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s capable of bringing an end to the Great Peace； the mons； and perhaps every member of the Six。
I couldn't see Huck's reaction when Uriel told in passing that the g'Kek race was now extinct among the stars； their last survivors reduced to savages； wheeling primitive tracks in the dust of Jijo。 My tunnel of attention was still centered on other startling news。
The forayers were humans！
Everyone knows Earthlings weren't much more than animals in the eyes of the Galactic god…clans； only three hundred years ago。 So what were mere humans doing； trying to pull a plicated theft across such distances？
Then I realized； since Uriel was addressing us in formal GalTwo； I'd been thinking in that tongue； seeing events the way a Galactic would。 Things looked quite different when I rephrased the question in Anglic。
Three hundred years？ That's an eternity！ In that time humans moved from sailboats to their first starships。 By now； who knows？ Maybe they own half the universe！
All right； I've probably read way too much stuff by Doc Smith and 〃Star…Smasher〃 Feng。 But while most folks on the bluff that night expressed shock that wise； cultured human beings could ever do such things； I knew an inner truth about them。 One that weaves through Earthling literature like a never…absent umble tone。
As long as their race survives； some among them will be wolves。
It amazed us all when Uriel said the project would continue。
Amid talk of militia call…ups； emergency camouflage repairs； and possibly having to fight for our lives against overwhelming power； I expected the smith to order us all back to Wuphon and Mount Guenn at once； putting our backs to labor for the mon good。 So we stared when instead she acted as if this were important； this silly diving expedition of ours。
I even said so to her face。
〃Why are you doing this？〃 I asked the next day as Uriel oversaw resplicing the hawser and air hose。 〃Don't you have urgent things to worry about？〃
Her neck stretched upward； lifting the center； pupil…less eye almost even with my own。
〃And what would you have us do instead？ Turn out weafons？ Convert our forge into a factory of death？〃 Her single nostril flared； revealing the twisty membranes that lock in moisture； making urrish breath as dry as wind off the Plain of Sharp Sand。
〃We urs know death well； young Hph…wayuo。 It scales our legs and dries our husvand fouches all too soon。 Or else we hurry it along with fights and feuds； as if glory could ever requite our haste to die。 A great nany urs look fondly on those days when Earthlings were our finest foes； when heroes roared across the frairie； wheeling and charging recklessly。
〃I； too； feel that call。 And like others； I resist。 This is an age for another kind of hero； young fellow。 A warrior who thinks。〃
Then she turned back to her labors； directing workers with severe attention to detail。 Her response left me confused； unsatisfied。。。 but also； in some way I could not quite fathom； just a bit more proud than I had been before。
It took two days to plete the overhaul and triple…check all systems。 By that time； the mass of onlookers had changed。 Many of the originals had hurried home on hearing Uriel's news。 Some had militia duties； or were eager to perform destructive sacraments prescribed by the oldest scrolls。 Others rushed back to save their property against premature dressing by the devout； or simply to be with loved ones during the expected last of days。
Those departing were replaced by others even angrier than the first； or frightened by things they had seen。 Only yesterday； observers from Wuphon Port all the way to Finaltown Bay beheld a narrow； winged specter…a pale aircraft…that paused over the useless camouflage lattices； as if to say I see you； before resuming a twisty course along the coast； then out to sea。
No one had to say it。 Whatever Uriel wanted to acplish here； we didn't have a lot of time。
XX。THE BOOK OF THE SLOPE
Legends
The first sooner races arrived at Jijo knowledgeable； but they lacked a safe way to store that knowledge。 The names of many archival tools e down to us； from data plaques to memo…slivers and info…dust； but all of these had to be consigned to the deep。 Earthlings possessed a secure； undetectable way to store information。 The secret of paper…pulping and screening vegetable fibers with clays and animal products…was a uniquely wolfling invention。 But the Tabernacle crew left Earth so soon after contact； the data published in the Great Printing was sparse in galactology； especially concerning other 〃sooner infections〃 elsewhere in the Five Galaxies。
This makes it hard to put our Jijoan mons in perspective。 How different are we from other cases of illegal settlement on fallow worlds？ Have we done a better job at minimizing the harm we do？ What are our chances of avoiding detection？ What kinds of justice were meted out to other squatters who were caught？ How far down the Path of Redemption must a race travel before they cease being criminals and bee blessed？
The Scrolls offer some guidance on these matters。 But since most date from the first two or three landings； they shed little light on one of the greatest mysteries。
Why did so many e to this small patch of ground； in such a short span of time？
Against the half a million years since the Buyur left； two thousand years is not very much。 Moreover； there are many fallow worlds…so why Jijo？ There are many sites on Jijo…so why the Slope？
Each question has answers。 The great carbon…spewing star； lzmunuti； began shielding local space only a few millennia ago。 We are told this phenomenon somehow disabled robot sentinels patrolling routes to this system； easing the way for sneakships。 There are also vague references to omens that a 〃time of troubles〃 would soon spread upheavals across the Five Galaxies。 As for the Slope； its bination of robust biosphere and high volcanic activity assures that our works will be destroyed； leaving few traces we were ever here。
To some； these answers suffice。 Others wonder； still。
Are we unique？
In some Galactic languages； the question does not even parse as sane。 One can find a precedent for anything in the archives of a billion years。 Originality is an illusion； everything that is also was。
Perhaps it is symptomatic of our low state…our uncivilised level of consciousness； pared with the godlike heights of our ancestors…but one still is tempted to wonder。
Might something unusual be going on here？
…Spensir Jones； A Landing Day Homily
Asx
WE SAGES PREACH THAT IT IS FOOLISH TO ASSUME。 Yet； during this； our greatest crisis； the invaders often turn out to know much that we thought safely hidden。
Should this surprise us； my rings？ Are they not star…gods from the Five Galaxies？
Worse； have we been united？ Have not many of the Six rashly exercised their right of dissent； currying favors from the sky…humans against our advice？ Some of these have simply vanished…including the sooner girl who so vexed Lester with her ingratitude； daring to steal back the treasure she had brought； which intrigued our human sage for days on end。 Does