THROG JUSTICE
The was so that Shann no longer the of his stomach. He rolled on his side, until the of his the odor of the ship. His memories of how he had come into this place were vague; his was a of pain, as if he had been scorched. Scorched! Had the Throgs used one of their energy to him? The last clear thing he was that slow the the rock, the Throg not too away—the from the entrance.
A Throg prisoner! Through the pain and the the of that deep. Terrans did not alive into Throg hands, not if they had the means of their reach. But his hands and arms were him in an lock, some not the Terran used to criminals, he groggily.
The in which he was black-dark. But the of the and the about him told Shann that the ship was in flight. And there be but two destinations, either the where the Throg had taken over the Terran or the mother ship of the raiders. If Thorvald's was true and the were a Terran to talk in the transport, then they were for the camp.
And a man who still and who is not yet can also hope, Shann to think ahead to the camp—the and a faint, thin of escape. For on the surface of Warlock there was a thin chance; in the mother ship of the Throgs none at all.
Thorvald—and the Wyverns! Could he for any help from them? Shann closed his against the thick and to out to touch, somewhere, Thorvald with his disk—or the Wyvern who had talked of Trav and dreams. Shann his on the Wyvern witch, with all the detail he out of memory the patterns about her arms, her thin, wrists, those other designs her features. He see her in his mind, but she was only a puppet, without life, without power.
Thorvald.... Now Shann to a picture of the Survey officer, making his at that window, his disk, with the sun gold to his and the of his skin. Those which be ice, that with the tight set of a upon occasion....
And Shann contact! He touched something, a like a tri-dee—far more than the mind pictures the Wyvern had for him. But he had touched! And Thorvald, too, had been aware of his contact.
Shann to that of again. Patiently he once more his of Thorvald, adding every detail he recall, small about the other which he had not that he had noticed—the arrow-shaped near the of the officer's throat, the way his at the ends, the look of one toward his when he was about something. Shann to make a as as Logally and Trav had been in the of the illusion.
"... where?"
This time Shann was prepared; he did not let that mind image in his at the link. "Throg ship," he said the aloud, over and over, but still he to his picture of Thorvald.
"... will...."
Only that one word! The them again. Only then did Shann of a in the ship's vibration. Were they setting down? And where? Let it be at the camp! It must be the camp!
There was no at that landing, just that one second the told him the ship was alive and air-borne, and the next a that they had landed. Shann, his with tension, waited for the next move on the part of his captors.
He to in the dark, still from the of the cell, too up to try to Thorvald. There was a over his head, and he looked up eagerly—to be by a of light. Claws under his arms and he was up and out, along a passage and free of the ship, hard upon earth and over as the skin of his was and abraded.
The Terran up now, and as his to the light, he saw a ring of Throg out the sky as they their catch impassively. The mouth of one moved with a clicking. Again in his armpits, Shann to his feet, him erect.
Then the Throg who had that order moved closer. His hand-claws a small metal plate by a of thin wire over which was a of in the sun. Holding that on a level with his mouth, the his mandibles, and those words.
"You Throg meat!"
For a moment Shann if the meant that literally. Or was it a for a among their land.
"Do as told!"
That was clear enough, and for the moment the Terran did not see that he had any choice in the matter. But Shann to make any of agreement to either of those two limited statements. Perhaps the beetle-heads did not any. The who had him to his to him erect, but the attention of the Throg with the elsewhere.
From the ship a second party. The Throg in their was and limping. Although to Terran one was the exact of the other, Shann that this one was the in the cave. Yet the now that he had only one for another and was in among his kind. Why?
The Throg up to the leader with the translator, and his back. Again clicked, were answered, though the of that Shann. At one point in the report—if report it was—he himself appeared to be under discussion, for the Throg a hand-claw in the Terran's direction. But the end to the came and in a manner which Shann shocking.
Two of the forward, at the Throg's arms and him away, leading him out into a space the ship. They their on him, returning at a trot. The officer an order. Blasters were unholstered, and the Throg in the under a of bolts. Shann gasped. He had no for Throgs, but this of a cold-blooded which anything he had known, in the of the Dumps.
Limp, and more than a little again, he the Throg officer turn away. And a moment later he was along in the other's wake to the of the once Terran camp. Not just to the in general, he a minute later, but to that which had the unit them with ships the and with the patrol. So Thorvald had been right; they needed a Terran to broadcast—to their here and a for the transport.
Shann had no idea how much time he had passed among the Wyverns; the transport with its of might already be in the of Circe, a landing around Warlock, her and a for a to her in. Only, this time the Throgs were out of luck. They had up one who not help them, if he wanted to do so. The of the in this were just that to Shann Lantee—complete mysteries. He had not the idea of how to the machines, let alone in the proper code.
A cold spot of terror in his middle, through his body. For he was that the Throgs would not that. They would his of as a to co-operate. And what would to him then would be endurance. Could he bluff—play for time? But what would that time him to the inevitable? In the end, that small on his with Thorvald him decide to try that bluff.
There had been in the since the of the cap. A box on the a of from its upper surface. Perhaps that was some Throg of Terran in place on the wide table the door.
The Throg leader into his translator: "You call ship!"
Shann was into the operator's chair, his arms still him so that he had to to keep on the seat at all. Then the Throg who had pushed him there, a set of and speech onto his head.
"Call ship!" the officer.
So time must be out. Now was the moment to bluff. Shann his head, that the of was common to their species.
