"Prisoners? But we have no prisoners."
"Sure you have. Me. Is it a deal?"
"Ah, yes, of course. Quite equitable. What guarantees do you require?"
"The word of a gentleman is sufficient." Retief released the alien. It flopped once, disappeared into the darkness.
"If you'd care to accompany me to our headquarters," the voice said, "we can discuss our mutual concerns in comfort."
"Delighted."
Red lights blinked briefly. Retief glimpsed a gap in the thorny barrier, stepped through it. He followed dim shapes across warm sand to a low cave-like entry, faintly lit with a reddish glow.
"I must apologize for the awkward design of our comfort-dome," said the voice. "Had we known we would be honored by a visit—"
"Think nothing of it," Retief said. "We diplomats are trained to crawl."
Inside, with knees bent and head ducked under the five-foot ceiling, Retief looked around at the walls of pink-toned nacre, a floor like burgundy-colored glass spread with silken rugs and a low table of polished red granite that stretched down the center of the spacious room, set out with silver dishes and rose-crystal drinking-tubes.