As Seymour neared the group he began swerving to get to Helen, and the scene he was transmitting became too unstable to be satisfactory. Tallon reselected Helen’s eyes and saw the little dog bounding forward, one of the men waving his arms to shoo Seymour away, and — in the corner of her vision — Cherkassky pointing at the crane and speaking rapidly. Cherkassky’s shrill commands filtered into Tallon’s hiding place.
Swearing savagely, Tallon lunged across the engine compartment, hampered by not being able to see anything but what Helen was seeing, and burst out through the inspection hatch. He saw his own feet appear under the crane at the far side, as viewed by Helen; then his gray figure appeared, running hard, and heeled sharply as it came round the corner of the base of the bright yellow crane.
Guided by Helen’s eyes, Tallon ran desperately toward the ship. His legs were numb from the long wait in the confined space, forcing him to run with a grotesque, stumbling slouch. As he pumped his arms and legs, trying to coax some speed out of them, he saw the men fan out, pulling weapons from their holsters.
He heard the familiar angry whine of hornet guns. The range was a bit too far, and the drug-laden darts clattered about his feet. Then he heard the sound he had been expecting — the flat cracks of pistol fire, followed by distant shouts as the teams of searching troopers heard the commotion. An automatic rifle barked, filling the air with screaming ricochets.
Tallon now saw the small blurred shape of Seymour, frantic with fear, racing toward him. The dog leaped for Tallon’s arms, and the impact almost knocked Tallon down. He reeled and kept going, now halfway to the ramp of the Lyle Star.
Still through Helen’s eyes, he saw Cherkassky run a few steps toward him, then stop and take careful aim with a pistol. On the point of firing, Cherkassky lurched as Helen caught his arm, struggling for the weapon. Cherkassky’s face contorted with fury as he shook her off and aimed again. Helen went for him once more, fingers tearing at his face.
Tallon saw white coronas glowing round Cherkassky’s eyes as he spun toward her, saw the black round muzzle of the pistol spit flame, saw the darkness flood over Helen’s view of his own still-running figure. Then he was blind and snarling with mingled shock and hatred. He reselected Seymour’s eyes and saw gray uniforms running toward him — and Cherkassky standing beside Helen’s body.
The automatic jarred into Tallon’s palm as he turned with it, working the trigger as fast as it would move. Men in gray stumbled and fell under the hail of multiple bullets, but not Cherkassky, who stood there and finally got off a shot at Tallon.
Tallon felt something snatch at his sleeve, heard Seymour give an almost human grunt of pain. Then he was at the foot of the ramp and pounding up the springy slope. The blond sergeant appeared at the top, jaw open with surprise as he fumbled with his holster. Tallon fired instinctively, and the sergeant was lifted right off the ramp as he caught all six bullets.
“Get him, you fools,” Cherkassky shouted angrily. “Cut that man down.”
Tallon hurtled through the airlock, ducking beneath a hail of lead, and threw over the manual operation lever. As motors whined into life, swinging the heavy outer door into place, Tallon saw men sprinting for the bottom of the ramp. He fired at them, and then the automatic clicked impotently.
Throwing it down, Tallon ran forward and up the short companionway to the control deck, along a corridor, and into the control room. The view screens were blank panels, and the control console was dead. His right hand scuttled down the line of primary switches, bringing life to networks of circuits and systems. There would be a wait of perhaps a minute before the negative gravity units would be ready to drop the ship into the sky. A green light flicked on to indicate that the airlock was closed and the vessel now sealed for flight. Momentarily safe, Tallon slumped into the central seat and activated the view screens, grateful for the Block’s meticulous training in the handling of all the basic control configurations.
The screens glowed with color, matching the smaller direct-vision panels, showing him a vista of ships and gantries. He picked out Helen’s body near the personnel carrier, lying in the same position, dark green uniform, coppery flash of hair, dark red of spreading blood.
“I’m sorry, Helen,” he said aloud. “So very, very sorry.”
“Tallon?” A voice crackled from the ceiling near his head. “Is that you, Tallon?”
Tallon could see no grille from which the voice could be coming.
“Yes, this is Sam Tallon,” he said warily. “Who are you?”
“This is Fordyce. I wondered if you would get as far as the Lyle Star.”
“Fordyce!” Tallon began to understand the enigma of the appearance of the other Tallon. “You’ve had a bug in here all along!”
“Of course. How else do you think we were able to get a man to that address your girl friend gave Cherkassky? It was a pity you had to tell everybody about the brain capsule, though; it means we can’t use that technique any more. The Block would have reprimanded you rather harshly.”
” Would have?”
“Yes … had you got away. You won’t be able to make it, though. There’s a squadron of laser rafts right over your head, and Heller has thrown in all the tactical nuclear weapons he had available in the area. You’ll never get past that lot; and even if you do, the Grand Fleet will be on your neck before you’ve cleared the atmosphere.”
Tallon was still thinking about Helen Juste. “I guess,” he said mechanically, “I’ve made my share of mistakes this trip.”
“I guess.” Fordyce’s voice was emotionless. “Goodbye, Tallon.”
TalIon did not answer. He had just noticed that the E.L.S.P. men outside were running away from the Lyle Star as fast as they could. Some of them glanced up at the sky as they ran, which meant the laser rafts were getting ready to use their bright red lances, and that his death was only a matter of seconds now. There would not even be time to get his ship off the ground.
Hopelessly, he reached out with his left hand to initiate the takeoff sequence and noticed that his fingers were streaked with blood, although he had felt no wound. Then he remembered Seymour’s cry of pain as they were nearing the ramp. With his other hand he turned the little dog’s head to get a close-up of the body. There was a ragged hole in the thorax, just above the rapidly ballooning and contracting belly. The brownish hair was matted with blood.
“You too,” Tallon mumbled, feeling Seymour weakly lick his hand.
A blaze of red light flashed on the view screens, and the ship’s alarm system shrilled as the laser rafts opened up on the helpless ship. Tallon sat with bowed head for a moment, trying death on for size. Then he did something only a man who was either insane or desperate would do: He reached for the null-space drive panel, knocked off all the safety gates, and punched the jump button.
The leap into another continuum brought instant silence and a searing flash of light from his eyeset. Tallon moaned with agony; then it was all over. The jump was completed.
Outside the ship was the soft, peaceful blackness of a part of the galaxy far beyond mankind’s influence. Unfamiliar constellations glowed in the blackness. Tallon did not even try to identify the groupings of brilliant specks; he knew too much about the inimical geometries of null-space.
Because the jump had not been made from one of the established portals, Tallon had hurled himself to a random point in the galactic wheel. He had done it in desperation, but he had done it deliberately, knowing that from those dark immensities there could be no return.
twenty
At first there was only a feeling of emptiness, of relief from intolerable pressures and tension. The sensation was similar to the one he’d experienced the night he’d left the Pavilion, but now vastly magnified. He had no identity, and none of the responsibilities of identity. For a time he was nobody, nothing, nowhere — and satisfied with his state of nonexistence. Then part of his mind began to comprehend the horror. Fear slowly permeated his entire being, until Tallon had to clench his teeth to contain it.