Fugitive of the Stars

CHAPTER VIII

The girl said, “Never mind that now, Ewan. We…"

"No. Yso,” said Ewan stubbornly, “he might as well get the whole picture now. It'll save us all trouble later.” He turned again to Horne. “Morivenn was on his way to Vega Center to bring Skereth into the Galactic Federation. Ardric saw to it that he never got there and, in killing Morivenn, he not only stopped the Federation movement here, he also pretty nearly wrecked the Federation party. Morivenn was a strong leader and there was no one to replace him. But Ardric didn't do all that on his own, just as a matter of political conviction."

"I don't particularly care,” said Horne, “why be did it. All I want is to make him admit doing it. I want my name cleared. From there on, anybody can have the ball that wants it."

"All right,” said Ewan. “You only want Ardric. Do you know who he is, how powerful his family is? Do you know what connection they have with the Vellae?"

"The Vellae?"

"The anti-Federation party. Do you know why the Vellae are so determined to keep Skereth out of the Galactic Federation that they'll murder a hundred-odd people to get the one man who endangers them? Do you know what they'll do to you, Horne, the second you show your fare in Rillah? Well, I'll tell you.

"The Vellae own Rillah. It's the fountainhead and stronghold of the anti-Federation movement. A man named Ruric is one of the three top men, the triumvirate that runs the Vellae and right now, through their puppet governors, this whole world. Ruric is the father of Ardric. Do you begin to get the picture now, Horne? Do you still think you'll walk right up to Ardric on the street and make him confess?"

Horne only said, “Go on. Let's have the rest of it."

"The rest of it,” said Ewan, “is money and power and pride. The Vellae were the rulers of most of Skereth before the Galactic Federation was ever heard of. Since the advent of space flight and trade with other systems they've enlarged their field of operations. They own most of the merchant fleet and control most of the commerce. And since non-Federation ships are immune from search by Federation authorities, they don't have to stop at the legal stuff. We know that they use slave labor in some of their operations. We know that they bring in non-humans and semi-humans from the Fringe worlds, strictly against Federation law—"

Horne started. “For God's sake! Then your Vellae are the slavers Denman was sent out to investigate!"

"Denman?” said Ewan, frowning.

Horne told them about the little Federation official whom they had left on Allamar Two, who had been sent out to get to the bottom of the secret slaving of humanoids. They listened intently, but they did not seem to get very excited about it.

"It won't do us any good,” said Yso, “if your man Denman traces the slaving to the Vellae a year or two from now. What matters is now, and whether we can hit the Vellae now with what we have."

Ewan nodded agreement, and said to Horne, “You see what the Vellae stand to lose if the truth about Morivenn's death should get out? The Vega Queen was a Federation packet, full of Federation personnel. Deliberate sabotage would constitute an act of war, and even the Vellae can't stand off the whole Federation navy. And if Skereth is ‘pacified’ and brought into the Galactic Federation, the Vellae are through. Their monopolies will be broken, their activities supervised, their ships searched. They won't be the lords of Skereth any longer. Now, how long do you think they'll let you stir up talk and suspicion against their man Ardric?"

"There's another reason, too,” said Yso. Her tone was so somber and full of apprehension that Horne was startled. “The most important reason of all. My father was sure of it. The only way to save Skereth, he told me, and perhaps other worlds too, was to get Federation law and authority in here before the Vellae were ready for it. He was afraid. They're doing something, he told me, something that will change our history and the history of this whole part of the galaxy, but I don't know what it is."

Ewan made an impatient sound. Apparently they had been over this ground before.

"I still think Morivenn had an obsession on that point,” he said. “The Vellae's obvious motives are good enough, without hunting for secret ones."

"All right,” said Yso angrily, “you explain what happens to all the slaves they bring in from the Fringe worlds. We know they come. But after they reach Skereth, they vanish completely. Where?"

"I'll admit it's a problem,” said Ewan. “I just don't think it's as important as your father did, that's all.” He looked at Horne. “Are you convinced now?"

"One thing kind of puzzles me,” Horne said. “What's your big interest in whether I get killed or not?"

"I should think,” said Yso, “that would be obvious. You're the only actual witness against Ardric. Without you, even if we proved be was alive and in hiding, he could hardly be convicted.” She shook her head. “We both want the same thing, Horne. We have to work together to get it. It would be better if we did it as friends."

Horne took a deep breath and made an honest effort to swallow his anger. The girl was right and he knew it. So he said, “All right, how do we do it?"

"We don't, not right now.” The man who spoke was the man who had climbed the tower stair and who had now come hurrying down in time to hear Horne's question. He added, “There are three fliers coming this way."

Instantly Ewan and the other two sprang up. One of them switched off the portable light, burning forgotten in the corner even though the storm was past and the sky outside was bright again. Horne and the girl rose too. They stood still, listening, looking up. The air, cooled briefly by the rain, grew hot and the wet stones steamed.

The man who had run down the stairway said, “They look as though they're going to investigate the tower. We'd better clear out."

