That shadow.... Was it alien blood, or a secret? Again Jarl caught himself wondering. He thought: I should hate her! And in the same moment: Even Sais is no lovelier....
Cursing himself for a fool and a weakling, he tore his eyes from her and studied the aide.
He was Malya, this officer; Malya and warrior. His dark rough-hewn face stayed emotionless, immobile. But the black Malya eyes ranged ceaselessly—bleak and watchful, never still. Ruthlessness was in them, and recklessness ... a spirit that seemed to mock Jarl Corvett and deny the blue Federation tunic that the dark aide wore.
Bitterly, Jarl looked down at his shackles. He thought of the Malyas among his own crewmen; the wild, free-born raiders.
How long would it be before they, too, wore the blue of the Federation?
Or before they died....
Now the commissioner stirred. Chin sunk on chest, he mumbled something to his rock-faced lieutenant.
The lean aide nodded briefly. Twisting in his seat, he pounded on the banquet table—first with his fist; then the butt of his heavy Talistan ray-gun.
The sound rose even above the tumult and raucous voices, echoing and re-echoing through the great room that till short days before had been Wassreck's clandestine robotics laboratory.