the smells of blood and death

Rianna did not approach him until the next meal-period, when as they were taking up their trays she sorted his out for him and said, in an undertone, "Roxon agrees. He cannot pilot this ship alone, but he can handle the communication equipment and the Navigation Central will help him, of course. He will speak to another, in the next cell, who is known to him. You can trust him; he is a good judge of men. He was surprised that it was you who made this plan, but that is his prejudice, and he admits it." "Damn nice of him," Dane said, a little grumpily. He realized it was unworthy of him. He'd known he couldn't do it all himself. He ought to be grateful that Roxon was willing to take over. She did not stay near him for more than a moment then-he felt she was being cautious now about the appearance of conspiring-but some time later, as she passed Mm, she murmured, "Put your arms around me, try to hold me a minute-Dane, have you told Dallith anything yet? I saw you talking together but I didn't have a chance to ask her." Dane complied. She felt soft and strong in his arms, rounded and feminine, yet firm-muscled and far from passive. He said, "No, I haven't. I was a little afraid to. Anyway, we got off the subject, she was explaining some things to me about-er-Galactic customs and the way the Mekhars-that is, the way all proto-felines-think of us humans." Is she expecting me to pretend to make love to her? As if she had caught the thought, Rianna firmly freed herself from his arms and pulled away. She said hi an undertone, "Tell her, as quickly as you can.

 

Remember, she's an empath. If you're too indecisive, she'll pick that up from you, and the Mekhars might have enough sense to watch her-to see whether they ought to be suspicious of us. It also might be-I don't know all that much about empaths, but it could be possible-that she could tune in on the Mekhars and find out how they're reacting to us; when they're off guard, how near we are to where they're taking us, and so on." "That would be almost too good to be true." "It would. I've never trusted psi talents, anyhow. But we can't afford to waste any chances, however small," Rianna said. "However small. So you talk to Dallith. And soon." Dane knew she was right, and he hardened himself to awareness of what he must do. But what if this plunged her, again, into the suicidal fear and hopelessness? What then? The routine of the slave quarters was familiar to him, now, and he waited on it. About an hour (he estimated, having no timepiece) after the final meal of each "day," the long corridor of cages was darkened, except for dimly glowing night-lights in the long corridors between, and small pale marks at the doors of the toilet areas. Dane went to the bunk now generally regarded as his, at the appointed time. How quickly, he thought, we grow used to almost anything! Already one bunk here is "mine" and I am accustomed to getting into it at a specific and regular time. Are all sapient species such creatures of habit, or is it only us humans-or proto-simians?

 

He gave the cell an hour to settle down and for his cell-mates to sleep. Above him, an unknown man, dark-skinned and flat-faced, snuffled and cried out in uneasy dreams. Aratak, in the bunk next to his, made odd snoring noises, and as Dane let himself quietly down from his bunk he noticed that the lizard-man was glowing faintly all over in the darkness. At the far end, surrounded by empty bunks on either side, the long loose-jointed spidery creature hunched, his eyes huge and red and reflecting light; the eyes swiveled to follow Dane, and Dane found himself cringing . . . was it a hungry look? Would the Mekhars, if it came to that, cage a cannibalistic species with its natural prey? Dallith lay in the lower bunk, her face turned away as he had first seen her lying her hair scattered and loose. She was sleeping deeply, and when Dane lowered him self gently beside Dallith, to sit on the edge of her bunk, she did not at once waken but made a soft, accepting movement and murmured in her sleep, a drowsy and peaceful sound. She knew him, even in sleep, and there was no fear now in her. ...

 

A wave of tenderness went over him; he touched his lips to the back of her cool hand, and she woke and smiled in the dimness. She looked so peaceful that for a moment he forbore to disturb her. She seemed unsurprised and did not question his presence. Putting off what he must say, Dane asked her, for the first time: "What is your world like, Dallith?" "How can I answer you, Marsh?" Her voice was only a whisper, accurately tuned to his ear. "It is my home. Can you say anything of your home world, except that it is beautiful? My people rarely leave our world-and almost never of our free will-and so we have no way to compare it with others, except from what we have read. I think it must be the same with you." A spasm of homesickness, so violent that it was pure pain, passed through Dane Marsh. Never to see Hawaii again, or the great arching span of the Golden Gate Bridge, or the skyline of New York with its thrusting towers, or the blossom of a rhododendron in spring....

 

Her hands pressed his gently. She said, "I did not mean to make you sad. Dane, why did you come here? You are more than welcome, but I know enough about the kind of person you are to know why you did not come. You have something to say to me?" He nodded silently, and carefully stretched himself out along the edge of her bunk. He told himself that the Mekhar guards passed through the hall once or twice during a night and if they saw him there they would think-what they always thought, damn them. And why not? He told her, in muffled tones with his mouth close to her ear, about the plans for escape. She heard him out in silence, tensing only slightly when he told her that the Mekhars might very well kill some of them, but she made no outcry. At last she said, "I knew it must be something like this. I have seen you and Aratak together, but I was not sure exactly what. But if it is physical force you want, I am probably not strong enough to disarm a Mekhar. What can I do?" Her voice was so calm that he asked, "Aren't you afraid? I thought you'd panic." "Why? I faced the worst when they tore me from my home and my people. Now there is nothing worse to fear. Tell me what I can do for you." "I don't know anything much about empaths," Dane said. He remembered Rianna's words, I've never trusted psi talents. . . .

 

"But perhaps you can find out for us how long we have. Are the Mekhars getting ready to land us already? Maybe you can find out what defenses we may have to face. That sort of thing." A spasm of disgust passed over her face. "I don't know. I have never tried-to read the minds or emotions of another race. They are so fierce-but I will try. Don't expect too much, but I will try." "That's all I ask," he said. He stirred as if to return to his own place, but Dallith's arms tightened around him, "No. No. Alone, I'm afraid again. Stay close to me-" He said, wryly, "You put a considerable strain on human nature, Dallith." But he did not move to go, and after a time, stretched out close to the girl, he fell asleep there, dropping from wakefulness into strange blurring dreams of lions, of curious colors and ambushes lurking behind strange ruined walls, starting awake again to hear Dallith whimpering with fear and protest in unquiet dreams, dropping again into the restless dreams of hunter and hunted, of ambush and fear and the smells of blood and death.