The linguist smiled ruefully. "Tired, yes, but hardly bored. I don't mind admitting the first few hours have been rather disappointing. We had a native right here, I stood face to face with him, and we even saved his life ... well, no use yowling about it. I presume he's gone off to warn the others now. Our element of surprise, as you fellows say, is lost." He brushed the hair out of his eyes. "What shall we do about it, Gordon?" The leader drummed on the desk a while. "I dunno. This sort of situation was never covered in Patrol courses. Maybe the General Staff studies this stuff, but I was just a line officer, like the other guys. If you remember, we figured we'd sort of make up our operations plan as we went along. You probably know as much about it as we do, from all your reading. Nothing predictable about any of this; we just have to react to whatever develops. What would you suggest?" "Um. Well, I've a half-formed scheme for--er, seizing the bull by the horns. The natives are certain to react immediately, either by attacking us or by disappearing again. I feel that we should assume the initiative as soon as possible, without waiting for them to maneuver one of their weapons within range of us." "How do we assume the initiative?" "Yes, exactly--how?" The semanticist shook his head. "I'll have to sleep on it at least a little while, Gordon. Right now I feel unable to think. But somehow we have to convey to the Azurans the knowledge that we are friendly. We'll have to find some way of representing the idea to them." "Drop leaflets," suggested Gordon, wryly. "Or put up one of those billboards they used to have all over a hundred years ago. Everybody in the universe must have become accustomed to some kind of advertising by now!" He laughed heartily. "Okay, Stuart. Go fall into your bunk. Let's hope you wake up with a good idea!" The thoughtful little language expert got up to leave. "Billboard. Billboard ... there may be something in that, even if you were joking." His musings were broken off by the alarm bell and the intercom's squawk. "All hands! Battle stations! Chief, three natives just popped up from a hole in the ground about two hundred meters away. Strong radar indication." As Stuart ran down to his post at the airlock, he heard Gordon's calm voice from the intercom. "All right, Brettner. Keep them covered, but don't fire." At the lock, the linguist remembered to punch the personnel buttons as the men climbed in, out of breath and swearing. He pushed the stud beside his own name last and shut the lock as the "All Aboard" shone green. Gordon spoke again, apparently to someone in the control room with him. "They've evidently lugged a disrupter or something along a tunnel. Seem to have a couple of big beasts of burden carrying a gadget ... looks like one of those old pack howitzers. Let's wait 'till they get it nearly assembled, so we can get an idea of--hup! Let's GO!" * * * * *