Slaves of The Klau

"Good-by, Roy."

He walked swiftly to the little room he had shared with Claude Darran. It was quite empty. Nothing I wanted anyway, thought Barch.

He returned to the terrace. Komeitk Lelianr still stood leaning back with her elbows on the balustrade. She was looking at him; she radiated an attraction, a physical force that impelled him toward her. He took a short step forward, halted. She looked at him with a curious expression neither inviting nor forbidding. Barch took a deep breath.

"Good-by, Ellen."

"Good-by, Roy."

He ran to the helicopter, jumped in. The pilot was reading a magazine.

"Let's go," said Barch.

The pilot stretched languidly. "Finish so soon?"

"Finish?" muttered Barch. "What do you mean 'finish?' There's nothing in life that has a finish."

"You're beyond me there, mister."

"Let's go," said Barch shortly.

The pilot looked down the terrace. "That young lady is coming down this way."

Barch slowly stepped out of the cab. He saw that she was breathing very hard. Her mouth was firm, pale, tight.

"Well?"

"I don't want you to leave."

"But-"

" Roy -it's taking a chance. I'm willing if you are."

He made no pretense of misunderstanding. "A big chance. You'll be cut off from your people."

"Perhaps, perhaps not… Are you afraid?"

Barch looked at her long seconds. Something warm broke inside him. "No. I'm not afraid."

Jack Vance