“No! I shall take the way four-footed. And do not link us—better one fall than both, the second without cause.”
“Go you first then,” Furtig replied. He did not know what he might be able to do if the other, un- linked, did slip. But he felt that if he could keep Ku- La before his eyes during that crossing he might be able to help in some fashion. And four-footed was surely the best way for them both.
Not only would it make them more sure-footed, but it would also make them less distinguishable to the flying thing. If they were unlucky enough to have that return.
The rain hit them like a blow, and Ku-La moved under its pounding very slowly. While Furtig wanted nothing so much as to be free to leap over that creeping shape before him and run with all possible speed to the promised safety of the far doorway. Yet he crawled behind Ku-La, the bag of record tapes slung about him, the water soaking his fur and trickling from his whiskers. He did not even raise his head far enough to see the doorway; rather he concentrated on Ku-La.
Twice the other halted, went flat as if his last strength had oozed away with the water pouring on him. But each time, just as Furtig reached forth a hand to try to rouse him, he levered up to struggle on.
They had passed the halfway point, though neither of them was aware of that in the agony of that slow advance, when the sound came. It was warning enough to flatten them both to the bridge, striving to give no sign of life as the thing drew closer.
It did not scream as one of the preying flying things, nor give voice in any way Furtig recognized. This sound was a continuous beat-beat. First to the left as if it hung in open space viewing them, then overhead. Furtig’s nerve almost crumbled then. He could somehow see in his mind giant claws reaching out—coming closer—ready to sink into his body, bear him away. So intent was he on that fearful mental picture that he was not even aware that the beat-beat was growing fainter, not until it had vanished. He lay on the bridge, unharmed, able to move. And the thing was gone! Had—had it taken Ku-La then, without his knowing it in the depths of his fear?
But when Furtig raised his head the other was there, stirring to life, creeping—
If they had time now before the thing returned—! For somehow Furtig could not believe that it was going to let them go so easily. There was a menace in it which he had sensed. And that sense he trusted, for it was one of the built-in protections of his kind and had saved lives many times over. The flying thing was to be feared, perhaps as much, if not more, than any-thing he had ever in his life faced before.
Tan ran a finger approvingly along the edge of the recorder. Got a good taping there. Tan’s luck again. He smiled. Tan’s luck was something which once or twice had made a real impression on the trainees back on Elhorn. He had managed so many times, usually through no reason he was aware of, to be at just the right place at the right moment, or to make the right move, even when he had no idea whether it was right or wrong.
So—with all those faint life-readings he had picked up in this pile but nothing in the open where he could get a visual record, it was his luck to catch that thing or things (in that poor visibility they had looked like blobs as far as he was concerned)—right out in the open. They might have posed to order so he could get a good tape.
Blobs—certainly they did not look like men. He had’ sighted them edging out on the bridge and they had wriggled along there, almost as if they were crossing on their bellies. Nothing about them to suggest they were of his species at all. Tan tried to picture men crawling on hands and knees. Would the blobs resemble those? Could be. Except they were smaller than men—children?
But what would children be doing out alone in such a storm as this, crawling from one building to the next? No, easier to believe that they were something else, not human at all.
Tan was no longer smiling. After all, they had never discovered what had sent the First Ship people to Elhorn. It had been a very strong motive, not only to force them to take the perilous trip across space, but to leave them so intent thereafter on suppressing all they could of the world of their origin and the reason for colonizing another.
Tan had picked up some dim life-readings here, but not, oddly enough, in the buildings which had shown the greatest wealth of lights at night. No—they were widely scattered. And the readings varied. Enough that Ayana ought to be able to make something out of the variance. Such would not show up so plainly just because the pickup carried over unequal distances. It was more as if the life forms themselves varied. At least he had a reading and a picture of the blobs to turn in and that would give them a beginning reference.
And—there was not a single one of these life-readings which touched the proper coordinate for man on the measuring scale. That was what had made him buzz lower and lower, hang between the towers in a reckless fashion, trying to pick up as many registrations on the tapes as he could.
Men had built this place. Tan knew enough from his race’s own fragmented records to recognize the form of architecture of his ancestors. But if there were no readings for “man” here—what did live within these walls?
The enemy of which they had no records? Only surmises presented by their imaginations? If the former, then the enemy was those blobs, and the quicker they were identified the better. Tan turned the flitter, swept out and away from the structures, heading for the ship with the small scraps of knowledge his first scouting flight had gained.
There was no beat-beat now—none at all. Ku-La scrambled ahead with a burst of speed Furtig hoped would not hurl him off that narrow way. But—in the doorway ahead was movement!
Rattons? Barkers? Furtig had the Demon weapon. The past hours had conditioned him to expect the worst, even in the People’s lairs. Then he made out a furred head— They were coming forward to aid Ku-La—his own kind at last!
Gammage was at ease on the wide bed place. His tail curled across his thighs, and only the tip of it, twitching now and then, betrayed his excitement at Furtig’s report.
The tapes had been carried off by the Inborn trained to evaluate them. And a picked group, led by Foskatt, had set out to salvage the rest of Furtig’s haul from where he had left it in the ducts.
Ku-La was in the room of healing, and Furtig was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open, his mind alert to answer the Ancestor’s questions. But he discovered to his amazement that Gammage was not startled by the flying thing.
That a Demon sky-ship had landed was already known to the lair People. Its coming had been fore-told by certain watchers who were not of flesh and blood, but servants of metal. When those gave the alert, the People had first been baffled, then made guesses as to the cause for alarm. And, hiding out, scouts had witnessed the actual landing of the ship.
Every device which could be put to defense or used to gain knowledge of the invaders had been trained on that ship. Without, it was hoped, having yet aroused the suspicions of the old masters of the lairs.
“They are indeed Demons,” Gammage said. “Drink this, clan son, it will warm you. It is made of leaves and is refreshing to our spirits.”
He waited while Furtig sipped from the bowl Liliha brought him. She did not leave, but settled on the other end of Gammage’s divan as one who had a rightful part in this conference. Furtig was aware she watched him unblinkingly. He wondered if she did so to weigh within her own mind the truth of his tale.
The odor of the hot liquid was enticing, so much so that just to sniff its vapor raised his spirits, gave him courage, and renewed his energy. The taste was as good as the scent. The feeling of warmth that spread through him made him even more drowsy than he had been. But two full swallows were all that he took, holding the cup from him lest his pleasure in its contents cloak his mind to what must be firmly faced.