In every external physical detail the man was human.
Brion’s theory was becoming more preposterous with each discovery. If the magter weren’t alien, how could he explain their complete lack of emotions? A mutation of some kind? He didn’t see how it was possible. There had to be something alien, about the dead man before him. The future of a world rested on this flimsy hope. If Telt’s lead to the bombs proved to be false, there would be no hope left at all.
Lea was still unconscious when he looked at her. There was no way of telling how long the coma would last. He would probably have to waken her out of it, but didn’t want to do it too early. It took an effort to control his impatience, even though he knew the drug needed time to work in. He finally decided on at least a minimum of an hour before he should try to disturb her. That would be noon—twelve hours before destruction.
One thing he should do was get in touch with Professor-Commander Krafft. Maybe it was being defeatist, yet he had to make sure that they had a way off this planet if the mission failed. Krafft had installed a relay radio that would forward calls from his personal set. If this relay had been in the Foundation building, contact was broken. This had to be found out before it was too late. He thumbed on his radio and sent the call. The reply came back instantly.
“This is fleet communications. Will you please keep this circuit open? Commander Krafft is waiting for this call and it is being put directly through to him now.” Krafft’s voice broke in while the operator was still talking.
“Who is making this call—is it anyone from the Foundation?” The old man’s voice was shaky with emotion.
“Brandd here. I have Lea Morees with me—”
“No more? Are there no other survivors from the disaster that destroyed your building?”
“That’s it, other than us it’s a…complete loss. With the building and all the instruments gone I have no way to contact our ship in orbit. Can you arrange to get us out of here if necessary?”
“Give me your location, a ship is coming now—”
“I don’t need a ship now,” Brion interrupted. “Don’t send it until I call. If there is a way to stop your destruction, I’ll find it. So I’m staying—to the last minute if necessary.”
Krafft was silent. There was just the crackle of an open mike and the sound of breathing. “That is your decision,” he said finally. “I’ll have a ship standing by. But won’t you let us take Miss Morees out now?”
“No. I need her here. We are still working, looking for—”
“What answer can you find that could possibly avert destruction now?” His tone was between hope and despair. Brion couldn’t help him.
“If I succeed—you’ll know. Otherwise, that will be the end of it. End of transmission.” He switched the radio off.
Lea was sleeping easily when he looked at her, and there was still a good part of the hour left before he could wake her. How could he put it to use? She would need tools, instruments to examine the corpse, there were certainly none here. Perhaps there were some he could find in the ruins of the Foundation building. With this thought he had the sudden desire to see the wreckage up close, and talk to the men he had seen working there. There might be other survivors. He had to find out.
Ulv was still crouched against the wall in the outer room. He looked up angrily when Brion came over, but said nothing.
“Will you help me again?” Brion asked. “Stay and watch the girl while I go out. I’ll be back at noon.” Ulv didn’t answer. “I am still looking for the way to save Dis,” Brion said.
“Go, I’ll watch the girl!” Ulv spat the words in impotent fury. “I do not know what to do. You may be right. Go. She will be safe with me.”
Brion slipped out into the deserted street and half running, half walking, made his way towards the rubble that had been the Cultural Relationships Foundation. He used a different course than the one they had come by, striking first towards the outer edge of the city. Once there he could swing and approach from the other side, so there would be no indication where he had come from. The magter might be watching and he didn’t want to lead them to Lea and the stolen body.
Turning a corner he saw a sandcar stopped in the street ahead. There was something familiar about the lines of it. It could be the one he and Telt had used, but he wasn’t sure. He looked around, but the dusty, packed-dirt street was white and empty, shimmering in silence under the sun. Staying close to the wall and watching carefully, Brion slipped towards the car. When he came close to the rear tracks he was positive it was the one he had been in the night before. What was it doing here?
Silence and heat filled the street. Windows and doors were empty and there was no motion in their shadows. Putting his foot on a bogey wheel he reached up and grabbed the searing metal rim of the open window. He pulled himself up and stared at Telt’s smiling face.
Smiling in death. The lips pulled back to reveal the grinning teeth, the eyes bursting from the head, the features swollen and contorted from the deadly poison. A tiny, tufted dart of wood stuck innocently in the brown flesh on the side of his neck.
CHAPTER XV
Brion hurled himself backward and sprawled flat in the dust and filth of the road. No poison dart sought him out, the empty silence still reigned. Telt’s murderers had come and gone. Moving quickly, using the bulk of the car as a shield, he opened the door and slipped inside.
They had done a thorough job of destruction. All of the controls had been battered into uselessness, the floor was a junk heap of crushed equipment, intertwined with loops of recording tape bulging like mechanical intestines. A gutted machine, destroyed like its driver.
It was easy enough to reconstruct what had happened. The car had been seen when they entered the city—probably by some of the magter who had destroyed the Foundation building. They had not seen where it had gone, or Brion would surely be dead by now. But they must have spotted it when Telt tried to leave the city. And stopped it in the most effective way possible, a dart through the open window into the unsuspecting driver’s neck.
Telt dead. The brutal impact of the man’s death had driven all thought of its consequences from Brion’s mind. Now he began to realize. Telt had never sent word of his discovery of the radioactive trace to the Nyjord army. He had been afraid to use the radio, and had wanted to tell Hys in person, and to show him the tape. Only now the tape was torn and mixed with all the others, the brain that could have analyzed it dead.
Brion looked at the dangling entrails of the radio and spun for the door. Running swiftly and erratically he fled from the sandcar. His own survival and the possible survival of Dis depended on his not being seen near it. He must contact Hys and pass on the information. Until he did that he was the only offworlder on Dis who knew which magter tower might contain the world-destroying bombs.
Once out of sight of the sandcar he went slower, wiping the sweat from his streaming face. He hadn’t been seen leaving the car, and he wasn’t being followed. The streets here weren’t familiar, but he checked his direction by the sun and walked at a steady fast pace towards the destroyed building. More of the native Disans were in the streets now. They all noticed him, some even stopped and scowled fiercely. With his empathic awareness he felt their anger and hatred. A knot of men radiated death and he put his hand on his gun as he passed them. Two of them had their blowguns ready, but didn’t use them. By the time he had turned the next corner he was soaked with nervous perspiration.
Ahead was the rubble of the destroyed building. Grounded next to it was the tapered form of a spacer’s pinnace. Two men had come from the open lock and were standing at the edge of the burnt area.