She asked faintly, "Did he say who?"

  "Johnny."

  "Oh," she gasped.

  "He's certain there's a beyond here on Engo, the probable reason why he believes David is alive." Watching her, he realized she hadn't denied the existence of a beyond, and almost certainly it had to be Johnny. David a beyond, and now Johnny? The mathematical odds against two such occurrences so close together were staggering. Or were there two? She hadn't stated categorically that David was dead, nor had she denied Wig's supposition that David might be masquerading as Johnny. Yet that was impossible. One had been blonde, tall, the other dark, stocky. And he'd seen the open grave; there was no doubt of the identity of the body. And yet, he thought, there was some part missing, something he couldn't discern.

  He shook the thought aside impatiently and said, "The empty graves give Wig a powerful weapon."

  "I realize that." She looked as if she had regained her composure.

  "You said once people were escaping..." He paused, holding her eyes.

  She nodded slowly. "Most of the people used to die, Alek, but not now.

  The graves were used to conceal the knowledge that we've found a way to escape."

  "From Engo?" She moved her head slightly and he continued, "Wig says the underground is taking them back to the Federation?" He made it a question.

  "No." She scarcely breathed the word.

  "Not the underground or not back to the Federation?"

  "Neither," she answered.

  "But they're leaving the planet?"

  "Yes."

  "Is that why it's so empty? I thought it strange."

  "Only a few of us are left, Alek."

  He laughed grimly. "Small wonder Wig can't locate anyone, not even with the groat. He thinks they're hiding in the Kavu mountains."

  She shuddered. "No one can live there. Not for long."

  "Is it that bad?" he asked wonderingly.

  "Worse."

  "But you can't tell me where they're going?"

  "Not yet, Alek."

  "All right," he answered ruefully, "but why don't you and Johnny leave?"

  "He can't," she whispered.

  "Is that why you stay?"

  "I have to take care of him, Alek."

  "Why can't he go?" he demanded.

  "He has to help the others."

  "To escape?"

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  "Yes, but someday..." She paused, gazing wistfully into the distance.

  "When there's another beyond, someone who can do what he's doing?" A flash of insight gripped him, so bizarre and fleeting that it vanished before he could grasp it fully. The fragmentary revelation left him numb with wonder.

  "Listen!" she commanded. She lifted her head, peering toward the trees.

  He stood straighter, all his senses attuned, wondering what had alerted her.

  The wind, the river... "Listen," she repeated fiercely.

  "Simon?"

  "No!" Her voice held a touch of terror. "Open your mind, concentrate."

  Concentrate! He closed his eyes, his ears, trying to shut out the questions crowding his mind; but there was nothing. How could he open his mind to the unknown when all of his life he'd been trying to keep it closed? What mental valve did he turn? How could he open circuits that had been fused shut by repeated denial of the power she now said he had? How? How? The ground trembled underfoot, followed by a low rumble that receded into the distance.

  "Quake," he whispered.

  "No." She leaned closer, murmuring almost inaudibly, "Someone's coming."

  "Who?" He strained, seeking a sense of presence, baffled that he felt nothing.

  "More than one," she corrected. "The thoughts are mixed."

  "People from Engo?" he asked, remembering the figures on the meadow.

  "No, they're from the ship...moving this way. There's a sense of viciousness."

  "Wig?"

  "They've split up. They're going in different directions."

  "Who?" he urged.

  She grasped his arm, gesturing for silence, then looked at him, her eyes frightened. "Jonman's coming this way. He has that animal."

  "The groat?"

  "I believe so, yes." She shivered apprehensively. "I'd better go before they get too close."

  "I'll go with you," he said impulsively.

  "It's too dangerous to stay together." Raising her face, she kissed him and darted away before he had a chance to detain her.

  "Here...tomorrow night," he called softly into the darkness. She gave no sign that she heard and he started to repeat the message, then clamped his lips, aware of the danger. Jonman coming with the groat...He strained his senses into the night, and then it came, the faint inkling of presence. It seemed to grow stronger in his mind.

