he shouted at the dots. "Hey!" At first they didn't hear him. "Hey! Hey, up there!"
The dots were resolving into something more human. "Hoi" one of them called back, waving an arm to show they had seen him.
Panting, he doubled his speed. He could not very well use the flybelt without stirring up suspicion. And if they were as curious and perplexed by the disappearance ol the city as he was, they would be suspicious of anyone to begin with. Kicking up a column of powdered sand behind, he raced down the slope and pounded on the finer sands, gained the steps to the main pier.
When he reached the dock below the giant freighter where the waving man stood, there was no air left in his lungs. He stood there, leaning against a mooring post, staring up at the deck, his chest jumping up and down like a caged animal. A number of crewmen had come to the rail to look at him.
"Who are ye?" the man in the captain's hat asked.
"Tohm," he said.
"Ye live here, Tohm?" The man had a bushy white beard, ruddy cheeks, and a nose like a beacon.
"Aye," he said, reverting to the speech pattern he knew was Basa II's own.
"Where were ye when the town itself vanished?"
"Coming home. Aye, coming home I was. I got here and seen there was nothing." He hoped they didn't ask where it was he had been coming from.
The captain ordered the entry ramp lowered, smiled down at him. In a moment, it clanked upon the dock, sending a booming echo the length of the wharf. "C'mon aboard, then."
He walked up to the gangplank, still exhausted, and stepped onto the deck. The captain was standing there with the crew behind as if seeking protection. He had no legs. A single limb of metal welded the stumps of his legs together well above the knee and ended in a floating ball which rolled about, taking him where-ever he wished. He rolled over to Tohm, conscious of the appearance he made, and liking it "Ye look o' the upper class."
He thought quickly. "My father deals in concubines."
"Really now," the captain said, his eyes twinkling.
"What happened to the city?" Tohm asked, looking about uneasily. He was determined to find out as much as possible before someone asked a telling question and his disguise was revealed. It was difficult to tread knowledgeably on the ground of a world you knew the customs of but not the basic concepts behind them.
Triggy Gop was indeed a prophet. He was going to have to grasp a better basis of understanding.
"Ye haven't figured it out yet?" the captain asked.
The men behind him grumbled.
"I… I've been away—"
"An awfully long time and awful far away if ye can't figger it out. The Muties, man! The Muties! Fooling around with the Fringe agin."
"I should o' known," he said, still totally in the dark.
"Ya. Ya, all trouble comes from them. But we are in luck! They didn't exchange it. They couldn't hold the Mollycools apart long enough. They didn't exchange it-only managed to move it."
"Move it?"
"Ya. We got a report from the capital radio and defense system. We first thought it was the end; one minute there was a city, the next—poof! But then our communications boy picked her up. The Muties set her down eight hundred miles farther up the coast."
Tohm shook his head in disgust, as he felt he was expected to.
"Be an improvement, actchilly," the captain said, rolling closer. "More moderate climate up there. The name's Hazabob. Captain Hazabob." He offered a weathered hand.
Tohm shook it. "Could ye use a crewman? I'll work my way up to the city."
Hazabob looked around to his men. Tohm thought the old bird winked. "I'll tell ye what I'll do, Tohm, my lx)y," he said, throwing a fatherly arm about Tohm's shoulder. There was a smell of dead fish and perspiration. "I don't need a crewman. Ye'd be in the way, ye would. But I’ll take ye along anyway."
"Well thanks," Tohm said, grinning, his sunny hair windblown over his forehead.
"I'll take ye, think nothin' o' it. And while ye's talkin' about the city—" He turned and openly
The dots were resolving into something more human. "Hoi" one of them called back, waving an arm to show they had seen him.
Panting, he doubled his speed. He could not very well use the flybelt without stirring up suspicion. And if they were as curious and perplexed by the disappearance ol the city as he was, they would be suspicious of anyone to begin with. Kicking up a column of powdered sand behind, he raced down the slope and pounded on the finer sands, gained the steps to the main pier.
When he reached the dock below the giant freighter where the waving man stood, there was no air left in his lungs. He stood there, leaning against a mooring post, staring up at the deck, his chest jumping up and down like a caged animal. A number of crewmen had come to the rail to look at him.
"Who are ye?" the man in the captain's hat asked.
"Tohm," he said.
"Ye live here, Tohm?" The man had a bushy white beard, ruddy cheeks, and a nose like a beacon.
"Aye," he said, reverting to the speech pattern he knew was Basa II's own.
"Where were ye when the town itself vanished?"
"Coming home. Aye, coming home I was. I got here and seen there was nothing." He hoped they didn't ask where it was he had been coming from.
The captain ordered the entry ramp lowered, smiled down at him. In a moment, it clanked upon the dock, sending a booming echo the length of the wharf. "C'mon aboard, then."
He walked up to the gangplank, still exhausted, and stepped onto the deck. The captain was standing there with the crew behind as if seeking protection. He had no legs. A single limb of metal welded the stumps of his legs together well above the knee and ended in a floating ball which rolled about, taking him where-ever he wished. He rolled over to Tohm, conscious of the appearance he made, and liking it "Ye look o' the upper class."
He thought quickly. "My father deals in concubines."
"Really now," the captain said, his eyes twinkling.
"What happened to the city?" Tohm asked, looking about uneasily. He was determined to find out as much as possible before someone asked a telling question and his disguise was revealed. It was difficult to tread knowledgeably on the ground of a world you knew the customs of but not the basic concepts behind them.
Triggy Gop was indeed a prophet. He was going to have to grasp a better basis of understanding.
"Ye haven't figured it out yet?" the captain asked.
The men behind him grumbled.
"I… I've been away—"
"An awfully long time and awful far away if ye can't figger it out. The Muties, man! The Muties! Fooling around with the Fringe agin."
"I should o' known," he said, still totally in the dark.
"Ya. Ya, all trouble comes from them. But we are in luck! They didn't exchange it. They couldn't hold the Mollycools apart long enough. They didn't exchange it-only managed to move it."
"Move it?"
"Ya. We got a report from the capital radio and defense system. We first thought it was the end; one minute there was a city, the next—poof! But then our communications boy picked her up. The Muties set her down eight hundred miles farther up the coast."
Tohm shook his head in disgust, as he felt he was expected to.
"Be an improvement, actchilly," the captain said, rolling closer. "More moderate climate up there. The name's Hazabob. Captain Hazabob." He offered a weathered hand.
Tohm shook it. "Could ye use a crewman? I'll work my way up to the city."
Hazabob looked around to his men. Tohm thought the old bird winked. "I'll tell ye what I'll do, Tohm, my lx)y," he said, throwing a fatherly arm about Tohm's shoulder. There was a smell of dead fish and perspiration. "I don't need a crewman. Ye'd be in the way, ye would. But I’ll take ye along anyway."
"Well thanks," Tohm said, grinning, his sunny hair windblown over his forehead.
"I'll take ye, think nothin' o' it. And while ye's talkin' about the city—" He turned and openly
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