Return to the Stars

was so familiar that it startled him.

Then he remembered. Long ago, when he was still John Gordon of New York, he had visited a friend who lived in the Ohio countryside. They had sat at night in a summer-warm meadow, and there had been fireflies, and the smell of the sun-scorched grasses had been just the same.

Gordon felt a sudden shuddering pang of disorientation. Who was he and what was he doing here, in this wild strange place? The sweet grass smell tortured him with longing to be home, on his own familiar world, where the beasts of the field did not speak with the voices of nightmare, nor form themselves into uncouth armies; where there were no H'Harn and the stars were a long way off, and life held neither splendor nor gut-wrenching, soul- destroying fear.

But then a memory came to him. A memory of Lianna. His moment of hysteria passed. He knew that only one thing mattered now; he must live long enough to get to Fomalhaut with the warning.

Shorr Kan suddenly stood up. 'There!' he said, gesturing toward the Qhalla town.

Gordon and Hull also stood up. Two men-two human men-had emerged from the milling crowd of Qhallas. They stood a little apart from the throng, as though they wanted air.

'One of them wears the insignia of the Mace,' said Shorr Kan. 'An aide or vassal of Cyn Cryver. We'll have to take this chance. Get going!'

He gave Gordon and Hull a hard shove, and they started down the grassy slope, Shorr Kan coming behind them with the stunner leveled at their backs.

'Hurry, damn it,' snarled Shorr Kan. 'Before they go back to the ship.'

They staggered and stumbled down the slope. The light was bad and their bound hands made them clumsy. Now Gordon saw that the two men were turning around as though to go back through the swarming Qhallas to the ships.

Shorr Kan shouted, a loud call. The two men turned. And the uproar of the Qhallas quieted suddenly as they also turned to see.

'Run!' said Shorr Kan.

They ran, toward the two men. But the Qhallas had started running also, toward the strangers, their wings half-spread. They brandished weapons and their toothed beaks uttered barking noises of anger.

Shorr Kan triggered his stunner. The foremost Qhallas fell and rolled. The others held back for a moment.

The two men were staring in amazement. Now, by the torchlight, Gordon could make out their faces. One of them, who wore the emblem of the Mace, was a compact, stocky man with a dark, tight face. The other was younger, taller, and much less sure of himself.

Shorr Kan shouted at them. 'Hold off your pets! I'm an ally of Cyn Cryver, bringing in prisoners.'

Rather doubtfully, the older man turned and barked something at the Qhallas in their own harsh tongue. They began to gabble between themselves, confused and a little disconcerted by the stunner. The three went past them and pulled up, Gordon and Hull panting, in front of Cyn Cryver's men.

To the proud and haughty one, the man apparently in command, Shorr Kan demanded, 'What is your name?'

'I am the Count Obd Doll,' answered the stocky man, and stared at Shorr Kan as though he could not believe what he saw. 'You... you are Shorr Kan. You disappeared from Aar with the Empire captives...'

'These same two,' said Shorr Kan, 'and not from choice, I assure you. They took me as a hostage. Fortunately, they crashed their ship not far from here and in the confusion I was able to turn the tables on them.'

'Why didn't you kill them?' asked Obd Doll. 'Why bring them here?'

'Because Cyn Cryver wants them alive. Especially alive and able to talk. Where is he?'

Hesitantly, Obd Doll answered, 'At Teyn.'

Shorr Kan nodded. 'Of course. The gathering place of the horde. Take us there at once.'

'But,' said Obd Doll, 'I am on orders here.' He went on with other objections, and Gordon sweated in an agony of impatience. The count appeared to be not too bright, and consequently unable to adjust to, or evaluate, a set of unexpected circumstances.

'Besides,' said the count, sticking his jaw out farther in a show of strength, 'how am I to know... ?'

Shorr Kan's face darkened and his voice sank to a kind of tigerish purring.

'Little man,' he said, 'these two captives may hold the key to the whole campaign. Cyn Cryver is waiting for them. Just how long do you think it wise to keep him waiting?'

Obd Doll looked shaken. 'Well,' he said. 'Well, in that case, yes, of course. May I suggest, sir... call the Count Cyn Cryver from our cruiser...'

So far, so good, thought Gordon... but it was just a little late. The Qhallas had got over their first shock and settled their confusion. They wanted the prisoners to play with, and they were closing in.

Shorr Kan had made a good try. But it was not much of an epitaph for them.

Only it seemed that Obd Doll had also made up his mind. He roared at the Qhallas, obviously ordering them to stop. Apparently they had some rudiments of discipline, for they fell back a little, and Obd Doll said hurriedly, 'We had better go to the cruiser at once. These Qhallas... savage... unreliable... hate all humans except Narath Teyn...'

It came to Gordon that the man was worried about his own skin. He didn't blame him. Narath Teyn might have calmed the Qhallas' bloodlust, but not these two men of the Marches. In fact, the younger one practically invited attack, staring with unconcealed loathing at the bird-things, and he reeked so of fear that even Gordon could smell it.

They began to move toward the cruiser. The Qhallas pressed after them, hopping, shuffling, flapping, edging a little closer with every step. They squawked among themselves, their unlovely voices edged with mounting anger. Their eyes were bright with brainless fury, watching their prey move closer to sanctuary. They had a simple desire to tear these man-creatures into small pieces and peck at them like robins at chunks of suet. Gordon thought that their shaky discipline was not going to hold out another ten paces. And now the reek of his own fear was acrid in his nostrils.

The younger of the two men had frankly given way to panic. He drew a small gray egg out of his pocket and said in a high voice, 'I'd better use the numb-gas.'

'No!' said Obd Doll. 'Put that thing away, you idiot. We could numb a few but the others would be on us in a minute. Just move on, we're almost there.'

The men staggered, buffeted by stubby wings, grabbed at by wicked hands. Obd Doll kept up a barrage of orders and Gordon guessed that he was reminding them of their allegiance to Narath Teyn and their duty to obey, disperse, and load themselves into the transports. Whatever he said, it stopped their making up their minds to take the prisoners, at least until the men had reached the cruiser. The air lock door slammed shut on the horde outside, and Obd Doll mopped his brow with his hand, which was visibly shaking.

'A difficult lot to handle,' he said. 'Without Narath Teyn around, it's not a job I care for.'

'You did well,' said Shorr Kan. 'Now call Teyn at once, and inform the Count Cyn Cryver that I have recovered the captives and will bring them to him there at once.'

The ring of authority in his voice was such that Obd Doll all but saluted, 'At once.' Then he looked at Gordon and Hull Burrel, oppressed by a fresh doubt. 'What'll we do with them? We have no brig... this is a dispatch and command cruiser...'

'Put them in one of the air locks,' said Shorr Kan. 'Take all the spacesuits out of the lock first. Then if they want to break out into space, they're welcome.'

He laughed. Obd Doll laughed. The younger man laughed. Gordon did not laugh, and neither did Hull Burrel. They looked at Shorr Kan, but Shorr Kan's back was turned and he was already on his way, a man with important matters to attend to, a man in a hurry with no time to spare for two dupes he had deceived for his own purposes. Maybe.

Hull started to curse, but smothered it. They were shoved along by Obd Doll's men. toward an air lock on the other side of the cruiser. They were kept waiting until the helmets and suits were taken out of the lock, and then were thrust into the small coffinlike chamber. The inner door closed hermetically upon them, with a soft hissing sound that was very like mocking laughter.