Free The Space Guardian by Max Daniels

canines peeped through. They were safe enough for the moment in Stoat’s stilltent, crammed into a shallow scrape of a cave. It would only be hours, he suspected, before the hunt started. His sidelong glance slid over Shom to the sleeping girl.
    Hunter and hunted, Stoat had developed the fatalism of an animal. He knew by some inner instinct when he would be successful and when he would fail. Neither mattered much; the hunt was all, because in the end there was only the final failure, which was the final victory. He was of the old one-God faith, His Power, the unnameable Yahweh, was immutable Justice weaving through irrational paths, and Its sign was the six-pointed star.
    But the girl had upset his balance. He could not read the end of this venture, and he suspected it was because he was no longer willing to accept the falls of fate. He did not want this woman to be held in the inner courts of a Landlord. Because he wanted her himself? His eyes slid away from the dim, quiet form. There had been so many women; usually he was sure of his own intentions within minutes. But this Trader’s daughter heated his interest more than his body—if she was a Trader’s daughter.
    “You do not think we can escape.”
    The voice was so quiet, so much a part of his thoughts, that Stoat’s sensitive nerves did not quiver. He replied as quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “This range is very narrow and so close to the cup that it can be searched thoroughly. Besides, it is useless for our purpose. So close to the town, it was long ago hunted empty.”
    “But we never intended to stay here.”
    The utter calm of her voice, Stoat found, was making him sleepy. Trader’s daughter? Trader’s daughter? Alarm bells rang in his head and his eyes narrowed. Nonetheless, he spoke only of immediate practicalities. “But then I thought we would arouse little interest until after we had found or taken. I knew Vurn would report you and thought that if Vogel wanted you he would have taken you at once. Now I see the rationale in what he is doing.”
    “You are very protective.” There was real warmth, perhaps even invitation, under the gentle laughter in Lahks’ voice.
    Stoat replied with a brief but picturesque obscenity, which he explained. “My own hide, and Shom’s too, for that matter, are involved. Would it be safe for the Landlord to let us live?”
    Lahks was silent for a bare moment, then said, “I have a comcov. Will that help?”
    The hiss of breath drawn sharply between teeth described Stoat’s surprised relief. The outgoing breath, however, was a discouraged sigh. “I doubt it. I don’t think the Landlord has detection devices, but the droms will give us away unless you have a unit that will cover a lot of space.”
    “The droms? Do they work for the Landlords? Do you know anything about them?”
    “No one knows anything about them. They stick out like a sore thumb on this planet, just like the heartstones; they don’t belong here. Everything else on Wumeera is designed for the single purpose of killing something else so it can stay alive itself. The droms don’t kill anything; at least no one has ever caught one at it. Yet they are indestructible.”
    “They would have to be, under the circumstances, wouldn’t they? And their physical characteristics certainly mark them as indigenous. The skin. . .”
    “You haven’t really looked. The scales are set differently, the. . . Take it from me, they don’t belong here. The important thing is that they follow people around. Helpful devils! Whenever anyone wants to go anywhere, the droms are there. No one knows how they know. No one knows how to call them or send them away. When we are ready to leave tomorrow, they will be there. And out in the flats, their presence will betray us.”
    “If we do not move, how long will the search in this area continue? After all, we are in no hurry.”
    Stoat’s eyes flicked at her and flicked away. “And your