In the unnatural silence, Joel could hear that muttering roar again. It
was louder. He could even distinguish shouts and screams.
A guard burst suddenly into the disorganized control hall. His
features were pale as chalk. "Slaves!" he gasped unsteadily. "Palace
slaves--fighting! Ray projectors!"
He sank on a bench. Joel stared at him in horror. The guard was
slipping sideways. Then he rolled to the floor. He was dead.
"The ray!" Priscilla said in a faint voice. "It destroys the red blood
corpuscles!"
Joel clenched his fist. "If I could reach any of those Ganelons with
the Unfit, I could establish contact with the Thinkers. They're
telepathic!"
"But can you get out of the palace?" Roos demanded.
Joel said, "Yes." He was surprised that Roos didn't seem to know about
the secret passages.
The chief of the Asgardian police unpinned the gold and azure shield,
the insignia of his office. "Take this. It'll get you through our
lines." He made a wry grimace. "I've been at fault about the Ganelons.
I hope it doesn't queer your mission."
It had cost Roos an effort to make that admission, Joel realized. He
said, "I feel as if I were deserting...."
"Nonsense, man," the governor interrupted. "You're the one who's taking
the risk. We can barricade ourselves in these rooms. We're safer here
than anywhere else on Asgard."
Priscilla took Joel's face between her cool palms, kissed him
passionately. "I--I love you, Joel. Please take care of yourself."
Joel was startled. Then his arms closed about her hungrily.
The governor cleared his throat. "There's a proper time and place for
everything."
Joel tore himself away. "I'll be back," he said. "And to hell with
what's proper!"
* * * * *
Terra Parkway was jammed with refugees streaming toward the palace. To
the south, Joel could see a black pall of smoke overhanging the streets.
A worried frown creased his forehead. He had slipped from the palace
by the tunnel along which he had escorted Tamis earlier. He should be
devoting his whole attention to his immediate danger. But he couldn't
dismiss the green-haired Priscilla Cameron from his thoughts.
He was worried about her there in the palace. Was this love? It was a
disturbing sensation.
He began to breast the flood of refugees streaming from the battle
area. White faces taut with fear. The faces of children and women. It
was like a nightmare.
After a while the faces began to thin out. And then there weren't any
left at all. The street lay empty before him.
"Hey!" a voice called. "Where do you think you're going?"
Joel caught sight of a guard crouched in a doorway.
"Get in here!" the guard growled. "What d'you want to do? Get killed?
The rebels are up ahead."
Joel slid into the doorway. The smoke clouds were spreading. Alpha
Centauri A was a blood red ball just above the house tops.
"What's happening?" Joel demanded. The strange quiet felt unnatural.