Ewan went to the wall under the steps and swung out a pivoted stone. There was a narrow shaft beyond it in the thickness of a buttress. One of the other men picked up the light and gave a hasty look around. Yso entered the shaft and began to climb down and Ewan indicated that Horne should follow her.

"How big are they?” Ewan was asking, and the man who had been the lookout said.

"Two single-seaters, and the other one's bigger. Carries three anyway, maybe four."

The shaft was not deep. There was an ancient and shaky-looking tunnel beneath it, short enough so that light from its far end seeped back in. “It comes out in a bend of the stream you nearly fell into,” Yso said. “There's a fair-sized cave there, where the tower guards used to keep their mounts hidden in the old days. We have our fliers there."

Horne heard the stone door shut with a hollow grating sound overhead. For a few minutes there was only the enclosed and magnified sound of people moving and breathing in a tunnel. Then the noise of running water became louder and louder, and there was another noise mixed with it-a shrill high whistling. The cone-shaped fliers were close at hand.

Horne said, “What if they know about this passage and the cave too?"

Ewan answered from behind him, “Then we fight."

"Could I have my stunner back now?"

Ewan gave it to him, saying, “It isn't much. Our guns are better. But you might as well have it."

The daylight got brighter and the tunnel ended in a long slantwise flattish cave, quite obviously made by water erosion in the days when the stream had been higher and mightier in its bed. The muddy water rushed along now some distance below and there was a trail angling down to its brink that might possibly be climbed by animals with good stout claws. In the cave, standing improbably erect on their pointed bottoms and looking like oversize tops with their shiny round bubble canopies in place, were two three-place fliers.

Yso laid a hand on Horne's arm and said, “Come with me.” She started to run toward one of the fliers. Ewan spoke briefly to the three other men. They nodded and ran to the second flier. Ewan joined Yso and Horne.

The shrill whistling was very loud now, officious and irritating, rasping to the nerves. Horne kept glancing apprehensively at the long open front of the cave, which was really little more than a shelf gouged out of the riverbank. But now they were at the cone.

The light landing-ladder was down. Ewan climbed it, pressing a button on the rim. The canopy raised up. Ewan jumped in and leaned over to give Yso a hand up. Horne followed her. The cone was steady as the Rock of Gibraltar on its anti-grav compensators.

There were three seats in the small circular cockpit, two behind the operator's seat where Ewan was already taking his place. Horne sat behind with Yso. The canopy clapped shut.

Yso made a sudden sound that was almost, but not quite, a scream. Horne looked out through the clear plastic bubble.

A single-place flier had dropped down into the little gorge of the stream and was hovering outside the cave. Horne could see quite plainly the expression of the pilot's face as he looked in.

"I guess,” said Horne, “we fight."

The next few seconds went by so fast there was no counting them. Ewan said, “Strap in,” and hit the levers on the flat control board in front of him. Horne clipped the padded belt around his waist. The cone lifted up and quivered and its jet unit bellowed softly in the cave. Yso, her face set and strained, was hunched over a small[?missing text] closing relays. The cone was a larger craft and considerably more space to maneuver had served his hitch in the Federation Navy in the last border war. But you made out with what you had. He checked over his stunner and then put it away. It would not do him any good here.

The flier outside the cave had shot up out of sight. The second cone rose and cut in its propulsion unit. Ewan had the communicator going now. He was talking to the man at the controls of the other cone. “Break for it. Once we get outside we can fight them."

"Let's go together, then. Spread. I'm hot."

"Watch out for the big one. It's probably heavy-armed. All right."

The two cones slammed on full power and went out of the cave like projectiles. The anti-grav lift slammed them again, this time from underneath, and they went straight up to avoid hitting the opposite wall of the gorge, shooting apart then in opposite directions. It was masterly flying. But it wasn't good enough.

The enemy was on top of them.

Horne looked up to see the pointed bottom of a one-man flier just above him, almost close enough to touch. Instinctively he ducked and it flipped away just microseconds short of a collision that would have wrecked both of them. Yso punched a firing-stud and a spurt of pinkish light a hundred feet long leaped out viciously toward the darting hull. But in the same second Ewan altered his own course with violent suddenness. A return beam, but smaller and shorter, flicked at them from the small flier. Both missed.

"You spoiled my aim,” said Yso matter-of-factly. “They're not police, that's’ sure. No insigne."

"Vellae?” said Horne. He was looking at Yso with considerable interest."

"Obviously. What's the matter, haven't you ever seen a woman fight before?"

"When I was in the Navy some of my best men were women. Are you Navy?"

"Skereth Planetary. We're not so big but we do know our business."

"Get that other one,” said Ewan sharply. “There. Can you do it?"

The other one-man flier and the big cone with four men in it had concentrated on the second cone, which had happened to come closer to them. They were leaping and bobbing all over that part of the sky, their bubble canopies flashing dull glints of gold and crimson from the clouds above.

Yso said, “Hold steady. I'll try."