Just then the shape on the right threw back its head and howled, long and piercingly, letting it trail off slowly into a series of soft sobs.

That howl was answered by an identical howl from the forest that seemed to progress halfway around the campsite before it, too, sobbed to a finish.

The two shapes rose then and trotted toward the campfire. The one on the left was smaller, Wolruf's size, and as they approached the campfire, its form became silvery while the form of the other, standing a meter at the shoulder, became more distinctly mottled black and dark gray.

After coming well into the light of the fire, the larger beast turned and loped into the forest. The small silvery beast came around the fire and sat down on its haunches beside Wolruf.

“That was LifeCrier,” the small beast said. “He wanted to inspect Wolruf.”

“SilverSide?” Derec queried.

“Yes. Surely you can tell it's me. The imprint is quite realistic.”

“And did I pass muster?” Wolruf asked.

“I wouldn't be here if you hadn't, Mistress Wolruf,” SilverSide replied.

She had achieved a remarkable likeness to Wolruf, considering that the robot was an organometallic construction from coarse cellular microbots. The flat face, the pointed ears, the fingered forepaws were all in character. She had even achieved a good simulation of the fur without creating individual hairs.

“I think the wolves have gone, Master Derec,” Mandelbrot informed them.

“I would suspect so, Mandelbrot,” Derec said. “SilverSide is back. Perhaps you should come and meet her in this new form.”

Mandelbrot crossed the brook and walked up to the fire. He hardly glanced at SilverSide.

“Would you like me to build up the fire, Master Derec?” he asked.

“Yes,” Derec said, “and then perhaps you should resume guard duty. Other beasties may come calling, some that are not so friendly.”

Those that had just left had not been nearly so friendly at one time, Derec recalled.

“And SilverSide, you might post yourself on the other side of the campsite, but don't stray so far into the forest this time.”

“Mistress Wolruf?” SilverSide said, questioning with a rising inflection.

“Yes?”

“Are those your wishes?”

“Of course.”

SilverSide's fealty had clearly shifted to Wolruf.

Derec slept well until the middle of the night. With SilverSide back in the fold, his attention had shifted to himself, and he went to sleep yearning to be with Ariel. The gentle snore from the cot next to him reminded him of Ariel and aggravated the desire, but it was not enough to keep him awake long.

That night he didn't dream of Ariel or of anything else. The short hike, the outdoor environment, and the relief connected with SilverSide's return promoted sound sleep, and he didn't stir until shortly before dawn, when he was awakened by Avernus's call over his internal monitor, transmitting Ariel's call for help.

Chapter 13. The Vote On Superior Competence

Immediately following the last, disastrous meeting with the aliens, Synapo had circled up to charge altitude with Neuronius and Axonius trailing far behind. He was looking neither to left nor right nor up nor down. His eyes were open but staring straight ahead-staring, unseeing, out of a mind closed down by shock.

So when he arrived on station, he was surprised to see Sarco there ahead of him, circling in Synapo's space, hook set aggressively forward.

Although it was virtually unheard of and highly unethical to communicate political matters by radio, Neuronius must have done just that, radiating Synapo's defeat for all to hear, while Synapo, in shock, had his sensory equipment shut down. Else why would Sarco be up here already, contesting Synapo's dominance?

So, indeed, it had been a conspiracy; and it involved not only Sarco and Neuronius, but Axonius as well.

Synapo ignored Sarco, and with his hook set aggressively forward, he winged Sarco out of the way and took up his station in a tight circle immediately over the center of the compensator.

“What's up?” Sarco said, meekly yielding the space. “You don't seem happy.”

Synapo said nothing.

“What happened down there?” Sarco asked again, putting more insistence into his voice.

“You should know,” Synapo finally said. “One of your Cerebron toadies has already radioed you.”

“What are you talking about? Nobody has radioed anything; and I can't stand toadies, least of all a Cerebron.”

“Neuronius? What about Neuronius?”

“Neuronius coached me in pronunciation of the alien language. Does that make the poor soul a toady?”

“Poor soul, my hook. He was just trying to stir up trouble between you and me; if you somehow don't relish that idea, then he was using you, Sarco, and you must be exceedingly naive.”

“I must admit I thought it was an elegant idea, using your second in command to advantage in our rivalry. But, Synapo, it has always been a friendly rivalry.”

“Neuronius is striking, Sarco. And with Axonius on his side. Why do you think I took them both with me and excluded you rather unceremoniously?”

“Frankly, I didn't know, and you didn't appear to want to explain. So what did happen down there?”

“Neuronius made a wrong decision involving the aliens, I reversed him, and Axonius sided with him. It was as simple as that.”

“That doesn't sound like Axonius, Synapo. Give me the details. You three have involved all the Myocerons. You can't expect me to sit idly on the sidelines.”

“Axonius had you fooled as well, eh?”

With that slight dig, Synapo proceeded to describe the meeting in detail. Before the end of the long account, Sarco had rotated his hook so that it pointed passively aft, expressing silently but eloquently whose side he was on.

When Synapo finished, Sarco asked, “When are you having your caucus?”

Synapo had put off that decision until Sarco prodded him. His mind had been so paralyzed he had not worked out a plan of action during his slow climb to station.

“One hour from now,” he replied, making a quick decision.

“I hereby exercise my right as leader of the Myostria,” Sarco said, “and proclaim that caucus to be a joint gathering, a Cerebron caucus and a Myostrian hearing. Please announce it as such to your people, and I will do the same for mine.”

It was an historic occasion. A joint gathering of the elite of both tribes was something that occurred only once a decade or so, if that often.

In an ordinary Cerebron caucus, Synapo would be on station circling lazily above the center of the compensator in a large, loose circle with the other members of the Cerebron elite flying to right and left, above and below, a wingspread apart.

In the larger assembly of a joint gathering, however, the flight caucus was not compatible with clear and audible communication, so a grounded gathering was held on the high crags atop The Cliff of Time-a ninety-meter escarpment that cut across the intersection of The Plain of Serenity and The Forest of Repose eight kilometers to the northeast of the robot city and its node compensator.

Synapo, with his hook set forward, stood on the highest crag while the other ten members of the Cerebron elite stood below, facing him in a line on a slightly tilted table of flat granite. Their hooks were all set aft.

Neuronius stood in the middle of the line immediately below Synapo, Axonius stood to his right, the next in rank stood to the left of Neuronius, and the other members of the Cerebron elite stood right and then left in descending order of rank in the hierarchy.

Sarco, with his hook set aft, stood on a nearby crag on Synapo's right, above the same rock table, with his elite gathered below him in similar fashion and within easy earshot of Synapo.

In addition to Sarco, there were fourteen other members of the Myostrian elite. It had been temporarily expanded to handle the increased load imposed by construction of the huge node that compensated the weather effects of the robot city.