Oredanian ship.

This, he decided, was definitely irregular.

As he got to the pad, the ship came to an abrupt halt overhead. Then,
it came down in a blur of speed. Not more than half a meter from the
pavement, it checked its fall and settled. A door popped open.

Hense flipped his light from his belt and snapped it on. The guard, he
noted approvingly, had been prompt. The man had dashed up and now stood
close by the flier, his weapon at the ready.

A figure came out of the flier and stopped.

"Put out that light!" snapped an annoyed voice.

Hense snapped the switch on his hand light, then stared at the figure
by the flier.

Now, what was this? He wasn't accustomed to taking orders from some
joker that barged in and shot an unauthorized landing. He was the one
who should be giving the orders. He started to raise the light again.

"Leave that light out, hang it," said the voice sharply. "I don't feel
like being a target. And you! Don't point that thing at me! Now come
on, both of you. Let's get out of the open. Take cover!"

Hense shook his head dazedly. It wasn't right, but there didn't seem to
be much room for argument right now. Somehow, that voice carried
authority. Moresma hadn't hesitated. He was following the dim figure
which ran from the side of the flier. The lieutenant turned and headed
for a nearby building. There was a wide overhang there, close to the
ground.

Another ship was screaming in, its lights darkened. As Hense dove for
cover, brilliant light pinpointed the grounded flier. The guard and the
unknown rolled in beside him.

There was a brilliant flash from the landing pad, then a heavy
concussion made Hense's chest contract. Lurid flames rose skyward. The
attacking flier rose sharply and disappeared. Hense looked after it
incredulously.

"Close," commented the new-comer. "Thought for a few seconds I wasn't
going to make it. Sure didn't think they'd be with it that fast." He
turned and the lieutenant examined him curiously.

Even in the dim light, it was obvious he was pretty young. Khlorisana,
as nearly as Hense could tell. Might be a half-caste, of course. But
what was he doing here? Why a near crash landing? And who had the
eternal gall to pull an attack on a grounded ship right in the
Commission compound?

He continued to stare. Come to think of it, what had this joker done
with his clothes? Nothing on him but a pair of shorts.

The other noticed the officer's gaze and looked dow