"The Xankatikitiki don't mind eating Carlos or Bert, but they're not hungry right now, and besides, they should leave everyone alone until after they have spoken to the humans again. They must not do anything to endanger the pact they hope to make to hunt on this world, as this will give them authority before the Confederation."

Benita put her head on her hands and considered. "Can you speak Fluiquosm?" she asked. "And Wulivery?"

"Of course," said the translator. "Right now one Fluiquosm says she wants to drink your blood because she has smelled you, and you smell very sweet. Someone else has told her to wait until . . . until they talk to someone named . . . M'van?"

"McVane."

"Ah. Would you like me to summon the Pistach?"

"Can you do that? Silently? Without the predators knowing?"

"If you wish it. They are very far away, however, and they cannot travel as quickly on a planet as they can in space."

"Please let them know immediately where we are and what's going on. Now what are they saying?"

"The Wulivery assert their right to eat Chad or the girl now. They are hungry and see no reason to wait."

"Oh, Lord," she sighed. What could she do? Obviously, something was needed by way of a diversion, which she could do better from ground level.

Easing back along the branch, she reached the trunk, the translator keeping up a steady murmur of argument from the creatures below. There were plenty of branches on the back side of the trunk, and she slithered from one to another, taking care not to make any sound. Luckily, she was wearing chinos and a sweater and soft-soled shoes when the attack came. If one had to climb trees, at least it was better to be dressed for it. The argument went on, and on, as she struggled silently downward, arriving finally at the foot of the tree, where, realizing she'd been holding her breath, it took all her willpower not to gasp audibly.

Slow breaths. One, two, three. Again. One, two, three. The pressure in her head and chest eased.

" 'Go ahead and eat him then,' says the Xankatikitiki. 'If you have so little foresight.'" The translator chuckled to itself. "The Wulivery says the man is out of reach, it asks the Fluiquosm to bring him down and the Fluiquosm says no."

Diversion, diversion, Benita thought desperately. Stab something with the nail file? Confuse them with the translator? Shoot them? How about all three?

She leaned from behind the tree to reconnoiter. The woods thinned opposite her, and beyond was a moonlit meadow.

"When you hear a loud bang," she whispered to the translator, "I want you to yell loudly, first in Fluiquosm and then in Xankatikitiki. Yell, There it goes, out onto the meadow, get it, get it.' Okay?"

Leaning from behind the tree, Benita sighted the pistol at the nearest Xankatikitiki's head. It was talking with another Xanka, just a foot to the right, so she shot twice, bang, right a notch, another bang.

She sagged back behind the tree.

"Qyoxilizimak! Zixit izi. Shamma! Shamma!" yelled the translator. "Gromfrr growrrg glor, Furrgrinnor! Furrgrinnor!"

The creatures turned and made for the meadow, except for two Xankatikitiki, one of whom was still and silent, the other barely moving.

Now what? Benita asked herself. They'd come back. She'd better finish off the moving one. She stepped out into the clearing, moving quickly toward the moving Xanka, gun in pocket, hand on gun. She did not see the stooping form above her until the tentacles closed around her. She was lifted, hoisted, up, up, turned upside down and then swallowed, glurgle, glurgle, glurgle, her way down the long throat oiled by jets of stinking liquid, choking from the stench, dropped into a sac half-filled with stinking ooze.

Gagging, she sagged against one side of the stomach and peered upward, catching a glimpse of light among the tentacles. She thrust the gun up in trembling hands, held her breath and fired. Once, turn slightly, twice. Turn slightly again, three times, then a fourth. She should have pierced the body in several places, right up at the top. The walls of her prison trembled. High above her the tentacles lashed. Then, slowly, slowly, the creature fell, changing from a smokestack to a lengthy culvert, down which Benita began to crawl, sloshing, toward the roots of a tree, barely visible in the moonlight. Around her, the flesh of the creature still shook, and a high keening moved up the scale toward inaudibility.

She arrived at the dead, lax tentacles just as the predators came back from the meadow, talking loudly among themselves. The translator was still giving her the gist of it, still in a whisper.

"Odiferous Tentacle, Oh, Stinky, what's happened to you. Look, look, Stinky's down. Stinky's leaking! Oh, Stinky emits death stenches! Alas, alas! Oh, Mrrgrowr is dead, see him lying there, dead and gone, his strength gone, his proud head fallen low, oh, alas, alas."

