Down that blank-walled corridor he marched stiffly, purposefully, a blaster in his hand, his finger on the firing button. But within he was shrieking silently because he knew what he would be compelled to do.
Stabbing flashes of blaster fire cut back and forth across a wide open space. And at the opposite edge of that area was what he had been sent to find — the ranger sled. Against his will he crouched and crept from protection to protection.
He saw men fall and the one who shared this weird journey with him snarled in rage as they went down. The opposition was being overcome — and those who brought them down were his own friends.
One more short rush would take him to the sled. And even as he was wondering why the other who commanded him wanted that so terribly he made the spring. But two who crouched behind its shadow stared up at him in stunned surprise. He knew them — but still his arm and hand were forced down and he fired. The startled croak from the fanged jaws of the nearer rang in his ears as he scrambled into the seat and grabbed at the controls.
With his mind sick and cowering, he only half relaxed under the take-off which slammed him breathless against the padding of the seat. And that other inside his mind set the course, one which sent the slight aircraft spiraling up into the dusky dome, up and up, until it touched a balcony high above the heads of the fighters and another leaped into the sled.
And that other's will goaded them away, speeding out of the hall and away at top speed over the city, heading toward a horizon where a faint rim of gray proclaimed daybreak. Although he was obeying that order he still struggled. It was a noiseless, motionless duel, carried on high above the ancient city, will against will, power against power. And it seemed to Kartr that now the other was not quite so confident — that he was on the defensive, content to hold what he had rather than to attempt to strengthen his control.
How did it end — that fight in the sky? Kartr pillowed his aching head on the stone beside the stream and tried vainly to remember. But that was gone. He could only recall that he had — had blasted Zinga! That he had brought Cummi safely out of the city. That he had betrayed in his over-confidence and recklessness those who had most reason to depend upon him. And realizing all that He closed his eyes and tried to blank out everything — everything!
Exhausted, he must have slept again. For he opened his eyes to be dazed by sun reflected from the water. He was hungry — and that hunger triggered the same instinct of self-preservation which had brought him earlier to the water. His hands were still slow and clumsy but he managed to catch a creature which came out from under an overturned stone. And there were others like it.
Toward evening he got to his feet again and stumbled along beside the water. He fell at last and did not try to struggle up. Maybe he dreamed, but he snapped to full wakefulness from a haze in which Zinga had called him. Awake, desolation closed in. Zinga was gone. Almost viciously he dug his hands into his eyes — but he could not wipe from memory the sight of the Zacathan's face as he had gone down under the beam from Kartr's blaster.
It would be best not to try to go on. To just stay here until he went into a world where memory could not follow He was so tired!
But his body refused to accept that; it was getting up to stagger on. And in time the stream led him out on a wide plain where tall yellow grass tangled about his legs and small nameless things ran squeaking from his path. In time the stream joined a river, broad and shallow so that rocks in some parts of its bed showed dry tops under the sun.
Bluffs began to rise beside the water. He climbed, and slipped, and slid painfully over obstructions and he lost all count of time. But he dared not leave the water, it was too good a source of food and drink.
He was lying full length on a rock by a pool, trying to scoop out one of the water creatures when he started and cried out. Someone — something — had touched his mind — had made contact for an instant! His hands went to his head as if to protect himself from a second calling.
But that came. And he was unable to shut out the alien presence which flooded into him, asking questions — demanding — Cummi! It was Cummi trying to get at him again — to use him —
Kartr threw himself off his perch, skinning his arm raw, and began to run without taking thought. Get away! Away from Cummi — away — !
But the mind followed him and there was no escaping its contact. He found a narrow crevice leading away from the water, half choked with briars and the water-worn drift of storm floods. Unheeding scratches he plunged into the tangle.
It was a very small pocket ending in a hollow under the overhang of the bluff. And into this he crawled blindly, a child taking refuge from a monster of the dark. He curled up, his hands still pressed to his head, trying to blank out his mind, to erect a barrier through which the hunter could not pierce.
At first he was aware only of the desperate pounding of his own heart, and then there was another sound — the swish of an air-borne craft. The contacting mind was closing in. What frightened him so much he could not have explained — unless it was the memory of how the other's dominion had made him kill his own men. What Cummi had done once, he might well do again.
And that fear of his was the other's strongest ally. Fear weakened control. Fear —
With his face buried between his arms, his mouth resting on the gritty soil under the overhang, Kartr stopped fighting the pursuer and tried to subdue his own fear.
Faintly he heard the sound of a shout, the crackling of brush. Cummi was coming down the notch!
The ranger's lips set in a snarl and he inched out of the pocket of earth. His hands chose, almost without help from eye or brain, a jagged rock. He had been tracked like a beast — but this beast would fight! And the Ageratan might not be expecting physical attack, he might well believe his prey to be cowering helplessly, waiting for the master's coming!
Cautiously Kartr pulled himself up so that his back was against the welcome solidity of the gully rocks. His stone weapon was a good one, he thought, balancing it in one hand — just the right size and weight and it had several promising projections.
"Kartr!"
The sound he made in answer to that call was the growl of a baited animal.
His name — Cummi daring to use his name! And the Ageratan had even disguised his voice. Clever, clever devil! Illusions — how well that warped brain could create them!
Two figures burst through the brush to face him. The stone dropped from nerveless fingers.
Was Cummi controlling his sight too? Could the Ageratan make him see this — ?
"Kartr!"
He shrank back against the stone. Run — run away — but there was no escape —
"Cummi — ?" He almost wanted to believe that this was a trick of the Ageratan's, that he was not honestly seeing the two coming toward him, the smiling two in ranger gray.
"Kartr! We've found you at last!"
They had found him right enough. Why didn't they just draw and blast him where he stood? What were they waiting for?
"Shoot!" He thought he screamed that. But their faces did not change as they came in to get him. And he believed that if they touched him he would not be able to bear it.
"Kartr?" another voice questioned from down the gully.
He jerked at the sound as if a force blade had ripped his flesh.
A third figure in ranger uniform beat through the brush. And at the sight of his face the sergeant gave a wild cry. Something burst in Kartr's skull, he was falling down into the dark — a welcoming, sheltering dark where dead men did not walk or greet one smilingly. He hid in that darkness thankfully.