"They're destroyers. They want to ruin Llyrdis, the Vardda empire,
everything as it is now." Her passionate voice took in the star-trails,
the swift ships flying, the Vardda pride of race and achievement.
"Orthis had his laboratory in his ship. The secret of the Vardda
mutation is there. They want to find that ship. They want to find the
secret in it and spread it all across the Galaxy."
"Would it be so terrible," asked Trehearne, "if others should have the
ability to fly the stars?"
She looked at him as though he had spoken blasphemy. He added, "Except,
of course, that it would wreck the Vardda monopoly."
"That sounds very strange, coming from you," she said bitterly. "You,
the outsider, who fought so hard to be a part of the monopoly. It
looked pretty good to you then after thirty-three years of crawling in
the mud of Earth!"
"I've seen more of it now. I've seen a boy die because of it. I don't
think I like it any longer."
"You don't like it?" Her voice was low and passionate. "_You?_ And
what do you know about it? _We_ earned the right to what we have.
We were the first--first of all the races of the Galaxy to go into
interstellar space. And we did it without mutation, without anything!
Four generations that first voyage took. Four generations of children
born in deep space, in a little ship crawling between the stars! No
one else ever did that. No one else ever dared! And as for our wicked
monopoly--it keeps the peace of the Galaxy. It keeps worlds alive that
would have died. It brings wealth and comfort where they never were
before. But _you_ don't like it and so it must be destroyed!"
She stopped for breath and then she whispered, "Kerrel was right about
letting an outsider in. And I'm ashamed that I have loved you!"
She turned from him and went swiftly along the gallery. There was
a purpose about the way she did it that made Trehearne uneasy. He
followed her and found her at the visiphone. The screen was already
brightening.
She looked at him with blazing eyes. "I fought once to get you into
Llyrdis. Now I'll undo that mistake!"
He struck her away from the instrument and closed the switch. She was
on him then like a cat, clawing him, calling him mongrel and freak and
worse names, raging at his ingratitude. She was hard to hold but he
held her and she could reach neither the visiphone nor the bell to call
her servants.
He held her, and she laughed her mocking laugh at him. "All right. Go
on, then. Go and make a fool of yourself, trying to free Edri. See how
far you get. And remember that it's bad enough for a Vardda born to
betray his people but for you--"
He held her a moment longer, swallowing his own rage, thinking. He
could not let her go. The moment he left she would send out the alarm,
denounce him to the Council, put an end both to his own freedom and to
any remote hope he might have of helping Edri.
It took him only a few seconds to decide. In the mood he was in, it was
not difficult to strike the necessary, carefully-calculated blow.
He carried her out to the car in his arms. If any of the servants saw
them it would look very sweet, very romantic, her dark head on his
shoulder, her arms around his neck. They would not be able to see that
her wrists were tied.
He put her down gently in the padded seat. She did not stir. There was
the shadow of a bruise already forming on her chin. He got in beside
her and sent the car humming down the wide road that led to the city.
When he was far enough away from the tower he stopped. He bound Shairn
securely with strips torn from her own garments, taking especial care
with the gag. He arranged her on the floor as comfortably as he could,
out of sight. Then he drove on and did not stop again until he reached
the spaceport.
The lights were still on in the office of Joris. Probably he would stay
late tonight, to oversee the business of taking Edri away in the prison
ship. Trehearne felt guilty about Joris, almost as though he were
betraying his own father. The old man had been good to him.
Shairn seemed to be safely unconscious. Trehearne left the car where
it would be least likely to attract attention, and went into the
Administration Building. He had only the vague beginnings of a plan in
his mind but whatever he did it would have to start here.
The roar and bustle of the spaceport were not diminished by darkness.
Some of the Vardda officers he knew. They hailed him as he passed
them in the corridors, congratulating him on his voyage, asking him
when he was going out again. Trehearne almost faltered then, thinking
what a fool he was to give up all this for an idle hope. And then he
remembered Edri and went on. Edri had done his best for him when he
needed it, whether it was foolish or not. It seemed that he could not
do less for Edri.
The lift took him up to the high room that was like the bridge of a
starship that would never fly. Joris was there. He was quite alone. He
had been drinking for some time but he was not drunk. He looked up when
Trehearne came in and his eyes were heavy and rimmed with red.
"What do you want?" he said.
"A favor."
"Another time, Trehearne. Get out. Get the hell out."
"Another time won't do." Trehearne leaned over the table. "They're
taking Edri out for Thuvis tonight. I want to say good-bye to him,
Joris. That's all, just a word before he goes. Tell me what ship it is
and where--or if you can't do that tell me what sector and I'll see him
outside the gate."
"That's right," said Joris. "You're a friend of Edri's." He reached for
the wine bottle. There was an empty one beside it and another on the
floor. "How good a friend, Trehearne? That's what I'd like to know.
How _good_ a friend?"
His bloodshot gaze was sharp and very shrewd.
Trehearne said angrily, "You know I'm not mixed up with him. You know
where I've been."
"Yes, I know. You've been watching a young boy die in space. What did
you think when you saw that, Trehearne? How did you feel?"
"Let's not talk about that," said Trehearne harshly. "Tell me where I
can see Edri and when. That isn't much to ask, Joris, just a minute to
say good-bye."
"A boy sixteen," whispered Joris, "full of hope, full of longing, proud
of his strength.... I ought to hate you, Trehearne. You're not even
half Vardda in the ordinary way and yet you can fly the stars."
He filled his glass again and emptied it. His hands were steady. He
was neither drunk nor maudlin. And yet there were tears in his eyes.
Trehearne saw them and was somehow shocked. It did not seem possible
that Joris could weep.
"Joris," he said gently, "forget about the boy. Let me see Edri."
Again the red-rimmed leaden gaze locked with his, weighing, measuring.
"I like you, Trehearne. So I'll tell you again. Get out. Go away.
Forget you ever came here."
Trehearne did not move. Abruptly Joris picked up the empty bottle and
flung it, not at him but near him. "Get out, you fool! I'm giving you a
chance to go!"
There was nothing to do but obey. Trehearne moved toward the door,
thinking angrily that he would have to risk the sector map in
Operations. He stretched out his hand to the latch and the door opened
under it fast and he was looking straight into the prism lens of a
shock tube, held by a tall spaceport guard. Shairn was beside the
guard.