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The Terran public wanted to hear about Martians, and if live Martians couldn't be found, a room full of dead ones was the next best thing. Maybe an even better thing; it had been only sixty-odd years since the Orson Welles invasion-scare.
Only the arrogance remained, expressed in Marthasa's tone as he called their attention to the features of the city and landscape through which they passed. It wasn't pleasing particularly to Terran tastes, but Cameron guessed that it represented a considerable accomplishment to the Markovians.
For some reason Raf could not understand, the aliens had preferred to flee rather than to face the menace of the hunters. But they had not been fast enough and had been trapped here. The gesturing hands then indicated Raf, acted out the battle which had ensued. Crossing to the Terran pilot, the alien officer held out his hand and motioned for Raf to surrender his weapon. The pilot shook his head.
He was on his feet. "What ?" Vistur's hand hovered over the ax at his belt. Ross saw their gaze centered on him. "We may have reinforcements now!" The Terran was already on his way to the deck. He hurried to the rail and whistled, the thin, shrill summons he had practiced for weeks before he had ever begun this fantastic adventure.
We are a people who have never as many women as there are men who wish to bring them into the home cabin. And no clan has as many children as they hope the Shades will send them." "Then who?" When Torgul did not answer at once Ross glanced at the Captain, and what the Terran thought he saw showing for an instant in the other's eyes was a revelation of danger.
The disabled scout pilot must have played a last desperate game, making of his ship bait for a trap. The Terran had taken one Throg with him. Shann rubbed again at his eyes, just barely able to catch a glimpse of the second ship flashing away westward.
Climbing the three steps to stand before them at the altar, he formally identified himself "Esteban Tarlac of Clan Ch'kara, Ranger of the Terran Empire" and bowed, hands crossed over his bare chest. That was as much to the statuettes on the altar's upper tier as to the two rulers. "I ask the blessing of the Circle of Lords as I attempt this final part of the Ordeal they ask of me."
The Terran waded in the shallows, stripping off his flippers and snapping them to his belt, letting his mask swing free on his chest. He angled toward the beach where the aliens had been. At least he was better armed for this than he had been when he had fronted the Rovers with only a diver's knife.
And what they found was familiar, another confirmation that the fugitive was Terran, not native to Topaz. With searching eyes, Travis examined the site indicated by the coyotes. His respect for the stranger was raised another notch. In time either he or Tsoay might have sighted that hideaway without the aid of the animal scouts; on the other hand, they might have failed.
You, preferably, or the Supreme or First Speaker, if you think they'd be better. I'll leave a set of instructions, and a message to His Majesty, explaining what I've found out. As I said, since you're of Terran origin, you're automatically Imperial citizens; at worst, you'd be treated as lost colonists. That'll change things, I hope enough to end the war as a misunderstanding." He grimaced.
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