It had just beenenough to roll the ship. The slope of the ground and the back wall ofthe cave had done the real damage. He reached out with his right handand grabbed a vine. Yes, he could walk himself up the ledge with that.And that would get him out of here.
He turned back and inched himself inside the flier again. The emergencyfood pack was there. Unbroken, too. He fished it out and opened it,forcing the almost useless left arm to lend a little support as theright worked at the fastenings.
The food concentrate actually tasted good.
It could be a lot worse, he thought. Those two murderers had jumped himonly a few kilometers from Kordu valley. Unless he was badly mistaken,this would be Gharu Gorge. It was steep-walled, but it could beclimbed. And once he got to the rim, it would be only a days walk toKorelanni.
"Not too bad," he told himself. "Anybody for mountain climbing?"
He got to his feet, reeling a little as his side protested against theindignity of being forced into motion. Probably a broken rib or two, hethought. He brought his right hand over and ran his fingers delicatelyover the left collar bone, from neck to shoulder. Then, he nodded. Itseemed to be in one piece. Might be cracked, but it'd hold together--hehoped.
Slowly, he started pulling himself up the bank, pausing now and then toregain his balance and take a new grip.
* * * * *
Lieutenant Narn Hense gave a snort of irritation, then walked acrossthe guardroom and switched the television off. Those news broadcastsgave him an acute, three-dimensional pain. It was normal, he supposed,for propaganda to sneak into a state-controlled broadcast, but did ithave to be so damn----
"Oh, the devil with it," he said aloud. "I just help run the SecurityGuard around here. The Commissioner can worry about policy--anddiplomatic relations, too."
He glanced at the clock on his desk, then reached out to grab his hat.
"Better take another look at the guard while I'm at it," he toldhimself.
He strode out of the office, hooking his sidearm belt from a hanger ashe went by.
It would be a good idea, he decided, to check post number four firstthis time. The landing pad guard had been a little less than perfectlyalert tonight.
"Probably worrying about last night," he told himself. He smiledreminiscently.
Moresma had been pretty worried and scared when the patrol had broughthim in. They'd gotten him out of the jam and kept him out of trouble,but it had been close. The local authorities didn't seem to have muchsense of humor when it came to Federation personnel. In fact, theyseemed to welcome incidents that could----
"Funny," he told himself. "There are plenty of Galactics here, too.They get along fine, but let one of our guardsmen drop a chewing gumwrapper---- Oh, well. One of those things, I guess." He walked aroundthe corner of the building and strode down a hedge bordered path.
As he walked, he looked about at the dark Commission buildings. It wasa large compound. There were several posts and it took a large securityguard detachment to give it adequate protection. He glanced up at thesky.
A blue-lit flier was coming toward him, flying rather low. Suddenly,its lights blinked out.
Hense looked at the suddenly dark shape incredulously. It seemed to bearcing down, toward the compound. He started forward at a run.
Either that pilot was out of control, or he was crazy. In any event, hewas going to crash in the compound unless his luck was fantasticallygood. He'd been coming in fast, too. The lights had indicated anofficial Oredanian ship.
This, he decided, was definitely irregular.
As he got to the pad, the ship came to an abrupt halt overhead. Then,it came down in a blur of speed. Not more than half a meter from thepavement, it checked its fall and settled. A door popped open.
Hense flipped his light from his belt and snapped it on. The guard, henoted approvingly, had been prompt. The man had dashed up and now stoodclose by the flier, his weapon at the ready.
A figure came out of the flier and stopped.
"Put out that light!" snapped an annoyed voice.
Hense snapped the switch on his hand light, then stared at the figureby the flier.
Now, what was this? He wasn't accustomed to taking orders from somejoker that barged in and shot an unauthorized landing. He was the onewho should be giving the orders. He started to raise the light again.
"Leave that light out, hang it," said the voice sharply. "I don't feellike being a target. And you! Don't point that thing at me! Now comeon, both of you. Let's get out of the open. Take cover!"
