"There'll be a short delay," said Tarleton, "before the reception committee shows up. Time for a quick briefing." For the first time since liftoff, he was unmis- takably taking charge. Back in his own element, thought Barton-well, good enough.

The big man signed to Barton and Limila. "For this first meeting," he said, "I think six of us is about right You two, of course, and the other three squadron com- manders." Limila whispered something to Barton that he didn't quite catch, and left them. Tarleton turned to Myra Hake at the comm-board. "Hook up the squadron honchos for me, would you?" Then. to Barton, "You give them the drill, right?" Barton nodded.

Myra nipped toggles and made low-voiced requests.

Soon the picture split into four quarters: Barton saw himself, Slobodna, Tamirov, and Cummings.

"Hi, Slowboat-Tammy-Estelle. We're all elected to go out with the boss and meet the new neighbors, so gussy-up and come on over. I don't have the full land- ing layout, but Ship One is spine place in the middle- shouldn't be too hard to find. Any questions?" The two men shook their beads and cut screens. Slobodna had been one of Barton's first pilot trainees on Earth, and the Russian was Slowboat's own prize pupil-they wouldn't have questions, Barton reflected.

Estelle Cummings was still on. "Uniform of the day?"

she asked.

Barton studied her image on the screen-the strong features framed by her long, blonde hair. He had never met the tall, big-boned woman, didn't know quite what to make of her. She pushed the fall of hair back from one side of her face. Beside her stood her husband, Max, a surgeon. He was shorter than his wife, but from what Barton- had heard, they made a good team-no pecking order. He brought his mind back to business.

"Uniform, Estelle? Whatever you like. I don't think our hosts are the type to be picky." She nodded and switched off, as Limila returned, having changed to a short, loose robe.

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"I've had my fingers crossed for that ship," said Tarie- ton.

"Cummings'? How so?"

"That's the one I mentioned, with the seven-to-three ratio-seven men to three women. With one of the women married-and the ship's captain and squadron commander, at that-things could have gotten messy.'*

"What arrangement did they come up with, do you know?"

"I haven't asked," said Tarieton. "As long as it works for them, it's really none of my business." And that, Barton reflected, was one of the things that made Tarie- ton a good man to work for.

Myra Hake turned from the viewscreen, which now showed the area near the ship's lowered access ramp.

*It's time for you to go out, I think. Company's coming."

The three disembarked. Breathing deeply of the air of her home planet, Limila pointed ahead, where the Tilar- an delegation approached. The long, straight wig was brushed back to hang free behind her. The loose robe, in shades of pale blue-green, disguised the shape of her body, but a gust of breeze showed Barton that she'd al- tered the harness of her padded bra. The false breasts now sat lower and wider, approximating the natural Tilaran location. He hid a grin.

The other three squadron commanders converged to meet them; all six walked toward the nine Tilarans who waited a few yards distant. Barton noticed that Tilarans did not come in blond; hair was black like Limila's or dark brown with reddish tinges.

Of the nine, there could be no doubt which was in charge. He was not the tallest, nor more richly dressed, nor did he carry himself with arrogance. But while he looked squarely at the visiting group, the other Tilaran men and two women looked mostly to him.

He stepped forward. So did Tarieton, bringing Limila witfi him.

"I am Vertan," the Tilaran said, "There exists a num- ber to distinguish me, if need be, from other Vertans.

You are as if invited here; feel yourselves home-born of Tilara. Now I have said too long, before giving a new friend turn to say."

*T am Tarieton," said the big man, slowly. His accent, Barton realized, was really bad. "I do not say your

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speech well. So if it may be, Limila, our first Tilaran friend, says for me." He reached to shake Vertan's hand, appeared to realize that the gesture meant nothing to the Tilaran, and started to retract the movement. But after a moment's pause, Vertan reached out and clasped Tarieton's hand with his own.

"This is how you meet?'* Vertan motioned to his reti- nue, and a handshaking free-for-all ensued. Before it was over. Barton was sure he'd shaken hands with one of the women at least three times.

When order returned, Tarieton-speaking through Uroila-outlined the Earth fleet's background and pur- pose. Limila translated both ways directly, omitting such frills as "he says." Barton observed that Vertan's occa- sional questions were very much to the point.

After a time the TUaran raised a hand and began to recapitulate what he had been told. "You wish us of Tilara," Limila relayed, "and such others as are of like interest, to join you in forcing issue to the Demu." Tarie- ton nodded.

"You have and will share the Demu sleeping-weapon, their Shield against that weapon and others, and your own uniform-radiation device that penetrates the Shield."

Another nod,

"Have you other weapons?"

"Not on this fleet Everything else we tried, the Shield stops."

"Some of our own weapons might be of help. Do you want?'*

"Sure, of course. Anything that can crack the Shield."

"But we cannot know until we meet the Demu."

"How's that?"

"The sleeping-weapon- On our ships that survive Demu contact and are not taken, no one can remember the happening of battle-that our weapons were used or had effect."

Sure, Barton recalled-the memory-blanking. With heavy exposure, the damage could be extensive, even permanent. Nice trick....

"Can't hurt to take them along," Tarieton said. "Just in case."

For the first time. Barton cut in. "You're missing the point"

"So?" Tarieton didn't sound disturbed.

"Like back home. We float up a Shielded hulk, loaded

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with instruments, and cut loose at it with everything these folks have. Then we know."

Limila looked at Tarleton. He nodded, and she re- peated Barton's proposal in Tilaran. Vertan smiled, and half-bowed toward Barton.

"We can proceed so." He looked at Barton more closely. "You are he who took the Demu ship?" Umila did not translate.

"Yes, with much fortune."

*Then you of all be home-bom among us." Barton couldn't think of an answer, so he tried the half-bow in return. Judging by Vertan's smile. Barton had made adequate response.

"Next of importance." Limila was relaying again. ;

"Two other peoples, of friendship to Tilara, are also of possibility to join against the Demu. These are the ^ Larka-Te and the Filjar. You meet them' in an early J time-some here on Tilara. Their weapons are as ours, a for we share. r

"Others of acquaintance to us would aid but have not ^ the way." Tarleton asked for a repeat, and learned that several other races had the willingness to help, but not -i the resources. ^

"I think we're agreed, then," said Tarleton. "Can we *