"Depends. What do we expect to run into. there? How many alternatives can we plan for?" The two men talked it out. If the Demu at Sisshain beat off the strike force, or if Hishtoo changed his mind and went somewhere else.

instead-either way, a ship would have to retreat. And report to the combined fleets in transit. "But that means."

Barton said, leaning forward, "the strike force can't leave until you set the fleet's schedule. Or else no ship coming from Sisshaiu could possibly make rendezvous."

239.

Not so, Tarleton claimed. He was updating fleet liftoff, and since pinpoint rendezvous was out of the question, Scalsa was programming for "... a space-time corridor, whatever that is. Does it sound workable?"

Bartoa shifted his mind back, to his studies toward a doctorate in physics. "Sure. Flexible, prearranged pa- rameters. Parallel input to the tin brains on all ships;

shouldn't diverge too much, in the length of time we'll jie out of contact. Just so you keep schedule."

"We will." Any ships not ready, Tarleton said, would be left behind to form a second contingent, with its own, later rendezvous "corridor." He sipped dregs from his coffee cup. "Now-how many ships do you want?"

Barton had thought about that. Now he said, "Three, I make it. One to land, if possible." Tarleton's eyebrows rose. "Well, how else do we find the thing the Ormthan mentioned, the thing of importance?" The big man nodded. "One ship to stand off, the way you said, and stoolie back to the fleet, maybe. And a third. Just in case, for the hell of it. Okay?"

Tarleton kept trying to get liquid from his cup; no luck.

"All right; which ships, and what personnel?"

Barton grabbed the cup. "If you want to pickle your kidneys some more, let me get you a refill." That done, he sat again. "The other two ships, and their people, just pick me good ones. For myself, I'd like this ship; I know its quirks by now, and that could be handy in the clinches.

Personnel, though ..." He wanted people he knew, but obviously he couldn't swipe all of Tarleton's top hands.

Scalsa, for instance-the fleet needed him worse than Bar- ton did. And Liese Anajek stayed with Scalsa, of course.

Bartoa started with the obvious. "Eeshta has to come;

in a way, this is first contact. I want Cbeng and Myra, and they're willing, so there's one pilot and one communicator.

I can double in weapons if I have to, and Limila's trained herself in all three jobs. But I suppose we should have one full-time weapons man with no other job on his mind."

"Or hers. How about Helaise? Her arm won't be a problem long." While Barton tried to decide why he didn't like the idea, Tarleton said, "Aren't you running awfully shorthanded?"

"No. It's my ship that lands, if any do, and on the ground, numbers won't count. Not the difference between six, and ten or twelve." About Renzel, he made up his

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mind. "I'll talk to Helaise; if she's willing, find me one more good hand to equalize the watch loads, and we're in."

Tarleton's cup was empty again; he looked at it as though he had caught it cheating at cards. "A pilot who can shoot, that would be?"

"Right. Now, then-two things 1 want, if there's time for them." First was a "side gun"; Corval had suggested putting a gyromagnetic valve between the exciter and the laser's delivery system, and running an auxiliary system ". . . to exit between the main airlock and the view- screen above it. .Side-shot capability, with traverse. On my ship, anyway. Can you do it in time?"

"Shouldn't be a problem; we have plenty of spares. But your tube has to go right through the middle of Compart- ment Three."

"With a short crew, who cares? Now I've got one for Vertan. Originally, if we landed on Sisshain it would be for an official confab, after convincing the Demu that it was best to talk. Now it's a whole new ball game- maybe a sneaky one."

"Barton, you drive someone crazy! What's your point?"

"Remember how I got out of the Demu research sta- tion?"

"Masquerading as a Demu, you mean?"

Barton nodded. "That's the ticket. And it might come in handy on Sisshain-but I don't especially want to carve up a Demu to get the mask. So' maybe the Tilaran plas- tics industry could whomp us up a few, and some four- digit gloves." He held up one hand, little finger and ring finger together. "And footgear. Eeshta can model for them. We'll need robes and hoods, too-and this has to be one fast job of work."

"I'll call Vertan before I head for the conference build- ing. As soon as we're done here."

"Far as I'm concerned," said Barton, "that's right now."

"Good enough. What are you going to do next?"

"Go see Limila."

It wasn't that simple. Myra put his call through, but Limila was elsewhere, undergoing treatment; late in the afternoon, Barton could see her. Barton had no luck get- ting further information from the Tilaran woman at the other end. She might, he felt, have been trained in any Earth hospital he knew.

241.

Well, should he hit the conference scene with Tarieton?

No-first, talk with Helaise. In Three, he found Eeshta starting to take the invalid's lunch tray back to the galley.

The young Demu paused, and said to him, "I have thought more on what you said of Hishtoo and his curse.

Peace grows in my mind."

"Good for you. Any time you want to talk some more, so do I." Eeshta left; he turned to Helaise. "If you feel as good as you look, I may have a job for you, I'm takiAg three ships after Hishtoo, hotfoot. You want to be my chief gun girl?" He saw her hesitating. "On my ship the roster is Cheng, Myra, Limila, Eeshta, you if you agree, me, and some fella Tarieton picks out of the records."

She counted fingers, "Rather a short crew, isn't it?" He repeated what he'd told Tarieton, and she said, "Then why the new man? Oh, I see!" She laughed. "Company for poor little Helaise." Barton spluttered, and she said, "Well, whoever he is, he won't have a very hard act to follow. And I can't say I was looking forward to being a fifth wheel around here." Eeshta returned; she opened a beer for Barton and put a- few in the cool-box. Helaise sighed. "I'd thought of transferring to a ship with imbal- ance between men and women, with sharing rather than pairing."

"Is that what you want, then?"

Before she could answer, Eeshta spoke. "I do not un- derstand. So much concern as to who is with whom-and ail the time- With the Demu it is not thus. There is a sea- son, and beforehand it is agreed which twos shall be formed. The time comes, and it is done and over, until the cycle returns and the eggs again ripen."

"Different peoples, different ways," said Barton. And I'll bet, he thought, that there's no such thing as a Demu soap operal "It's no wonder you don't understand us, Eeshta. To tell the truth, sometimes we don't understand ourselves all that well." He turned back to Reuzel.

"You still have a job offer, Helaise."

"Can I think it over? See whether Max thinks 111 be fit enough in time, and then let you know?"

"By tomorrow?" She nodded. "Sure; -fine. Welt, I'd better get moving. No rest for the wicked. See you, Helaise-*Eeshta."

He went looking for Tarieton, didn't find him in the control room or galley, so went to Compartment One.

Alene Grover answered his knock and question. "He's

242.

gone to the conference. Said for you to come along if you got bored, but no need. Care to come in and sit a spell, Barton?"

We're on the ship, he told himself-we shouldn't. But he went in, anyway, and sat and talked for a while, mak- ing no advances at all. He wasn't sure whether he was re- lieved or disappointed when Grover made none, either, but after a time he excused himself and went to Cabin Two. He was lying down, half dozing, when Tarieton paged him from the galley.

The boss was drinking coffee again, this time with Liese Anajek. "That Stuff'11 kill you," Barton growled, and opened a beer before joining them. "So what's the scoop from today's big confab?"

"About what you'd expect," said Tarieton, "or maybe a little better. The hand weapons-you'll have them. The personal Shields-well, it's hoped they'll be ready- enough for strike-force personnel, anyway-day after tomorrow when you lift. If not-do you wait, or go with- out them?"

"It's up to me?" Tarieton nodded. "We go without them."