It came as an utter surprise when bright light flashed from ahead and to one side of him, and a beam reached out, searchingly, missing him by but a fraction. He could hear brick chipping away on the wall behind him.
He flung himself to the side and down, the gun instantly in his hand.
Guy Thomas had been partially blinded, for a moment, by the flash from the other’s weapon, a type of arm he had never come up against before.
He heard a shuffling in the dark before him. His opponent was evidently shifting position before resuming the attack, obviously avoiding a return of fire in the direction from whence the destructive beam had come.
“Holy Jumping Zen,” the Earthman muttered under his breath. “
V
Happily, Guy Thomas was in a shadowy area, even darker than the balance of the alley-street. It had been pure luck, when he rolled away from the other’s line of fire, that had put him there. He doubted, unless his attacker was using infrared, that the other could make out his position. Guy took his time, studying the layout.
He decided that a stone doorway, possibly thirty feet up the passage, must be the other’s ambush. The light which had accompanied the beam, must have come from approximately there. Guy brought his left hand up and made his grip on the gun a double one, for greater stability. He tightened the trigger slowly, not quite squeezing off.
As he stared at the doorway his eyes slowly became more accustomed to the shadows. And, yes, unless vision played him false, he could see the barest suggestion of a figure there. Not enough of a target to expect a hit. He continued to hold his fire.
His opponent moved slightly. It came to Guy that his foe couldn’t be sure if he had hit his victim or not. The beam had lashed out, Guy had fallen to the street; since then, he had made no motion. Certainly the other was playing it cautious.
He saw the figure move again, revealing a bit more of itself. Unless he was mistaken, that was a head, half exposed, trying to seek out Guy’s position.
There was no doubt in Guy’s mind whatsoever. The attack had been an attempt at murder. Not just mugging, not just an attempt at robbery. Was it a case of mistaken identity? There would seem to be no other alternative that made sense. But mistaken identity or not, the assassin was interested in murder and nothing short of that. Guy Thomas’ lips were already dry, now they thinned back over his teeth inadvertently.
The figure moved again. A full half of a human form was revealed. Guy tightened on the trigger, ever so slightly. The silenced, recoiless handweapon coughed.
There was a scream from up the alley, high pitched at first then trailing off in an attempt at repression. A figure staggered from the doorway, brought itself up sharp, then scurried away in the direction of greater dark. Something clattered to the pavement.
For a brief moment, Guy, now on one knee, leveled the gun again. But then he shook his head and held fire. The other was winged. His death would avail the Earthling nothing, and might possibly lead to complications.
Guy stood erect and walked toward the recess in which the assassin had stood in hiding. There on the ground was the gun the unknown had utilized. Guy picked it up and scowled at it, thrusting his own weapon into his belt again. He had never seen this type of gun but he supposed there was no particular reason why he should have been expected to be acquainted with weapons that had evolved on this world. With three thousand planets in UP, even a full-time expert could hardly be knowledgeable about all the means evolved of dealing out death throughout the worlds.
He stuck the second weapon in his belt as well, and continued on his way.
He was nearing his destination now, and began checking the street names, inlaid attractively in mosaic at every crossing, in the pavement itself. He found his narrow street, found his number.
Guy Thomas hesitated before the stone arch and the door behind it. It was late, indeed. Perhaps he should have waited for another occasion. But he shrugged that off. What other occasion? For all he knew, there might not be any. He had to take what opportunity offered.
He thumped on the door as gently as was consistent with arousing those within. He waited and then put his hand up again to thump once more.
But the door opened inward. He peered, to be confronted with darkness.
“Don’t tread on me,” he said softly, self-consciously.
“The Sons of Liberty Arise,” a voice whispered back. “Come in.”
He moved forward. The door closed behind. And then there was light and a burly figure staring at him.
“Who in Zen are you?” the other rasped.
“I’m from Earth,” Guy said.
“Sarpedon got through!”
“Yes.”
“Good, good. Where is he? Still on Earth?”
“He’s probably dead.”
The other stared anew at the newcomer. “Dead?” he was blankly.
Guy said, “He disappeared. It’s impossible to disappear on Earth. Or all but impossible. Under the circumstances, we assumed he was dead.”
“Oh, the bitches,” the big man groaned.
“We have no evidence who was responsible.”
“I don’t need evidence. Here, come on in. Follow me.”
Guy followed him down a stone corridor, along the edge of a patio garden in the middle of which a, small fountain tinkled. These houses were well done. He looked sharply left and right, as he went. Across the patio, two men were talking, their voices low; on their hips they carried quick-draw holsters. They passed a room, door open; five men sat around a table, playing cards. Guy noted two rifles leaning against the wall.
He followed the other into another room which was comparatively nude of furniture in spite of its size. A large table dominated its center and there were possibly a score of straight chairs, some about the table, some against the walls. The table was piled with a confusion of papers, pamphlets and books. And there was another man seated at it.
The one who had given Guy entrance said, “I’m Zeke. We don’t use second names in our outfit. This is Teucer.”
“My name’s Thomas. Guy Thomas.”
Teucer was a slight, strained man, a hungry look about him. His voice was just this side of being shrill. He said, “Don’t tread on me.”
Guy Thomas said to them both. “Don’t misunderstand my position. I’m here to investigate. I don’t necessarily back the stand you Sons of Liberty people are taking. I’m here to gather information.”
“You’re a
Guy eyed him.
Zeke said sourly, “Sit down. Did they only send one? We were hoping for a full landing of Space Marines.”
Guy took the proffered chair. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It doesn’t sound ridiculous to us,” Teucer said. “Maybe it wouldn’t be ridiculous to you, if you was a third- rate citizen on a world run by half-crazy mopsies.”
Zeke said, “Let me tell this, Tuecer. We haven’t got much time now. It’ll be dawn, before too long and Zen knows when we can get together with Damon and the others and have a real meeting.”
“Who’s Damon?” Guy said.
“The headman in the Sons of Liberty.”
“All right, obviously I’ll have to see him sooner or later. Before we go any further; somebody took a shot at me on my way over here. I think I winged him.”
