Shannach was not used to having his wishes questioned, but he answered
patiently, "I have still a while to live. Several of your short
generations. I have had too much of this valley, too much of these
catacombs. I want to leave them."
Trevor could understand that. Having had that nightmare glimpse into
Shannach's mind, he could perfectly understand. For one brief moment
he was torn with pity for this trapped creature who was alone in the
universe. And then he wondered, "What would you do if you could leave
the valley? What would you do to another settlement of men?"
"Who knows? I have one thing left to me--curiosity."
"You'd take the Korins with you, and the hawks?"
"Some. They are my eyes and ears, my hands and feet. But you object,
Trevor."
"What difference does that make?" said Trevor bitterly. "I'll go look
at the ship."
"Come on," said Galt, taking up an armful of torches. "I'll show you
the way."
They went out through the tall door into the streets between the huge
square empty houses. The streets and houses that Trevor had known in
his dream, remembering when there were lights and voices in them.
Trevor noticed only that Galt was leading him out on the opposite side
of the city, toward the part of the valley he had never visited. And
then his mind reverted to something that not even the shock of his
awakening could drive out of his consciousness.
Jen.
A sudden panic sprang up in him. How long had it been since the
darkness fell on him there in the catacomb? Long enough for almost
anything to happen. He envisioned Jen being torn by hawks, of her body
lying dead as Hugh's had lain, and he started to reach out for Galt,
who had owned them both. But abruptly Shannach spoke to him, in that
eerie silent way he was getting used to.
"The woman is safe. Here, look for yourself."
His mind was taken firmly and directed into a channel completely new
to him. He felt a curious small shock of contact, and suddenly he was
looking down from a point somewhere in the sky at a walled paddock
with a number of tiny figures in it. His own eyes would have seen them
as just that, but the eyes he was using now were keen as an eagle's,
though they saw no color but only black and white and the shadings in
between. So he recognized one of the distant figures as Jen.
He wanted to get closer to her, much closer, and rather sulkily his
point of vision began to circle down dropping lower and lower. Jen
looked up. He saw the shadow of wide wings sweep across her and
realized that of course he was using one of the hawks. He pulled it
back so as not to frighten her, but not before he had seen her face.
The frozen stoniness was gone, and in its place had come the look of a
wounded tigress.
"I want her," Trevor said to Shannach.
"She belongs to Galt. I do not interfere."
Galt shrugged. "You're welcome. But keep her chained. She's too
dangerous now for anything but hawk-meat."
* * * * *
The ship was not far beyond the city. It lay canted over on its side,
just clear of a low spur jutting out from the barrier cliff. It had hit
hard, and some of the main plates were buckled, but from the outside
the damage did not seem irreparable, if you had the knowledge and the
tools to work with. Three hundred years ago it might have been made to
fly again, only those who had the knowledge and the will were dead. And
the convicts wanted to stay where they were.
The tough metal of the outer skin, alloyed to resist friction that
could burn up a meteor, had stood up pretty well under three centuries
of Mercurian climate. It was corroded, and where the breaks were the
inner shells were eaten through with rust, but the hulk still retained
the semblance of a ship.
"Will it fly?" asked Shannach eagerly.
"I don't know yet," Trevor answered.