114 ::: Galactics
“The side battle amongst all the remnant forces seems to have moved away from the planet,” a Paha warrior reported. “They are streaming away from Kithrup, chasing a rather large vessel.”
The Soro, Krat, finished paring a ling-plum. She fought to hide the nervous tremor in her left arm.
“Can you identify the one they pursue?”
“It does not appear to be the quarry.”
The Paha tastefully ignored the fleet-mistress’s obvious wave of relief on hearing this. “It is too large to be the Earth ship. We have tentatively identified it as a crippled Thennanin, although.. . “
“Yes?” Krat asked archly.
The Paha hesitated. “It behaves strangely. It is inordinately massive, and its motors seem to have a quasi-Tymbrimi tone. It is already too far to read clearly.”
Krat grunted. “What is our status?”
“The Tandu parallel us, sniping at our flanks as we do theirs. We both chase the Earth scout. Both of us have ceased firing at the boat except when it gets too close to the other side.”
Krat growled. “This vessel leads us farther and farther from the planet—from the true quarry. Have you contemplated a scoutship whose very purpose may have been to accomplish this?” she snapped.
The Paha considered, then nodded. “Yes, Fleet-Mother. It would be just like a Tymbrimi or wolfling trick. What do you suggest?” ‘
Krat was filled with frustration. It had to be a trick! Yet she couldn’t abandon the chase, or the Tandu would capture the scoutship. And the longer the chase went on, the worse the attrition on both sides!
She threw the plum across the room. It splattered dead center on the rayed spiral glyph of the Library. A startled Pil jumped and squeaked in dismay, then glared at her insolently.
“Transmit Standard Truce Call Three,” Krat commanded with distaste. “Contact the Tandu Stalker. We must put an end to this farce and get back to the planet at once!”
The Tandu Stalker asked the Trainer one more time. “Can you arouse the Acceptor?”
The Trainer knelt before the Stalker, offering its own head. “I cannot. It has entered an orgasmic state. It is over-stimulated. Operant manipulation does not achieve success.”
“Then we have no meta-physical way to investigate the strange chase behind us?”
“We do not. We can only use physical means.”
The Stalker’s legs ratcheted. “Go and remove your head. With your last volition, place it in my trophy rack.”
The Trainer rasped assent.
“May the new one I grow serve you better.”
“Indeed. But first,” the Stalker suggested, “arrange to open a talk-line with the Soro. I shall sever the leg I use to talk with them, of course. But talk to them we now must.”
Buoult bit at his elbow spikes, then used them to preen his ridgecrest. He had guessed correctly! He had taken the last six Thennanin ships out of the battle between the Tandu and Soro, and arrived at the planet in time to join a long chase. Ten ragged ships were ahead of him, chasing an object that could only dimly be made out.
“More speed,” he urged. “The others are uncoordinated. While the Tandu and Soro chase a ruse, we are the only fair-sized squadron in the vicinity! We must chase!”
Far ahead of the Thennanin, a Gubru captain ruffled its feathers and cackled.
“We catch up! We catch up with the lumbering thing! And look! Now that we are near, look and see that its emanations are human! They fly inside a shell, but now we are near and can look and see and catch that which is inside that shell!
“Now we are near, and will catch them!”
Failure was still possible, of course. But total defeat would be unpermissible.
“If we cannot catch them,” it reminded itself, “then we must make certain to destroy them.”