Cowering before the impatience of the Tzarean World's highest authority, the pilot beat upon the control computer with a taloned fist. "It will be feeding out soon--I hope." Mittich pressed forward into the anxiety that filled the compartment with hydrostaticlike intensity. It was well past time for his isotonic saline soaking and already the coarse drying process was chafing his chitinous skin. He was even sensitively aware of each scale as it grated against the one beneath it. But he couldn't withdraw. Not when they were so close to determining whether an eons-old culture was doomed to extermination. The computer clacked its readiness and belched out the new data. Vrausot snatched up the perforated strip and his massive head swung up and down in satisfaction. "The orbit's absolutely synchronous," he disclosed. "We can keep the alien landing site under constant observation. And our position is additionally camouflaged by those peaks." He used the scales of an abbreviated forearm to scratch his lower jaw. With all the authority vested within him as Chancellor of the Shoal, Adviser to the Curule Assembly and leader of the current expeditionary force, he directed the pilot to order gunnery practice. Assemblyman Mittich swallowed incredulously. "But the aliens! Aren't we going to observe them? That's what we came for!" "Not now." Vrausot waved him off. "Preparations first. Anyway, we _know_ they're aggressive." "We don't. That's what we have to establish." The Chancellor shifted his tail from left to right. "We've observed their machines. They fight among themselves, don't they? And isn't it a fundamental fact of design that automatons are fashioned mainly after their creators, even in matters of temperament?" "Yes," Mittich admitted. "But we _interfered_ with those machines. We interrupted basic behavioral patterns. Our automatons, too, would show primitive social tendencies if the same thing happened to them." Vrausot exposed a jagged array of teeth that conveyed his displeasure. "I'm in no mood for interference, although I might have expected only forensic exercise from the Leader of the Opposition." "In that capacity, I'm here to offer suggestions." But it was more than that, Mittich reflected. The Assembly had been quite leery of the compromise plan. The Chancellor had wanted an awesome display of force; the Opposition, a try at peaceful contact. They finally concurred in: observation, evaluation and application of force _only_ if required. And it was hoped that, on the expedition, the Chancellor and Assemblyman would restrain each other. But how could _anyone_ restrain Vrausot? * * * * * "Prepare for gunnery practice," the Chancellor directed. "But," Kavula protested, "that will produce observable emissions beyond the concealment of our shield." Disappointed, Vrausot leaned back upon his tail. "Very well, then--we'll go through the motions. Order a wet run."