There were an dozen of the air-borne guardians, each the of its own path just the of the which as a great bronze-golden in the four-world of a yellow star. The had been to a of protection around Topaz six months earlier, and the skill had gone into their production. Just as in a close that to ships not the channel, so was this world closed to any not with the to off the missiles.
That was the of the new off-world protection they were to be, already as well as possible, but as yet not put to the proof. The small across a two-mooned sky at night and on an screen by day.
Then a thirteenth object into being, the encircling, of descent. A the warden-globes, it was a hundred times their size, and its was by under the and hand of a pilot.
Four men were on sling-seats in the of the Western Alliance ship, two where their might and levers, the others passengers, their own labor waiting for the time when they would set on the of Topaz. The there in their visa-screen, in its gold, larger, nearer, so that they out of seas, continents, ranges, which had been on tape until they were familiar, yet now were too.
One of the warden-globes alerted, in its set path, as its to the which would send it on its mission of destruction. A clicked, but for the smallest of a failed to set the proper course. On the instrument, below, which the globe's new the mistake was not noted.
The screen of the ship toward Topaz registered a path which would it into with the globe. They were still some hundreds of miles when the rang. The pilot's hand out at the bank of controls; under the almost pressure of their descent, there was so little he do. His from the and levers; his mouth was a of as the of the increased.
One of the his around on the rest, to words, to speak to his companion. The other was ahead at the screen, his thick wide and against his teeth in a of rage.
"They ... are ... here...."
Ruthven paid no attention to the as by his scientist. His was a red, thing him, by his own helplessness. To be here so near his goal, up as a for an but weapon, ate into him like a of acid. His big would out in a blast of fire to light up Topaz's sky, with nothing left—nothing. On the of his sling-seat his deep.
The four men in the only and watch, waiting for the which would them out. Ruthven's anger was a blaze. His in the seat had closed his eyes, his moving in an of his own thoughts. The pilot and his their attention the screen, with its message, and the they not use, a way out in these last moments.
Below them in the bowl of the ship were those who would not know the end consciously—save in one compartment. In a a prick-eared where it rested on forepaws, blinked, aware not only of familiar surroundings, but also of the and by minds and above. A pointed nose raised, and there was a in a with thick buff-gray hair.
The another captive. Knowing yellow met yellow eyes. An intelligence, which was not that of the animal which it, to send those at the of the cages. Curiosity and the ability to had been into from time immemorial. Then something else had been added to and brains. A step up had been taken—to to cunning, to instinct.
More than a had desert—the "white sands" of New Mexico—as a ground for experiments. Humankind be barred, out of the limits; the natural dwellers, four-footed and winged, not be so controlled.
For thousands of years, since the Amerindian had met with their kind, there had been a of the open country, a smaller of the wolf, natural had an on the mind. He was in Indian as the Shaper or the Trickster, sometimes friend, sometimes enemy. Godling for some tribes, father of all for others. In the of the coyote, above all other animals, had a place.
Driven by the press of into the and deserts, with poison, gun, and trap, the had survived, to new with all his cunning. Those who had him as had added to the which him, telling their own of traps, escapes. He to be a trickster, laughing on nights from the of at those who would him down.
Then, close to the end of the century, when were at, the of the coyote's once more on a scale. And scientists were to out this that to in truth all the to his by pre-Columbian tribes.
What they was to closed minds. For the had not only to the country of the white sands; he had into something which not be as an animal, and cunning, but limited to range. Six had been on the expedition, in body, their minds different. The of those were now in the ship's cages, their alert, for the of escape. Sent to Topaz as and ears for less humans, they were not under the of man. The range of their powers was still by those who had bred, trained, and with them from the days their had opened and they had taken their steps away from their dams.
The male again, his in a as the of from the men he not see panic peak. He still crouched, flat, on the protecting of his cage; but he now to closer to the door, just as his the same effort.
Between the animals and those in the the others—forty of them. Their were and protected with every device to those who had them there so many earlier. Their minds were free of the ship, into places where men had not before, a more than any solid earth be.
Operation Retrograde had returned men into the past, sending to mammoths, the of the Bronze Age traders, with Attila and Genghis Khan, among the of Egypt. But Redax returned men in mind to the paths of their ancestors, or this was the theory. And those who slept here and now in their narrow boxes, under its government, while the men who had set them so only assume they were actually the of Apache in the wide of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.
Above, the pilot's hand pushed out again, the pressure to one particular button. That, too, had been a last-minute addition, an which had only had testing. To use it was the final move he make, and he was already of its uselessness.
With no and only a very hope, he sent that of metal with the board. What no one to explain.
On the the which the on a screen to the man on watch, and its was off course. When it into line it was no longer the eye-in-the-sky it had been, though its were not to that for an minute or two.
While the ship, now out of control, in toward Topaz, to stabilize, to re-establish their functions. Some succeeded, some in and out of the zone, two failed. And in the three men in seats.
