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Updated: May 22, 2025
A floodlight was on in the room inside, and Lattimer was going around looking at things while a Space Force officer stood by the door. The center of the room was filled by a long table; in armchairs around it sat the eighteen men and women who had occupied the room for the last fifty millennia.
He went roaring out over a mobile floodlight and up into the dark sky for the rendezvous with Red Flight. High above the channel, the ships of his flight tucked in and circled. Soon they picked up the flight of Liberators and Fortresses. At twenty-five thousand feet the big bombers left broad vapor trails behind them. Stan looked down upon the killers from his perch in the sky.
He wanted to hold the attention of the men until his friends got away. "A Britisher," the officer shouted. "Get out on the bank!" His English was a bit thick but understandable. Stan climbed out and was surrounded by armed men in an instant. He was marched up the bank and halted under the floodlight. The officer stood glaring at him. "Where do you come from?" he demanded.
It was as if someone had snapped on a floodlight in a darkened room, and he saw something he had never seen before. He saw that from the first day he had stepped down from the Garvian ship that had brought him to Hospital Earth to begin his medical training, he had been relying upon crutches to help him. Black Doctor Arnquist had been a crutch upon whom he could lean.
Instantly a floodlight snapped on and swung around to sweep the canal. Stan went down in a mass of mud and water. He came up pawing and struggling. Men began shouting on the shore. Stan ducked under the icy water and plunged toward the bank. He came up against the grassy bank and shook the water out of his eyes. Both banks were swarming with soldiers. Stan thought fast.
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