"Yes, though I think that there's a possibility we could as easily
disintegrate it. I've wondered how the island cut the grass, and can
only conclude that it must use a device similar to one we have on
Earth. It cuts through objects by breaking up their atomic structure
with a beam that is only a molecule-thick. When on grass-cutting duty,
the island must emit such a beam, and only beneath its base. Of course,
it must have other machines, too, for cleaning up wreckage and debris
and other stuff that its memory banks tell it has no business being on
the field. But I don't know how to operate these."
Grizquetr looked reproachfully at Green.
"Well, I don't know everything. I'm not a superman, am I?"
The boy did not reply, but his expression conveyed the idea that he had
thought his foster-father was just that. Green shrugged his shoulders
and sent the boy out to get paper, pen and ink from the garrison. By
the time the boy returned, Green had lowered the island to about fifty
feet above the palace. He hastily wrote a note, put it in the basket,
which had a cover that could be snapped shut, and told Grizquetr to
throw it over the side, aiming at the steps.
"I know you're going to be worn out with all this running back and
forth," he said, "but you can do it. You're big and strong."
"Sure I am," said the boy. Chest expanded, he dashed from the room,
almost tripped going through the door, recovered, and disappeared.
Grinning, Green began to watch the crowds that had gathered below.
Presently he saw the basket hurtle toward a group of priests upon the
great stairway. His grin broadened when the group disintegrated in
panic and several of them lost their footing and rolled down the steps.
He waited until one of them got enough courage to return and open the
basket. Then he lowered the island another twenty feet. At the same
time, he saw a cannon being hauled into the square before the palace
and its nose being raised so that it could fire upon him.
"Have to give the beggars credit for guts," he murmured. "Or for sheer
folly, I don't know which. Well, fire away, friends."
They didn't, because a priest came running to stop them. Evidently, his
note, though written in Huinggro, had been translated swiftly enough,
and the Estoryans were taking no hasty action.
"While we're waiting for them to make up their minds we'll give them a
taste of the feast they can expect if they aren't reasonable," Green
said.
He then proceeded to push over about twenty towers just outside the
windbreak. It was great fun, and he'd have liked to knock down a
hundred or so more, but he was too anxious to find out about Amra and
the Earthman. He returned to his former vigil above the palace steps.
Impatiently, he waited for ten minutes that seemed like ten hours.
Finally, when he could bear it no longer, he growled, "I'm going to
squat on the roof of the Temple and make them hurry up. Do they think
this is a diplomatic conference or something, that they can dillydally
about like this?"
"No, father," said Grizquetr. "There they come! Mother and Paxi and
Soon and Inzax! And a strange man! He must be the demon!"
"Demon, your horned hoof!" snorted Green. "That man's as human as I am.
And the poor fellow must have gone through hell. Even from this height
I can see he looks bad. Look how he has to be supported between two
soldiers."
Amra and the others, he was happy to note, seemed to be unharmed.
Nevertheless he was anxious about them during their ride through the
city's streets and out to the windbreak. The Estoryans might have
plans for a sudden attack, though he didn't see how they could expect
to surprise him, since from his vantage point, he would notice any
concentration of troops immediately. Or, a fanatical priest might take
it into his head to kill them.
Neither of these possibilities happened. The prisoners were released
outside the fallen towers, and the soldiers retreated into the city.
Grizquetr left the control room to guide them onto the island. In
fifteen minutes he ran back.
"Here they are, Father! Saved! Now, get off the ground before the
Estoryans change their minds."
"We're going back," replied Green, looking in vain for the others and
then deciding that the boy had outstripped them in his haste to report.
He shoved the lever forward and the ship--he was beginning to think of
the island as a ship--soared toward the cone of the spacecraft, which
he could see glittering in the sun inside its wall near the palace.
When Amra and the girls ran into the chamber and wished to throw their
arms around him, he told them he'd be very glad to give each a big warm
kiss later on. Right now he had work to do.
Amra's smile was replaced by a frown.
"Do you mean you're still thinking of leaving on the demon's ship?" she
said harshly.
"That depends on certain factors about which I don't have enough
information as yet to act on," he replied, somewhat stiffly.
The Earthman limped in. He was a tall, broad-shouldered but emaciated
man. His bushy beard made his long, lean, big-eared, hawk-nosed face
resemble Lincoln's.
"Captain Walzer of the Terrestrial Interstellar Fleet, Intelligence, he
said, weakly.
"Alan Green, marine food specialist. I've a long story to tell and no
time to tell it. I would like to know if you can pilot that spacer and
if it's in operating condition. Otherwise we might as well forget it
and go elsewhere."
"Yes, I'm the pilot. Hassan was the navigator and communications
officer. Poor devil, he died in agony! Those beasts...!"
"I know how you feel, but we've no time to go into that. Is the ship
ready to take off?"
Walzer sat down and leaned his head wearily to one side. Grizquetr
offered him wine, and he took two long swallows and smacked his lips
before replying.
"Ah, that's the first drink I've had for two years! Yes, the bird's
ready to take off on a moment's notice. We'd been on a mission whose
purpose I can't tell you. Security, you know. We were returning when
we encountered this system. Since it's part of our duty to report any
T-type planet if we've time, we decided to stop off and stretch our
legs. We'd been in space so long we were beginning to suffer from
claustrophobia and were ready to fly at each other's throats. You know
how it is if you've made any very long voyages. And those scouts have
especially cramped quarters. They're not made for long trips, but the
nature of our mission required the use of one ... well, we won't go
into that.
"Anyway, we were wild to breathe fresh air again, to see a horizon, to
feel grass beneath our bare feet, to go swimming, to eat freshly killed
meat and freshly picked fruit. We rationalized ourselves into the idea
that it was our duty to land. We decided on this city because it was
so conspicuous, stuck out here in the middle of this incredible plain.
And, of course, when we got close enough to see that it seemed to be
surrounded by a ring of spaceships we had to enter the city itself
and inquire about this phenomenon. We were greeted friendlily enough,
lulled into being off guard, then attacked. The rest of the story you
know."