Dr. James Ruthven, blood from his with every he draw, the of which up his brain, his will to of consciousness, to the pain of his body.
The ship was on an path. Slowly the were correcting, clicking, to it to a landing under auto-pilot. All the into a brain was now in landing the globe.
It was not a good landing, in a very one, for the touched a side, rocks, away a of its bulk. But the was now it and the from which the had been launched, and the crash had not been recorded on that instrument. So as the hundred miles away knew, the in the sky had performed as promised. Their line of defense had proven satisfactory, and there had been no landing on Topaz.
In the of the Ruthven at the of his sling-chair. He no longer to the every out of him. Time the whip, him. He rolled from his seat to the floor, there gasping, as again he to above the waves—those frightening, fast-coming of dark faintness.
Somehow he was crawling, along a surface until he the well where the to the hung, now at an angle. It was that which helped him to the next level.
He was too to the meaning of the bulkheads. There was a of under his hands as he over and around metal. The were now a gobbling, burbling, almost as he his goal—a small still intact.
For long moments of he paused by the chair there, that he not make the last effort, his almost up to the point where he the Redax release. For a second of he if there was any for this ordeal, any of the be aroused. This might now be a ship of the dead.
His right hand, his arm, and his over the seat, he himself and his left hand up. He not use any of the fingers; it was like numb, weights. But he forward, the of cold against the in a which he must be his final move. And, as he to the floor, Dr. Ruthven not be he had succeeded or failed. He to his around, to focus his at that switch. Was it or still up, locking the into confinement? But there was a between; he not see it—or anything.
The light in the flickered, was gone as another in the ship failed. It was dark, too, in the small which the two cages. Chance, which had out in the space globe, had missed open that on the side. Five yards the the of the ship was wide open, the air native to Topaz entering, sending a message to two through the of now the wreckage.
And the male into action. Days ago he had managed to work the end of the which his cage, but his mind had told him that a the ship was valueless. The odd he'd had with the brains, unknown to them, had to keep him to the old role of deception, which in the past had saved of his from and death. Now with teeth and he to work, on by the of his mate, that of an world their nostrils—a wild world, the of man-places.
He under the and up to at the of the female's cage. One in the and pressed it down, and the weight of the door against him. Together they were free now to the and see ahead the light of a moon them on into the open.
The female, always more than her mate, as he forward, his ears a-prick with curiosity. Their had been the same since cubhood—to range and explore, but always in the company and at the order of man. This was not according to the pattern she knew, and she was suspicious. But to her nose the of the ship was an offense, and the of from without enticing. Her had already through the break; now he with and wonder, and she on to join him.
Above, the Redax, which had been to usage, proved to be a of the crash than most of the other installations. Power along a network of lines, beams, off and on a series of in those coffin-beds. For five of the sleepers—nothing. The which had them was a against the side. Three more aroused, choked, for life and in a which was a nightmare, and succumbed.
But in the nearest the rent through which the had escaped, a man sat up abruptly, looking into the dark with wide-open, terror-haunted eyes. He for purchase against the of the box in which he had lain, somehow got to his knees, and forth, and fell, pushed to the where he only by his on the box.
Dazed, sick, weak, he there, aware only of himself and his own sensations. There were small in the dark, a moan, a sigh. But that meant nothing. Within him a to be out of this place, his terror making him forward.
His hand against an surface which his as an exit. Unconsciously he along the surface of the door until it gave under that weak pressure. Then he was out, his swimming, by the light the rent.
He toward that in a crawl, making his way over the skin of the globe. Then he with a onto the of earth the ship had pushed it its slide. Limply he on in a small of and sand, against a less with to roll him over on his and him again.
The second and smaller moon of Topaz through the sky, its green making the blood-streaked of the an mask. It had passed well on to the horizon, and its large yellow had when a the small of the night.
As the yipp, yipp, in a crescendo, the man stirred, one hand to his head. His opened, he looked about him and sat up. Behind him was the and ship, but he did not look at it.
Instead, he got to his and out into the direct path of the moonlight. Inside his brain there was a of thoughts, memories, emotions. Perhaps Ruthven or one of his have that mixture for what it was. But for all practical purposes Travis Fox—Amerindian Time Agent, of Team A, Operation Cochise—was less of a animal now than the two paying their to a moon which was not the one of their homeland.
Travis on, somehow by that howling. It was familiar, a of something through all the in his head. He stumbled, fell, up again, but he on.
Above, the female her head, a test of a new scent. She that as part of the proper way of life. She once at her mate, but he was in his night song, his pointed as he a wailing.
Travis tripped, on his hands and knees, and the of such a landing shoot up his forearms. He to up, but his only twisted, so he on his and looking up at the moon.
A strong, familiar odor ... then a above him. Hot against his cheek, and the of an animal on his face. He up his hand, thick fur, and on as if he had one of in a world gone mad.
