"It's suicide," the grumbled.
"Mine, not yours, so don't worry about it," Brion at him. "Your job is to your orders and keep them straight. Now—let's them again."
The rolled his up in and in a voice: "We here in the car and keep the while you go the there. We don't let in the car and we try and keep them clear of the car—short of them, that is. We don't come in, no what or what it looks like, but wait for you here. Unless you call on the radio, in which case we come in with the going and shoot the place up, and it doesn't who we hit. This will be done only as a last resort."
"See if you can't that last thing," the other said, the of his weapon.
"I meant that last resort," Brion said angrily. "If any go off without my permission you will pay for it, and pay with your necks. I want that understood. You are here as a and a for me to to. This is my operation and mine alone—unless I call you in. Understood?"
He waited until all three men had in agreement, then the on his gun—it was loaded. It would be to go in unarmed, but he had to. One gun wouldn't save him. He put it aside. The radio on his was and had a to through any number of walls. He took off his coat, open the door and out into the of the Disan noon.
There was only the silence, by the[Pg 86] of the car's him. Stretching away to the in every direction was the of sand. The keep nearby, solitary, a of black rock. Brion closer, for any motion from the walls. Nothing stirred. The high-walled, sat in a silence. Brion was now, only from the heat.
He the thing, looking for a gate. There wasn't one at ground level. A in the be easily, but it that this might be the only entrance. A complete proved that it was. Brion looked at the and ramp, then his hands and loudly.
"I'm up. Your radio doesn't work any more. I'm the message from Nyjord that you have been waiting to hear." This was a of the truth without it. There was no answer—just the of wind-blown against the and the of the car in the background. He started to climb.
The was and he had to watch where he put his feet. At the same time he a to look up, for anything from above. Nothing happened. When he the top of the he was hard; his body. There was still no one in sight. He on an that appeared to circle the building. Instead of having a it, the was the of the structure, the from it. At dark openings gave to the interior. When Brion looked down, the car was just a dun-colored in the desert, already him.
Stooping, he through the nearest door. There was still no one in sight. The room was something out of a madman's funhouse. It was higher than it was wide, in shape, and more like a than a room. At one end it into an that a stairwell. At the other it ended[Pg 87] in a that in below. Light of in through and into the thick wall. Everything was of the same crumble-textured but rock. Brion took the stairs. After a number of passages and he saw a light ahead, and on. There was food, metal, of the Disan design in the different rooms he passed through. Yet no people. The light ahead stronger, and the last opened and out until it into the large chamber.
This was the of the structure. All the rooms, and just to give to this chamber. The rose sharply, the room being in and the top. It was a cone, since there was no ceiling; a of sky light on the below.
On the a of men who at Brion.
Out of the of his eyes, and with the very of his consciousness, he was aware of the of the room—barrels, stores, machinery, a radio transceiver, and that no at glance. There was no time to look closer. Every of his attention was on the and men.
He had the enemy.
Everything that had to him so on Dis had been for this moment. The attack in the desert, the escape, the of sun and sand. All this had and prepared him. It had been nothing in itself. Now the would in earnest.
None of this was in his mind. His fighter's his shoulders, his hands him as he walked in balance, to in any direction. Yet none of this was necessary. All the so was nonphysical. When he did give to the he stopped, startled. What was here? None of the men had moved or a sound. How he know[Pg 88] they were men? They were so and in cloth that only their were exposed.
No doubt, however, in Brion's mind. In of cloth and silence, he them for what they were. The were empty of and unmoving, yet were with the same negative as those of a bird of prey. They look on life, death, and the of with the same of and compassion. All this Brion in an of time, without being spoken. Between the time he one and walked a step he what he had to face. There be no doubt, not to an empathetic.
From the group of men a frost-white of unemotion. An what other men feel. He his knowledge of their by their emotions, the of interest, hate, love, fear, desire, the of large and small that all and action. The is always aware of this and surge, he makes the to it or not. He is like a man across the open pages of a of books. He can see that the type, words, paragraphs, are there, without his attention to any of it.
Then how the man when he at the open books and sees only blank pages? The books are there—the are not. He the pages of one, of the others, the pages, for meaning. There is no meaning. All of the pages are blank.
This was the way in which the were blank, without emotions. There was a and return that must have been on a level—the of nerve and that keep an alive. Nothing more. Brion for other sensations, but there was nothing there to grasp. Either these men were without emotions, or they were able to them from his detection; it was to tell which.
Very little time had passed while Brion these[Pg 89] discoveries. The of men still looked at him, and unmoving. They weren't expectant, their not have been called one of interest. But he had come to them and now they waited to out why. Any questions or they spoke would be superfluous, so they didn't speak. The was his.
"I have come to talk with Lig-magte. Who is he?" Brion didn't like the his voice in the room.