"I don't know the code," he said aloud.
The Throg's gazed, at his moving lips. Then the was the Terran's mouth. Shann his words, them as a series of clicks, and waited. So much now on the of the beetle-head officer. Would he apply pressure to his order, or would he that it was possible that all Terrans did not know that code, and so he not produce in a captive's any knowledge that had been there—with or without physical coercion?
Apparently the logic for the present. The Throg the to his mandibles.
"When ship call—you answer—make lip talk your words! Say here—need help. Code man dead—you talk in his place. I listen. You say wrong, you die—you die a long time. Hurt all that time——"
Clear enough. So he had been able to a little time! But how soon the ship would call? The Throgs to it. Shann his lips. He was sure that the Throg officer meant what he said in that last threat. Only, would anyone—Throg or human—live very long in this if Shann got his through? The transport would have been on the big jump by a cruiser, now with Throgs space the way they were in this sector. Let Shann the ship, and the would know; action would be visited on the camp. Throgs to make their his rashness; then all of them would be out together, and alike, when the came in.
If that was his last chance, he'd play it that way. The Throgs would kill him anyhow, he hadn't the least of that. They no long-term Terran and had. And at least he take this of along with him. Not that the did anything to the which him weak and dizzy. Shann Lantee might be to his way out of the Dumps, but to up and Throgs face-to-face like a hero was something else. He that he not do any act; if he out to the end without he would be satisfied.
Two more Throgs entered the dome. They to the end of the table which the equipment, and to a Terran work tape set in a reader, they to the broadcaster. They slowly but competently, each circuit. Preparing to in the Terran transport, the large ship until they had it on the ground. The Terran to wonder how they to take the ship over once they did have it on planet.
Transports were for ground fighting. Although they in on a from a camp, they were prepared for on a planet's surface; such were not unknown in the history of Survey. Which meant that the Throgs had in turn some they superior, for they now. But they a to fight?
The Throg a last check of the beam, in to the officer. The gave an order to Shann's them out. A of wire rope over the Terran's head, about his chest, him against the chair until he with pain. Two more him secure in a most posture, and then he was left alone in the dome.
An against the wire rope him the of such an effort. He was in freeze as as any movement was concerned. Shann closed his eyes, settled to that same he had to on the Throg ship. If there was any of the Wyvern again, here and now was the time for it!
Again he his picture of Thorvald, as as he had it in the Throg ship. And with that to the of his mind, Shann to up the which link them. Was the this and the city of the Wyverns too great? Did the Throgs out that as the Wyverns had said they did when they had sent him to free the in the skull?
Drops in the tight on his head, to on his skin. He was in the by an as and as if he physically under a sun at the top speed of which his was capable.
Thorvald—
Thorvald! But not by the window in the Wyvern stronghold! Thorvald with the of Warlockian at his back. So clear was the new picture that Shann might have only a away. Thorvald there, with the at his side. And him sun on the gem-patterned skin of more than one Wyvern.
"Where?"
That from the Survey officer, curt, clear—so perfect the word might have through the dome.
"The camp!" Shann that back, with than once again their might fail.
"They want me to call in the transport." He added that.
"How soon?"
"Don't know. They have the set. I'm to say there's here; they know I can't code."
All he see now was Thorvald's face, intent, the officer's cold of steel, the of a will as as a Throg's. Shann added his own decision.
"I'll the ship off; they'll send in the patrol."
There was no in Thorvald's expression. "Hold out as long as you can!"
Cold enough, no promise of help, nothing on which to hope. Yet the that Thorvald was on the move, away from the Wyvern city, meant something. And Shann was sure that thick be only on the mainland. Not only was Thorvald ashore, but there were Wyverns with him. Could the officer have the of Warlock to their hands-off policy and join him in an attack on the Throg camp? No promise, not a that the party Shann had was moving in his direction. Yet somehow he that they were.
There was a from the of the dome. Shann opened his eyes. There were Throgs entering, one to go to the beam, two for his chair. He closed his again in a last attempt, by every of his energy and will.
"Ship's in range. Throgs here."
Thorvald's face, now, out while a on Shann's his cruelly, his ears sing, his water. He saw Throgs—Throgs only. And one the translator.
"You talk!"
A tri-jointed arm across his shoulder, a lever, pressed a button. The set his ear let out a of sound—the was activated. A the closer to Shann's lips, but also in range the of the translator.
Shann his at the of code. The Throg with the was the other set close to his own ear pit. And the of the came on Shann's in a grip, a threat of brutality.
The of while Shann furiously. This was it! He had to give a warning, and then the would do to him just what the officer had threatened. Shann not to think clearly. It was as if in his to Thorvald, he had some part of his brain, so that now he was just when he needed quick the most!
This whole had a unreality. He had its like a thousand times on tapes—the Terran hero by on saving ... saving....
Was it out of one of those he had in the past that Shann that of almost information?
The Terran to speak into the mike, for there had come a pause in the of code. He used Terran, not basic, and he the slowly.
"Warlock calling—trouble—sickness here—com officer dead."
He was by another of code. The of his into the of his in warning.
"Warlock calling—" he repeated. "Need help——"
"Who are you?"
The came in basic. On the transport they would have a list of every of the Survey team.
"Lantee." Shann a breath. He was so of those on his shoulders, of what would follow.
"This is Mayday!" he said distinctly, that someone in the of the ship now in would catch the true meaning of that call of complete disaster. "Mayday—beetles—over and out!"