"Do they all say alas?" murmured Benita.

"I'm translating freely," admitted the machine. "I lack synonyms for alas. The Fluiquosm is asking if it or they got away. The Xankatikitiki say they must depart immediately with their fallen comrades, the burial rituals of their people demand it. The Wulivery say they must also depart, taking their commander with them . . ."

Benita very much wished to exit the commander. Her legs were beginning to burn, as though they were being digested. The tentacle end lay amid a cluster of evergreens, however, so she took the chance and crawled out beneath the low branches of the nearest. Behind her, the body of the dead Wulivery was tugged into the clearing. There were bustling sounds.

"Quolzikkaz closmmi wozzik."

"The Fluiquosm wonders how many creatures it took to kill three of their group, why they were not seen, and how they got away," murmured the translator. "The Fluiquosm are discussing moving the prey creatures to their own larder, after the Wulivery and the Xankatikitiki leave . . ."

Benita started, gritted her teeth and began to move out of her hiding place. She still had a few shots left. Maybe she could hit a Fluiquosm when it started to move one of the humans. It stood to reason she'd be able to tell where it was from the way the packaged body was moved. . . .

"Shhh," said a voice at her ear.

Slowly, in total terror, she turned her head to confront the huge, compound eyes of ... an Inkleozese, who spoke at some length, unintelligibly.

"The Pistach are on their way," whispered the translator. "I strongly suggest that you stay here very quietly while we conduct our business. Our being here makes the ensuing time an official matter. It will be tiresome, time consuming, but do be still. They will not speak freely if they know you are listening."

"The others . . ." murmured Benita, gesturing.

"They will not be harmed, and they will not move on their own. Only you were given the ability to shake off the Fluiquosm mindfog. Immunity to common types of predation is a usual gift to give an intermediary. We do not like persons of any planet interfering with official intermediaries." The Inkleozese went up the trunk and out along a branch, where it disappeared among the leaves.

Like a great, big wasp, Benita thought to herself. A huge wasp, going about its business. Except it had more than six legs. However many legs, its presence was reassuring, and the expectation of Chiddy and Vess arriving was even more so. And what was that about who speaking freely? The predators? Who cared if they spoke freely!

In the clearing, a fire had been built, and the Wulivery, some half dozen of them, were gathered around their fallen leader, while a dozen or so Xankatikitiki were busy with their slain comrades.

The night was chilly, and she recalled that both the Wulivery and Xankatikitiki had high body temperatures. No doubt they felt the cold, but the Fluiquosm probably did not.

Abruptly, the fire leapt up, a bright light illuminated the clearing, and Chiddy's voice, tight with nary, said in impeccable English, "You will all have the courtesy to stay precisely where you are." His words were followed by loud, simultaneous translations.

There were exclamations of surprise and annoyance. There was movement among the trees, quickly stopped, and several Inkleozese moved into the clearing tugging nets that were full of something invisible. These were pegged down with considerable dispatch under Chiddy's watchful eyes, though they continued to move restlessly as Chiddy spoke angrily.

"Stinky seems to have met with difficulty, and so has 'Growr. Well, they have played games with your membership in the Confederation for many years. The last time you pulled something like this your people paid a monstrous fine. That alone should have been enough to dissuade you from repeating your behavior."

"Oh, end talk, Pistach," said a voice from one of the nets. "This planet is incredibly rich! There's enough here for all of us. You take the western half of it and civilize it. We'll take Asia and Africa and eat them. And the Inkleozese can monitor Europe to their souls' content. We won't even stumble over one another!"

"That may be true," said Chiddy. "But we have rules against involving ourselves in adversarial or factional relationships on new planets. You're working with a rebel force against the legitimate government of this nation."

"You're working with a reactionary element against the best interest of the people of this planet,"

charged one of the Wulivery. "And we're prepared to bring it before the Confederation court! These people don't need civilizing! They need weeding out! They need cutting down, losing their flab! Our entire population could dine four meals a day for a century before humans would even notice a drop in their population density!"

"That's true, but irrelevant," said Chiddy, wrathfully. "The humans must come to grips with their own population problem."

