A Vice-Sector Lord, eh? And an Ageratan into the bargain. Kartr was treading on dangerous ground now. But, he decided, he was not going to let this Joyd Cummi know that the Patrol had not arrived to rescue castaways—but as fellow refugees. There was a suggestion of something wrong here. His perception was alert, trying to measure words where he could not tap minds.
“We are Ranger Rolth and Ranger Sergeant Kartr, attached to the Starfire. We shall report your presence here to our commander.”
“Then you did not come in answer to our signals?” burst out Fortus Kan. His round boyish face sagged with disappointment.
“We are engaged in a routine scouting mission,” returned Kartr as coldly as he dared. The uneasiness in the atmosphere was growing stronger every moment. The Ageratan’s shield might be strong but he could not altogether control all emotions. And he might not be trying to.
An Ageratan was a five point nine on the sensitive scale, yes. But unless Cummi had met one of Kartr’s little-known race before—which was hardly likely since so few of them had ever volunteered for off-planet duty—he could not guess he was now facing a six point six!
“Then—” Fortus Kan’s voice became close to a wail. “You can’t get us away from here. But at least you can bring help—”
Kartr shook his head. “I will report your presence to my commanding officer. How many of you are here?”
“One hundred and fifty passengers and twenty-five crew members,” Joyd Cummi returned crisply. “May I ask how you reached this building without our notice? We activated for our protection the patrol robots we found here—”
He was interrupted, much to his evident annoyance by Fortus Kan.
“Did you destroy that patroller?” he demanded eagerly. “The one on Cummi Way?”
Cummi Way! Kartr caught the significance of that. So the Vice-Sector Lord ruled here—enough to give his name arbitrarily to the main thoroughfare of the city.
“We deactivated a robot in what we thought a deserted city,” he returned. “Since your being here is of importance we shall end our exploration and return immediately to our camp.”
“Of course.” Cummi was now the efficient executive. “We have been able to restore to running order several of the ground transportation vehicles we discovered here. Let one of them drive you back—”
“We flew in,” Kartr countered swiftly. “And we shall return the same way. Long life, Vice-Sector Lord!” He raised his hand in the conventional salute. But he wasn’t to escape so easily.
“At least you can be driven to where you left your flyer, Ranger Sergeant. There are other robot patrollers in use and it will be safer if one who knows their code accompanies you. We cannot afford to risk you of the Patrol—”
Kartr dared not refuse what so smoothly appeared to be a sensible suggestion. Yet—he knew that there was trouble here. He felt along his spine the cold prickle of fear which had warned him so many times in his life before. If he could only probe Fortus Kan! But he dared not try it when the Ageratan was there.
“I think it is best not to over-excite the people with the report of your arrival at just this moment,” the Lord continued as he escorted the rangers back across the ante-room. “It will, of course, be encouraging for them to know that we have been contacted by the Patrol. Especially when, after five months of broadcasting from here on a feeble com, we had begun to believe that we were exiled for life. But I would prefer to discuss matters with your commander before allowing their hopes to arise. You probably noted Kan’s response to your appearance. He saw in it the promise of an immediate return to the comforts of civilization. And since a Patrol ship could not possibly transport all of us we must make other arrangements—”
Twice during that speech the Ageratan had made assaults at Kartr’s mind, trying to learn—or—trying to win control? But the sergeant had his shield up and he knew that Cummi would only receive carefully planted impressions of a Patrol ship set down in a far district, a ship under the command of an alert and forceful officer, a difficult man for a civilian administrator to overawe.
“I think you are wise, Vice-Sector Lord,” Kartr inserted into the first oral pause. “You have been here for five months then—within this city?”
“Not at first, no. We made an emergency landing some miles from here. But the city had registered on our photoscreens when we came down and we were able to locate it without undue difficulty. Its functions are in an amazing state of preservation—we must consider that we have been unusually favored by fortune. Of course, having Trestor Vink and two of his assistants among our number was an additional aid. He is the mech-techneer for the Nyorai line. And he has become quite absorbed in the mechanics here. He believes that originally its inhabitants were in some ways more advanced than we are. Yes, we have been very lucky.”
They crossed the room of the hidden elevator shaft and came out on a vast balcony overhanging a hall so large that Kartr felt swallowed up in space. There was a stairway from the balcony to the lower floor of the hall—a flight of steps so wide that it might have been fashioned to accommodate a race of giants. And the lower hall opened through a series of tree-like pillars into the street.
“Coombs!”
The figure lounging against one of the pillars snapped to attention.
“You will take the road vehicle and drive these Patrolmen to their ship. I do not say good-bye, Sergeant.” The Lord turned to Kartr with the graciousness of a great man addressing an admitted inferior. “We shall meet again soon. You have done a very good night’s work and we are exceedingly grateful to you. Please inform your commanding officer that we shall be eagerly waiting to hear from him.”
Kartr saluted. At least the Ageratan was not insisting upon going with them to the sled. But he did stand there until they had taken their places in the small car and the driver put it into motion.
As they moved away from the building Kartr turned his attention to the driver. That bristling shock of black hair with its odd brindling of brown showed up clearly as they swept beneath one of the banners of city light—the long jaws, too. So—that was why Cummi let them go off alone! No wonder he had not thought it necessary to accompany them himself. He would be with them in one way if not bodily. Their driver was a Can-hound, the perfect servant whose mind was only a receiving set used for the benefit of his master.
Kartr’s skin roughened as if something slimy trailed across him. He had the sensitive’s inborn horror for the creature before him—a thing he would not dignify as either human or Bemmy. And now he would have to—have to—! The very thought made him so sick that his empty stomach twisted. This was the worst, the lowest task he had ever had forced upon him. He would have to go into that mind, skillfully enough not to be detected by the distant master, and there implant some false memories—
“Which way?” Even that voice rasped sickeningly along his nerves.
“Along this wide street here,” he ordered with stiff lips. His hand closed over Rolth’s. The Faltharian did not move but he answered with a light return pressure.
Kartr began, while his mouth twisted into a tortured ring of disgust and his mind and body alike fought wildly against the will which forced him to do this thing. It was worse than he had expected, he was degraded, soiled unspeakably by that contact. But he went on. Suddenly the car pulled to the side of the street, wavered into an open space between buildings, came to a stop in a courtyard. They remained in it while Kartr fought the miserable battle to the end. That came when the Can-hound’s head fell forward and he slumped limply in the driver’s seat.
Rolth got out. But Kartr had to steady himself with his hands as he followed. He reeled across the court and hung retching on a window sill. Then Rolth reached him and steadied his shaking body. With the Faltharian’s arm still around him, the sergeant wavered out on the street.
“Just ahead—” Kartr got out the words painfully between spasms of sickness.
“Yes, I have seen.”
The faint gleam of radiation was undoubtedly clearer to Rolth’s light-sensitive eyes than it was to his own. They were about four blocks now from the point where the robot had fired at the doorway. And from there they could easily find their marked trail back to the sled.
Rolth asked no questions. He was there, a hand ready to support, a vast comforting glow of clean friendship. Clean—! Kartr wondered if he would ever feel clean again. How could a sensitive—even an Ageratan—deal with and through a creature such as that? But he mustn’t think of the Can-hound now.