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Updated: May 4, 2025
With a scream of pain she twisted from his grasp and blotted out the candle. A long, livid pencil of orange flame spurted from the gun-point. She sensed the powder-flare in her face. He had missed. She scrambled for shelter beneath the table. The cabin was now in inky blackness. Across that black four more threads of scarlet light were laced.
They have no license to let their eyes well with tears, to have wives and babies, to possess mothers who will help them get to Canada regardless of what their earthly indiscretions may have been. At this revelation the gun-point wavered. The sight of those tears on his face sapped her will-power even as a wound in her breast might have drained her life-blood. Her great moment had been given her.
He refused to allow any physical tests on his body, and, short of threatening him at gun-point, there didn't seem to be any practicable way to force him to accede to the human's wishes. And they couldn't do that. The Nipe had to be treated as an emissary from his home world, wherever that was. He'd killed a man, yes.
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