The Devil's Nebula
connected squarely with the beast’s head, and it dropped to the ground a metre from the stunned Vetch.
    Carew was in full view of the Vetch, and the alien was an easy target.
    Seconds stretched and the representatives of two very different races regarded each other under the glare of an alien sun.
    At last the alien spoke, “I owe you my life, human.”
    Carew said, “You did not kill my colleague.”
    It took a few seconds for the alien’s translator to relay Carew’s words, then it responded, “We are not barbarians, human. Despite your stories, despite the actions of a few of my kind in the past, we do not kill indiscriminately.”
    Carew inclined his head, “Humans, too, or many of us, are loath to take life, save that which threatens us.”
    Carew stepped from the pavilion and approached the giant alien. He felt fear clutch his gut and a pounding in his head which told him to fight, or flee. He was twelve again and he was on his homeplanet of Temeredes, attempting to look after his ten year-old sister.
    He staunched those memories, fearful of where they might lead, of what they might impel him to do here, today; actions which he knew might prove fatal.
    He faced the Vetch, something he had never expected he would do, and he did not flinch as he beheld its ugliness. “I was told of the starship, how it crash-landed here a hundred years ago. My source didn’t know where it came from, though he did say it was not Vetch.”
    “It was not our ship, but we too heard rumours.”
    “Rumours?” Carew echoed. His source, an elderly Hesperidian politician, had mentioned no rumours.
    The Vetch blinked, once, its pink eyelids nictitating from the bottom up and cupping the bulging eyes grotesquely. It seemed to be assessing how much to tell him, and decided to keep its own counsel.
    It said, “If you are ignorant of the rumours, then it would be unwise of me to enlighten you. Suffice to say that the alien ship was not Vetch – it came from beyond what you know as Vetch space.”
    The Vetch raised a hand to its misshapen lips and spoke into a handset.
    Carew said, “You will allow us to leave, unharmed?”
    “As I said, human, we are not barbarians. Your colleague will return to full fitness in due course. My ship is coming for me. I suggest that you leave Akaria and do not return.” He paused, staring down at the sprawled carcass of the kreesh. “For your actions here today, human, I thank you.”
    And so saying, the Vetch turned on its heels and stepped into the cover of the jungle.
    Carew moved across to where Lania lay, face up on a bed of brambles. He lifted her with some difficulty, eased her to the ground and placed his water bottle to her lips. She drank, watching him all the while with an unreadable expression in her eyes.
    He guessed he would soon have much explaining to do.

 
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    L ANIA WONDERED WHAT hurt the most: the stunning impact of the Vetch’s pulse-beam, or the fact that Ed had lied to her about the reason for coming to Hesperides.
    Her immediate reaction, on seeing the alien turn and fire its weapon before she could do the same, was despair at dying in such a stupid fashion. She could only imagine the disgust of her military teachers at the manner of her end. She had been silent in tracking the Vetch, but she had not taken into account the direction of the breeze: it was her scent, she realised, that had alerted the alien.
    Then the pulse-beam hit her and flung her backwards and she truly thought she was dying. Pain tore like fire through every muscle of her body. Then the agony abated little by little and she came to the amazing realisation that she was still alive. That, for whatever reasons, rather than kill her, the Vetch had chosen merely to stun.
    She had heard voices: the oddly inhuman transistorised words of the Vetch and Ed’s cautious replies. And then she forgot the physical pain as she learned that Ed Carew had come here, had endangered his life and those of his
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