“Look here,” Ross inquired, “should I put on a seat belt or something?”

They blinked at him, a reaction that was disconcerting when performed in concert. “You may remain here with the Enlightenment. All necessary steps are being taken.”

Three mushroom-shaped chairs emerged from the floor, each beneath a different Shakaleeshva. One zoomed off with the tallest, hurdled the console from which he and his companions had emerged, and promptly climbed the nearest wall. The others split in opposite directions. Once again Ross Ed was alone with his friend.

Brilliant bursts of light began to dominate the scene beyond the port. One time the huge chamber shuddered, causing several mushroom chairs and their riders to spill to the floor. Shipmates hurried to attend to the fallen. One Shakaleeshva lay unmoving where he had struck.

Again the room trembled. Feeling very helpless and left out, Ross took a seat next to his deceased companion, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“That’s a big window, and I still can’t see who we’re fighting.”

“The distances are vast. It’s rare for vessels engaged in combat to ever come within eyesight of each other,” Jed explained.

Far off in the blackness of space something blazed mightily before burning out. “Seems like an awful lot of fuss over a dead writer.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, but there are other standards besides human ones. You cannot imagine what it is like to be a permanent prisoner of one’s own abilities. Your creations never leave you, and you can never live a normal life. Neither your public, your critics, not your own brain will allow it.”

“I wonder how many ships are involved?”

“According to what I was told earlier, ten of the Shakaleeshva and eight Culakhan.”

Ross Ed whistled, startling those aliens within hearing range. “Eight against ten. They must want you real bad.”

“I’m afraid they do. I was a very good, or if you are Culakhan, very bad, writer. It pains me that lives may be lost on my account. I, who wished only to be left alone to ruminate in peace.”

“What happens if we lose?”

Then you will doubtless have the opportunity to experience the same condition as I currently exist in myself, albeit with a likely lack of comparable volubility.”

“Say again?”

“You’ll be dead, too, only you won’t be able to tell anyone about it.”

“Oh.” Ross looked around tire vast, frenetic room. “I don’t guess there’s anything I can do to help.”

“I’m afraid that as a specimen of lesser life your efforts would only hold you up to ridicule.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. I remember once in the eleventh grade …” He went quiet for a moment. “I wish I had a gun or something.”

“Spoken like a true Texan, from what social lore I have been able to acquire. Have courage, my friend. The Shakaleeshva will prevail and I will see to it that you are returned to your home.”

“Being designated an Enlightenment must be a pretty big deal among your people, huh?”

“It’s Supreme and Exalted Enlightenment, actually.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. You ought to be proud.”

“It’s too big a thing, Ross Ed. Too much accountability for any one individual.”

“A dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it, is that it?”

“Not so much dirty as relentless.”

Left alone and with nothing else to do, they proceeded to debate the difficulties of Jed’s previous profession while the battle raged furiously around them.

Not so very long thereafter one of the original three attendants rejoined them, his mushroom seat screeching to a halt. Inclining his head, Ross looked for wheels or treads beneath the seat. Whatever was holding it off the floor was not visible.

“The Chenisisult has been damaged, the Kalavak less so.”

“And the Culakhan?” inquired Jed.

“Three ships so badly crippled they have been forced to withdraw. Two more battered. I regret to say that the Culakhan vessel Utchu has blown up.”

“I’m surprised they’re still maintaining contact,” Jed commented.

“As are we, but the Culakhan are nothing if not tenacious. Their—”

“Codes of Conduct, I know.”

“The tide of battle has turned and continues to turn in our favor. It was thought you would wish to know.” Ignoring the tall human seated on the floor, the messenger sped away on his mushroom.

Fifteen minutes later a vast sigh whooshed through the chamber. It was a concerted exclamation on the part of the Shakaleeshva, who had at last received the information they had been waiting for. The battle had been won.

Further confirmation took the form of the Shakaleeshva commander, who arrived with two new associates in tow. “The Culakhan flee. We regret the mutual devastation, especially the destruction of the Utchu. All could have been avoided if our opponents were less rigid in adherence to their Codes. With only three undamaged vessels remaining to them, it became clear they could not win. They have conceded control of this system and withdrawn to deep space, leaving only regrets and imprecations in their wake.” She, for Ross Ed had asked a few questions and was now better able to distinguish gender among Jed’s kind, bowed to the deceased.

“They vow retribution at an unspecified future date. The Shakaleeshva will expect them.”

“I’m dead,” the artificial larynx gurgled. “You’d think that would be enough.”

“They seek another kind of redress. They wish you to reform certain of your compositions which pertain to them and which they perceive as insulting.”

“Screw ’em, aesthetically speaking. My work is immutable.”

This time all three officers bowed. “The Shakaleeshva would not have it any other way.”

“So we’re safe now?” Uncrossing his legs, Ross rose and stretched. One of the Shakaleeshva officers instinctively drew back.

“Yes. Unless the Culakhan choose to assemble even more craft and pursue the matter by attacking the home world of this expeditionary force. I don’t think even my work has managed to insult them quite that much.”

Through the impressive port Ross Ed could see Shakaleeshva starships gathering. A lambent sphere glowed in the distance. He thought it might be Jupiter. “What happens now?”

One of the officers explained. “Repairs must be carried out on those of our own vessels which suffered serious damage. When this has been accomplished we will commence the long journey homeward.”

“You mean your home, not mine.”

This time it was the commander who responded. “If the Culakhan translator is functioning properly, I detect despair in your voice. Please be of good cheer. As protector and savior of the Enlightenment, you will be feted with honors. Anything the Shakaleeshva can provide shall be yours. It would take you a hundred of your lifetimes to enjoy all the wonderments that the Twenty Worlds have to offer.”

Ross was quiet for a long moment before replying carefully. ‘fat’s real generous of you, and I admit I’m curious, but I’m afraid what it boils down to is that the Twenty Worlds just ain’t Texas. Bet you can’t get a decent chicken-fry on any of ’em.”