The triumphant yell was still echoing from the wall above, and Towers’ sudden fear abruptly changed into rage. He twisted around, heaved himself up onto the strut, and went up it as an island native on Earth goes up a palm tree. He went from the strut to the platform, from the platform to the catwalk, and from the catwalk to the wall.
Before him was an open ring of soldiers with guns raised, but afraid to use them, as Klossig and a hairy muscular yellow-red form spun in a grapple that whirled them from the parapet to the unprotected inner edge of the wall.
Towers dove for the pair, shot his right arm around the humanoid’s neck, clamped his right hand at the inside of his left elbow, and shoved his left hand against the back of the wiry head. Then he tightened the grip with every ounce of strength he had.
Abruptly, he was whirling through the air again, but this time all he felt was a grim satisfaction that the cause of his trouble was locked fast in his grip, its bones and joints straining under the compound pressure.
There was a sudden terrific impact, then blackness.
Towers slowly opened his eyes, and there was a circle of Centrans around him, the wall rising nearby. The massive furry figure of Horp Klossig was bent over him anxiously.
It dawned on Towers that this time he had landed on the inside of the wall. He took a slow breath and felt carefully for broken bones. He seemed to be all right. Carefully, he rolled to one knee, waited a moment, then stood up.
Klossig steadied him. “Are you all right?”
Towers nodded, then remembered something and looked narrowly around.
Two Centran soldiers were lugging an inert figure up the steps. They reached the top and stepped onto the wall.
As they approached the parapet, they vanished from Towers’ view, because of his angle of vision, then reappeared, empty-handed. They glanced at each other with pursed lips, then started back down the steps.
Klossig said, his voice tense with emotion, “Towers, listen—”
Towers noticed the circle of Centran troops standing around.
“Sir,” said Towers, “are these men supposed to be on guard duty?”
Klossig looked around. His brows came together. “What the devil is this?” He sent the men scurrying back to the wall, then turned to Towers, and said fervently, “If you need anything, Towers, just ask for it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The two men looked at each other a moment, then Towers saluted, Klossig returned the salute, and Towers set off to get hold of Logan and arrange to bring the first of his men down.
Towers met Logan, coming from the corner of the camp where the Centran lieutenant had taken him to arrange for barracks space. Logan’s expression was set and angry. He saluted as soon as he saw Towers, then his expression changed to concern.
“What happened, sir?”
Towers was thinking over what had happened back at the wall, and was trying to figure out how the native had managed to climb up and heave him over the edge before he could even get his gun out of its holster. The memory made him angry, and his voice came out in a rasp that made Logan wince.
“Not a damned thing happened,” said Towers. “Have we got the barracks space?”
“Sir,” said Logan, coloring, “the Centran colonel in charge of the arrangements has allowed us six double bunks in one corner of one barrack.”
Towers had felt nothing but a kind of light-headed vagueness when he got up after the fall, but he was now beginning to ache all over, and on top of that, a hammering headache was just getting started.
“Six double bunks in one corner of one barrack,” said Towers tonelessly.
“Yes, sir. And to top it off, he says we will have a certain amount of ‘good-natured hazing’ from the Centran troops in the barracks. He says they aren’t accustomed to associating with ‘alien entities.’ ”
Towers’ left side and shoulder felt as if a large iron hook was imbedded in it. His head throbbed painfully.
“Where is this Centran colonel?” said Towers.
Logan hesitated.
“Where is he?” said Towers.
“I suppose he’s still in his office, sir.”
“Lead the way.”
Logan paled, and started toward the large headquarters building where Towers had seen Klossig. As Logan turned, the sun shone briefly on the cover of something clamped to his belt. Through the headache, it took Towers an instant to realize that that was the cover of the case that held the little transceiver Logan had brought along to keep in touch with Towers’ division of the Special Effects Team.
“Wait a minute,” said Towers. “Have you gotten any of the men started down here yet?”
“No, sir. With only a corner of a barrack—”
“All right. Order down a dozen men, all controllers or operators, with squads of close-trained wolves, lions and armored gorillas. Also the biggest superconda we’ve got in running order. Bring them down as soon as possible in the nearest landing space to that barracks, and move in.”
Logan enthusiastically repeated the order into the transceiver, along with detailed instructions for locating the barracks. Then he started toward the headquarters building.
Towers said, “I thought you went right over to the barracks with the lieutenant after we landed?”
“I did, sir. Then after I’d picked out suitable barracks space, he brought me over to fill out forms and took them in to the colonel. The colonel crossed out everything on the forms, wrote in ‘six double bunks northeast corner Barracks A12 will be sufficient,’ read the riot act, and that was that.”
They climbed the stairs of the headquarters building, and Towers’ headache developed an effect similar to that of being struck at the base of the head with a sledgehammer at every step. When he could force the words out, Towers said, “What was his reason?”
“He doesn’t like our table of organization. I tried to explain to him that a Special Effects Team unit doesn’t have as many men as most organizations of similar size, but that we have a lot more equipment, so one of our twelve-men companies takes just as much space as the usual company. But I couldn’t get started. Every time I opened my mouth, he’d demand to know whether twelve soldiers weren’t twelve soldiers regardless what race they belong to. Next he wanted to know how big our men were that they took up so much room. That’s how it went.”
Towers said nothing as they walked down the hall, and Logan opened a door and stepped aside. Towers stepped in, and nearly walked into a desk set so close to the door that there was room for just one straight-backed chair between it and the door. A somewhat querulous-looking sergeant glanced up as he came in.
“Yes?” said the sergeant, his voice rising.
Between blinding flashes from the headache, Towers looked the sergeant over. When he had memorized his features so that he would never forget them, Towers glanced down at the desk. A little wooden picket fence, with a closed narrow gate, ran from the outer corner of the desk to the wall, so that it was necessary for Towers and Logan to stand in a space about four-and-a-half feet by three feet. Beside the desk where the sergeant sat was a large filing cabinet. Across the room in the corner was a hat-stand, and against the inside wall was an overstuffed armchair. At the far wall of the room were two doors, with a water cooler near the right-hand door. The rest of the room was bare.
Towers turned his head to glance at Logan, and was rewarded by a white-hot flash of pain over the eyes.
“This is the place?” said Towers.
“Yes, sir,” said Logan. “This is the place.”
The sergeant shoved his chair back, stood up, made as if to go to the inner office, turned back, and said sharply to Logan, “I think the colonel has already given you your orders, Major.”
Towers’ headache abruptly died away to a faint throb. He looked at the Centran.
“Say, ‘sir.’ ” he said, in a grating voice.
“I used the correct form of—”
“I said, say ‘sir.’ ”
There was a brief pause.
“Sir.” said the sergeant. The word came out with a squeak.
“Now,” said Towers, “go in and inform the colonel that the commanding officer of Special Effects Team, Division III, is out here and wishes to speak to him immediately. The matter is urgent.”
The Centran turned without a word, and Towers said in a flat voice, “Sergeant—”
The sergeant swallowed, came back, said “Yes, sir,” turned and disappeared through the right-hand door.
A loud voice said from behind the door. “Tell them to sit down and wait.”
Logan swore.
Towers smiled.
The sergeant came out, closed the door with reverent softness, and said in a tone of triumph, “The colonel is busy now. You may wait, if you wish, sir.”