cabin lights.
Yes, it was all there. Instructions for the identificationdevices--description of the identification and warning lights. It gavethe location of switches--the settings for communications. There waseven a small card inserted in a pocket. It gave the communications codeused by patrol fliers in routine communication. Don smiled happily.
Now, he could fly back to the hills. It would only take a few minutes,and----
Why should he? There was an easier way now.
It would be much easier to ride this flier right on into Oreladar. Ifhe headed for the hills, questions might be asked which would be hardto answer. But Oreladar would be the normal place for Gorham to go. Andthe Federation compound wasn't too far from the Palace. He could feintat the Palace landing pad, then---- He nodded and studied the lightingplan and identification settings.
At last, he nodded in satisfaction, then turned his attention to thesmall card with the operations code. It was a simple, systematicarrangement, obviously arranged for day-to-day use, not for secrecy. Henodded and clipped it in front of him under the panel light, where hecould see it easily. Then, he looked thoughtfully at the courtyard.
There was a small chance that some guard might decide to come into thehouse, he decided. Of course, it was still to be regarded as a privatehome, and they had no right to---- He laughed sarcastically.
"That would worry them!" he said aloud.
He got out of the flier and leaned over the body of Gorham. It wassurprisingly light. The man had been carrying almost unbelievablestrength and power of will in a tiny, frail body. Don threw his loadover his shoulder and climbed back into the flier. Then he sat back andlooked dully at the control panel.
* * * * *
Suddenly, he felt completely drained. It was just too much effort toget this ship off the ground. And that long flight to Oreladar? Justhow much was a guy supposed to do in one day?
He sat supinely for a few minutes, simply staring at a nothingnessbeneath the surface of the panel. A small noise from the house arousedhim, and he jerked up. He'd have to move.
Unwillingly, he pulled at the controls and the flier raised from thepaving.
A blast of air hit the side of his face and he turned his head. He'dforgotten to close the door. He snarled at himself in annoyance, thenleaned over and jerked at the handle. The ship swayed and dipped towardthe lighted streets and he straightened quickly and righted it with ajerk. Then he snapped off the cabin lights and reached down to set upthe identification patterns.
A tinny voice snapped at him.
"Rano ninety-one, Riandar control. Seven three seven."
Don looked at the code card before him. Yes, there it was. "Return tostation." He glanced at the call sign on the panel before him. He wasOnarati three. He nodded. Only an important official would be in thisflier. Probably Gorham hadn't been bragging so much.
Another voice had acknowledged the order. Don looked at the speakergrill and shrugged. He set his course southward.
Again and again, the speaker rattled with calls and answers. Riandarcontrol appeared to be busy tonight. Don smiled.
"The busier they are, the better," he told himself. "Then they can'tbother me." He coughed.
"Wonder how Korentana made out?" He looked overside.
Abruptly, he was aware of another flier close to his. On its top a bluelight blinked glaringly. He looked at it in consternation. Hadthey----? But how? He started to pull the control to him and go intoevasive flight. Then he stopped.
"Use your head," he advised himself.
He reached out and scooped up the microphone. For an instant, he lookedinto space, thinking, then he spoke.
"Riandar control," he snarled in an imitation of Gorham's voice."Onarati three. Got one of your guys on my back. What's the idea?" Hereleased the button.
"Oh, boy," he told himself, "I hope that's the right approach." Helooked toward the back of the cabin. If his short contact with Gorhamhad told him enough, and if he'd judged correctly ... and if Gorhamwas----
The speaker crackled. "Onarati three, Riandar control," it said. "Sevenzero five?"
Don looked down at the card under the panel light. Yes, there it was."Give your location."
He mashed the microphone button again. "Seven hundred meters," hesnarled impatiently. "South edge of town. Come on, what's this guydoing, riding my tail?"
Another voice intruded into the speaker. "Your pardon, Onarati three,"it said. "This is Rano two four. We cannot read your identificationlights."
Don looked down at the panel, then shook his head in annoyance. He'dneglected one switch. He reached out and snapped it on. Then he pushedthe mike button again.
"So now you happy?" he demanded. "So why ain't ya telling me something,instead of coming around with all them blinking lights?"
The other flier sheered away, its blinker off.
"Your pardon," said the speaker. "We were not sure."
Don sighed in relief. That had been too close for comfort. He glanceddown, then blinked and looked again.
"Oh, no!" he growled incredulously. "I left my clothes by the pool."
* * * * *
Kent Michaels opened his eyes. In front of him was a shatteredwindshield. The light support struts were bent back. The heavy plastichad crackled and powdered. He stared at it. It must have been quite animpact. All he could remember was confused motion, then blackness.
He shook his head to clear his vision, then started to unfasten hisseat belt.
And his whole left side exploded as each individual muscle and nerveset up a separate protest. He gritted his teeth against the sharp, redknives of agony.
"Got to reach that belt and get out of here," he told himself. "Wonderhow long I've been out?"
He forced his hand to the buckle, then stopped.
"Oh, sure, you idiot," he said aloud. "Go ahead and let the belt go.You can't hurt yourself by landing on your thick head."
He forced himself to ignore the agony in his side and shoulder andlooked around the cabin. Evidently, the ship had hit and rolled. Heclosed his eyes, trying to remember.
He'd evaded the pass that first guy had made at him. Then, when thesecond one showed up and dove in, he'd gone into a dead-duck spin. Sofar, so good. Evidently, they'd been fooled. Probably never saw thatgag before. But what had happened after that? He searched his memory.
Oh, sure. He'd spun the ship under this overhang and set it down. Andthe ground had double-crossed him. Even a duck couldn't have kept afoothold on that ledge. He could remember the sudden tilt as the flierslid over and started to roll. Then everything had happened at once. Hecould remember trying to hold off the windshield from beating hisbrains out, but---- He opened his eyes. No use trying to analyze thatpart of it. Things had become confusing.
No matter how you figured it, he was here, hanging upside down in hisseat belt in a pretty thoroughly wrinkled up ship. He moved his leftarm experimentally.
His side went into screaming agony again.
Well, anyway, the shoulder wasn't broken. It could move--a little.
"Great," he told himself. "Now, how do you get out of this seat beltwithout breaking your stupid neck?"
He reached out with his right hand, to feel the padded roof under him.Well, maybe he could---- He set his teeth and forced his left hand tothe belt release. If he could just hold enough weight with that righthand so that---- Well, no use worrying about it. Something had to bedone. He pushed against the release. The shoulder screamed almostaloud. He started levering the buckle apart with his thumb.
Suddenly, the belt let go and he was struggling to put enough powerinto his right arm to hold himself away from the approaching roof.
For a seeming eternity, he struggled to maintain his balance and easehimself down. Then there was a soft bump. He sank into soft, cushionedblackness.
It was dark when he opened his eyes again. Incuriously, he rolled hiseyes from side to side. He could see nothing. He
let himself slip backinto the soft nothingness.
Slowly, he came back to being. For a timeless instant, he examined acushion which lay just before his eyes. Then pain messages startedclamoring for attention. There were too many of them to unscramble.Everything was screaming at once.
He breathed in shallow gasps, then forced himself out of his crampedposition. At last, he managed to get to his knees and crawl out of thegaping hole where a door had been. Outside, he collapsed to the groundand lay, panting.
Slowly, he gathered strength and struggled to his feet. At least, hislegs were in working order.
He looked back at the ship, then whistled.
"What a mess! How'd I ever get out of that one?"
He shook his head to clear it, then examined the cave.
The ledge, he discovered, wasn't particularly high.