  "A sense of viciousness," she had said. He sensed that, too, as if some intangible menace lurked in the shadows of his subconscious. He sat on the damp ground and shielded himself with the bulla grass, waiting. The feeling of

  presence began to fade again and gradually vanished altogether.

  Staring into the night, his thoughts were in a whirl. David was dead and not dead; Johnny was a beyond, although she hadn't stated it in so many words.

  But he talked with beings in the Magellanic Clouds, helped exiles to escape from Engo. How?

  And they didn't go back to the Federation; they went to a strange planet. What planet? Where was the star with habitable worlds not yet known? Not in this galaxy, he reflected. Not in this galaxy? The words rushed back, staggering him. But no, that was impossible. The gulf was too vast.

  Gazing into the blackness of the forest, he felt the ground lurch underfoot again, settling into a prolonged vibration that gradually died away.

  The orange moon, hanging menacingly in the sky, cast a sheen against which the agora branches waved and tossed, filling the night with a vast sigh.

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  As he watched, the moon vanished, obscured in a tumble of orange-edged clouds that raced in from the Kavu mountains, bringing a spatter of rain.

  Again he closed his eyes, listening with his mind; the silence was almost terrifying.

  Drawing his jacket closer, he resisted the temptation to return to the ship. What were Wig's men doing out tonight? Did they suspect he was out prowling? Or were they hoping to find someone else? He looked around uneasily.

  Between great rifts in the clouds he saw the orange half-moon again.

  Slowly he sank back into the grass, returning his thoughts to Johnny.

  Nothing was impossible. At least nothing was impossible on a world like Engo, he reflected.

  Perhaps Johnny did talk with beings in the Magellanic Clouds.

  Was that any more fantastic than a boy who was dead and yet not dead? Was it any more fantastic than an entire colony of exiles escaping to a planet that didn't exist? Or was it all a mad, mad dream?

  He stiffened, suddenly alerted. Jonman? Moving his head slowly, he scanned the darkness, wondering what had jarred his consciousness. A sound? Or was it something more, something that had come from within his mind?

  Listening, he heard only the dull roar of the river.

  He was about to conclude he was mistaken when his eyes caught movement and he turned his head quickly, seeing a figure emerge from the forest.

  Jonman! He knew it without quite knowing how. At the same instant he saw the groat.

  As he caught his breath, sinking deeper into the grass, the groat struggled forward against the leash and the agent took another step onto the meadow. Selby saw them clearly in a moment of moonlight -- the huge animal moving its head, sniffing, Jonman scanning the clearing.

  Selby studied them, conscious of the slow, dull beat of his heart. In his ears it sounded like a drum. Something in the agent's movements alerted him and he realized Jonman was stalking someone. Lora? No, it couldn't be.

  She'd vanished in a different direction.

  He was struggling with his thoughts when he saw Jonman suddenly step back into the shadows, pulling the groat from sight. At the same time he became aware that someone else had entered the meadow from a point more distant. Another agent? He shot a glance toward Jonman before returning his gaze. As the second figure drew closer, he saw the slightness of the body and realized it was Johnny. At the same instant he heard a curse and whirled, seeing that the groat had broken free and was racing toward the boy.

  "Johnny!" Selby screamed the name, leaping to his feet. A light beam shot out from where the agent was standing, pinning him against the meadow before moving to the groat, following it as it bounded in great leaps across the bulla grass. "Johnny, the groat," he screamed again.

  Johnny turned and saw the groat, then whirled and raced for the shelter of the trees. Sickeningly, Selby knew he wouldn't make it. The groat was too close. At the last instant he saw another form shoot from the grass, springing toward the groat with a snarl.

  Jonman's light moved, fixing the scene, and Selby saw the groat and the shaggy yellow dog called Rok locked in furious combat. For a moment the light revealed two huge masses of fur rolling and twisting amid angry spitting snarls. Selby felt a touch of horror. The shaggy dog was no match for the ugly brute.

