“By all that’s holy! What warriors they make,” Admiral Benden declared respectfully. He and Emily Boll had seen the attack from their vantage point in the met tower and hurried to help conduct the defense.

Though startled and unprepared, the settlers had rushed to the poultry run, grabbing up brooms, rakes, sticks—whatever was near to hand. The firemen, who were well drilled and had already had to control small fires, arrived with firehoses, which held off the few wherries that evaded the little defenders. Adults and kids herded the squawking, frightened poultry back into their hutches. One of the funnier sights, Sorka told Sean afterward, was watching the very dignified scientists trying to catch chicks. Although some people bore scratches from the raking talons of the wherries, there would have been more—and probably serious—casualties if the dragonets had not intervened.

“Too bad they’re not bigger,” the admiral remarked, “they’d make good watch animals. Maybe our biogeneticists can create a few flying dogs for us.” He inclined his head respectfully toward Kitti and Wind Blossom Ping. Kitti Ping gave him a frosty nod. “Not only did those dragonets use their own initiative, but, by all that’s holy, I swear they were communicating with each other. Did you see how they set up a perimeter watch? And how they combined their attacks? Superb tactics. Couldn’t have improved on it myself.”

Pol Nietro, himself impressed by the incident, was momentarily between phases of his scheduled projects and not the sort of personality to put leisure time to leisure use. So, when order had been restored and reliable young colonists set as sentinels against a repeat of the incursion, he and Bay paid a visit to Asian Square.

Mairi Hanrahan smiled at his request. “You’re in luck, Pol, for she happens to be home. Duke’s getting an extra-special meal for his defense of the poultry yard.”

“Ah, he was there, then.”

“Sorka would have it that he led the fair of dragonets,” Mairi said in a low voice, her eyes twinkling with maternal pride and tolerance. She ushered him into their living room, which had been transformed from utilitarian to homey, with bright curtains at the windows, and pots of flowering plants, some native and some obviously from Terran seed. Several etchings made the walls seem less bare, and brightly colored pillows improved the comfort of the plastic chairs.

“Fair of dragonets? Like a pride of lions? Or a gaggle of geese? Yes, a very ‘fair’ description,” Pol Nietro said, his eyes twinkling at mother and daughter. “Not that you’re apt to have that kind of cooperation in the ordinary ‘fair.’ ”

“Pol Nietro, if you’re casting aspersions on Donnybrook Fairs …” Mairi began with a grin.