ld fly back to the hills. It would only take a few minutes,
and----

Why should he? There was an easier way now.

It would be much easier to ride this flier right on into Oreladar. If
he headed for the hills, questions might be asked which would be hard
to answer. But Oreladar would be the normal place for Gorham to go. And
the Federation compound wasn't too far from the Palace. He could feint
at the Palace landing pad, then---- He nodded and studied the lighting
plan and identification settings.

At last, he nodded in satisfaction, then turned his attention to the
small card with the operations code. It was a simple, systematic
arrangement, obviously arranged for day-to-day use, not for secrecy. He
nodded and clipped it in front of him under the panel light, where he
could see it easily. Then, he looked thoughtfully at the courtyard.

There was a small chance that some guard might decide to come into the
house, he decided. Of course, it was still to be regarded as a private
home, and they had no right to---- He laughed sarcastically.

"That would worry them!" he said aloud.

He got out of the flier and leaned over the body of Gorham. It was
surprisingly light. The man had been carrying almost unbelievable
strength and power of will in a tiny, frail body. Don threw his load
over his shoulder and climbed back into the flier. Then he sat back and
looked dully at the control panel.

* * * * *

Suddenly, he felt completely drained. It was just too much effort to
get this ship off the ground. And that long flight to Oreladar? Just
how much was a guy supposed to do in one day?

He sat supinely for a few minutes, simply staring at a nothingness
beneath the surface of the panel. A small noise from the house aroused
him, and he jerked up. He'd have to move.

Unwillingly, he pulled at the controls and the flier raised from the
paving.

A blast of air hit the side of his face and he turned his head. He'd
forgotten to close the door. He snarled at himself in annoyance, then
leaned over and jerked at the handle. The ship swayed and dipped toward
the lighted streets and he straightened quickly and righted it with a
jerk. Then he snapped off the cabin lights and reached down to set up
the identification patterns.

A tinny voice snapped at him.

"Rano ninety-one, Riandar control. Seven three seven."

Don looked at the code card before him. Yes, there it was. "Return to
station."