Four men and a woman.
The woman was young, more of a girl than a woman, and she was not wet and muddy. She was dressed like the men, in a loose shirt of some silken material, shorts and sandals, but the shirt and shorts fitted her quite differently. She had long yellow hair and rather greenish eyes and her expression was far too somber for anyone that young and that good-looking.
"Are you awake now?” she asked him, in good Universal with a trace of the same accent Ardric had had. It made Horne bristle. He sat up, rubbing his head and glowering around. His stunner had been taken from him. One of the men was holding a gun-like weapon.
"Yes,” he said, “I'm awake."
He got to his feet, dizzy but too proud and angry to admit it.
"Who are you with?” he demanded. “The police, or Ardric? Or is it both?"
The girl said, “We are with Morivenn."
"Morivenn?” Horne was still dazed and did not immediately get it. Then he said, “But Morivenn died in the Vega Queen."
"I know,” the girl said. “I'm his daughter.
Horne stood still while the lightning blazed beyond the window slits and the thunder shook the stones.
Then he said quietly, “I'm sorry. And I suppose you'll have to kill me if you've made up your mind to it. But I was not responsible for that wreck."
He thought a glance passed between the four men. The girl's face remained set and uncommunicative.
She said, “There are men in Rillah who say you were."
"There are men in Vega Center who say so too. That doesn't make it so.” He paused. “What does Ardric say?"
"Ardric is dead."
"Are you sure of that?"
She did not answer that. “Tell me about the wreck."
He told her while the water dripped noisily down the stones and the men watched him with closed, hard faces.
"The course was altered after I set it. And a man doesn't lie in a drunken stupor on one glass of brandy. Somebody planned very carefully to destroy the ship and in order to do so I had to be gotten out of the way. This worked out just fine, because if there were any survivors I, or my memory, would take the blame and nobody would think to look for any other cause."
Horne added, his face taking on that dark iron look again, “He must have wanted awfully bad to kill your father."
"Ardric?"
"Who else? He was my co-pilot. Nobody else could have done it."
"But Ardric died in the wreck. Would he have killed himself, too?"
"Fanatics have been known to do just that. Only Ardric was no fanatic. He was a spaceman and a man of the world, the real hard world where two and two always make four. He didn't have to die in the wreck. All he had to do was get away in a lifeboat and keep out of sight. Go home, where he's among friends and can spit in the Federation's eye."
"We're not all his friends,” said the girl. “Sit down."
She motioned him to a block of stone that had fallen from somewhere above, and sat herself down on another one. The storm was slackening now, rolling away across the p am. [?missing text]of the men climbed up a winding stair that was part of the outer wall and still sound almost to the top. He disappeared overhead. The others remained where they were, between Horne and the door.
Horne looked at the girl. “Then he is alive,” he said.
"I think so. I'm not sure.” She leaned forward, searching his face with remarkably wise eyes, neither friend nor hostile, merely making an estimate of the sort of man he was, how far be might be trusted, how much he might be expected to understand.
"You are named Horne?"
"That's right."
"I am called Yso. These four are my friends, as they were friends of my father. Now, I think I believe your story of the wreck, Horne. And I think we can help each other…"
"Maybe,” said Horne, “and you look like a nice girl, though I can't say I'm wild about your friends. But I'm only interested in finding Ardric and choking the truth out of him. The politics of Skereth are your affair, not mine."
He stood up and looked at the man who was holding the gun.
The man shook his head. “Please don't try it,” he said. “We've gone to such great risk and trouble to intercept you that I would hate to be forced to burn your leg off."
Horne frowned, his head held slightly forward, his knees bent and tense.
"I mean just that,” said the man quietly.
"I think you do,” said Horne, shrugged, and sat down again. He looked with bleak resentment at the girl. “Do you get many recruits this way?"
"We have no time for politeness,” she said. “You don't understand how things are here. You think all you have to do is get into Rillah and find Ardric and choke the truth out of him. It's not that easy. If we hadn't found you and stopped you here, you'd have been dead long before sundown. You'd never have even reached the walls of Rillah."
"I knew they'd be waiting for me,” Horne said dourly. “A flier nearly caught me on the sea, and I was pretty sure it was the police headed for Rillah."
"The police,” said the man with the gun, “are the least of your worries. You say you're not interested in our politics, but you'd better get interested, because you're in them over your head."
CHAPTER VIII
The girl said, “Never mind that now, Ewan. We…"
"No. Yso,” said Ewan stubbornly, “he might as well get the whole picture now. It'll save us all trouble later.” He turned again to Horne. “Morivenn was on his way to Vega Center to bring Skereth into the Galactic Federation. Ardric saw to it that he never got there and, in killing Morivenn, he not only stopped the Federation movement here, he also pretty nearly wrecked the Federation party. Morivenn was a strong leader and there was no one to replace him. But Ardric didn't do all that on his own, just as a matter of political conviction."
"I don't particularly care,” said Horne, “why be did it. All I want is to make him admit doing it. I want my name cleared. From there on, anybody can have the ball that wants it."
"All right,” said Ewan. “You only want Ardric. Do you know who he is, how powerful his family is? Do you know what connection they have with the Vellae?"
"The Vellae?"
"The anti-Federation party. Do you know why the Vellae are so determined to keep Skereth out of the Galactic Federation that they'll murder a hundred-odd people to get the one man who endangers them? Do you know what they'll do to you, Horne, the second you show your fare in Rillah? Well, I'll tell you.
"The Vellae own Rillah. It's the fountainhead and stronghold of the anti-Federation movement. A man named Ruric is one of the three top men, the triumvirate that runs the Vellae and right now, through their puppet governors, this whole world. Ruric is the father of Ardric. Do you begin to get the picture now, Horne? Do you still think you'll walk right up to Ardric on the street and make him confess?"
Horne only said, “Go on. Let's have the rest of it."
"The rest of it,” said Ewan, “is money and power and pride. The Vellae were the rulers of most of Skereth before the Galactic Federation was ever heard of. Since the advent of space flight and trade with other systems they've enlarged their field of operations. They own most of the merchant fleet and control most of the commerce. And since non-Federation ships are immune from search by Federation authorities, they don't have to stop at the legal stuff. We know that they use slave labor in some of their operations. We know that they bring in non-humans and semi-humans from the Fringe worlds, strictly against Federation law—"
Horne started. “For God's sake! Then your Vellae are the slavers Denman was sent out to investigate!"