Hense shook his head dazedly. It wasn't right, but there didn't seem tobe much room for argument right now. Somehow, that voice carriedauthority. Moresma hadn't hesitated. He was following the dim figurewhich ran from the side of the flier. The lieutenant turned and headedfor a nearby building. There was a wide overhang there, close to theground.
Another ship was screaming in, its lights darkened. As Hense dove forcover, brilliant light pinpointed the grounded flier. The guard and theunknown rolled in beside him.
There was a brilliant flash from the landing pad, then a heavyconcussion made Hense's chest contract. Lurid flames rose skyward. Theattacking flier rose sharply and disappeared. Hense looked after itincredulously.
"Close," commented the new-comer. "Thought for a few seconds I wasn'tgoing to make it. Sure didn't think they'd be with it that fast." Heturned and the lieutenant examined him curiously.
Even in the dim light, it was obvious he was pretty young. Khlorisana,as nearly as Hense could tell. Might be a half-caste, of course. Butwhat was he doing here? Why a near crash landing? And who had theeternal gall to pull an attack on a grounded ship right in theCommission compound?
He continued to stare. Come to think of it, what had this joker donewith his clothes? Nothing on him but a pair of shorts.
The other noticed the officer's gaze and looked down.
"Yeah, I know." He grinned. "I got busy a while ago. Forgot to put 'emback on. Didn't realize I'd left every rag behind till I was well on myway." He looked at the ground thoughtfully.
"Wonder if they'll trace Korentona through them? Well----" He facedHense again.
"I'm Don Michaels," he announced. He held out a large book he had beencarrying under his arm.
"Look," he added. "I've brought in something really hot. How abouttaking me over to see the commissioner? I've got to see him rightaway."
* * * * *
For more than five years, the ink of First Lieutenant Hense'scommission had been perfectly dry. He'd been in one major campaign andhe'd served on more than one outworld. For his entire commissionedcareer, he'd been a Security Guard Officer. And he'd never had areputation for being at all tolerant when regulations were broken--oreven bent.
He looked angrily at the man before him.
"I don't care," he said distinctly, "if you're Hosanna, the Great. WhatI want to----"
"Oh, be quiet!" Michaels held up an impatient hand. "I hate to beimpolite about this, but it's no joke. I've got something hothere--really hot. I want to see Commissioner Jackson. And when he findsout what I've got, he's going to want to see me. Now let's get over andfind him. Move!"
Hense turned and stepped off. This, he decided, wasn't real. He must bedreaming. He tried to stop, but found it was impossible. He'd beengiven definite instructions, and----
He walked toward the path to the Residence. Behind him, he heard thenewcomer's voice.
"You can go back to your post, guard. Better watch it, though. One ofthose Royal Guard ships might try a landing. Might be a good idea toget a few more men out there."
Again, Hense tried to turn around and challenge this fellow. Hang it,he was the Officer of the Guard. He was supposed to be giving theorders. In fact, he should have this fellow in the detention cell bynow, waiting for the major to see him in the morning. He paused inmid-stride.
"Never mind stopping, lieutenant," Michaels told him. "Just keep going.I want to see the commi
ssioner before Stern's people figure outsomething really good."
Hense gave up. He must be asleep. It was the only possible answer. Ofcourse, that was bad, too. On some stations, an Officer of the Guardwas permitted to take a nap between guard checks. But Major Kovacs hadsome sort of a thing about that. He'd made it clear that there wasplenty of time for napping during off-watch time. His officers, he saidpositively, would never sleep while their men were on guard.
And he made checks, too. Hense struggled with himself. He had to wakeup.
It was insane. How, he wondered, could a guy be asleep anddreaming--and know it? And, knowing it, why couldn't he wake himselfup? This was pure fantasy. Yeah, dream stuff. He waited nervously.
Any time now, the major could be