"I don't mind the delay one bit," the captain said drily.

  On the following morning Selby waited alongside the freighter as the SocAd ship came down. Unlike the Cosmic Wind, it was smooth and sleek, with an arrogant bow that bore the administration's insignia -- two hands clasped in friendship.

  Descending gracefully under the power of null grays rather than reaction cones like those employed by the freighter, it settled to the field as gently as a feather.

  A trim figure appeared in the hatch opening and came briskly down the ramp. His uniform designated him as the ship's captain. A tall, lanky lieutenant followed close behind. As Selby walked to meet them, he noted that neither was armed and took it as a good omen.

  "I'm Alek Selby, of the director's staff," he greeted.

  "Hirod Welker," the man in the captain's uniform acknowledged. He extended a hand, then introduced the tall officer behind him. "Lieutenant Stagg, my aide."

  Page 43

  "Welcome to Engo," Selby said.

  The captain gazed around critically. "Must have been quite a blow," he observed.

  Selby grinned. "They tell me it gets worse."

  Welker let his eyes rove over the log communication shack and village before finally settling on the ancient freighter, which he appraised critically.

  "The Cosmic Wind, under Captain Cromwell," Selby explained.

  "I've heard of him," Welker observed wryly. His tone indicated that the captain's activities were not entirely unknown to the patrol.

  Selby's smile broadened. "He's legal this trip."

  "I've received orders to that effect from the office of the director,"

  Welker acknowledged.

  "I'm certainly happy to hear that." Selby exhaled slowly, feeling a burden lifted from his shoulders. The captain started to add something and abruptly paused. Glancing up, Selby saw Philip Wig framed in the hatch opening. It didn't escape him that Welker's expression had turned to one of distaste, and that the lieutenant's eyes, formerly sharp and clear, had become closed wells in the granite face.

  Wig proceeded slowly down the ramp, followed by Jonman and Conrad.

  Pausing midway, he studied the village and Simon's shack before turning his gaze to the Cosmic Wind. The orange light of the morning sun gave his narrow face a disdainful expression that was heightened by the curl of his tight lips. Glancing back, Wig fixed his eyes on Selby and proceeded to the bottom of the ramp, with Jonman and Conrad trailing.

  Selby was surprised to see a squad of Department 404 agents emerge from the ship. Their natty black uniforms with silver sunburst insignias were in sharp contrast with the light blue of the space patrol. He counted them -- ten in all. The agents glanced around curiously as they aligned themselves behind the executor and his aides. Suddenly a huge black beast tugging furiously at a restraining leash appeared in the hatchway and started down the ramp, followed by a lean scar-faced agent named Sergeant Trukel. A groat hound! Selby stared at the animal, fascinated.

  The huge dogs, from the Algol system, were the most feared manhunters known. He looked at the black muscled body, the powerful jaws and fanged teeth, feeling a touch of dread. Panting, the groat's jaws dripped saliva.

  Selby pulled himself together as the executor said insolently, "The investigation has been placed in my hands by Councilor Ewol Strang."

  "I'm aware of that," he answered calmly.

  "I also have a warrant for the execution of one, David Gant."

  "I was informed of that."

  Wig's voice rose. "Where is the boy?"

  "Dead," Selby answered flatly.

  "Dead?" The executor got a startled look. "Who told you that?"

  "Simon." Selby gestured toward the communication shack. "He operates the tracker and communicator."

  Wig found his voice. "I don't believe it," he asserted. "I'd expect them to say that. More likely they're hiding him."

  "I've seen his grave," Selby answered stonily.

  "No doubt empty," the executor snapped. "You don't know these people, Selby. They're tricky, evasive. You can't trust them."

  "Freaks," Jonman spat.

  "I haven't found that," Selby answered.

  "I have scant doubt of that," Wig stated. "Did it ever occur to you how easy it would be to change a grave marker?"

  Page 44

  "Let's dig it up, see who's in the box," Jonman said.