  Cursing horribly, Jonman raced forward, brandishing a weapon. As Selby started to intervene, he saw Johnny halt and turn. His eye couldn't follow what happened next, but suddenly he realized the groat was alone. The agent's beam moved wildly and he finally saw Rok suspended in midair, a good dozen feet above the groat.

  Jonman skidded to a halt, his eyes riveted on the scene. The groat suddenly became aware of the yellow dog overhead and looked up. For an instant it held the posture, then turned and slunk Page 67

  from the meadow with a whine of terror.

  The light blinked out and Selby heard the crashing sound of Jonman racing panic-stricken toward the woods.

  When Selby looked back again, Johnny and the yellow dog were gone.

  The executor's narrow face was cold and hostile. Sitting in the lounge in the SocAd ship, his black eyes fixed Selby angrily as he demanded, "Where is that boy?"

  Selby regarded him calmly. "I don't know." Jonman, sitting off to one side, laughed nastily. Selby didn't bother to look at him.

  "Don't know? You were there, Selby. Jonman saw you."

  "Then why not ask Jonman?"

  "Don't be insolent," snapped Wig.

  "I'm not."

  "Do you still deny he's a pk?"

  "I won't swear that he is," Selby returned.

  "He raised the dog, Selby. You and Jonman both saw it."

  "I saw the dog in the air, yes, but I don't know who raised it."

  Jonman snickered and said, "Maybe the dog's a teleport."

  "Could be," he said.

  "You'll have some questions to answer before the High Council, I'll warrant you that," Wig threatened. "What were you doing on the meadow?"

  "Is there any rule against it?" he asked.

  "I demand an answer," Wig replied harshly.

  "My reasons are my own."

  "Your own?" Wig arched his eyes. "This investigation was placed in my hands by Councilor Strang, Selby. I'm certain you're aware of that."

  "Your end of the investigation," he corrected. "I'm conducting one too, for Director Smithson."

  "Smithson!" Wig spat the name. "I'm here representing higher authority."

  "My investigation is still independent," he returned.

  The executor's face contorted and Selby saw his jaw muscles work spasmodically before he stated, "I could have you placed in custody."

  "You might have trouble explaining that when you got back," Selby replied evenly.

  "You believe so?" Wig smiled coldly. "I'm certain I could explain it very well."

  "On what grounds?" he asked. "I'm not interfering with you or with the conduct of your investigation -- not even when you seize a man and place him under psychic probe. That is illegal," he finished.

  Wig looked startled. "Who gave you that information?"

  "I'm an investigator," he answered, "and I investigate."

  The executor flushed. "Simon is a common criminal," he said succinctly.

  "The act is still illegal." Selby dropped his voice. "I could demand that Captain Welker place you in custody for violation of a basic SocAd law --

  the prohibition of probing by anyone other than a rated psymaster." He paused, weighing the other, realizing he had a very real point. As principal investigator on the director's staff, he could very well request such action of the patrol captain. Whether or not Welker would accede to such a demand was something else again. But would Wig take the chance? He had gambled that he wouldn't.

  The executor's eyes closed to pinpoints as he glared across the few feet between them. Finally he rasped tightly, "You wouldn't dare."

  "Try me."

  "You're going too far, Selby. I warn you."

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  "Am I? You're talking about placing me in custody for no reason I can discern." It wasn't quite true, he knew, but Wig couldn't know that. He heard the howl of the wind and felt the ship tremble underfoot. The quakes were growing stronger, more prolonged.

  Wig found his voice again. "I have reason to believe you're shielding these people," he accused.

  "Prove that," Selby demanded.

  The executor contemplated him, his eyes blank and stony, and yet Selby sensed a certain wariness creeping into the narrow face.

  "This isn't getting us anywhere," Wig said finally. His conciliatory tone put Selby on guard, even though he sensed that the executor was not yet prepared for an all-out test of strength.

  He said tentatively, "No, it isn't."

  "I've asked you a question that has a direct bearing on my investigation," Wig continued. "That gives me the right to expect an answer."

