Free Star Hunter by Andre Norton Page A

listen good. This is a slim try, but it's
one we have to take."
    "We?" Vye was startled into asking.
    "Yes, we! By rights I ought to leave you right here to do the rest of
your big, brave speechmaking for Wass' benefit. If I didn't need you,
that's just what I would do! If it weren't for those civs—" His head
snapped back, cheek to panel, he was listening again. After a long
moment his whisper came once more. "I don't have time to repeat this.
In about five minutes Peake'll be here with rations. I'll leave this
door unlatched. There's another storage cabin across the corridor—see
if you can hide there, then trick him into getting in here and lock
him in. Got it?"
    Vye nodded.
    "Then—make for the exit port. Here." He snapped a packet loose from
his belt. "This is a flare pak, you saw how they worked on the island.
When you get on the ramp beyond the atom lamp, throw this. It should
hit the camp force barrier. And the result ought to hold their
attention. Then you head for the flitter. Understand?"
    "Yes."
    The flitter, yes, that was the perfect escape. With a camp force
barrier on, any fugitive could only break out by going straight up.
    Hume gazed at him soberly, listened once more, and then went. Vye
counted a slow five before he followed. The cabin across the corridor
was open, just as Hume had promised. He slipped inside, waited.
    Peake was coming now, the metallic plates on his spaceboots clicking
in regular pattern of sound. He earned another ration container and
crooked it in his arm as he snapped up the lock bar on the other
cabin.
    There was an exclamation of surprise. Vye went into action. His hand,
backed by all the strength of his thrusting arm, thumped between
Peake's shoulders, sending him staggering into the prison compartment.
Before the other could recover either his balance or his wits, Vye had
the panel shut, the bar locked into place.
    He ran down the corridor to the well ladder, swung down its rungs with
an agility born of necessity. Then he was in the air lock, getting his
bearings. The flitter stood to his left, the flashing atom lamp, where
the men were gathered, to his right.
    Vye stepped out on the ramp. He wiped his sweating hand across his
thigh. There had to be no failures in the tossing of the flare pak.
    Choosing a spot, not directly in line with the lamp but near enough to
dazzle the men, he hurled it with all the force he could muster. Then
he was running down the ramp, forward to the area of the ship.
    There was a flash—shouting—Vye curbed the impulse to look back,
darted for the flitter. He jerked open the cabin compartment,
scrambled into the cramped space behind the pilot's seat, leaving that
free for Hume's quick entrance. More shouting—now he saw the lines of
fire wavering from earth to sky along the barrier.
    A black shape put on a burst of speed, was silhouetted against that
flaming wall, then passed the spacer, grabbed at the open cockpit, and
slid in behind the controls. Hume pulled the levers with flying
fingers. They arose vertically at a pace which practically slapped
Vye's stomach up into the lower regions of his throat.
    The searing line of at least one blaster reached after them—too
slowly, too low. He heard Hume grunt, and they again leaped higher.
Then the Hunter spoke:
    "Half an hour at the most—"
    "The safari camp?
    "Yes."
    They no longer climbed. The flitter was boring forwards on a
projectile flight, into the dark of the night.
    "What're those?" Vye suddenly leaned forward.
    Had some of the stars across the space void broken free from their
fixed orbits? Flecks of light, moving in an arc, headed towards the
speeding flitter.
    Hume hit a button. Again they arose in a violent leap above those
wandering lights. But ahead on this new level more such dots flocked,
moving fast to close in on the flyer.
    "A straight ram course," Hume muttered, more to himself than Vye.
    Again the flyer drove forward in a rising thrust of speed. Then the
smooth purr of the