One of the men gave a motion to attention to himself. None of the others moved. They still waited.
"I have a message for you," Brion said, speaking slowly to the of the room and the of his thoughts. This had to be right. But what was right? "I'm from the Foundation in the city, as you know. I've been talking to the people of Nyjord. They have a message for you."
The longer. Brion had no of making this a monologue. He needed to operate, to an opinion. Looking at the was telling him nothing. Time taut, and Lig-magte spoke.
"The Nyjorders are going to surrender."
It was an sentence. Brion had how much of the of speech was up of emotion. If the man had it a positive emphasis, said it with enthusiasm, it would have meant, "Success! The enemy is going to surrender!" This wasn't the meaning.
With a on the end it would have been a question. "Are they going to surrender?" It was neither of these. The no other message than that in the of the words. It had connotations, but these only be from past knowledge, not from the of the words. There was only one message they were prepared to from Nyjord. Therefore Brion was the message. If that was not the message Brion was the men here were not interested.[Pg 90]
This was the fact. If they were not he have no value to them. Since he came from the enemy, he was the enemy. Therefore he would be killed. Because this was to his existence, Brion took the time to the through. It logical sense—and logic was all he on now. He be talking to or creatures, for all the response he was receiving.
"You can't win this war—all you can do is your own deaths." He said this with as much as he could, at the same time that it was effort. No of response in the men him. "The Nyjorders know you have the bombs, and they have your jump-space projector. They can't take any more chances. They have pushed the closer by an entire day. There are one and a days left the and you are all destroyed. Do you what that means—"
"Is that the message?" Lig-magte asked.
"Yes," Brion said.
Two saved his life then. He had what would as soon as they had his message, though he hadn't been sure. But the had put him on his guard. This, with the of a Winner of the Twenties, was to him to survive.
From Lig-magte had into attack. As he he a curved, double-edged from under his robes. It through the spot where Brion's had been an before.
There had been no time to his and jump, just the space of time to them and to one side. His mind joined the as he the floor. Lig-magte by him, and the knife at the same time. Brion's out and the other man's leg, sending him sprawling.
They were on their at the same instant, each other. Brion now had his hands clasped[Pg 91] him in the man's best defense against a knife, the two arms protecting the body, the two hands joined to the knife arm from direction it came. The Disan low, the knife from hand to hand, then it again at Brion's midriff.
Only by the did Brion the attack for the second time. Lig-magte with violence. Every action was as as possible, and thorough. There be only one end to this if Brion on the defensive. The man with the knife had to win.
With the next Brion tactics. He the thrust, for the knife arm. A slice of pain cut across his arm, then his the wrist. They hard, shut, with the of a vise.
It was all he do to on. There was no science in it, just his from and on a planet. All of this to his hand, he his own life in that hand, away the knife that wanted to it forever. Nothing else mattered—neither the of the that into his the that for his to tear them out. He protected his as well as he could, while the through his and the cut on his arm freely. These were only minor to be endured. His life on the of the of his right hand.
There was a as Brion succeeded in Lig-magte's other arm. It was a good grip, and he the arm immobilized. They had stasis, to knee, their only a apart. The cloth had from the Disan's the struggle, and empty, into Brion's. No of the of the other man's face. A great white one cheek[Pg 92] and up a of the mouth in a grimace. It was false; there was still no here, when the pain must be more intense.
Brion was winning—if none of the the impasse. His weight and now. The Disan would have to the knife his arm was at the shoulder. He didn't do it. With Brion that he wasn't going to it—no what happened.
A dull, through the Disan's and the arm and dead. No the man's face. The knife was still locked in the of the hand. With his other hand Lig-magte across and started to the loose, to continue the one-handed. Brion his and the knife free, sending it across the room.
Lig-magte a of his good hand and it into Brion's groin. He was still fighting, as if nothing had changed. Brion slowly away from the man. "Stop it," he said. "You can't win now. It's impossible." He called to the other men who were the with immobility. No one answered him.
With a terrible Brion then what would and what he had to do. Lig-magte was as of his own life as he was of the life of his planet. He would press the attack no what was done to him. Brion had an of him the man's other arm, his legs, and the still forward. Crawling, rolling, teeth bared, since they were the only weapon.
There was only one way to end it. Brion and the Lig-magte's arm moved clear of his body. The cloth was thin and through it Brion see the of the Disan's and cage, the clear of the great nerve ganglion.
It was the death of kara-te. Brion had used it on a man. In he had boards, them with the short, pre[Pg 93]cise stroke. The hand moving in a surge, all the weight and energy of his in his joined fingertips. Plunging into the other's flesh.
Killing, not by accident or in anger. Killing this was the only way the possibly end.
Like a tower of flesh, the Disan and fell.
Dripping blood, exhausted, Brion over the of Lig-magte and at the man's allies.
Death the room.[Pg 94]
