Kennon shuddered. He had never heard precisely that tone from her before. One word from Douglas and she had become a zombie—a mindless muscle preparation that existed only to obey. Anger filled him—anger that one he loved could be ordered by someone who wasn’t worth a third of her—anger that she obeyed—anger at his own impotence and frustration. It wasn’t a clean anger. It was a dark, red-splashed thing that struggled and writhed inside him, a fierce unreasoning rage that seethed and bubbled yet could not break free. For an instant, with blinding clarity, Kennon understood the feelings of the caged male Lani on Otpen One. And he sympathized.
“Follow me,” he said and started around the ship.
“Stay—no—go ahead,” Douglas said, “but remember, I’m right behind you.”
Kennon walked straight up to the pit and pointed down at the dark bulk of the Egg., concealed in the shadows of the bottom.
“That’s it,” he said.
“What? I don’t see anything,” Douglas said suspiciously.
“Here—I’ll shine a light.” Kennon reached for his belt.
“No you don’t! I know that trick. You’re not going to blind me. Take that torch loose carefully—that’s it—now hand it to me.” Douglas’ hand closed over the smooth plastic. Cautiously he turned on the beam and directed it downward.
“A spacer!” he gasped. “How did that get here?” He leaned forward to look into the pit as a dark shadow materialized behind him.
Kennon choked back the involuntary cry of warning that rose in his throat. Copper! His muscles tensed as her arm came up and down—a shadow almost invisible in the starlight. The leaning figure of Douglas collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly released. The torch dropped from his hand and went bouncing and winking down the wall of the pit, followed by Douglas—a limp bundle of arms and legs that rotated grotesquely as he disappeared down the slope. Starlight gleamed on the Burkholtz lying on the lip of the crater, where it had fallen from his hand.