"Yes! He came to Earth. Understand, I hadn't seen my father since I
was fourteen, and he hadn't set foot on Earth in years." Her blue eyes
were haunted as she paced the room. "But he risked capture just to
come there and talk to me. He said it was extremely urgent that I find
Jeffers--and give him this!" She showed them a crude map of K'Yarthan
Swamp, with a route leading south. "He seemed strange and different.
Frightening! Not as I'd ever known him!"
"Different? How?"
"I--I can't explain it. He seemed under some stress. A terrible
urgency, as if he hadn't much time. Before I could question him, he was
gone!"
"An urgency," Curt repeated. "An urgency to come back here!"
"I'm sure of it. I set about finding Jeffers, and it took me months.
I finally located him on Ceres. We came here, made friends with the
Phibians, even went deep into the Swamp with them. But there's a place
miles from here beyond which _they_ won't go. I'm sure my father is
there!" She paused. Anguish brimmed in her eyes. "Two people could
never make it, though. Together we might. We'll have to fight our way."
Curt watched this girl in growing wonderment. By some strange alchemy
her mask of hardness was gone, something of pain and lost uncertainty
rose in her shadowed eyes. Curt found himself suddenly being glad she
wasn't criminal; at least she hadn't been with her father in the later
years! Then a thought fastened upon his mind like a patina. The girl
was guilty of removing criminals from Federation Prison! Such an act
was punishable by death, and Curt was an agent under direct orders of
DeHarries....
He cursed inaudibly. What was happening to him? He had a far greater
mission here! He had stumbled upon one thread of DeHarries' _pattern_,
and it might result in unravelling the entire skein of monstrous events
which had plagued the planets for the past two years!
"We'd better all get some sleep," Jeffers was saying. "Tomorrow'll be a
tough day, and I mean tough!"
* * * * *
Curt tossed restlessly in his bunk. It wasn't the steady hum of the
ionization screen outside that kept him awake. He had a preternatural
awareness of something impending. He sat up, and saw that someone was
moving about.
Curt swung himself silently to the floor, just as silently crossed the
room. It was Lorine. Curt saw the outer door open and close behind her.
Quickly he followed. The jungle clearing was free of fog now. Lorine
was hurrying toward the spaceship. Curt followed her inside, then
forward to the control-room. He watched her manipulating the V-Panel.
Bits of outer space swept into view, together with pin-point gleams
that were stars. At last she centered on one. A tiny disc of bright
blue. It was Earth.
She leaned forward, gazing at the screen. Curt was startled at the
clear-cut radiance of her face. He saw the glint of tears in her eyes,
and the lengthening glimmer of one that rolled down her check. He came
forward softly.
"It is beautiful, isn't it?"
"I miss Earth," she said simply, looking up.
"All of us feel that, out here. A yearning to get back. But you--"
"I've never been back. Not since I started searching for father, two
years ago." She turned her face to the screen, was silent for a moment.
"It must have been terrible for you, Curt Emmons. How long were you at
the Prison?"
Curt started. It dawned on him that she still regarded him as one of
the regulation prisoners. But Jeffers knew better! There must be a
reason why he hadn't told her!
"A long time," he answered her question. "Suppose we do find your
father," he said slowly. "His life is forfeit anywhere in the
Federation. I guess he and Jeffers will start their reign of outlawry
again--"
Her face was troubled. "I suppose so, but I've got to find him, Curt!
He's in desperate trouble here, and he's still alive. I feel it!"
Curt nodded. Then he was suddenly alert, as a sound reached his ears.
It came as a faint hum far above the jungle roof. The propulsion beam
of a spacer! It came louder and nearer. Curt raced for the outer lock,
stared up into a far-away patch of fog. For the merest instant the fog
eddied furiously, as a great bulk that seemed a silvery ghost flashed
through. Then it was gone, the deafening drone diminished.
Curt whirled upon Lorine. Her face had gone white.
"The other times you were here! Did you ever see a spacer?"
"Never! I can't believe--"
"Come on." He hurried back to the control-room, clicked off
the V-Panel, then began ripping away the wires leading to the
directional-finder.
"Man, are you mad? What are you doing?"
"That spacer was coming in for a landing, don't you understand? Here
in the Swamp! I'm going to find out where! Quick, bring me a tool-kit."
She hurried to comply. In a few minutes Curt had the directional-finder
uncovered. Twin coils of thin, sensitized metal tape were revealed.
He unrolled one, stretched it across the room, attached it to the
terminals of the starboard magni-plates imbedded in the hull.
"A little trick I once learned. The magni-plates act as a
sounding-board, the vibration is carried across this tape to the
finder, and recorded. If that ship hasn't landed yet we ought to get an
approximate position!"
He clicked on the magni-plate feed. Powerful coils hummed, the tape
stretching across the room began to undulate gently.
"We're getting something!" Curt hurried to the finder, turned it on.
The second metal tape began unwinding to a rear spool. A beryllium
needle scratched a continuous, wavering line along the sensitized
surface.
"The spacer's still in flight," Lorine murmured.
"It was heading due south. It's going to berth somewhere in the Swamp!"
For five minutes they watched the lengthening line, as the tape slowly
unrolled. Ten minutes. Then it stopped abruptly.
"There we have it." Curt spun the tape carefully back into place. "We
can follow the route now!" He stared at her. "That ship must have come
down at least fifty miles from here! And we were going to fight our way
through this jungle?"
"Jeffers and I flew over the Swamp dozens of times," she explained.
"We've criss-crossed it from one end to the other, without spotting a
single place to land! Except here." She examined the route on the tape,
excitement showing in her eyes. "But we'll try it again now. This will
save us days!"
It was still a few hours until dawn, but there was no sleep for Curt
now. He'd had but the briefest glimpse of the mysterious spacer, but
one thing he was sure of. The sound. It hadn't been the sound of a
rocket-propelled ship!
His mind went back to Carver of Perlac, found murdered in space, the
Frequency Tuner stolen. Curt was certain the silvery spacer he'd just
seen was powered by a Frequency Tuner!