looked inside, saw the empty compartment, the vacant cot.
Silently he moved to his own cabin and quietly opened the door.
Zehava was kneeling beside his bunk, a heavy satchel resting before her. She was busy working at the lock.
'Earl!' She looked up, startled, as he entered the cabin. 'I was -'
'Go ahead. Open it.' He closed the door behind him as he gave her the combination. 'Take a look at what's inside.'
Two hundred cylinders packed snugly in a stout container, the whole making a compact but heavy load.
'They belong to my stolen cargo,' he explained. 'Think of them as firing pins.'
'For the weapons?'
'They were packed separately for obvious reasons. Without them the cargo is nothing but rubbish. Without the cargo these are nothing but scrap. That's why I'm carrying them. They'll be useful when I finally get to where we're going – if I ever do.'
'You doubt me?'
He looked at the open satchel.
'I was feeling lonely,' she said. 'I came to see if you'd retired then I saw the satchel and wanted to find out what you were carrying. You can't blame me for that. You've got all the money and without you I'm helpless. I was curious and afraid. Earl! You must believe me!'
He said, dryly, 'You should have locked the door.'
'I tried. The lock doesn't work.' She stared her defiance. 'All right. So you caught me. I lied. I knew you wouldn't be in the cabin. You came back too soon. But I needed to know.'
'Because you don't like operating in the dark?'
'Yes.'
'That makes two of us. Exactly where are we headed?'
'I told you.'
'You gave me a name. This time I want the truth.' As she hesitated, he said, 'We've left Arpagus so you're safe. I can't stop you running, but remember I've all the money. I also have what makes the cargo you stole worth more than junk. You could leave me and get by, but without these components the weapons are useless. How will they welcome you when you get back home?'
'Not with open arms,' she admitted. 'Damn you, Earl! Do you always win?'
'Where are we heading?'
'Kaldar.'
'In the Lonagar Drift?'
'The Drift, yes. How did you know?' She relaxed as he told her. 'Rumor – there are a dozen of them. Think nothing of it. Anyway it takes a special kind of skill to navigate through the Drift. Those who have it work for us.'
And those who didn't stood little chance of hiring out their skills. No one would risk a vessel without good reason. No group would operate unless there was profit to be won. Zehava had been overly cautious. The raiders could have shouted out the name and location of their home world for all to hear and it wouldn't have changed a thing. The man he had hoped to question had died for nothing.
Dumarest turned on the cot, restless, unable to sleep. Zehava had acted as he had expected and was now in her cabin, curiosity satisfied, confident he trusted her. He had changed the combination on the lock so she would have no chance to steal the contents of the satchel. The money was in his belt. She could run but what would she gain? What else could she do but take him to her home world?
To Kaldar, the cargo, the chance she had offered. The ship which would carry him home.
To the world he had left long ago when a boy, stowing away on a strange vessel, hiding until inevitably discovered. The captain had been kind, instead of evicting him into the void he had allowed Dumarest to work his passage. Carrying him deep towards the center of the Galaxy where stars were thick and Earth had become nothing but a legend, a world of myth and dazzling promise.
One he had searched to find. Gathering hints, clues, scraps of information from a host of sources until he had found the essential coordinates engraved on stone in gleaming symbols of precious metals in a temple now nothing but dust.
The golden figures of Earth!
He turned again on the cot, drifting into a world filled with fire and searing brilliance and sleeting death. One on which the figures glowed with livid configurations as if incised on his brain. The secret he had searched so hard to find.
A companion to one he had been given by a woman he would never forget.
Kalin with hair of flame who had more than saved his life. Gone now as so many others were gone, victims to the relentless pursuit of those who wore the scarlet robe. The Cyclan which had hunted him from world to world. Which would still hunt him unless remaining convinced he was dead.
'Earl?' Zehava was at the door, wearing a thin robe, eyes widening as he rose to face her, knife in hand, his body naked but for shorts. 'Earl, something's wrong, the noise -'
It came from down the passage, a low, snarling growl as if a predator was worrying a kill. Romar stepped from his cabin as they moved towards it.
'It's nothing to worry about,' he said. 'Just someone enjoying an analogue.
Dumarest remembered the man in the salon. 'Anything dangerous?'
'No. I don't carry anything big or vicious and I wouldn't sell them on a ship if I did. Don't let the noise bother you. He'll be all right. After it's over he'll just fall asleep.'
Zehava shook her head as she followed Dumarest back into his cabin.
'The things people do. Taking dope to pretend they are beasts. Smelling the things they do, tasting, feeling, acting as if they are no longer human. Have you ever taken an analogue, Earl?'
'Have you?'
'We don't need them on Kaldar. Life's exciting enough as it is.' She stepped closer to him, eyes bright with invitation. 'You'll find that out, darling. You won't need chemical diversions. Not while you have me.'
'Is that a part of our deal?'
She smiled, not answering, moving even closer and he could smell her perfume and feel the radiated warmth of her body. A woman fighting with her own weapons as he had with his. Lifting a hand she touched his chest, ran her fingers over the scars marring the hard, muscular surface.
'Knives, Earl. On Kaldar we know about scars. Knives made these. In the arena. These are the signs of your apprenticeship. You're a fighter and you have to be a good one. How many have you killed?' She smiled as he made no answer. 'You're not a braggart. Good, I like that, but on Kaldar it'll do no harm to let them know of your prowess.
Her hand rose to circle his neck, was joined by the other to seal him in a tender prison. Rising to her full height she kissed him on the lips her own softly firm, warmly moist, parted with mounting desire.
'Darling!' Her voice held an urgent huskiness. 'Earl, my darling. Earl!'
She was naked beneath the robe, her flesh curved in a pattern of feminine perfection, glowing with passionate heat. He responded to it, closing his hands on her yielding flesh, lifting her toward the cot, joining her in naked abandon.
'Earl, my darling! My wonderful darling!'
A cry which masked a demand which he met to be engulfed and drained as he drained in turn.
Satiated they rested, locked in a close embrace while, down the passage, a man thinking himself to be a beast, writhed at collected scents of lust and slaked desire and howled mournfully at an imaginary moon.
Chapter Four
From his office Magnate Chen Mernaya had a clear view of the warehouse and the towers on the far side of the field. A sight which brought little comfort – repairs were taking too long and the towers still lacked armament. The warehouse was in better shape, but traces of the raid remained despite the constant labor of a host of workers.
'They're too slow.' Julian joined him at the window. 'I've tried to speed them up but nothing seems to work.'