  "It has a direct bearing on mine, too," he replied. "That gives me the right to silence."

  Wig pursed his lips and leaned forward. "What do you hope to gain?"

  "Perhaps nothing."

  "You said once you considered your investigation closed."

  Selby smiled slightly. "You've reopened it," he replied.

  Wig's head stopped moving and his eyes seemed to come into a new focus as he said, "David Gant's alive, Selby, and I believe you know it."

  "I've seen his body," he returned calmly. "So have Lieutenant Stagg and eight of his men."

  "He's not dead, Selby. I know that with absolute certainty."

  "What's your proof?"

  The executor smiled slightly. "That's what this meeting is all about --

  pinning down the proof. But I know this: David Gant is the boy who calls himself Johnny Sloan, the boy you saw in the meadow -- saw raise a dog. That's David Gant, the pk."

  "David's in his grave," he countered.

  Wig continued, "I also know the Gant girl is with him."

  "How do you know that?" Selby asked the question almost involuntarily, shocked by the extent of the executor's knowledge.

  Wig inclined his head. "Tell him, Derek."

  Jonman thrust himself forward in his seat, eyeing Selby balefully.

  "We've spotted her several times. The boy, too. They hang around that meadow.

  That's why I went out with the groat; I was waiting for them."

  Selby said maliciously, "You didn't wait long."

  "Long enough," snarled Jonman.

  "Tell him the rest," Wig interceded testily.

  "Those people know exactly where the detectors are," Jonman stated. "How could they know, unless they were in touch with someone on the field?"

  "I couldn't answer that," Selby returned.

  "Couldn't or won't?" demanded Wig.

  Selby said wearily, "Take it either way."

  "What were those people doing out there?"

  "Probably trying to discover what happened to Simon," he retorted.

  "You're evasive, Selby."

  "Am I?" He moved his eyes and stared distastefully at Jonman. "If you just caught a glimpse of the boy, as you state, why are you so certain it was

  Johnny Sloan? Or should I say David Gant?"

  Jonman pulled his lips tight against his teeth. "That dog -- that big yellow shaggy dog."

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  "Yellow?" Selby raised his eyes. "You could determine the color in the darkness?"

  "I caught him in the beam, just like I caught you," the agent snapped.

  "In case you forget, that was the Gant boy's dog."

  "What does that prove?"

  Jonman snarled, "We know what's going on, even if you don't."

  Wig smiled, a narrow, caustic smile. "You seem to have discovered remarkably little for the time you've been here," he observed.

  "Perhaps because I'm not trying to create a situation," Selby shot back.

  "And I am?" The executor frowned. "We've seen proof that the boy you call Johnny Sloan is a pk. But I know that he's David Gant. Do you know how I

  know? Simon told me."

  "Simon said Johnny was David?" he asked incredulously.

  Wig hesitated briefly. "He stated David hadn't died. Isn't that the same thing? But the groat confirmed it, Selby. Whatever it was that it sniffed at the grave was the same thing that caused it to go berserk when it saw the boy in the meadow. You can't fool a groat."

  Selby said mildly, "I'd be interested in hearing the groat testify."

  "You'll be there when the testimony's given," Wig promised bleakly. He leaned forward. "I also can prove that the boy is involved in the escape of the exiles, that right at this moment he's waiting to rendezvous with Olaf, head of the mutant underground. And his sister -- he's David Gant, all right -

  - is in league with him. Those are criminal activities, Selby, and I don't intend to overlook them, even if you do. I'm certain that Councilor Strang will see my point of view."

  "I have scant doubt of that," he returned wryly.

  Wig lifted his head. "From here on out, stay away from the village. The meadow, also. That's an order."

  "And if I don't choose to obey it?"

  "Then I can't take the responsibility for your safety."

  "Is that a threat?" Selby asked stonily.

  "I've ordered the apprehension of anyone found outside between dusk and dawn," Wig stated.

  "In event they try to flee, the orders are to shoot to kill."

 

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