  "Perhaps we will." Glancing around, Wig caught sight of Simon standing in the doorway of the shack. "Come here," he ordered imperiously.

  Simon limped forward, appearing old and fragile even beyond his years.

  With the wind stilled, his long white hair hung in scraggly locks over his shoulders.

  Be careful, be careful, Selby thought, hoping the old man would pick it up. The fear that Wig might trick the old man into revealing the whereabouts of Lora and Johnny frightened him. If Simon detected his warning, his face gave no indication. Halting a few feet away, he regarded the executor incuriously.

  "What's your name?" demanded Wig.

  "Simon."

  "Simon what?"

  "Just Simon."

  "What's wrong? Have you been here so long you can't recall your full name?"

  "Been here a mighty long time," Simon acknowledged.

  "Sounds like the village halfwit," sneered Jonman.

  "Eh, what's that?" Simon cupped his hand to his ear.

  "Halfwit," Jonman spat.

  "No siree," Simon declared indignantly. "That was my brother. He's dead now."

  Conrad looked at Jonman and snickered. "I hope the rest of them are smarter than that."

  During the exchange, Selby caught Captain Welker's eyes and saw a glimmering of understanding. Lieutenant Stagg's face, rough-hewn, showed nothing.

  Wig stared at the aged caretaker. "Where's the boy?" he snapped.

  "Boy?" Simon cupped his ear again.

  "The Gant boy."

  "Oh, Davie." Simon turned and pointed a bony finger. "He's over that way."

  A quick eagerness leaped into Wig's voice. "One of the cabins?" he asked.

  "No," Simon answered, "he's in the graveyard. He's dead."

  "Dead in the last few months? I don't believe in those coincidences,"

  Wig rasped. He looked at Selby. "How about the other one -- the Sloan boy?"

  Selby felt a sudden stillness inside him. "I believe he's somewhere in the Kavu mountains," he answered.

  "We'll get him," Jonman cut in. "The groat'll take care of that." Selby looked at the fierce animal and suppressed a shudder.

  Wig returned his gaze to Simon. "I want every child in the area brought to this field immediately.

  Tell the people that."

  Simon drew his frail body up. "Tell them yourself," he snapped. Before Wig could answer he stalked off.

  Philip Wig gazed coldly at Alek Selby and Captain Cromwell across the small lounge in the SocAd ship and said, "I've been placed in complete charge of this investigation by Councilor Strang, and I intend to complete it to his complete satisfaction."

  Selby watched him without comment. Wig had been on Engo for three days, and had gotten exactly nowhere. The knowledge gave him a secret satisfaction.

  "Jonman and Conrad have scoured the entire area with patrols," Wig continued. "They found no sign of life, none at all, nothing to indicate that anyone has lived around here for many months.

  That village hasn't been occupied in a long time. I demand to know where these people are hiding." He directed his gaze to Selby.

  "I have no idea," he answered.

  Wig smiled venomously. "What have you been doing with your time?"

  Page 45

  "The same thing you have."

  "I won't accept that," the executor replied testily. He switched his gaze to the freighter captain.

  "You've been trading with these people. Where are they? You must know something."

  "I've traded only with Simon," Cromwell countered cautiously.

  "Simon and who else?"

  "No one else."

  "Do you mean to tell me that the old man lugs the furs to the field and handles all the articles you bring for trade? Do you expect me to believe that?" he demanded.

  "The exiles stock the furs in one of the cabins," Cromwell asserted.

  "They're there when we arrive. The articles we trade are left on the field. I don't know how they're handled after we're gone."

  "A likely story," sneered Wig.

  Cromwell flushed and said, "It's the truth."

  Wig leaned forward. "You're a smuggler, Cromwell. You've been operating outside the law for years. Lie to me and you'll wind up on a detention planet."

  "He's here on the director's orders," Selby cut in heatedly.

  "Councilor Strang will be interested in learning the degree to which the director cooperates with smugglers," Wig shot back. "I'm certain of that."

