All right, he had found a village.  Now what?  A Medic—­A stranger appearing on the lane which served the town, a stranger in a distinctive uniform of Trade, would only incite conjecture and betrayal.  He had to plan now—­

Dane unsealed his tunic.  He should, by rights, shed his space boots too.  But perhaps he could use those to color his story.  He thrust the blaster into hiding at his waist.  A rip or two in his undertunic, a shallow cut from his bush knife allowed to bleed messily.  He could not see himself to judge the general effect, but had to hope it was the right one.

His chance to test his acting powers came sooner than he had anticipated.  Luckily he had climbed out of the hidden cove before he was spotted by the boy who came whistling along the path, a fishing pole over his shoulder, a basket swinging from his hand.  Dane assumed an expression which he thought would suggest fatigue, pain, and bewilderment and lurched forward as if, in sighting the oncoming boy, he had also sighted hope.

“Help—!” Perhaps it was excitement which gave his utterance that convincing croak.

Rod and basket fell to the ground as the boy, after one astounded stare, ran forward.

“What’s the matter!” His eyes were on those space boots and he added a “sir” which had the ring of hero worship.

“Escape boat—­” Dane waved toward the sea’s general direction.  “Medic—­must get to Medic—­”

“Yes, sir,” the boy’s basic Terran sounded good.  “Can you walk if I help you?”

Dane managed a weak nod, but contrived that he did not lean too heavily on his avidly helpful guide.

“The Medic’s my father, sir.  We’re right down this slope—­third house.  And father hasn’t left—­he’s supposed to go on a northern inspection tour today—­”

Dane felt a stab of distaste for the role being forced upon him.  When he had visualized the Medic he must abduct to serve the Queen in her need, he had not expected to have to kidnap a family man.  Only the knowledge that he did have the extra suit, and that he had made the outward trip without dangerous exposure, bolstered up his determination to see the plan through.

When they came out at the end of the single long lane which tied the houses of the village together, Dane was puzzled to see the place so deserted.  But, since it was not within his role of dazed sufferer to ask questions, he did not do so.  It was his young guide who volunteered the information he wanted.

“Most everyone is out with the fleet.  There’s a run of red-backs—­”

Dane understood.  Within recent times the “red-backs” of the north had become a desirable luxury item for Terran tables.  If a school of them were to be found in the vicinity no wonder this village was now deserted as its fleet went out to garner in the elusive but highly succulent fish.

“In here, sir—­” Dane found himself being led to a house on the right.  “Are you in Trade—?”