eld out his hand, groping for the
phrases that had been all-important once among the recruits he had
joined. "Thanks, Queeth," he said finally. "But I've got something to
catch up on here. Good luck--on to victory--and give the aliens hell!"

He stood watching Queeth patter off toward the waiting cab and saw it
drive away. Then he turned to the want ads in earnest.

Nothing was clear in his mind yet, but he'd need a job first, then a
room near the library. He had a lot of current history to catch up on.
Whatever Earth was up to had to be recorded somewhere, if he could find
it.

VIII

Through half his reign, Var of Kloomiria had nursed his hatred of the
humans into a holy mission. It was eighty years since his visit to
Cathay, when the colonists' children had run screaming from him,
shouting that he was a monster, but time had only sharpened the memory.
He had covered his too-human body under a multitude of robes and had
gloried in the alienness of his head, with its fringe of breathing
tentacles and the two lobster-like claws that concealed his tiny mouth.
Year after long year, he had built and prayed for the war of vengeance
that must come.

Almost, it had passed him by. With the threat of help from Earth for
Cathay, he had been forced to delay while larger fleets were built. His
reign had been drawing to a close and he had almost resigned himself to
the law that would turn the rulership over to his eldest son. Then the
boy had died in an explosion less than a week from the change of rule,
and almost simultaneously Earth's timidity had won again, and the
protection had been denied her colony.

Now Var's waiting was finished. He stood in the cabin of his flagship,
heading back to Kloomiria after the opening raid of the war, savoring
the sweetness of the damage he had done Cathay. Life was sweet.

Behind him, the door dilated softly and his aide came in, carrying a
roll of paper. "A message from Cathay, magnificence," he announced.

Var opened the message and studied it. Then he read it again,
uncertainly. He was sure of his knowledge of English, but the note was
senseless gibberish. Again he read it, this time aloud:

"Yours of the fourteenth ultimo received and contents noted. We are
pleased to inform you that we are in a position to fill your entire
order and that shipment is going out at once by special messenger. We
trust that you will find our products superior in every way. We believe
that you