No World of Their Own by Poul Anderson Page B

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It must be dreadful for you.”
    â€œI’ll survive. Let’s continue the roundup. I mean you well, but right now I’m under a sedative. It was a shock seeing you, and it’s going to go on being a shock for a while. Keep in the background, Marin; duck for cover if I start throwing things. Don’t try to be sympathetic. Just let me alone. Savvy?”
    She nodded mutely.
    In spite of the drug, his voice roughened. There was still a knife in him. “You can sleep in that room there. I like you, but I don’t want your pink body. Not—not the way things are.”
    â€œAll right,” she said quietly. “I understand. If you change your mind, I’ll understand that too.” After a moment: “You could have my appearance altered again, you know.”
    He didn’t reply, but’ sat wondering. It was the logical answer.… No. He would always remember. He didn’t believe in hiding from a fact.
    Alone in his room, Langley donned pajamas, crawled into bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to call up the image of Peggy. She was gone, she had died so long ago that the very blood of her was thinned through the entire race. Quite possibly everyone he had met, Chanthavar and Brannoch and Valti and Marin and Yulien and the faceless commoners huddled on low-level, stemmed from one unforgotten night with her. It was a strange thought. He wondered if she had married again; he hoped so, hoped that it had been a good man and that her life had been happy, but it wasn’t likely. She had been the sort who only gave herself once.
    He tried to see her before him, but it was hard to get a clear vision. Marin overlay it, they were like two pictures one on the other and not quite in line, the edges blurred. Peggy’s smile had never been just like what he saw now … or had it?
    It might have been hours later when he heard the explosion.
    He sat up in bed, staring blindly before him. That had been a blaster going off!
    Another crash sounded, and boots slammed on the floor. Langley jumped to his feet. Armed force—a real kidnap try this time, in spite of all guards! Another energy bolt flamed somewhere outside the room, and he heard a deep-voiced oath.
    He crouched against the farther wall, doubling his fists. No lights. If they were after him, let them find and haul him out.
    The tumult rolled somewhere in the living room. Then he heard Marin scream.
    He sprang for the door. “Open, goddam you!” It sensed him and dilated. A metal-clad arm slapped him back, down to the floor.
    â€œStay where you are, sir.” It was a hoarse gasp out of the mask-like combat helmet. “They’ve broken in—”
    â€œLet me go!” Langley shoved against the gigantic form of the Solar cop. He was no match; the slave stood like a rock.
    â€œSorry, sir, my orders—”
    A blue-white beam snapped across the field of view. Langley had a glimpse of a spacesuited figure hurtling out the smashed window, and Marin writhing in its arms. Other police were charging after it, firing wildly.
    Then, slowly, there was silence.
    The guard bowed. “They’re gone now, sir. Come on out if you wish.”
    Langley stepped into the shambles of his living room. There was a haze of smoke, burned plastic, the thin bitter reek of ozone. Furniture was trampled wreckage between the bulky, armored shapes which filled the chamber.
    â€œWhat happened?” he yelled. “In God’s name, what happened?”
    â€œEasy, sir.” The squad commander threw back his helmet; the shaven head looked tiny, poking out of the metal and fabric that encased his body. “You’re all right. Would you like a sedative?”
    â€œI asked you what happened!” Langely wanted to smash the impassive face. “Go on, tell me—I order you.”
    â€œVery good, sir. Two small, armed spaceships attacked us just outside.” The