"Let's go slow," Thanya said suddenly. "I'd like to question one. We

don't know what they want here."

"Do we care? What they want isn't theirs."

Thanya grinned back. 'We're not a debating team. We're the Triune Squad. Let's go look."

They worked their way along the bark. Presently Denisse poked her head up, dropped back. "Intruders have reached the Checker's Hand."

Clearing the trunk of parasites was one of the Triune Squad's duties.

Fan fungi were dangerous to the tree and edible besides; but one large and perfect fan had special privileges. Found twenty-odd years ago, it had been left to grow even larger. Minya had only heard of the squad's unusual pet. She eased her head above the bark

They were there: men, women, looking entirely human. "More than six. Eight, nine, dressed like dirty civilians. Sooty red clothes, no pockets . . . they're chopping at the stalld They're killing it, the Checker's Hand-"

Smitta screamed and launched herself across the bark.

No help for it now. Sal cried, "Go for Gold!" and the Triune Squad leapt toward the intruders

The fan fungus reached out from the trunk like a tremendous hand, white with red nails. Its stalk, disproportionately narrow and fragilelooking from a distance, was still thicker than Gavving's torso. He set to chopping at it with his dagger. Jiovan worked the other side.

"We'll get it down the trunk," Jiovan puffed, "but how will we ever get it through the tuft to the Commons?"

"Maybe we don't," said Clave. "Bring the tribe to the fungus. Let them carve off pieces to suit themselves."

"Tear the fringe off first," Merril said.

The Grad objected. "The Scientist will want some of the red part."

"And try it on who? Oh, all right, save some fringe for the Scientist. Not a lot, though."

The stalk was tough. They'd made some progress, but Gavving's arms were used up. He backed away, and Clave took over. Gavving watched the cut deepen.

Maybe they'd weakened it enough?

He pounded a stake into the bark and tethered his. line to it. Then he leapt at the fungus with the full strength of his legs.

The great hand bent to his weight, then sprang back, flipping him

playfully into the sky. Floundering, gathering in his line, he saw what

the others had missed through being too close to the trunk.

"Fire!"

"What? Where?"

"Outward, half a klomter, maybe. Doesn't look big." The sun was

behind the out tuft, leaving the trunk somewhat shadowed, he could see an orange glow within a cloud of smoke.

A flicker at the corner of his eye. He pulled hard at the line before his

forebrain had registered anything at all. . . and a miniature harpoon

zipped past his hip.

He yelled, "Treefodder!" Not specific enough. "Harpoons!"

Jiovan was stumbling, indecisive; a sharp point showed behind his