For the rest of the trip, Sean McKenna had plenty of room to stretch
his body out. As if by pre-arranged signal, he was given a wide berth,
and those Earth people near him constantly tried to keep their backs to
him.
Impassively, the Kraks had come, and when they left, the body of Bill
Hawkins went with them, leaving only that dark dried stain on the
prison deck as a reminder. Perhaps it hadn't been deliberate, but the
prisoners had made a lane through so that each time Sean McKenna lifted
his harried green eyes he saw the spot where Hawkins had died.
Hawkins' death twisted at Sean's heart, but it was always overshadowed
by his conviction that the Kraks were vulnerable. Sean's mind probed,
trying to find the answer to why Klash, the huge Krak, had flinched
when Sean's fists had struck him.
If ever he had seen pain, Sean swore to himself, it had been on Klash's
face then. But what had caused it?
What had made an invulnerable Krak wince at the blows from an
Earthman's fist?
* * * * *
There were no earthly words to describe Karrar, the home planet of the
Kraks.
Karrar was Karrar--a stupendous planet, brooded over by a sullen sun, a
land of harsh reds and blacks. Impassive it was--as indestructible as
its spawn of Kraks.
They'd known when the landing had been made, for the Kraks, their blank
faces rigid, had come into the prison room and roughly strapped a metal
contrivance on the back of each Earth person, man, woman and child.
For such a sullen-looking planet, Sean decided, the weather was
exceedingly cold, striking at his flesh and bones like tiny needles.
The Kraks herded the long line of humans through the airlock out onto
the huge expanse of the space port. There were thousands of ship
cradles, it seemed, and they were packed with other ships unloading
their cargo. As far as his green eyes could see, Sean recognized only
human beings--thousands of them moving single file out of the maws of
the swollen Krak ships. Those files were converging at a huge gate at
the far end of the port.
They looked, Sean thought, like long lines of ants moving toward their
hill. Then he, too, was moving toward the same gate.
Perhaps only he, of those thousands, was different. For he was not
squeezed into the line. The human ahead of him and the human behind
were a good four feet from him, as if keeping as far from a carrier of
the plague as possible.
Sean grinned wryly. He kept his eyes fixed ahead where black buildings
shoved their coarse heavy structures against the lowering scarlet sky.
They moved through the mammoth portal at last, and finally Sean was
swept into the mass of humans who clogged the way. They stumbled
through the black block-paved streets and the few Kraks who were on the
street gave those humans only cursory glances.
Nothing new to them, Sean thought grimly. And the urgency of his
conviction that these Kraks could be destroyed put buoyancy in his step
and set his mind to working frantically. He towered above the other
humans around him, his flame-hair blazing like a torch.
A Krak saw that flame head. Sean didn't know it then, but he learned
shortly.
Finally those thousands of humans were herded into an open-air
compound, surrounded by heavy, black stone walls that lifted
breathtakingly above them. Other humans were there, men bearded and
filthy, women, even in their despair, trying to keep some semblance of
beauty.
The clothes of these older prisoners were almost gone, only that metal
contrivance on their backs shone brightly. Many of the children, even
in the cold of Karrar, moved about listlessly, naked. Sean counted
seven fist and kick fights going on in the compound as he entered.
Much of the decency of man had been destroyed by the Kraks; there
seemed no joy, no laughter, no comradeship, only an all-pervading air
of despair. That light of intelligence had left many a human's eyes in
that inclosure to be replaced by a blank stare.
* * * * *
Sean shuddered a little, and the wry twist came to his mouth. Somehow,
he thought, and the coldness of the thought was like a knife of chilled
steel, the Kraks must be destroyed and punished for this terrible blow
to the dignity of man.
The cold hand of a Krak on his shoulder roused him from his bitter
thoughts. He followed the Krak, wonderingly.
The guide and he moved out of the compound, across the black street,
pushing through the massed humans who were being poured into the
compound, into what was apparently a barracks for warrior Kraks.
Through the barracks to a large office at the end they went.
Ralk, the scarlet-kilted Krak, who had engineered his little fiasco
with Klash was there. And another Krak, not white-skinned like those on
the space ship, but a pastel pink with features less coarse. This Krak
was bald, but he wore a long black robe.
Ralk said shortly:
"Red-headed one, you are blessed. Shel Lur has chosen you for her own.
Thank your hair, Earthman, that shines like Karrar's sun."
There was no expression on Shel Lur's face, but her bald head, painted
a darker pink than her skin, inclined.
Sean wondered if the woe-begone expression on his face was apparent
to Shel Lur. This--this thing a woman of the Krak race? Sean's lips
twisted--no wonder the Kraks looked so gloomy.
Mother of Erin, he would prefer being in the compound than in the
company of this huge creature. He said so to Ralk.
Ralk's voice was impassive. "Do not be mistaken, Earthman. Shel Lur
does not want you for a husband; but as something to look at." He spoke
quickly in his native tongue to Shel Lur. The female Krak nodded, moved
toward him.
As Shel Lur's big cold hand seized his arm and steered him out of the
door of the office, Sean was, for the first time in twenty-five years
of life, not smiling at the events facing him.
* * * * *
It wasn't so bad, Sean reflected some weeks later, but it wasn't
anything to laugh about--this being doll to a lady of the Kraks. He was
fed well, and he slept well, even if it were on the cold black floor.
But he couldn't stand that impassive stare when Shel Lur gazed at him
three times a day--once in the morning when she prodded him awake with
her foot, once in the afternoon when she brought him down to the dinner
table to stare and once in the evening just before she undressed for
the night and lay down on her air pallet.
He had stood it for a week, then he tried to teach her the English
language only to find out that she knew enough of it as she wanted.
He'd talked to her, trying to describe Earth to her--telling her how
different women there were. And she had just nodded and said, "_Yess?_"
Why in the name of Earth's sun had she picked him out--of every
other human? There must have been hundreds of red-heads in the human
procession. He looked up at Shel Lur's pink face and said very heatedly:
"Oh, hell...."
Shel Lur looked at him impassively.
He had plenty of time to think now and to watch. The picture of the
giant Klash ever was with him, that look of pain pricking and tickling
at his mind.