The girl turned on him, electric fire in her look. "None of your
business!"
Relez smiled. "On the other hand, maybe it will be for the best--a step
forward in contact between the peoples."
Torcred felt a new strength and confidence born of Ladna's loyalty. He
said, "Your scheme is good, if it will work. I will--_we_ will help
you make it work."
The older man's face lit. "Good!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "You
already have some sound ideas. I suggest--"
"Captain!" broke in a low, taut voice. "What do you make of this?"
Relez wheeled. The young technician who had been operating the controls
of the televiewer was pointing at the screen in horror.
The scene was a sweep of desert, silvered by the risen moon. There were
indistinct dark shapes that might be a tribe of dragons, stalled, of
course. But around and among them red flashes leaped and black towers
of smoke sprang up to drift down the quiet night wind.
It was a scene of death and destruction whose silence made it unreal.
But as the five people in the rock chamber held their breath, they
heard and felt, telegraphed from far away through the ground, the dull
heavy concussions of exploding bombs.
"Scan the sky, Rhenu," gulped the captain.
The view shifted as Rhenu's trembling fingers made adjustments, and
they glimpsed a black squadron drifting across the moonlit sky.
Cruising with a leisurely consciousness of invulnerability, in the
knowledge that the victims were helpless to maneuver, sitting ducks to
be blasted at will.
"Keep on scanning!" snapped Relez, but his face was ashen as he saw his
dreams crumbling.
Dunu was incredulously checking the anti-ionization generator. "There's
nothing wrong here," he reported. But the screen showed scene after
scene of a carnival of destruction. The night sky was full of buzzards,
flying low, playing their search-lights on the desert and raining gas
and explosives on everything that lived. It was the buzzards' moment to
strike for dominance and they were making the most of it.
Dunu said frozenly, "They must have been warned by their kin on the
coast, and have managed to develop an engine with a hotpoint ignition
system."
Relez muttered, looking suddenly old and weary, "It's too bad. The
people with the highest technical ingenuity--but their motivation
seems to be insane hate of everything unlike them."
"I told you so," Ladna said bitterly.
Torcred had no ears for philosophy; he had seen enough of the murder
going on out there. He bounded to his feet and his knife flashed in his
hand.
"One side!" he snarled at the recoiling Dunu. "I'm going to smash that
machine and give the rest of us a chance!"
* * * * *
But Relez had stepped between him and the generator. The color returned
to his bearded features as he faced the threatening blade.
"Wait!" he cried. "Don't wreck all your chances for peace--"
"I'll give you peace," said Torcred, "if you don't get out of the way."
Ladna was behind him, he knew, knife drawn, holding the thunderstruck
assistants at bay.
Relez did not move. "I told you we possess some of the ancients'
weapons. The decision to use them belongs properly to the High Command
of the Fleet--but in this case I will take it on myself."
"You have such weapons here?"
"Yes. A bomb, which in case we were discovered here could have exploded
to wipe out this place and protect our secrets. You and the girl can
take one of the grounded aeros outside and carry the bomb over Buzzard
Base. I'll switch off the anti-ionization field for half an hour, long
enough for you to go and return...."
"One bomb?" exclaimed Ladna scornfully. "_They_ have thousands!"
"No more will be needed."
Torcred's black gaze searched Relez' face for long moments. He read
utter sincerity there, and lowered the knife.
X
The aero roared across a short stretch of sand and was airborne. It
swerved, evading a buzzard squadron that was droning over, and climbed
swiftly into the north.
Torcred huddled in the cramped space behind the pilot's seat,
over the little dull metal box that Relez claimed was a bomb. He
glimpsed Ladna's face, over the dimly glowing controls; it was as if
transfigured. She was tasting the joy she had thought lost to her
forever, the glory of flight through the high thin air at a thousand
miles an hour.
"This isn't like crawling, is it?" she asked lightly. "Four or five
minutes now, and we'll be there."