arms taken off and his numbed hands brought
forward, to be held by his captor so that he lay helpless, a cloak over
the other's hunched shoulders.

The ghost flares of bushes and plants blooming in the gathering twilight
gave a limited light to the scene. There was no way of counting the
number of Throgs on the move. But Shann was sure that all the enemy
ships must have been emptied except for skeleton crews, and perhaps
others had been ferried in from their hidden base somewhere in Circe's
system.

He could only see a little from his position on the Throg's back, but
ahead a ripple of beetle bodies slipped over the bank of the river cut.
The aliens were working their way into cover, fitting into the dapple
shadows with a skill which argued a long practice in such elusive
maneuvers. Did they plan to try to fight off a cruiser attack? That was
pure madness. Or, Shann wondered, did they intend to have the Terrans
met by one of their own major ships somewhere well above the surface of
Warlock?

His bearer turned away from the stream cut, carrying Shann out into that
field which had first served the Terrans as a landing strip, then
offered the same service to the Throgs. They passed two more parties of
aliens on the move, manhandling with them bulky objects the Terran could
not identify. Then he was dumped unceremoniously to the hard earth, only
to lie there a few seconds before he was flopped over on a framework
which grated unpleasantly against his raw shoulders, his wrists and
ankles being made fast so that his body was spread-eagled. There was a
click of orders; the frame was raised and dropped with a jarring
movement into a base, and he was held erect, once more facing the Throg
with the translator. This was it! Shann began to regret every small
chance he had had to end more cleanly. If he had attacked one of the
guards, even with his hands bound, he might have flustered the Throg
into retaliatory blaster fire.

Fear made a thicker fog about him than the green mist of the illusion.
Only this was no illusion. Shann stared at the Throg officer with sick
eyes, knowing that no one ever quite believes that a last evil will
strike at him, that he had clung to a hope which had no existence.

"Lantee!"

The call burst in his head with a painful force. His dazed attention was
outwardly on the alien with the translator, but that inner demand had
given him a shock.

"Here! Thorvald? Where?"

The other struck in again