'To the Tilaran ships, greetings," she said. 'To you speaks a woman of Tilara-once taken by the Demu, now returned here by people of Earth. It is their ships you see-they who seek your aid and offer theirs to you.

"In especial is this man beside me. He is Barton, who took me from the Demu of his own force and without help. He is become to me my most needful person and is to be granted that respect by- all, though he is not Tilar- an." Barton began to feel embarrassed.

"I ensure," said Limila, "that we of these ships, that number three twelves and four, are of friendship, of help-of hope to end the Demu terror. Our weapons are for use only against your enemies, who are also ours. In your kindness, give us the neednesses to come to rest on Tilara, where all may share knowledge and grow to share effort-that the Demu take us no more.

"Did I say it right, Barton?" she whispered.

"Hell, I couldn't have done it better myself." And that, he thought, was pure truthi

The Tilaran speaker proceeded to give landing in- structions. Limila translated for Scalsa, the pilot, and Myra Hake relayed the information to the fleet. "Looks like everything's under control," said Barton. "Let's go have us a drink, Tarleton." The other nodded, and the two men repaired to the galley where Barton opened a cold beer. Tarleton poured coffee for himself.

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**What, in particular, do you want me to do while we're here?" Barton asked.

The big man paused, then said, "Just about what "you would anyway, I guess. Hang with me in conferences, to bolster my lousy grasp of the language. Back Limila up, where she may be a little shaky on facts about Earth. We have to impress on these people that we need help, that it's a hurry-up operation, and that we're all-out to help them, too. And get all the social data you can-so our troops don't go around dropping bricks."

Barton nodded. "Fine-that's about what I thought Now, how much local exposure do you want Hishtoo and Eeshta to get?"

"How much do you think is wise?"

"For the general public," Barton said, "let's keep it purely on the viewscreen. I'd hate to see some bunch go hysterical and mob them-especially Eeshta. I couldn't chance her with an unselected audience, if you see what I mean."

"I do see." Tarleton hesitated. "Uh-another point How are you and ap Fenn getting along?"

"He's alive, isn't he?" Barton's voice was flat. "What more do you want?"

"I've . . . never quite understood that situation. Barton -while we're down on Tilara, would you prefer that we trade him off to some other ship?"

Barton needed no time to consider the proposal-he had a mental picture of ap Fenn, safely out of Barton's reach, indulging childish spite by discussing Limila. But he answered mildly. "No-I'd rather have him where I can keep an eye on him. I mean, guess what could hap- pen if he tried his tricks on a crew that wasn't braced for him.'* Tarleton looked doubtful, but did not press the point

Guidance to Tilara, and the subsequent landing, pro- ceeded smoothly, Back in the control room for the land- ing approach. Barton was first impressed by Tilaran architecture-except as a last resort, it seldom used straight lines or solid colors. Conic sections were favorites, especially the ellipse and parabola, and colors blended smoothly from one shade to another. Tilarans were not slaves to symmetry-one side of a building might be convex paraboloid and the other concave elliptical. The effect. Barton noted with approval, always seemed to

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come out right Belatedly he noticed the plentiful growth of treelike foliage, but had no time to pick out details before Ship One touched down.

A few minutes later, four hundred humans-including one Tilaran and two Demu-had landed on Tilara.