John Dalmas - Return to Fanglith

Nothing happened for the slowest several minutes on record. Then we heard voices outside the garage door- women talking and laughing. It sounded as if they'd just come out of the house. One of them seemed to stay in place while two others became more distant. Then the talking stopped, and we heard a house door close. A minute later the woman appeared in the door again, grinning this time and without her blaster.

"Get in here," she said, not trying to be quiet now, and held the door for us. Piet went first, the rest of us trooping after. As we passed, she looked us over, then closed the door behind us. She came across as a nice-looking middle-aged lady who still did something or other athletic. She herded us down a hall and into a kitchen, where we stopped. "Piet," she said, "I'd hug you if you looked a little more sanitary." She indicated the living room with a head motion. "I'm reasonably sure my visitors didn't suspect anything. They were sitting with their backs to the window; I was the only one who saw you float in."

"What did you tell them?"

She chuckled. "That Jom had told me not to leave the garage door open again. Which was true, as far as it went."

"How did you explain the blaster?"

"They never saw it. It's my kitchen gun. Who are your young friends? Or can't you tell me?"

He hesitated a second. "Why not? Dansee Jomber, this is Mr. and Mrs. Larn kel Deroop-Larn and Jenoor. These are Deneen kel Deroop, and Tarel Sentner. And Bubba. Bubba's a kel Deroop too. Those are their real names incidentally."

She was studying Bubba. "Is Bubba an espwolf?"

"Right."

"Well, that's got to be a big plus-point." She sized us all up. "I can see what you need first, unless you're famished. There's a shower in the basement and a complete cleaning facility upstairs. Just choose up who uses what. When you're done I'll have something edible for you and start cutting hair.

"Best you hustle now. I'm not expecting anyone else till Jom comes home about half past fifteen, but then, I wasn't expecting any earlier guests either. Where are your other clothes?"

"M'dam," said Piet, "there are no other clothes. These are it."

"Mmh! All right, get at it. Throw what you've got on into the hall I'll dig up something temporary and put your old things in the cleaning drum as soon as I have a chance."

Piet and Tarel went into the main-floor bath, while Deneen went with Jenoor and I into the basement guest apartment. I offered Deneen first chance at the bathroom there, and minutes later Dansee Jomber came down with clothing.

"These'll do for now," she said, putting them on the couch. "We'll worry about fit later." Then she turned and went back upstairs. Deneen didn't take more than six or eight minutes in the shower, and when she was done she left, while Jenoor and I got ready and showered. We scrubbed each other pink and then, wishing we had more time, put on the clean clothes and followed the others upstairs.

By that time Deneen was giving Bubba a cleaning.

An hour later we'd been fed and herded back to the basement-a safety measure in case any unexpected visitors came by. We took all our camping stuff with us from the floater. In the basement we got barbered, and by that time our own clothes were clean and we put them back on. They looked surprisingly presentable now for field clothes. Dansee had used clippers on Piet's and my faces when she'd cut our hair, and Piet and I, and Tarel too, debearded with Jom Jomber's facial kit. After that we killed time reading and napping until, late that afternoon, we heard a pair of heavy male feet start down the stairs.

Piet and Jom Jomber didn't discuss very much in front of us. Instead, after a few minutes they left in the Jombers' floater, saying they weren't sure when they'd be back. I got the idea that they didn't want us to know anything we didn't need to-the old "need-to-know principle"-in case we got arrested. What you don't know, no one can get out of you.

After they'd left, Dansee Jomber baked sweetcrisps and made hot meloren, and asked us about our weeks on the island.

We were so used to sleeping half the clock around that we went to bed well before midnight. Jenoor and I were put in the Jombers' spare bedroom, while Tarel and Deneen slept in the basement on a bed and a couch. Bubba was happy with a pallet on the floor.

It was sheer luxury to be clean and comfortable and alone together. I'm glad I didn't know what would happen before daylight.

According to the dresser clock, we'd slept about three hours when Piet woke us. He tossed two Evdashian Marine uniforms on the foot of the bed and told us to get dressed fast. Now was our chance, he said, and if we missed it, we might not get another.

If they'd been Imperial Marine uniforms, what happened probably wouldn't have. But those weren't available-at least not on short notice.

Mine had a bolstered blast pistol and stunner on the belt. So did Piet's and Tarel's. Piet also carried a blast rifle and wore a senior sergeant's insignia. Jenoor and Deneen, besides belt weapons, carried attache cases attached to chains around their necks. It was as if we were their escorts.

There was even a guard canid control collar and leash for Bubba, barely big enough to fit around his wolfy neck.

In ten minutes we were ready. No one told us anything-no one even talked except for a few brief, low exchanges between Piet and Jom-till we left in Piet's floater. As Piet piloted, he briefed us, and brief was the word. We'd be meeting a guy, an Evdashian marine noncom who'd be driving a marine floater. He was a courier with a pass authorizing him to enter the scout park-the small landing field where naval scouts were parked when not on station. This guy knew which craft were ready to fly.

What he would try to do was drive into the scout pool, something his pass didn't authorize. He'd claim to have high-security packages to put aboard one of the scouts.

Our man was waiting for us in the employee parking lot at the local utilities central, a civilian agency. Piet's floater didn't emit the proper identification signal and would have been shot out of the air if we'd tried to fly it into the air space of a military installation. Piet parked a hundred feet from the marine vehicle, got out, then stood pretending to talk to us through the rear window. That was the signal. A few seconds later the marine floater drifted over, stopped, and we got in.

In the back of the marine floater was a box with a handle at each corner. The marine told Tarel and me to take out our blast pistols and hold them conspicuously in our laps; that was how courier escorts would carry them. Gate guards would check us, and we were to make and keep eye contact with them while they looked us over; it would be expected of us.

At the field we were stopped at two security gates. At each, a marine guard came over to the floater while two others stood nearby with blast rifles ready, pointed in our direction, guard canids at heel. After questioning our driver briefly and examining his pass, the guard looked into the floater, taking in our uniforms and weapons. At each gate the guard's hand lamp paused on Jenoor and Deneen. In the Evdashian Marines, women were almost solely clerical personnel. And besides, both Deneen and Jenoor looked awfully young.

Their attache cases may have helped, but I believe it was Bubba who cleared us. At each gate, after the guard's lamp beam dipped to examine him, the guy waved us through. Our having an apparent guard canid made us real to them.

Finally we were in the scout pool, moving down a broad service lane a foot or so above the pavement. Our driver stopped about twenty-five yards from the nearest scout, a forty-five-foot patrol scout. The area was lit more than I liked, by lights on tall poles around the perimeter of the field.

"That's it," the sergeant said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the scout. "Piet, get out with the canid and stand about ten yards in the other direction. Keep looking around, but act bored. And light up a weed; it'll make things look relaxed."