Spinneret

"I am Beaeki nul Dies na," the response came immediately. "I speak for my people."

"Uh, yes—I also speak for my people. I'd like to know the purpose of your visit."

"I wish to discuss trade with you."

"I see. Trade for our sulfur, I presume?"

"You need not seek to deceive," Beaeki said. "I offer you free information as a sign of sincerity: we know of the advanced technology which you have discovered and of the cable it has produced. We wish to purchase a length of the cable for examination; depending upon its properties we may be interested in trading for usable quantities of it."

Meredith stared at the phone for two heartbeats, his thoughts racing. "How did you find out about the cable?" he asked, more to gain time than anything else.

"We obtained the information from the Ctencri, who intend to act as agents for Earth in future sales. My people feel a more mutually equitable arrangement may be possible by trading directly with you."

"I see." So Earth had made a deal with the Ctencri without even bothering to tell him … or had the Ctencri set up the whole thing unilaterally? Or, for that matter, were the Rooshrike making the Ctencri co

Beaeki's answer might have helped Meredith figure out what was going on; but as it happened, the Rooshrike was never given time to reply. "Colonel, we're picking up another ship," Brown cut into the conversation, his voice tense: "Just shifted into the system—we caught the flash. About one point four million kilometers and coming toward Astra."

"Colonel, we just picked up a second flash," Radford a

"Confirmed," Brown said.

"Are those yours, Beaeki?" Meredith asked sharply.

"No," the alien replied. "It is possible a trade delegation from another people—"

"I doubt that seriously," Radford cut him off. "Trade delegations aren't likely to arrive in flanking maneuvers."

Flanking maneuvers. Uh-oh. "If those aren't yours I suggest you get out of here fast," Meredith said.

The Rooshrike didn't answer; but suddenly the phone erupted with a low whistle.

"There he goes," Radford reported. "Like a bat with afterburners… there—he's shifted. Intruders still coming."

"Major? Try to raise them."

"Right." There was a long pause. "No answer. Either they ignore all the supposedly standard frequencies or else they haven't got a translator that handles English. Or they don't want to talk."

"I don't think there's any real doubt as to which it is," Meredith said quietly. "I think we'd better prepare for an invasion."

"Agreed," Radford said, his voice icily calm. "The Pathfinder's at your disposal, Colonel."

"Thanks, but I don't know what you can possibly do except get yourselves blown out of the sky. I suggest you pull back— way back—and wait to see what happens. If they threaten you directly, you'd better run for it."

"I unfortunately agree. All right. Pulling back now and going to communications silence. Good luck to you."

"Thanks. Brown?"

"Sir?"

"Red alert, all units. You might as well make it a general a

"Yes, sir. A

Meredith paused for thought, and as he did so noticed for the first time that the others in the room had quietly gathered into a semicircle behind Witzany and Chang. To a man, they all wore the same expression: scared and edgy, but with a spring-steel resolve beneath it all. He'd seen that expression only once before, on Egyptian villagers preparing to defend their village against the Libyan war machine rolling toward it. It was a shock; he hadn't realized that in just three months his men could start thinking of Astra as home.

Or, for that matter, that he himself could.

"Squad-level dispersal," he told Brown. "It doesn't make any sense to try and hold Martello or the admin buildings. We'll split into guerrilla-size groups and try hitand- run tactics once whoever-they-are have landed."

"Not much cover for that."

"I know, but if we stand and fight they can wipe us out from the sky. As many men as possible should head for the Kaf Mountains or the hills near Teardrop Lake. Someone should take the flyers into the Kafs, too."

"What about the cable, Colonel?" Witzany asked.

"Leave it," Meredith said. "If that's all they want, they can take it and go."

"What?" Chang exploded. "Colonel, that cable is priceless—"

"What's priceless is the machinery that made it," Meredith cut him off. "And I'm betting that's what they're really after."

"Colonel," Brown spoke up. "Orders are out, but we've got a glitch re the flyers—one of them is at Olympus with Hafner's group."

"Damn." Hafner's daily attempts to locate the cable-making machinery had become so routine that Meredith had clean forgotten them. "Better have them stay put."

"Right. Flyer One is heading for the mountains now."

Meredith mentally crossed his fingers—Flyer One hadn't been up since limping back to base from its encounter with that high-gee field—and then put the matter out of his mind. Valuable as the flyer was, it held just two lives in its grip—two out of the nearly ten thousand Meredith was responsible for.

"All right. I'm heading back to Unie; I'll pick up coordination from you when I get there."

He had just passed Wright and hit real road once again when the inevitable ultimatum came. "They won't identify themselves," Brown relayed tensely, "but they order us to halt all aircraft and ground vehicles and to assemble outside our buildings."

"Any 'or else' come with that?"

"Not explicitly, but it seems pretty self-evident."

"Yeah. How's the evacuation going?"

"Slowly. The civilians just aren't moving fast enough."

Meredith swore under his breath. "Are the invaders close enough to spot car traffic yet?"

"Depends mainly on whether they know where to look, I'd say. One of the ships is already below geosync; the others are hanging back. So far they're ignoring the Pathfinder."

"Um. All right. Tell the aliens that until we have their identity and full intentions your commander refuses to knuckle under. Use as much slang as you can—out-ofdate slang, if you know any. That plus having to run their messages through you may buy us a little more time."

"Right. Even so, I don't think we'll be able to get everyone out of the towns.

Permission to set up defensive positions?"

"I suppose we'd better. The admin buildings are probably your best bet—you can use fertilizer sacks in lieu of sandbags."

"Already thought of that. Do you want to set up deployment now or wait until you're back in Unie with secure lines?"

Meredith hesitated. He very much wanted to handle that personally, but he had few illusions as to how long they could stall the enemy. "You'd better do that yourself," he told Brown. "Give the local commanders autonomy, consistent with the goal of defensive holding action. Use the computer net as much as possible—they'll at least have to work hard to tap into that."

"Yes, sir. I'll fu

Meredith wasn't at all convinced of that; but whether through confusion or a simple desire to take a good, long look at the landscape, the invaders did hold off long enough for the colonel to reach Unie. He was in his office, skimming through Andrews's hastily prepared defensive setup, when Brown informed him the close-orbiting ship had launched two craft. Bare minutes later a low rumble became audible, growing quickly to a sonic-boom crash as one of the craft shot directly overhead, heading east. Through his window, Meredith watched it brake to a midair halt on its repulsers and settle to the ground somewhere between Unie and Crosse. He tensed, waiting for the sound of gunfire