The sky went dark.
Tallon’s heart froze over with dread as he saw what was happening. A formation of six self-propelled guns drifted across the space field less than a hundred feet up, shutting out the light. Dark clouds of earth and stones flapped underneath them, swirling weightlessly in the eddy currents from their negative gravity fields. They fanned out and settled near the northern perimeter of the terminal about half a mile away, and at the same moment sirens screamed their deafening alert. The tiny figures of the technicians who had been moving among the spaceships halted as ululations of the sirens were replaced by a vastly magnified human voice.
This is General Lucas Heller speaking on behalf of the Temporal Moderator. The terminal is now under martial law. All personnel must proceed as quickly as possible to the southern end of the field and muster at the reception area. The entrances have been sealed, and anyone who attempts to leave by any other route will be shot. I repeat: shot. Do not panic, but obey these instructions immediately. This is a planetary emergency.
As the echoes of the voice rolled out across the rows of ships in flat waves, the sky was darkened again by laser rafts silently taking up positions over the field. Tallon felt his lips drawn out into a quivering, incredulous smile. His gambit had failed — and how it had failed! Cherkassky must have accepted the part of Helen’s story about the capsule, and seen through the rest. He must have guessed Tallon was near by and used the ship’s radio to proclaim an emergency.
Tallon watched numbly as the space port personnel quit work and took cars or ran to get to the slideway system. Within five minutes the huge field appeared completely lifeless. The only sign of movement was in the swirling dust curtains hanging from the sentient laser rafts.
Nobody had come out of the Lyle Star since Helen had gone into it, and he had no way of knowing what had happened to her. Tallon could think of nothing to do except sit quietly in the darkness and wait, although he had nothing to wait for. He pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the engine housing and swore bitterly.
Five more minutes passed; then Tallon heard the sound of feet scraping on concrete. He lifted Seymour up to the louver again, and saw several men in the gray uniforms of the E.L.S.P. coming off the bottom of the ramp. An open military personnel carrier tore along the line of ships and stopped by the group. Most of the men got into it and were driven away toward the city; two others went back up the ramp and disappeared into the ship.
Tallon frowned. It looked as though Cherkassky might be covering Tallon’s main bet by checking out the rest of Helen’s story, which made Tallon’s poiition doubly hopeless. And when the E.L.S.P. got to the warehouse address and found nothing there, she would be in as deeply as he was. Cherkassky was good, Tallon admitted, fingering the automatic longingly. If only he would come out of the ship, Tallon might be able to get close enough to finish what he had started the night he had shoved Cherkassky out the hotel window. Perhaps that was why he remained in the ship, even though he could no longer expect Tallon to walk into his net.
If he thinks I’m out here ready to risk everything for a last chance to kill him, Tallon thought, what would be his next logical move? Answer: order a thorough search of the area.
As if they had read his mind, the first E.L.S.P. appeared at that moment. They were several hundred yards away as yet, but the fact that he could see several gray uniforms in his limited segment of view meant they must be all over the place. Tallon leaned back against the flanged engine, holding the dog to his chest. There was nothing clever about his hiding place; it would be one of the first places the men would look when they got this far.
Weighing the automatic in his hand, Tallon sat in the darkness, making his decision. He could stay in the compartment until he was cornered, or he could opt to die in the open while making a one-in-a-million bid to get Cherkassky.
“Come on, Seymour,” he whispered. “I told you you’d be out of here soon.”
He clambered round the engine to reach the inspection hatch, hesitated for a moment, then edged the hatch door open, admitting bright fringes of daylight. He was sliding his foot out through the hatch when he heard the drumming of heavy tires and the whine of an auto engine approaching.
Tallon jerked his foot back and scrambled across the engine compartment again. The sound had come from the personnel carrier. It sped across the open space, braking hard, and slid to a standstill between Tallon and the Lyle Star. The same group of E.L.S.P. men leaped out and ran to the ship and up the ramp. In its present position, the vehicle would provide cover for his run to the ship, not that it would do much good, but at least he had no reason to hang back any longer.
“Come on, Seymour. This is it.”
Out across the concrete apron a man gave a thin, high-pitched laugh. With a sweet, icy thrill Tallon recognized the voice of Lorin Cherkassky. Why had he left the ship? Tallon pressed Seymour’s face to the slot, but the dog’s eyes kept rolling back and forth, providing only tantalizing flashes of the scene Tallon wanted to see. At last he made out the black-suited, white-collared figure of Cherkassky walking toward the personnel carrier, with Helen and several E.L.S.P. men. Cherkassky seemed to be smiling at her, but Seymour’s myopia made it difficult for him to be sure. What in hell, Tallon thought, has happened?
Belatedly remembering the eyeset, he flicked the number two stud, which still held Helen’s setting, and got behind her eyes, Cherkassky’s thin face and incongruously lush wavy hair filled came in view. His eyes were glistening with excitement as he spoke, and Tallon concentrated on his lips, reading the words as they were formed.
“… appreciate my position, Miss Juste. Your story sounded slightly fantastic under the circumstances; but now that my men have picked up Detainee Tallon at the address you gave us, what can I do but apologize for doubting you? Tallon struggled at first, but when he realized it was no use, he gave up and admitted who he was, so …” The view of his face was lost as Helen eyes turned from him to the yellow engine housing where Tallon was hiding.
Tallon wondered if she were as puzzled as he was. The adress Helen had given Cherkassky was one they had picked out of the air, knowing only that it must be somewhere in the warehouse district. But Cherkassky’s men had evidently gone to the designated address and found a man they believed to be Sam Tallon. Not only that, but the man actually admitted to being Sam Tallon!
nineteen
Tallon switched back to Seymour’s eyes and watched Helen, Cherkassky, and the others approach the personnel carrier. In a few minutes his way to the ship would be clear, thanks to that other Tallon, whose miraculous appearance was utterly mystifying.
However, Cherkassky was going to find out the truth, sooner or later, and when he did nothing would save Helen from his anger. She was walking quietly with the others, apparently unconcerned, but Tallon saw her look toward his hiding place now and then. This was it, he thought — the last time he would ever see her — and all he could do was watch her leave with that monster Cherkassky. In those few seconds Tallon felt himself grow old.
“Helen,” he whispered.
At the sound of her name, Seymour twisted violently in Tallon’s arms, jumped to the ground, and went scampering across the open space toward the group.
Tallon, still tuned to the dog’s eyes, saw the figures expand in his vision. Cherkassky’s pinched face turned toward the dog — and Tallon — with a sudden tight look.