  "I've been given immunity," Cromwell declared.

  "Not by Strang," the executor rebuked. His gaze traveled to Selby. "I don't intend to return with a negative report, not after the evidence gained from Cromwell."

  Selby said calmly, "You can't conjure up a pk."

  "You might be satisfied with the statements of a crazy man and the evidence of a tombstone, Selby, but I'm not." Wig's eyes narrowed. "My report on your attitude will be laid before the High Council, I can promise you that."

  "That's your privilege," he answered. "I'll make my own report."

  "You won't get very far." The executor returned his attention to Cromwell. "As of now, you and your crew are confined to your ship. I won't have you fraternizing with these people."

  "What people?" asked Cromwell innocently.

  Wig scowled. "Don't play me for a fool," he threatened. "We know the number exiled, and I intend to drive them out of hiding. They'll talk before I'm through. I'll stake my reputation on that." He paused as Lieutenant Stagg appeared in the doorway.

  "The search party has returned from the Kavu foothills," the lieutenant reported.

  "And?" The executor eyed him enquiringly.

  "Didn't find a thing," Stagg answered. "We located two or three cabins but they were empty.

  There were no signs of recent occupation."

  Wig scowled. "I refuse to believe these people can disappear into thin air. They have to be somewhere." His voice rose. "I want detector beams placed across every trail, every clearing, and I want them connected with a warning system here in the ship."

  "Is that an order?" Stagg asked steadily.

  "As of right now," the executor replied shortly. "Inform Captain Welker that I expect his complete cooperation."

  "Yes, sir," the lieutenant answered stiffly.

  When he withdrew, Wig looked back at Selby. "That will be all," he said coldly.

  "Looks like the director might be getting cut down," Cromwell said, when they were outside.

  His voice held a worried note. "I hope his guaranty of immunity holds good."

  "It will," Selby responded with a confidence he didn't feel. In the give and take of politics, Page 46

  today's guaranty was tomorrow's scrap of paper. No one was more aware of that than he. The director was strong, but Ewol Strang was stronger, or at least operated from a position of greater power. And Philip

  Wig had Strang's complete confidence. Selby well could understand the captain's perturbation.

  He paused outside the freighter and gazed toward the weeping agora trees, wondering how the exiles could escape Wig's detection net. Once it was spread, they couldn't move without revealing their presence. He had to warn them. The thought came with a slight shock at realization of how far he had come in favoring them. Or was it in the interests of justice? He couldn't stand idly by and watch the executor conjure up a pk where none existed, he reflected.

  How could he warn them? He couldn't risk a test of strength with the executor, that was certain.

  And if he were seen talking with Simon, Wig might order him confined to the freighter along with Cromwell. That would be fatal.

  He looked toward the communication shack. The door was closed and Simon was nowhere to be seen. Danger, detector beams. Danger, detector beams...He let the thought run through his mind, concentrating on the aged caretaker.

  Danger, detector beams...Could Simon hear him? Could anyone?

  Gazing back toward the forest, he repeated the message again and again, trying to send it first to Lora and then to Johnny. Between times he paused, hoping to hear some answering signal in his mind; but none came. Finally he went moodily back into the ship.

  Several hours after nightfall Selby slipped quietly from the Cosmic Wind. Looking around carefully, he could see no sign of movement on the field.

  With the moon still down, the SocAd ship resembled a giant slug. Voices came from a rectangle of light where a hatch opened onto the field. Simon's shack was dark. He suppressed the urge to see if the old man were in, realizing that

  Wig must have him under constant watch.

  Lora! Lora! Selby tried broadcasting the girl's name telepathically as he skirted the village to avoid possible detection beams, for he knew that

  Lieutenant Stagg already had started erecting a portable system. When he rounded the end of the last cabin he paused, searching the night. He was gazing in the direction of the graveyard when he glimpsed a blue light bobbing and weaving through the woods. He stiffened, thinking it must be Wig's agents

  searching the area.

  The light blinked out, and when it came on again, he saw that it had moved toward the meadow.