"Just like they come to grips with their own drug problem?" cried Odiferous Tentacle. "You're very selective which problems you will solve and which you won't."

"We only solve the ones that affect Neighborliness, and you very well known it," snapped Chiddy.

"We solve situations that may lead to general war, situations that cause continuing discontent among populations. In our opinion, drugs do that, and weapons do that and repressions do that. Such things are powderkegs, just waiting to explode! Men with breeding madness versus women. Catholic Ireland versus the northern Protestants! Israel versus the Palestinians! Iraq or the Turks versus the Kurds! Serbia, what's left of it, versus the Universe! Ridiculous. These can be handled with a few suspensions, a few vanishments, without ending in a war that will kill off half the world's population!"

"Enough," said one of the Inkleozese. "We are here to monitor this situation. We have already found the three predatory races to be in contempt of the regulations concerning hunting rights on assisted planets. We find the predatory races were properly informed of the Pistach initiative on Earth. We find the Xankatikitiki, the Fluiquosm, the Wulivery have no right to be here."

"We raise a point of procedure," cried a voice from an empty net.

"State your point," answered the Inkleozese.

"Section 7 A of the book of procedures establishes that when an initiative is begun on a false premise, that the initiative may be cancelled when the premise is corrected."

"What false premise?" cried Chiddy.

"You say that Neighborliness will be best assured by eliminating drugs and weapons and by quieting repressions. We, the predators, say that Neighborliness will be best assured when the population of this planet is reduced by at least half and that the best way to do this is to increase drugs and weapons, increase warlike situations, and let the predators have freedom to hunt here as they will."

Hidden behind her tree, Benita shuddered. The world had been repeatedly swept by war and famine and plague when the population had been a quarter of what it was now! Less than a hundred years ago.

Sparse population didn't equal peace. It never had. All it meant were fewer casualties.

The agitated net spoke again: "I will quote our Pistach friend who said, on Earthian TV, that it had read in a gardening book that one saved much labor by learning to love weeds. . . ."

"Out of context," cried Vess. "We said allow people to kill themselves if they will. We said nothing about doing the killing for them! We find no fault with suicide! People who risk their own lives or who do not want to live should not be rescued or required to live. We find great fault with murder!"

Three of the Inkleozese put their heads together, their antennas touching. One of them turned to the predators, saying, "You have legitimate points of argument. However, once planetary assistance has begun, points of procedure must be argued before the Council, not on the planet in question. Research into the history of this planet must be done. We will do so, and we will notify you of the hearing. In the meantime, you will return to your ships. You will enter into no further agreements with humans on this planet. The Pistach will continue their efforts for the time being, though those efforts may be set aside if your appeal is granted."

There were howls, chitterings, yips and stinks of annoyance, but within a short time the predators had departed, along with their dead comrades. Then the Inkleozese set about lowering the captives from the trees and stripping off the membrane wrappers. At this point, Chiddy came to Benita.

"Are you all right, dearest Benita?" He morphed into his favorite male human form, one she had become accustomed to, a rather professorial or perhaps wizardly form with graying hair and far-seeing eyes. "Oh, we so deeply regret not being there when these . . . naughty people took you away. There is your friend, Chad. The Inkleozese are helping him, now. It is necessary they work on him a little, wiping out the mind picture put in his head by the Fluiquosm."

"My son ought to be among those prisoners," she murmured. "And the girl who was taken at the same time. And Bert."

"What is best to do with them?" Chiddy asked. "We can return them near the place they were taken from. Perhaps that would save much trouble?"

"It would save trouble. I think. Only . . . didn't the cabal ask that they be kidnapped? This has all happened in such a rush. It's hard to think. It's still night, but it's Monday, isn't it? I'm supposed to appear before a committee this morning? And . . . Morse? He believes he still has Bert and Carlos and Angelica, even though it wasn't really Angelica? Maybe we shouldn't let him know what's happened here tonight.

Maybe we should let him think he still has them."

"For what reason?"

"I don't know. Just that telling the truth to men like that never does any good. They always deal from a stacked deck."

"Which is cheating?"

"Yes. And the only way to beat a cheater is to cheat better," she said.

The nearest Inkleozese said, "We will take these people, your son and his father and the female, and we will keep them for a time, while you decide what should be done with them. The others, we will return to the places they were taken from."

