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"Well, they've definitely picked you to smoke out the Throg, and they can't be talked into changing their minds about that." "I'll be the smoked one if he has a blaster." "They say he's unarmed " "What do they know about our weapons or a Throg's?" "The other one has no arms." Wyvern words in his mind again. "This fact gives him great fear. That which he has depended upon is broken.
His hand-claws clasped a small metal plate surmounted by a hoop of thin wire over which was stretched a web of threads glistening in the sun. Holding that hoop on a level with his mouth, the alien clicked his mandibles, and those sounds became barely distinguishable basic galactic words. "You Throg meat!" For a moment Shann wondered if the alien meant that statement literally.
The Throg with the translator was holding the other head set close to his own ear pit. And the claws of the guard came down on Shann's shoulders in a cruel grip, a threat of future brutality. The rattle of code continued while Shann thought furiously. This was it! He had to give a warning, and then the aliens would do to him just what the officer had threatened.
Then Shann saw the fall of rock, the stone which pinned a double-kneed leg to the floor. And in a circle about the prisoner were the small, crushed, furred things which had come to prey on the helpless to be slain themselves by the well-aimed stones which were the Throg's only weapons of defense. Shann sheathed his stunner. It was plain the Throg was helpless and could not reach him.
While a remaining two continued with stolid precision to fire at the lurking shapes which could only be half seen; and a third helped the officer to his feet. The Throg commander reeled back against the frame, his musky body scent filling Shann's nostrils. But he, too, paid no attention to the Terran, though his horny arms scraped across Shann's.
The alien aimed a blow at the Terran's head, but again so slowly Shann had no difficulty in evading it. The boulder gave, rolled, and Shann cleared out of range, back to the opening of the cleft, pausing only to scoop up his stunner. For a long moment the Throg made no move; his dazed wits must have been working at very slow speed.
But certainly others were non-Throg in outline. And the Terran was sure that at least three of those shapes, all different, had been in pursuit of one fleeing Throg, heading him off from that small open area still holding about Shann. For the Throgs were being herded in from all sides the handful who had come from the river, the others who had brought Shann there.
He squirmed under metal hot enough to scorch his jacket and saw the reflection of a second blaster shot which had been fired seconds late. Now the Throg had him tied down. But to get at the Terran the alien would have to show himself, and Shann had one chance in fifty, which was better than that of three minutes ago when the odds had been set at one in a hundred.
The gray light had retreated, but though a Throg blaster lay close to his feet, another only a yard beyond, there was no sign of the aliens. Instead, standing on their hind feet to press against him in a demand for his attention, were the wolverines. And seeing them, Shann dared to believe that the impossible could be true; somehow he was safe. He spoke.
Without reference to his silent trail companion, he sent the animals toward another strip of woodland which would give them cover against the coming of any Throg flyer. As the hours advanced he began to cast about for a proper night camp. The woods ought to give them a usable site. "This is a water wood," Thorvald said, breaking the silence for the first time since they had left the wrecks.
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