The Space Guardian by Max Daniels Page A

landing flyer. Although her legs were pumping up and down at a great rate and much sand was flying, Lahks was not getting anywhere. She was pretty sure the men would not notice, it was a common effect to feel as if things on the ground were moving slowly after one had been skimming close to the earth in a fast-moving flyer.
    When the door slid back and one of the flyer’s occupants began to walk toward her, Lahks started to pick up speed, screaming hysterically all the while. The man called to her comfortingly, and then, moved by her distress, he began to hurry himself. Now Lahks was running all out, rapidly attaining the velocity of a small guided missile. At the last moment, a vague glimmering of doubt seemed to touch the Wumeerian. He stopped and tried to sidestep. It was too late. As if she also realized a collision was imminent, Lahks, too, changed direction but to the same side as her unfortunate opponent. She met him with the impact of a cannonball, at the very last second folding her arms so that she would merely knock the breath from him rather than kill by rupturing all his internal organs.
    They went down together, rolling in the sand, giving every appearance of a man struggling with a hysterical woman whom he did not wish to hurt. The remaining occupant of the flyer, who had been watching the scene intently, half-rose and shook his head. It was the last voluntary movement he made for some hours. Under cover of Lahks’ play-acting, Stoat had crept from the comcov’s shield right up to the flyer. He was taking little risk because he could fire the moment the man’s head turned in his direction. In rising, however, the pilot presented a perfect target. Stoat’s stunner promptly sent him into a quiet, curled heap. As soon as he dropped, Stoat ran to Lahks’ bedroll to shut off the distress call. The last thing they wanted was a second flyer. With that silenced, he returned to the machine and climbed in. There he stood and laughed aloud before he called, “Clear here!” through the open door and then directed Shom to go and pick up Lahks’ victim.
    “That was funny,” he said as Lahks arrived, dusting the sand from her windsuit, “very funny. Our sleeping friend here was so absorbed, I could have climbed in with him.”
    “On a planet where there is a male-dominant society,” Lahks replied, laughing also, “even when a thing should be suspicious to them, if a woman does it they will not let themselves suspect danger.”
    “It does not irk you, I see, Trader’s daughter.”
    “Only a fool is irked by something that brings her advantage.” Lahks looked around at their prize. It seemed in good condition, though very old-fashioned. “Can you pilot it?” she asked. Given time, Lahks could figure out the controls, and that would be natural-enough knowledge for a Trader’s daughter, but she did not wish to waste either time or, more important, fuel.
    There was a brief hesitation and an odd shadow passed behind Stoat’s eyes, but at last he said, “Yes, long ago, very long ago, I flew such a machine. There is little I have not done at one time or another, Trader’s daughter.”
    With a grunt, Shom heaved the man Lahks had left unconscious into the flyer. Stoat told him to bring the packs and the comcov. When he turned back to Lahks, the shadow had passed from his face and he was smiling again.
    “Well, you have whistled and caught us a flyer. What miracle would you like to work next?”
    “I must think about it,” she replied with such gravity that Stoat was snared again and turned to stare. “After all, if I pick the wrong one and it doesn’t work, you will lose faith in me.”
    A fine brow quirked upward. “Trade must be a merry way of life if there are many like you in it,” he said dryly. “Meanwhile, what are we to do with these men?”
    Shom, had shut off the comcov and Lahks watched him gather their equipment. “How much fuel have we?” she asked.
    Stoat slid sinuously into the