"Perhaps that's best," agreed Chiddy. "What is important now is to get you and Chad back to your homes. It is almost dawn."

One thing about Inkleozese, Benita soon understood, was their extreme efficiency. Everything happened with such dispatch that she found it difficult to remember how, exactly, she'd gotten home.

She'd come in a ship, a very small one, and it had landed outside the back door, and they had let her in even though she hadn't had her keys with her. It was just as she had left it, except that the broken glass had been swept up, the broken windows had been boarded up, and Sasquatch was missing. A howl that came up the firewell from the stockroom told Benita he wasn't far away. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. A mess. She took off her trousers and looked at her legs. Her knees and lower legs were blistered where they'd been in contact with Stinky as she crawled out.

She stripped off the rest of her clothes, took a quick, hot shower, and put on one of her long sleep- tees. As she came out the bathroom door she heard an "Ahem" from the doorway.

Chiddy. He was holding out a small bottle. "Tonic," he said. "To make you feel you have slept well and are unstressed and confident. We sent some home with Chad, as well."

"Is it a drug?" she asked.

He frowned. "You mean, is it addictive? No. Unless you are addicted to staying up all night every night and being frightened out of your wits all the time. Then, I suppose, one might come to rely on it."

She laughed, the laughter becoming almost hysterical, until she found herself sitting on the bed, Chiddy holding a cold washcloth to her head. "Did you think they would eat you?" he asked. . "Chiddy, they did eat me! Or, one of them did. I was inside a Wulivery. My legs, look at them, they're all red and blistered and they burn like fury . . ."

He growled something and disappeared, returning in a moment with another bottle containing a lotion that he spread upon the reddened skin. The relief from pain was immediate. "Twice each day," he muttered angrily, recapping the bottle and setting it beside her. "The Inkleozese didn't tell me. How did you get out?"

"I killed it," she said. "And two Xankatikitiki, as well."

"You killed them! Three of them. Remarkable."

"Oh, yeah. I'm a walking advertisement for the NRA. Where did the Inkleozese take Bert and the kids?"

He shrugged. "Somewhere nearby. They will not suffer, any of them, and Vess and I agree it is best for the cabal not to know what has happened. In a few hours, you must appear before Senator Morse's committee."

"That's right," she sighed.

He stared at her for a time, nodding. "Chad will come get you. Until near the time, perhaps you should sleep."

"If I can, sure."

"Drink the tonic," he said. "You'll find you can."

Benita-MONDAY By eight o'clock on Monday morning, Benita felt considerably better. Chiddy's tonic had calmed her down, brightened her eyes, and allowed her to convince herself, as Chiddy suggested, that she was involved in an interesting episode in human history rather than the debacle of the millennium. Shortly after eight, Chad called to say she was To appear before Morse's committee in closed session.

"I don't like that closed session bit."

"Neither do I. We'll see what we can do when we get there."

Chad drove her to the Capitol, where they went down a wide hallway without attracting the least attention. In the committee room, Senator Morse was already seated, glaring at the far end of the table with its empty chair, the one Benita was presumably to occupy. When he looked up and saw her, he started, very much as though her presence was unexpected.

Chad caught the reaction and pressed her arm. Benita murmured, "He thought I wouldn't show up.

Now isn't that interesting."

To either side of the table committee members fumbled papers and murmured to one another, glancing with equal curiosity first at Benita and Chad and then at Morse. Perhaps, Benita thought, they had assumed she would have two heads. Or tentacles. Perhaps they had assumed a pregnant Morse would not appear. Whatever their assumptions, here she was, and here he was, and the one thing that really bothered her was that there were no neutral outside observers in the room. She didn't trust Morse and much preferred that he do nothing to her or with her in private.

"Who are you?" Morse demanded of Chad.

"I'm the intermediary's bodyguard, Senator. I'm an FBI agent, and I'll stay with her during the hearing."

"You will not," said Morse. 'This is a private hearing."

Benita felt herself flushing. It was all too, too reminiscent of a former occasion. "I agreed to speak to this committee voluntarily," she said. "However, I will not do so unless Agent Riley is here."

"My dear lady, you will be held in contempt of Congress if you do not do precisely what we order,"