tossed him against the wall. Mayna had turned, fanning the beam into the covered alleyway, interfering with any approach from the garrison.
“Oof,” Tohm moaned as the larger man leaped and landed on him. He grunted as the heavy arm of the Romaghin pressed against his throat, cutting the air off, crushing his vocal cords. Only his left arm was free. He brought the edge of that palm down hard against the officer's skull, lowered his aim to the back of the neck, slammed down again, again. His throat was trickling blood on the inside, and his head was looping the loop with wild abandon, his eyes swimming out of focus, in, out, in-out, inoutinoutinout. His karate hand was a separate object. It did not seem to be part of him any longer, but merely a
“They've stopped trying to come this way,” Mayna said, motioning to the covered alley. “But they'll be hunting new routes.”
“How's your arm?” Tohm asked Babe.
The Mutie gritted his teeth. “Hurts like Hell, but it isn't bleeding much. The burn cauterized the wound, closed up the main gash.”
“Good,” Tohm said, his throat sore, his lungs grasping at the air as if it were gold and they were the hands of Midas. “Now,” he said, turning to Mayna, “follow me.”
They moved straight forward, listening uneasily to the voices of soldiers on both sides as the guards searched the maze of streets and semi-streets, alleys and walkways. Eventually they came to the end of the slum system that the Romaghins so cleverly hid in the heart of the city behind a facade of new buildings and looked out upon the Avenue of the Beggars. It was deserted at this late hour, littered with the paper scraps and food bits that were the remnants of the day, when the poor had clustered there to meet the clergymen who daily distributed alms. Tohm pulled his head back into the gloom.
“One trouble,” he said.
“What?”
“A guard. Halfway up the block. He can survey most of the street. He'll see us before we make the wall.”
“I lost my laser running,” she said. “It's back there somewhere.”
“We won't need it if you're game,” he answered, searching out the green glint of her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“There is a ledge, much like the one at the prison— only wider — running a dozen feet above his head. If you can climb the wall in here, move around the corner and onto the ledge out there without being seen, you could get above him. Perhaps you could jump, knock him down, confuse him until I can get there without being beamed down. I'll run the moment you jump. I'll try to knock him out.”
She looked around the corner, surveyed the guard and the ledge. It was as he had said. Without comment, she scaled the wall of the alley like a spider spewing her invisible net, her feet finding every crack a good toehold, moving unfailingly ahead. She inched around from the ceiling into the street and held her breath. The guard had not seen her, for his peripheral vision was occupied in the scanning of the street, not the walls. He stood fifty feet away, his rifle across his arms. She gained the ledge and moved silently down, balanced perfectly, her tiny feet like gyroscopes, trembling but always on an even keel.
Tohm tensed himself to dash the second she leaped. He would have to move quickly.
In a few minutes of nerve-shattering tension, she was standing above the guard; aphonic, she left the little outcropping of cement as if she were flying instead of falling. She collided with the Romaghin's back, her feet striking first, toppling both of them to the street.
Tohm ran from his concealment. His legs pumped up and down like pistons. But when he got there, there was nothing to do. The guard was dead. Neat rows of claw marks slashed his neck. Blood gurgled out. His eyes were open, staring in bewilderment. There had not been time for a scream.
He looked up at her.
“Let's get moving,” she said, not returning the stare.
Babe came from the shadows. Mayna and Tohm topped the wall first, then reached down and lifted the smaller Mutie. From there, the alley and the grating was a very short step. There were no guards around those streets yet. They ran freely, more anxious for speed than secrecy. They gained the grille and the warm cushion of air without incident.
When they reached the hutch, Corgi rushed to greet them, his eyes flashing with all shades of yellow in riotous waves. “We leave in three hours. The Romaghins have caught on to our attack date. The pressure is on. They might invade Federation worlds to kill us. The Old Man will be here to move us out in exactly three hours.”
PART TWO
“NEW DESTINIES, NEW DESIRES”
XIII
“All right,” someone said, shaking his shoulder. “No more time for naps.”
He pushed himself off the couch, wobbling as he stood.
“We meet the Old Man in forty minutes on the edge of town. There is a passageway through the caves that will take us under the city wall.” Corgi's eyes were still flushing with brilliant color. He was excited about the swift culmination of all their years of work, the finish line of their centuries-long race.
Tohm stretched, blinked the last traces of sleep from his eyes. “I'm anxious to meet this Old Man of yours.”
“Quite a person, quite a person. Come along now. We mustn't be late.”
They entered the caves where he had first heard Mayna singing, where her hatred for him had bloomed, mushroomed into sight for a few short moments. She hadn't spoken a word to him since they had entered the hutch
