Old Tail turned around in place.
There was a chorus of clicks from the three: Flame had told them he would do that.
She whispered to them again. "Now someone else do something surprising."
There was a pause. Then a young Lobster scuttled out to the front and did a somersault.
The three clicked again: they had known it.
Finally Flame walked to Old Tail and lifted her right arm, setting it within his open large claw. "Sheer off my limb," she said.
"I would not do that!" he protested, clicking with his other claw.
"Make the attempt. My flesh is invulnerable; you can't hurt it. But you can try to close on it."
Reassured, he tried. But as the pincer closed, she moved her arm just clear. He tried again, snapping at at, but missed. He tried a third time, snapping at her leg, but that leg drew back. He was grudgingly satisfied. "I can't touch you."
"However, my ability is limited to the near future, and the machines invasion is beyond my range. So I must depend on sound military strategy, then use my near-future seeing to implement specifics. Questions?"
"We can not see the future," Old Tail clicked. "How can we prevail?"
"You do not need this ability. I will pass among you and assess your specific near future prospects and tell you what to do. You must do it without hesitation. I will not be able to remain in any one place; I must constantly circulate, as the machines will be attacking all sites simultaneously. In this manner you will all have the benefit of my ability."
"Question: the region is broad. How can you travel quickly enough?"
Flame rose from the floor, flying. Then she conjured herself to another side of the stage, demonstrating her Glamor powers. That sufficed. This planet lacked magic zones, but magic existed, and her ikon was transmitting.
"Agreement," Old Tail said, impressed, as were the others.
Flame settled back to her original location. "Situation: You are the denizens of residences surrounding the prime and only feasible landing site for the machines. Their cargo ship is massive; if it lands in a swamp or on uneven terrain it will founder. This is a mesa with space and solidity for the landing. We must prevent the landing. We will do this by preventing the machines from securing the landing site. They will first send a scout boat with perhaps a dozen units. It will disgorge machines shaped like lobsters that will fan out along the access roads to destroy all residences and people there. Then they will clear it, making one big landing field for the cargo ship. It will loose thousands of specialized lesser machines. At that point the planet will be lost."
She paused again, then resumed. "We need to hold those residences, destroying the machines that attack them.
When they are gone, the scout ship will be vulnerable, and we will be able to take it out by knocking it over and burying it in rubble. That, too, will not be easy, but it will be possible. Provided we are unified, and act correctly."
They were silent, accepting her expertise.
"You must have two or more people in each of the assigned residences," Flame said. "One must always be awake and alert. The scout will probably come silently, masked; we won't see it or be able to stop it. We will have to stop the machine units as they approach the residences. At present I don't know how to do that; I will inspect a unit when it comes and discover its weakness, then spread the word. Be ready."
One Lobster clicked for attention. "I am Click-toe, widowed by the loss of my husband on the fleet. I have no partner."
"My assistant will join you," Flame said.
Fifth walked across to stand beside the widow.
Flame wrapped up her instructions. Then Fifth and Click-toe walked to her residence. She moved along swiftly enough on her multiple legs, clicking as she went.
"I regret inflicting this chore on you, Fifty."
"Fifth," he said, realizing that there had been an error in translation. "I am here to help, and this is where I am needed. I am sorry you lost your husband."
"Needless. It was not a great marriage, but I did not wish death on him. Fortunately we have no offspring."
"Regret, regardless," he said politely.
"You are the Glamor's mate?"
"We expect to marry after the war is won."
"Are you not afraid of her powers?"
"Her powers protect me. I love her."
"I loved my husband, but he turned out to be wrong for me. Friends had tried to warn me, but I was young."
"You Lobsters are just like us humans!" he exclaimed.
"Except in form," she agreed.
They reached her residence. This was a low, igloo-like structure situated at the water table, with one entrance above the water line, the other below. "We utilize both land and water," Click-toe explained. "When there is an air storm, we go below. When there is an aquatic predator, we go above."
"You still suffer from predators?" he asked, surprised.
"Negation. But we evolved vulnerable, and our reflexes remained when we became dominant. We are comfortable only at the edge zone." She scuttled into the structure.
"Understanding." He followed her, getting down on hands and knees to navigate the upper entrance.
Inside it was surprisingly pleasant. The temperature was in his range, and there was a cushioned region he could sit on. There was a skylight that let in a ray of sun. When he stood, he could poke his head out of it and see the surrounding landscape.
"I will fetch food," Click-toe said. She slid splashlessly into the water and disappeared below. In a moment she surfaced, with a tuber in her pincers. She presented it to him. "Eat. You will need your strength."
Fifth did not want to offend her, so he accepted the tuber and tried a bite from its end. It was excellently tasty, like a cross between a sweet roll and a banana.
Then, remembering his manners, he offered it back to her. She lifted her smaller pincers and neatly cut off half for herself.
They talked further, compatibly. He learned that her large pincers was used for crushing, and the smaller one for cutting. She was interested in philosophy and the arts, and once aspired to carve statues in soapstone, but marriage and then the war had left her no time for that. Now she was alone. She would like to remarry, and perhaps find some leisure for carving, but she was no longer young. What male would want her, let alone a rich male?
Fifth told her of his own life on Charm, generally dull, until he had joined the training group, encountered Glamors, and finally Flame, his ultimate woman.
"You worship her," Click-toe said.
"Affirmation, and not just because she is a Glamor or because she is lean. I think I would have loved her regardless, had I known her. There's something about her."
"I envy you that relationship."
He wasn't sure what to say, as her prospects for any such thing seemed slight. But already he knew her well enough to know that she was worthy.
Then Fifth had a call of nature, and wasn't sure where to go. But Click-toe anticipated his need. "The refuse sump is there." Her antenna pointed to a curtained section.
He went there, and found a hole over a slowly flowing underground stream. He did his business and watched it carried away. This would do.
"We will need to take turns sleeping," Fifth said. "So that one of us is always alert."
"You may sleep," Click-toe agreed. "I will watch." She lifted her fore section and poked her eye stalks out through the skylight.
Fifth slept. He had learned discipline in such things from his association with Flame.
"Fifth." He woke to Flame's voice.
She was there in the house, beside Click-toe. "Yes."
"The scout has landed. I waylaid and fathomed a machine. It resembles a lobster, with built-in guns. That is, small projectile weapons, and its pincers can crush rock. Do not try direct physical combat."