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focused on the nearest viewscreen as he spoke. "All these years when it was
thought he was working on behalf of the Families, and when the humans believed
he was working for them, he was in truth risking himself on behalf of both
races. Not Nuel to conquer man nor man to conquer Nuel, but so that we might
conquer our fears of one another in order to be able to face a greater threat
from outside."
The psychologist remained strangely silent. He is overcome by the loss of one
with whom he has been so closely associated for so long, the subambassador
thought compassionately. Though he was suspicious of this
Lewmaklin's motives, one does not devote so much of one's life to studying an
individual solely out of fear.
Does one?
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"It also explains," he continued, "why the _lehl_ implant has not harmed its
host. The _lehl_ knew even when certain men or Nuel did not that its host was
truly doing nothing against the best interests of the Nuel." His voice turned
reverent.
"And truly has he given his own life by revealing these intricate plannings of
his to us in such a way that we cannot but believe them. Will I
regret forever upon my children that I was never to meet him and that so great
a sentient should perish without being able to receive the acclaim due him for
his efforts on our behalf."
"Oh truly," said Chaheel so softly the subambassador did not hear him.
Oddly enough he found himself thinking about the human Oxford Swift and his
mate. He hoped they had been decently treated and released. What must they be
thinking now, if they had been returned to their riverine home? What must he
think of Chaheel Riens and his hysterical, accusatory opinions concerning one
Kees vaan Loo-Macklin?
The Nuel ambassador was gliding toward them. "You all saw, you all heard?"
They both made signs of assent.
"I have more news. This Solar Technological Institute ship, the
_Tarsis,_ departed Restavon several months ago. Before vanishing into deep
space it made a short stop at Evenwaith. I think you both truly can guess the
name of the passenger it picked up there.
"That is why we were unable to locate Lewmaklin. He has been on this
_Tarsis_ for some time. He planned everything from the beginning and
everything has worked for him." He hesitated, made a multitentacular sign of
distress. "Everything except his hopes for escape, that is.
"I only wish I had some way of expressing to him the gratitude of the
Families. Not only has he enabled us to save ourselves from these marauding
and voracious Tremovan, he managed to do it in such a way as to allow us to
save ourselves from ourselves. The hate that existed between Nuel and human
was ten times more dangerous to our survival than any alien invaders.
"What a kind, benign, self-sacrificing individual this Keeyes vain
Lewmaklin must have been!" He glanced concernedly at the psychologist nearby.
"Why, Chaheel Riens, you look ill!"
--------
*XVI*
Anxious days followed Loo-Macklin's final broadcast. Chaheel spent his hours
roving about the vast structure that was the center of UTW government,
marveling at the use of metal where the Nuel would have used organic polymers,
enjoying the views of the city, luxuriating in the special quarters which had
been prepared for the use of very important Nuel visitors. He was constantly
seen in the company of the Nuel ambassador himself, and so no one commented on
his presence in sensitive places or questioned his right to be there.
Somewhere below the hundredth floor was buried the immense computational heart
of the United Technologic Worlds, the final, inorganic arbiter of all
government arguments and decisions. Working in conjunction with it, were the
much smaller but far more numerous semiorganic computers which helped the
intricate networks of families govern the Nuel worlds. Together they mapped
strategy and considered options.
Despite Loo-Macklin's revelations, the Tremovan armada continued its steady
plunge toward the civilized worlds.
Chaheel was in the vaulted command chamber on the day when both massed fleets
were to come within short detection range of one another. Then maneuvering
would begin in earnest. The ships would be unable to see each other, even with
the aid of powerful telescopes. Even at sublight speed, where physics dictates
such fighting must take place, ships remained impossibly far apart until
actual combat was joined.
"Truly will we know what our future is to be before this day is over."
The ambassador surmised, staring up at the main viewscreen, which occupied the
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entire wall and was three stories high.
Currently it showed two clusters of slowly shifting lights: white for the
approaching Tremovan and mixed red and green for the united Human-Nuel forces.
"Detection, mark," a technician's voice boomed over a speaker. The lights
moved, changing position only ponderously on the screen but in reality at
unnatural speed. There was a pause.
"Positioning," repeated the human voice. "Phase one," echoed the gurgling
voice of a Nuel technician. A longer pause followed. The observers on the
floor below the screens stared and waited.
"Still positioning," announced the two voices ... and then, jubilantly in both
languages, "Turning. Enemy forces are turning. Slow wheel through four degrees
one half arc of space. They are definitely turning!"
The shift was not immediately perceptible on the huge screen. Parsecs away out
in a vast open area of space where suns were thin, out between two arms of the
galaxy, the huge Tremovan fleet had begun to turn away from the
massed forces confronting it. Several hours passed before the announcers were
able to declare it with finality.
"Observers and officers," the twin voices said, "enemy fleet is retiring
toward Shapely Center. Exact course unpredictable. It appears they are taking
evasive action. Velocity of retreat precludes pursuit."
There was some heated arguing to punctuate the wild cheers and shouts that
filled the chamber. Despite the poor chances of overtaking the retreating
enemy there were those among both human and Nuel staffs who argued for
following, in order to administer a drubbing the Tremovan would not forget.
Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed. It was pointed out that while the
conservative Tremovan apparently were not ready for a fight with a powerful
and prepared opponent, if attacked they would have no choice _but_ to fight.
Thus far not a single sentient had died, not a missile or particle beam had
been unleashed in anger. No, the Tremovan might elect not to attack, but they
would most certainly defend. The outcome of such a battle could not be
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