_From Karz, Commander, Sector Patrol III: For Kuul, P. C. Subject: armed enemy cruisers. Enemy fleet of military destroyer-units hovering in formation at edge of restrictive boundary. Armed, but have not fired into restrictive zone. Appear to be in command of General Flagship. No communications intercepted, no actual violation as yet of restrictive boundary. Twenty-one craft counted. Requesting further advice, to avert any possible breach of strategic diplomacy._ * * * * * _From Kuul, P. C., SEF: For Karz, Cmmdr., Sector Patrol III. Subject: communication 18Z1. Stand by. Deliberate disregard of ultimatum stipulations on our part would tend to lessen prestige and introduce possibility of unsatisfactory psychological reactions. It is to be remembered that Terrestrials are highly unpredictable when abruptly angered. Alert your command this headquarters._ * * * * * "What did they say?" Kram asked. The Moon leered at him through the thick quartz conning-port like a pitted, rotted rubber ball that had once been painted with a diluted silver gilt. Luverduk still shook, but not as much. "About those skeletons--" "You'll be one if you don't cut your jets. What was their reply?" "Xenthl will give us an audience upon our landing, but we have been emphatically warned that the slightest move we make which may be interpreted as a breach of truce will be our last. And they added that any move made by anybody else in the neighborhood which may be so interpreted will be their last, too...." "Told you things would work out." "Work out? We're only flying a white flag with no authorization from anybody. We've only gone AWOL. And Hoskins is gunning right behind. We often leave without saying good-bye--" "Parts of that statement are inaccurate. Hoskins is waiting at the boundary, not daring to fire into the Sirian zone--not gunning right behind. And he knows that one ship-length of an armed cruiser over the boundary will mean the G-ray for the whole shooting-match. He also knows we'll come back, so is just standing by until we do. However, to something of far more importance. Did you bring the blast-rifle?" "I did. I assume it is like the pistol, only more so." "It certainly is supposed to be." "Your answer is only more or less perfect. I say again, is the rifle like a super G-ray?" "No." "Like a super atomic cannon, then." "No. The rifle, as well as the pistol I showed you, are, to put it vulgarly, fakes. They wouldn't squirt water." "I asked you a straight question, you should therefore give me at least the semblance of a straight answer. Come again." "You heard me. Fakes." "You mean they will not work? It will not work?" Silence. "Good Lord, you mean we're actually going to see Xenthl with truce in our white little hearts and not blow his headquarters to pieces? This is a real, honest-to-God truce mission?" "In a manner of speaking, sort of."