CLOSE TO CRITICAL

a result I got smothered in a raindrop within a minute after my last light went out; and it was late enough by then for the stuff to be unbreathable. I'd kept to high ground all the tune, though, so I woke up in the morning before anything had made breakfast of me."

Nick paused, and like the other listeners—except Fagin —shifted himself to a more comfortable position on his resting legs as the ground shook underfoot. "I made a good, wide sweep around to the west, then circled north and east again to get back here. I was expecting to be caught every minute; those people are marvelous hunters and trackers. I traveled for several hours after dark each night, but stopped in time to find wood and build permanent fires before my sticks went out, after the first time. I didn't get caught by rain again, and they never caught up with me. They'll still find the village here sooner or later, though, and I think we ought to move out as quickly as possible."

For a moment there was silence after Nick finished his report; then the villagers began chattering, each putting forth his own ideas without paying much attention to those of his neighbor. They had picked up quite a few human characteristics. This noise continued for some minutes, with Nick alone waiting silently for Fagin to make some comment.

At last the robot spoke.

"You are certainly right about the cave-dwellers finding the village here; they probably know where it is already. They would have been fools to catch up with you as long as they had reason to suppose you were going home. I see nothing to be gained, however, by leaving; they could follow us anywhere we might go.

Now that they know of our existence, we're going to meet them in very short order.

"I don't want you people fighting them. I'm rather fond of you all, and have spent quite a long time bringing you up, and would rather not see you butchered. You've Exploration; Expectation; Altercation 29

never done any fighting—it's one thing I'm not qualified to teach you—and you wouldn't stand a chance against that tribe.

"Therefore, Nick, I want you and one other to go to meet them. They'll be coming along your trail, so you'll have no trouble finding them. When you meet Swift, tell him that we'll gladly move to his village or let him move to ours, and that I'll teach him and his people all he wants. If you make clear that I don't know his language and that he'll need you to talk to me, he'll probably be smart enough not to hurt any of us."

"When shall we start? Right away?"

"That would be best, but you've just had a long trip and deserve some rest. Anyway, a lot of the day is gone, and there probably won't be much lost by letting you get a night's sleep before you start. Go tomorrow morning."

"All right, Teacher." Nick gave no evidence of the uneasiness he felt at the prospect of meeting Swift again. He had known that savage for several weeks; Fagin had never met him. Still, the Teacher knew a lot; he had taught Nick virtually all he knew, and for a whole lifetime—at least, Nick's whole lifetime—

had been the final authority hi the village. Probably everything would come out as Fagin predicted.

It might have, too, had not the men behind the robot grossly underestimated the tracking ability of the cave-dwellers. Nick had not even had time to get to sleep beside his watch-fire after lighting up at rainfall when a surprised yell, in Nancy's voice, sounded from a point four fires to his left; and a split second later he saw Swift himself, flanked by a line of his biggest fighters which disappeared around the hill on either side, sweeping silently up the slope toward him.

II. EXPLANATION; CONCATENATION; RECRIMINATION

"WHAT do you do now?"

Raeker ignored the question; important as he knew the speaker to be, he had no time for casual conversation. He had to act. Fagin's television screens lined the wall around him, and every one showed the swarming forms of the fir-cone-shaped beings who were attacking the village. There was a microphone before his face, with its switch spring-loaded in the open position so that casual talk in the control room would not reach the robot's associates; his finger was hovering over the switch, but he did not touch it. He didn't quite know what to say.

Everything he had told Nick through the robot was perfectly true; there was nothing to be gained by trying to fight. Unfortunately, the fight had already started. Even had Raeker been qualified to give advice on the defense of the village, it was too late; it was no longer even possible for a human being to distinguish the attackers from the defenders. Spears were sailing through the air with blinding speed—nothing merely tossed gets very far in a three-gravity field—and axes and knives flashed in the firelight.

"It's a good show, anyway." The same shrill voice that had asked the question a minute earlier made itself heard once more. "That firelight seems to be brighter than daylight, down there." The casual tone infuriated Raeker, who was not taking the predicament of his friends at all 30

Explanation; Concatenation; Recrimination 31

casually; but it was not consideration of the identity or importance of the speaker that kept him from losing his temper and saying something unfortunate. Quite unintentionally, the onlooker had given him an idea. His finger stabbed at the microphone button.

"Nick! Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Teacher." Nick's voice showed no sign of the terrific physical effort he was exerting; his voice ma-chinery was not as closely tied in with his breathing apparatus as is that of a human being.

"All right. Fight your way into the nearest hut as quickly as possible, all of you. Get out of sight of me. If you can't reach a hut, get behind a woodpile or something like that—below the curve of the hill, if nothing better is possible. Let me know as soon as you've all managed this."

"We'll try." Nick had no time to say more; those in the control room could only watch, though Raeker's fingers were hovering over another set of switches on the complex panel before him.

"One of them's making it." It was the high voice again, and this time Raeker had to answer.

"I've known these people for sixteen years, but I can't tell them from the attackers now. How can you identify them?" He let his glance shift briefly from the screens to the two nonhumans towering behind him.

"The attackers have no axes, only knives and spears," pointed out the speaker calmly. The man hastily turned back to the screens. He could not be sure that the other was right; only three or four axes could be seen, and their wielders were not very clearly visible in the swirling press. He had not noticed any lack of axes in the hands of the attackers as they came up the hill, in the brief moments after they became visible to the robot and before battle was joined; but there was no reason to doubt that someone else might have.

He wished he knew Dromm and its people better. He made no answer to the 32