up to them and they turned, two very young Earthmen who looked startled. Birrel spoke flatly to the blond-haired one.
'You were saying something amusing. I'd like to bear it.'
The young officer said, puzzledly, “What?'
Birrel repeated, “You were looking at my wife and at me a few moments ago, and remarking on us. I'd like to hear what you said.'
An appalled look came into the junior officer's face. He stiffened up, though, and said, “I wasn't speaking to you, sir.'
'All the same, let's hear it,” suggested Birrel, in an edged voice.
The young officer glanced at his companion, then back into Birrel's hard face. His face became pink and he breathed with difficulty and finally he spoke with a sort of desperation.
'Since you insist, sir. I said, “Look at the damn Lyra commander swanking in to show off his brass.''
It was so unexpected, and so exactly the kind of thing that Birrel himself would have said when he was a wet-nosed junior officer, that he suddenly laughed aloud. The frightened young Earthman gaped.
'All right, I asked for that,” said Birrel. “I'll buy a drink.'
'Yes, sir,” gasped the other.
He tossed down the drink, shook hands with them, and turned and left them staring incredulously after him. He was still chuckling when he got back to the table.
'It's good to see you're getting along so well here, Commander,” said Mallinson, plainly curious.
'Isn't it?” said Birrel, and looked at the two young officers who were now rapidly departing, and chuckled again.
Then, meeting Lyllin's dark, steady gaze, Birrel felt less amused. He had an idea that Lyllin guessed perfectly well why he had a chip on his shoulder, though he hoped she did not.
He had another drink, and another, and watched her dancing with Mallinson and listened to meaningless chatter from a dozen voices. More of Mallinson's friends had joined them, there was a babble of questions about Lyra from them, and though he could hardly hear over the beat of the music, Joe Garstang answered them, lying with expansive magnificence.
The table trembled slightly.
Birrel stiffened, but then he decided that it was only the clamor of music and the dancing feet that had caused the vibration.
Then, even as he started to relax, it trembled again, more strongly, and a sound came into the room. It was a faraway sound, but so big, so deep, so strong, that it dominated the immediate brassy din like a growl of distant thunder.
Distant, but getting closer fast, very fast. Joe Garstang looked startledly at Birrel. Birrel kept his face unmoved but under the edge of the table his fist clenched and unclenched as the whole place, the whole city, began to vibrate to that awesome thunder. It was rolling over them, shouting and echoing and then starting to slide away toward the west.
Garstang's lips moved without saying the words aloud. “Class Twenty.'
Birrel nodded. There was no other ship that made that kind of sound in worldfall, but a modern battle-cruiser. He waited.
Again, thunder ripped from the high, eastern sky and crossed above them and faded westward. And again. And again.
Birrel was sweating now. How many more? If this was a full squadron, there was no doubt about it at all, it could only be one of Solleremos’ squadrons and the fat was in the fire.
A fifth shock-wave rolled down its giant voice to them. He saw Mallinson and Lyllin coming back to the table. The music had stopped.
There would not be any more, Birrel told himself. Five was all. There would not be—
The sixth cruiser thundered past.
Mallinson's eyes had a bright mockery in them, fastened upon Birrel's face.
Now the seventh cruiser would come and then the rest, of the Orionid squadron and that would be it.
The thunder ebbed away, and there was no seventh. The music took up again. Mallinson sat down, smiling.
'That will be the official delegation from Perseus,” he said. “Mr. Charteris is at the spaceport to welcome them.'
Birrel gave him a hot, hungry stare. He was thinking that Mallinson had enjoyed watching him sweat. All right, he had sweated, he was still sweating. But this had done it. He would go it blind no longer in this accursed tangle. He saw a chance in this, and quickly took it.
'I'm sure the chairman will be busy with these new visitors,” he said. “It seems a good time for me to take that little trip I mentioned.'
Mallinson looked honestly puzzled. “Trip?'
'You remember — I said that I wanted to visit my ancestors’ old home here. I think that Lyllin and I will go up there tomorrow.'
Lyllin gave him a swift glance of surprise. She did not change expression, but of a sudden she seemed as remote as the edge of the galaxy. Birrel knew what she was thinking. All right, let her think it, at least until he got away from here.
Mallinson said heartily, “Why, of course, I remember now. I'll have a flitter to take you.'
'A ground-car is enough, if I can borrow one,” Birrel said. “I'd rather drive and see more.'
Mallinson agreed instantly to that, too. He's glad to get me away from here right now, Birrel thought. But why?
Maybe Karsh could tell him why. He hoped so. He hoped he would not find out the hard way.
CHAPTER 10
Driving north from New York next day, Birrel almost regretted his refusal of a flitter. It seemed ridiculous for a man who could lead a squadron across a big part of the galaxy, but the traffic frightened him.
He had not driven cars very much, and certainly not on highways like this big, northern thruway. On Earth, people apparently still used cars in great numbers for short distances, and they drove fast. Automatic safety controls triggered by proximity radar prevented collisions, if you stayed within a certain speed limit, but none of these people appeared to worry about the limit. It was not until they branched off on a subsidiary highway that held much less traffic that Birrel's tension relaxed.
Lyllin had hardly said a word to him since their start. He turned now toward her and said, “I want to explain about this ancestral home business. I didn't want to talk about it last night in Charteris’ place.'
Still looking composedly ahead, Lyllin said, “But you don't have to explain. It's perfectly natural that you should want to see the place your people came from.'
'Will you stop behaving like a woman and listen?” he said irritatedly. “My people, again. What in the world would I care where my great-grandfather lived? I'm doing this because Ferdias ordered it.” He added, “I wasn't supposed to tell you even that much, but it wouldn't look natural to leave you behind, so it seems I have to.'
Lyllin's face cleared and she turned now and looked at him. “Ferdias’ order? But why—” She stopped. Her mind was quick and after a moment she said, “You're to meet someone at this place, is that it?'
'Yes.'
'And I'm not supposed to know what it's all about?'
He nodded. “That's it.'
He thought that Lyllin looked somehow relieved. She said, “I don't mind, you don't have to tell me. I'm worried, I wish I knew, but it's all right.'
He understood. Her relief was because she had found out that he did not really care about Earth ancestors or ancestral homes, that that was only a cover-up.
They turned off the secondary highway onto even less travelled roads. These back roads were old and
