He was walking steadily again by the time they detoured around the nuclear fire in the doorway. And he turned the walk into a ground-covering lope as the Faltharian retraced the trail he had earlier marked. When they got to the sled Kartr made a single suggestion.
“Lay a crossed course out of here—they may have some sort of scanner on us—”
Rolth grunted an assent. The sled took to the air. A cold wind, heralding the dawn, cut into them. Kartr wanted to wash in it, wash away the filth of the encounter with the Can-hound.
“You do not want them to know about us?” That was half question, half statement.
“It isn’t up to me—that’s Jaksan’s problem,” returned Kartr, out of a vast and overwhelming weariness. The drain of that mind battle had almost meant a drain of life force too. He wanted to lie down and sleep, just sleep. But he couldn’t. And he forced himself to give Rolth an explanation of what they had been pitted against—what they might have to fear in the future.
“That driver was a Can-hound. And there is something very wrong—completely wrong back there.”
Rolth might not be a sensitive but as a ranger he knew a lot. He snapped out a biting word or two in his own tongue.
“I had to get into his mind—to make him a set of false memories. He will report back that he took us to the sled, certain things we were supposed to have said during the trip—the direction in which we departed—”
“So that was what you were doing!” Rolth’s dark eyes lifted from the course indicator long enough to favor his companion with a look in which respect and awe were mingled.
Kartr relaxed, his head drooped to rest on the back of the seat. Now that they were out of the glare of the city the stars shone palely overhead. How was Jaksan going to handle this? Would he order them in to unite with the castaways in the city? If so—what about Cummi? What was he doing—planning right now?
“You distrust the Ageratan?” Rolth demanded as they streaked north on the evasive path Kartr had suggested.
“He is an Ageratan—you know them. He is a Vice-Sector Lord, there is no doubt he is in complete command in the city. And—he would not take kindly to having his rule disputed—”
“So he might not be in favor of the Patrol?”
“Maybe. Sector Lords are uneasy enough nowadays—there is a pull and tug of power. I would like very much to know why he was making a trip on an ordinary passenger ship anyway. If he—”
“Were getting away from some local hot spot he would be only too glad to found a new kingdom here? Yes, that I can well understand,” said Rolth. “Now we go home—”
The sled made a long curve to the right. Rolth shut off the propulsion rockets, kept on only the hover screens. They drifted slowly on the new course. It would take time, add an extra hour or so to their return journey. But unless the city had something new in scanners they were now off every spy screen.
They did very little talking for the rest of the trip. Kartr dozed off once and awoke with a start from a black dream. The need for complete rest drugged his mind when he tried to flog his weary brain into making plans. He would report the situation to Jaksan. The arms officer was hostile to the impressions of a sensitive—he might not welcome Kartr’s description of the unease in the city. And the sergeant had no proof to back his belief that the farther they stayed away from Cummi the better. Why did he fear Cummi? Was it because he was an Ageratan, another sensitive? Or was it because of the Can-hound? Why was he so sure that the Vice-Sector Lord was a dangerous enemy?
7 — THE RANGERS STAND TOGETHER
“You must admit that his account was plausible enough—”
Kartr faced Jaksan across the flat rock which served the camp as a table.
“And the city,” persisted the arms officer mercilessly, “is in an excellent state of preservation. Not only that, but this party from the X451 includes mech-techneers who have been able to start it functioning again—”
The sergeant nodded wearily. He should have brought to this contest of will a clear mind and a rested body. Instead he ached with both mental and physical fatigue. It was an effort to hold his stand against the hammering disapproval of the other.
“If all this is true”—Jaksan reached what he certainly believed to be a logical and sensible conclusion—for the third time—“I cannot understand this reluctance of yours, Kartr. Unless—” he was radiating hostility again but the sergeant was almost too tired to care—“unless you have taken a dislike to this Ageratan for personal reasons.” Then he paused and his hostility was broken for an instant by an emotion close to sympathy. “Wasn’t it an Ageratan who gave the order to burn off Ylene?”
“It might have been for all I know. But that is not the reason why I distrust this Joyd Cummi,” began Kartr with such remnants of patience as he could muster.
There was no use in making an issue of Cummi’s use of the Can-hound. Only another sensitive could understand the true horror of that. Jaksan had settled on an explanation for Kartr’s attitude which was reasonable to him and he would hold to it. The sergeant had learned long ago that those who were not sensitives had a deep distrust of perception and the mind touch and some refused to even admit its existence as a fact. Jaksan was almost of that group—he would believe in Kartr’s ability to meet and deal with animals and strange non-humans, but he inwardly repudiated the sergeant’s being able to contact or read his fellow men. There was no arguing with him on that point. Kartr sighed. He had done what he could to prevent what he knew would be Jaksan’s next move. Now he could only wait for the menace he believed was in the city to show itself.
So they made the journey to join the X451’s survivors, and they admitted, against all Kartr’s pleas, their own shipwrecked condition. Joyd Cummi greeted them with urbane and welcoming ease. There was a ship’s medico to attend to Vibor—there were luxurious quarters in, as Kartr noted with suspicion, corridors adjacent to the Vice-Sector Lord’s own, for the crewmen and the officers.
The welcome granted the rangers was, however, somewhat cooler. Kartr and Rolth were accepted, given subtly to understand that, as humans, they would stand equal with the commoners of Cummi’s kingdom. But the Ageratan had given Zinga and Fylh no more than a nod and made no suggestions for their lodging. Kartr gathered his small command together in the center of a large bare room where no eavesdropper could possibly listen in.
“If,” Zinga said as they settled themselves cross-legged on the floor, “you still maintain that the odor issuing through these halls is far from flower-like, I shall agree with you! How long”—he turned to Kartr—“are you going to let some ragged tails of loyalty pull you into situations such as this?”
Fylh’s claws rasped along the hard scales on the other’s forearm.
“Rangers should only speak when spoken to. And Bemmy rangers must let their superiors decide what is best for them. Such must be dutiful and humble and keep their places—”
The close guard which Kartr had kept upon his temper ever since his warning had been so quickly disregarded vanished at Zinga’s remark.
“I’ve heard enough of that!”
“Zinga has a point,” Rolth paid no attention to Kartr’s outbreak. “We either accept the prevailing conditions here—or we leave—if we can. And maybe we can’t wait too long or be halfway about it.”
“ ‘If we can,’ ” repeated, Zinga with a grin displaying no humor but many sharp teeth. “That is a most interesting suggestion, Rolth. I wonder if there were—or are—any Bemmys numbered in the crew or among the passengers of the X451. You notice that I am inclined to use the past tense when I refer to them. Indications would make that seem proper.”
Kartr studied his two brown hands, one protruding from the dirty sling, the other resting on his knee. They were scratched and calloused, the nails worn down. But though he was examining each one of those scratches with minute attention he was really absorbed in the nasty implications of Zinga’s words. No—he didn’t have to accept matters as they were. He should make a few preparations of his own.
“Where are our packs?” he asked Zinga.
Both eyelids closed in a slow wink. “Those creatures are under our eye. If we have to leave in a hurry we’ll be able to do so with full tramping equipment.”
“I shall suggest to Jaksan that the rangers take quarters on their own—together—” Kartr said slowly.