It was plain now what had happened to the girl, and Ungo. Bor Legat had captured them that night, back on Ceresta. Now he was carrying out his plan to trade her life for time, and the desperate chance that somehow Ceresta might be defended.
But why should he meet rey Gundre here? What had led the two of them to choose this shattered hulk for their rendezvous?
Jarl looked down once more.
More crewmen were hurrying from the flagship—clearing the debris from around the ramping-spot; setting up a perimeter studded with heavy weapons.
They planned to stay a while; that much was plain.
But why? Why, why, why—?
The question rang in Jarl's brain like a tolling bell. But he still could find no answer.
Another hour dragged by. Slowly, the shadows of ship and robots lengthened. Hunger gnawed at Jarl's belly. He moved this way and that, trying to work the ache from his weary muscles.
Down in the hold, the crewmen moved more slowly. Yet even up here, high above them, Jarl could sense a rising tension. It showed in the way they kept looking towards the burrows into which the primitives had fled ... their sudden starts, their readiness with their weapons.