the pursuit was all behind them and the only thing ahead was the slim spire of the Pride of Darkhan.
*
The Pride was surrounded by a strong wire fence as suited the begrudged status of her planetary origin. The gate was closed and guarded by soldiers with leveled guns, waiting for a shot at the approaching car. Kerk made no attempt to come near them. Instead he fed the last reserves of power to the car and headed for the fence. “Cover your face,” he shouted.
Jason put his arms in front of his head just as they hit.
Torn metal screamed, the fence buckled, wrapped itself around the car, but did not break. Jason flew off the seat and into the padded dash. By the time Kerk had the warped door open, he realized that the ride was over. Kerk must have seen the spin of his eyeballs because he didn’t talk, just pulled Jason out and threw him onto the hood of the ruined car.
“Climb over the buckled wire and make a run for the ship,” he shouted.
If there was any doubt what he meant, he set Jason an example of fine roadwork. It was inconceivable that someone of his bulk could run so fast, yet he did. He moved more like a charging tank than a man. Jason shook the fog from his head and worked up some speed himself. Nevertheless, he was barely halfway to the ship when Kerk hit the gangway. It was already unhooked from the ship, but the shocked attendants stopped rolling it away as the big man bounded up the steps.
At the top he turned and fired at the soldiers who were charging through the open gate. They dropped, crawled, and returned his fire. Very few shot at Jason’s running form.
The scene in front of Jason cranked over in slow motion. Kerk standing at the top of the ramp, coolly returning the fire that splashed all about. He could have found safety in an instant through the open port behind him. The only reason he stayed there was to cover Jason.
“Thanks—” Jason managed to gasp as he made the last few steps up the gangway, jumped the gap and collapsed inside the ship.
“You’re perfectly welcome,” Kerk said as he joined him, waving his gun to cool it off.
A grim-jawed ship’s officer stood back out of range of fire from the ground and looked them both up and down. “And just what is going on here?” he growled.
Kerk tested the barrel with a wet thumb, then let the gun slide back into its holster. “We are law-abiding citizens of a different system who have committed no criminal acts. The savages of Cassylia are too barbarous for civilized company. Therefore we are going to Darkhan—here are our tickets—in whose sovereign territory I believe we are at this moment.” This last was added for the benefit of the Cassylian officer who had just stumbled to the top of the gangway and was raising his gun.
The soldier couldn’t be blamed. He saw these badly wanted criminals getting away. Aboard a Darkhan ship as well. Anger got the best of him and he brought his gun up.
“Come out of there, you scum. You’re not escaping that easily. Come out slow with your hands up or I’ll blast you—”
It was a frozen moment of time that stretched and stretched without breaking. The pistol covered Kerk and Jason. Neither of them attempted to reach for their own guns.
The gun twitched a bit as the ship’s officer moved, then steadied back on the two men. The Darkhan spaceman hadn’t gone far, just a pace across the lock. This was enough to bring him next to a red box set flush with the wall. With a single, swift gesture he flipped up the cover and poised his thumb over the button inside. When he smiled his lips peeled back to show all of his teeth. He had made up his mind, and it was the arrogance of the Cassylian officer that had been the deciding factor.
“Fire a single shot into Darkhan territory and I press this button,” he shouted. “And you know what this button does—every one of your ships has them as well. Commit a hostile act against this ship and someone will press a button. Every control rod will be blown out of the ship’s pile at that instant and half your filthy city will go up in the explosion.” His smile was chiseled on his face and there was no doubt he would do what he said. “Go ahead—fire. I think I would enjoy pressing this.”
The take-off siren was hooting now, the close lock light blinking an angry message from the bridge. Like four actors in a grim drama they faced each other an instant more.
Then the Cassylian officer, growling with unvoicable frustrated anger, turned and leaped back to the steps.
“All passengers board ship. Forty-five seconds to take-off. Clear the port.” The ship’s officer slammed shut the cover of the box and locked it as he talked. There was barely time to make the acceleration couches before the Pride of Darkhan cleared ground.
V
Once the ship was in orbit the captain sent for Jason and Kerk. Kerk took the floor and was completely frank about the previous night’s activities. The only fact of importance he left out was Jason’s background as a professional gambler. He drew a beautiful picture of two lucky strangers whom the evil forces of Cassylia wanted to deprive of their gambling profits. All this fitted perfectly the captain’s preconceptions of Cassylia. In the end he congratulated his officer on the correctness of his actions and began the preparation of a long report to his government. He gave the two men his best wishes as well as the liberty of the ship.
It was a short trip. Jason barely had time to catch up on his sleep before they grounded on Darkhan. Being without luggage they were the first ones through customs. They left the shed just in time to see another ship landing in a distant pit. Kerk stopped to watch it and Jason followed his gaze. It was a gray, scarred ship. With the stubby lines of a freighter—but sporting as many guns as a cruiser.
“Yours, of course,” Jason said.
Kerk nodded and started towards the ship. One of the locks opened as they came up but no one appeared. Instead a remote-release folding ladder rattled down to the ground. Kerk swarmed up it and Jason followed glumly. Somehow, he felt, this was overdoing the no-frills-and-nonsense attitude.
Jason was catching on to Pyrran ways though. The reception aboard ship for the ambassador was just what he expected. Nothing. Kerk closed the lock himself and they found couches as the take-off horn sounded. The main jets roared and acceleration smashed down on Jason.
It didn’t stop. Instead it grew stronger, squeezing the air out of his lungs and the sight from his eyes. He screamed but couldn’t hear his own voice through the roaring in his ears. Mercifully he blacked out.
When consciousness returned the ship was at zero-G. Jason kept his eyes closed and let the pain seep out of his body. Kerk spoke suddenly, he was standing next to the couch.
“My fault, Meta, I should have told you we had a 1-G passenger aboard. You might have eased up a bit on your usual bone-breaking take-off.”
“It doesn’t seem to have harmed him much—but what’s he doing here?”
Jason felt mild surprise that the second voice was a girl’s. But he wasn’t interested enough to go to the trouble of opening his sore eyes.
“Going to Pyrrus. I tried to talk him out of it, of course, but I couldn’t change his mind. It’s a shame, too, I would like to have done more for him. He’s the one who got the money for us.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” the girl said. Jason wondered why it was awful. It didn’t make sense to his groggy mind. “It would have been much better if he stayed on Darkhan,” the girl continued. “He’s very nice-looking. I think it’s a shame he has to die.”
That was too much for Jason. He pried one eye open, then the other. The voice belonged to a girl about twenty-one who was standing next to the bed, gazing down at Jason. She was beautiful.
Jason’s eyes opened wider as he realized she was very beautiful—with the kind of beauty never found in the civilized galaxy. The women he had known all ran to pale skin, hollow shoulders, gray faces covered