Here again was a vista of machinery. But these machines were
alive; a faint hum came from their casings. The mermen scattered,
taking cover, a move copied by the two humans.
The pilot remained in hiding, but he saw one of the furred people
running on as light-footedly as a shadow. Then his arm drew back, and
he cast his spear. Raf fancied he could hear a faint whistle as the
weapon cut the air. There was a cry, and the merman ran on, vanishing
into the shadows, to return a second or two later wiping stains from
his weapon. Out of their places of concealment, his fellows gathered
about him. And the humans followed.
Now they were fronted by a ramp leading up, and the mermen took it
quickly, their bare, scaled feet setting up a whispering echo which
was drowned by the clop of Raf's boots. Once more the party was alert,
ready for trouble, and taking his cue from them, he kept his stun gun
in his hand.
But the maneuver at the head of the ramp surprised him. For, though he
had heard no signal, all the party but one plastered their bodies back
against the wall, Dalgard pulling Raf into position beside him, the
scout's muscular bare arm pinning the pilot into a narrow space.
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