Thorvald! But not standing by the window in the Wyvern stronghold!
Thorvald with the amethyst of heavy Warlockian foliage at his back. So
clear was the new picture that Shann might have stood only a few feet
away. Thorvald there, with the wolverines at his side. And behind him
sun glinted on the gem-patterned skin of more than one Wyvern.
"Where?"
That demand from the Survey officer, curt, clear--so perfect the word
might have rung audibly through the dome.
"The camp!" Shann hurled that back, frantic with fear that once again
their contact might fail.
"They want me to call in the transport." He added that.
"How soon?"
"Don't know. They have the guide beam set. I'm to say there's illness
here; they know I can't code."
All he could see now was Thorvald's face, intent, the officer's eyes
cold sparks of steel, bearing the impress of a will as implacable as a
Throg's. Shann added his own decision.
"I'll warn the ship off; they'll send in the patrol."
There was no change in Thorvald's expression. "Hold out as long as you
can!"
Cold enough, no promise of help, nothing on which to build hope. Yet the
fact that Thorvald was on the move, away from the Wyvern city, meant
something. And Shann was sure that thick vegetation could be found only
on the mainland. Not only was Thorvald ashore, but there were Wyverns
with him. Could the officer have persuaded the witches of Warlock to
foresake their hands-off policy and join him in an attack on the Throg
camp? No promise, not even a suggestion that the party Shann had
envisioned was moving in his direction. Yet somehow he believed that
they were.
There was a sound from the doorway of the dome. Shann opened his eyes.
There were Throgs entering, one to go to the guide beam, two heading for
his chair. He closed his eyes again in a last attempt, backed by every
remaining ounce of his energy and will.
"Ship's in range. Throgs here."
Thorvald's face, dimmer now, snapped out while a blow on Shann's jaw
rocked his head cruelly, made his ears sing, his eyes water. He saw
Throgs--Throgs only. And one held the translator.
"You talk!"
A tri-jointed arm reached across his shoulder, triggered a lever,
pressed a button. The head set cramping his ear let out a sudden growl
of sound--the com was activated. A claw jammed the mike closer to
Shann's lips, but also slid in range the webbed loop of the translator.
Shann shook his head at the incoming rattle of code. The Throg with the
translator was holding the other head set close to his own ear pit. And
the claws of the guard came down on Shann's shoulders in a cruel grip, a
threat of future brutality.
The rattle of code continued while Shann thought furiously. This was it!
He had to give a warning, and then the aliens would do to him just what
the officer had threatened. Shann could not seem to think clearly. It
was as if in his efforts to contact Thorvald, he had exhausted some part
of his brain, so that now he was dazed just when he needed quick wits
the most!
This whole scene had a weird unreality. He had seen its like a thousand
times on fiction tapes--the Terran hero menaced by aliens intent on
saving ... saving....
Was it out of one of those fiction tapes he had devoured in the past
that Shann recalled that scrap of almost forgotten information?
The Terran began to speak into the mike, for there had come a pause in
the rattle of code. He used Terran, not basic, and he shaped the words
slowly.
"Warlock calling--trouble--sickness here--com officer dead."
He was interrupted by another burst of code. The claws of his guard
twisted into the naked flesh of his shoulders in vicious warning.
"Warlock calling--" he repeated. "Need help----"
"Who are you?"
The demand came in basic. On board the transport they would have a list
of every member of the Survey team.
"Lantee." Shann drew a deep breath. He was so conscious of those claws
on his shoulders, of what would follow.
"This is Mayday!" he said distinctly, hoping desperately that someone in
the control cabin of the ship now in orbit would catch the true meaning
of that ancient call of complete disaster. "Mayday--beetles--over and
out!"