"But-"
"You will be helped. Now describe the man you know as Dumarest."
Details which fit despite the other's obvious bias and Avro studied the situation as the man was ushered from the vessel. Dumarest was within the Erce. The Erce was sealed. To blast a hole in its hull would be simple-but how to guarantee that no harm came to the man?
An overstatement; the man didn't matter, only his brain was important and that because of the knowledge it held. He could be crippled, rendered immobile, stunned, blinded, paralyzed, anything as long as the brain remained undamaged. But how to be sure? How to be certain?
Avro moved uneasily in his chair. Nothing could ever be certain; always there was the probability of some unknown factor affecting the situation and the fact he had entertained the concept was disturbing. Had he also been influenced by the long and arduous journey? The stress fields set up within the hull were of a high order of magnitude and new drive had yet to be fully tested. More than half the crew had succumbed. Had the amniotic tanks given less protection than calculated?
"Master!" Amrik was back and waiting for orders. Avro gave them, ending, "Establish contact with the captain of the Erce."
It was time to claim his quarry.
"Well?" Ysanne was impatient, snapping the question as Batrun turned from the now-dead radio. "Well?"
"You heard," he said mildly. "What more is there to say?"
Surrender Dumarest or the Erce would be damaged-ruined if the delay was too long. Holes seared through the hull and men to feed in numbing vapors. An electronic field established to jar sensitive nerves with unremitting agony. Death as the reward for disobedience. She remembered the face which had appeared on the screen, the cold, robotlike impression it had made. Even the voice, while bland and devoid of irritant factors, had somehow held a frigid menace.
"We could fight," she said. "Go outside and-"
"Be shot down as we left the hatch." Batrun shook his head. "We're in a trap, my dear, and you know it."
Not them, Dumarest-the thought sent her to pace the deck. Surrender him or be destroyed; a fact Avro had made clear.
She said dully, "So what's the answer? Are you going to hand him over?"
Batrun took a pinch of snuff and sat looking down into the opened box. As it snapped shut he said, "Earl saved my life. He gave me this command. Need I say more?"
"You're with him all the way." Relief lightened her eyes. "That makes two of us. Enough to make a decision. If the others don't like it then too damned bad. So what now?"
"We see Earl," said Batrun. "And find out what he wants to do."
Dumarest was with the angel.
It was standing pressed back against the bulkhead, hands lifted to waist level, head poised, eyes following every movement the man made. Small movements, slow and gentle, every muscle linked in the subtle harmony of the dance.
And, as the movements, so the voice.
A man soothing a horse, thought Ysanne as she halted at the open door of the cabin. But it wasn't as simple as that; the angel was too human to be subjugated like a beast.
"Earl?" Batrun spoke softly over the crooning voice. "Earl-we have to talk."
He added, but the soothing drone of the voice did not alter and the rhythm of motion was maintained as Dumarest stooped, picked up a bowl of sugary fragments, advanced to place it within the clawed hands.
In the passage he said, "The cyber made contact, right?"
"Avro knows you're here, Earl. Farnham told him." Ysanne added, bitterly, "Trust that bastard to sell you out!"
"The deal?" Dumarest nodded as she told him. "He means it-you realize that?"
"Yes, but we've decided what to do."
"Which is anything you want, Earl," said Batrun. "Fight, run, cheat, lie-you name it."
The first two were out. The rest?
Ysanne said, "We could pretend to hand you over then cut loose when we get the chance. Kill the cyber and as many others as we can. Once Avro is dead-" She saw the shake of his head. "No?"
Dumarest said, "You're up against the Cyclan."
"So?"
"Don't underestimate them. That cyber is probably the cleverest man you've ever met. His crew are dedicated to his welfare; kill him and they'll lose all restraint. None of you would survive."
"It's a chance, Earl." Ysanne was restless. "And what have you to lose?"
His arms, his legs as, turned into a basket case, he would be sealed into amniotic sac. To ride drugged and helpless to a place where horrors would be done to his body and brain. Garbage to be used and disposed of once they had won the secret he carried.
He said, "The cyber spoke to Farnham? Are you sure?"
"We saw it in the screens," said Batrun. "It was Farnham all right. He came out grinning, shaking his fist at the sky. I guess he'd had good news."
Promises, flattery, the tantalizing lore of his greed- Dumarest knew how the cyber would use the man's weakness against himself. His weakness and his fears. And Farnham was terrified of the angels.
"Avro's using the Ypsheim against us, I'd swear to it." Ysanne was positive. "Using them for the attack if one is made. I guess he regards them as expendable." She looked at the angel in the cabin, now eating the sugary fragments. "Avro's crew and the Ypsheim-we're well outnumbered. If we could get the angels to fight for us we might stand a chance. But how to bribe them?" She paused, thinking. "Earl?"
"We're afraid of the angels," said Dumarest. "That's why we can't leave the ship. We hold a male and the others are waiting to attack us on sight. They're still circling, I take it?"
"They reformed after the cyber ship landed, but-" Batrun narrowed his eyes. "We're afraid of them?"
"That's what you're going to tell Avro. The male has to be released before we can come out. Once the sky is clear I'll surrender."
Ysanne said, "No! No, Earl, you can't!"
"You prefer the alternative?" Dumarest shrugged as she made no answer. "We've no choice. Just do as I say."
Alone again he stepped into the cabin and advanced toward the captive. One hand was behind his back, the other extended in a gesture of friendliness. His voice was a wordless croon, soothing, comforting. His thoughts were directed pleasantries.
Freedom-the empty skies-the mates waiting for you. I'm going to release you-set you free-no tricks-you won't be hurt. Just work with me-help me-together we'll be free.
His hand rose to touch the dappled shoulder, moved to rest on the base of the neck. Beneath his fingers the angel jerked, jerked again as the rope Dumarest had hidden behind his back fell in a tightening loop over its wrists.
"Easy," soothed Dumarest. "Just take it easy."
The belt fell free, the chain attached to the bulkhead holding it suspended inches from the deck.The angel, taller than Dumarest, reared even taller, wings lifting to spread, to snap close as he tightened the rope holding the wrists.
"Easy," he said again then, as claws slid from the fingertips, snarled in sudden rage. "Easy, damn you! Do as I say!"
A blast of fury against which Sheiner's had been a candle against a roaring furnace. The claws retracted, the wings coming to rest, the angel slumping as Dumarest led it through the door toward the hold. The hatch was now open, clear sky showing through the panel, blueness ornamented with a host of shimmering wings.
"Home," said Dumarest. "You're going home."
He felt the sudden tension of the creature, saw the tilted head, the elongated eyes lambent as they stared at the sky and the wheeling angels. Distraction which he used; lifting the bound hands, dropping them over his head, locking the creature's arms under his own. Against his back he felt the surge of corded muscle, the lifting of a calloused knee.