  It struck him that they were not Wig's men at all, but villagers. Perhaps Lora and Johnny were with them.

  He moved ahead hurriedly, halting near the path where they would pass.

  Waiting, the realization came that they were telepaths, and he retreated deeper into the trees, at the same time trying to keep his mind blank.

  The light blinked out again and when it reappeared, he caught the impression of several people moving toward him in a single file. As they drew closer, he saw that one of them carried a child.

  Abruptly the column halted and Selby grew tense, scarcely daring to breathe. Who were they?

  Had they detected him? He waited, his eyes strained into the night.

  "Someone's around." A man's low whisper reached his ears.

  "We'd better hurry," a feminine voice said worriedly. After a few seconds the column began moving again. When it was safely past, Selby gave a sigh of relief.

  Why were they going toward the meadow? Looking in the direction in which they had vanished, the question puzzled him. Five adults and a child -- why would they come here from the direction of the Kavu range, deliberately risking detection? Where were they going?

  He was contemplating following them when a small alarm jangled in his brain and he stood Page 47

  straighter, wondering what had set it off.

  "Alek! Alek!"

  He jerked his head to a listening attitude, for a second thinking it was Lora's voice before he realized no sound had reached his ear; the call had come from within his mind! "Alek!" It came again, this time borne on a note of urgency. He peered frantically in the direction of the meadow, then realized it hadn't come from the people he'd seen but from somewhere behind him.

  He turned back, peering toward the village. "Lora, where are you?" He sent the thought experimentally, wondering if the voice within his mind had been a figment of his imagination.

  No, it had been too strong, too clear, like his mother's call so many years before. "Where are you? Where are you?" he asked desperately

  When no answer came, he started toward the village, his mind a jumble of thoughts. What made him think the cry had come from there? He didn't know. It was the same kind of vague impression he'd experienced so often in the past.

  And it had held urgency! That knowledge drove him faster.

  "Alek, be careful!" He'd almost reached the edge of the village when the warning came, startling in its clarity. This time he knew with certainty that

  Lora was in trouble and plunged recklessly forward. The yellow beam of a handlight cut the night, catching and holding him.

  "Selby!" Lieutenant Stagg's voice cut the night, heavy with surprise.

  "You're blinding me," he answered, struggling to keep his thoughts under control. What was Stagg doing here? The line moved down, shining on the ground at his feet.

  "The night's full of surprises," Stagg said. "We rigged a detector beam at the edge of the village and caught a girl." He moved the light and Selby saw that Stagg was gripping Lora's arm. Her face was suffused with fear.

  "She's a friend of mine," Selby said, stepping closer.

  "Friend?" Stagg eyed him suspiciously.

  Selby dropped his voice confidingly. "You know how these things are. I was coming to meet her."

  "Oh," Stagg answered knowingly. He released her arm and stepped back, a grin on his rugged face.

  "Lora, this is Lieutenant Stagg," Selby said. "I hope he didn't frighten you?"

  "Some, I'm afraid." She laughed nervously.

  "I'm sorry," Stagg apologized. "I didn't realize..." He paused speculatively.

  "It's getting harder all the time to find privacy," Selby said. He stepped forward and caught Lora's hand possessively.

  Stagg grinned, but there was a warning in his voice as he said, "It's going to get harder yet."

  "Don't I know it." Selby forced a laugh and said, "I wouldn't mention this to Wig. I don't believe he's very romantic."

  "About as romantic as that groat," Stagg answered. "You'd better watch the detectors. Next time it might be one of the 404 men."

  "We'll watch it," he promised.

  Stagg brought his eyes back to Lora. "I'm sorry, Miss." Before she could answer, he turned the light along the path and moved away. They waited silently until his footfalls became lost in the distance.

  "Is he all right?" she asked, anxiously.

  He said tonelessly, "I trust him." He gazed down at her. "Didn't you read his mind?"

  "Yes," she said faintly, and he could almost feel her flush.