General Don Cort squared his shoulders. He was almost getting used to these spot promotions. "Now negotiate," Fogarty said. "You hear me, Mr. Gizl-Rezar? The United States of America stands behind General Cort." There was no audible objection from the White House. "Who stands behind you?" "A democratic government," Rezar said. "Like yours." "You represent them?" Fogarty asked. "With my council, yes." "Then we can make a deal. Talk to him, Don. I'll shut up now." Don said to Rezar, "Was it your decision to burrow under New York and Magnitogorsk and Heidelberg?" "I agreed to it, finally." "But you agreed to it in the belief that the Earth-people were a warring people and that your old prohibitions did not apply. But we are not a warring people. Earth is at peace." "Is it?" Rezar asked sadly. "Your plane warred on the submarine." "In self-defense," Don said. "Don't forget that we defended you, too. And we'd do it again--but not unless provoked." Rezar looked thoughtful. He tapped his long fingernails on the table. Finally he said, "I believe you. But I must talk to my people first, as you have talked to yours. Let us meet later"--he seemed to be making a mental calculation--"in three hours. Where? Here?" "How about Cavalier?" Alis suggested. "It would be the first important thing that ever happened there." * * * * * For the first time since Superior took off, all of the town's elected or self-designated representatives met amicably. They gathered in the common room at Cavalier Institute as they waited for Rezar and his council to arrive for the talks which could decide, not only the fate of Superior, but of New York and two foreign cities as well. Apparently the Pentagon expected Don to pretend he had authority to speak for Russia and Germany as well as the United States. But could he speak for the United States constitutionally? He was sure that Bobby Thebold, comprising exactly one percent of that great deliberative body, the Senate, would let him know if he went too far, crisis or no crisis. The Senator, reunited with Geneva Jervis, sat holding her hand on a sofa in front of the fireplace in which logs blazed cheerfully. Thebold looked untypically placid. Jen Jervis, completely sober and with her hair freshly reddened, had greeted Don with a cool nod. Thebold had been chagrined at learning that Don Cort was not the yokel he had taken him for. But he recovered quickly, saying that if there was any one thing he had learned in his Senate career it was the art of compromise. He would go along with the duly authorized representative of the Pentagon, with which he had always had the most cordial of relations. "Isn't that so, sweetest of all the pies?" he said to Jen Jervis. Jen looked uncomfortable. "Please, Bobby," she said. "Not in public." The Senator squeezed her hand.