g, in the slang
current when they had left Terra, was reassuring simply because it was
of the earth he knew. Raf grinned. But he did not head toward the roof
opening and the ramp inside the building. Instead he set a course he
had learned in the other city, swinging down to the roof of the
neighboring structure, intent on working away from the inhabited
section of the town before he went into the streets.

Either the aliens had not set any watch on the Terrans or else all
their interest was momentarily engaged elsewhere. Raf, having gone
three or four blocks in the opposite direction to his goal, made his
way through a silent, long-deserted building to the street without
seeing any of the painted people. In his ear buzzed the comforting hum
of the com, tying him with the flitter and so, in a manner, to safety.

He knew that the alien community had gathered in and around the
central building they had visited. To his mind the prisoner was now
either in the headquarters of the warriors, where the globe had been
berthed, or had been taken to the administration building. Whether he
could penetrate either stronghold was a question Raf did not yet face
squarely.

But the odd something which tugged at him was as persistent as the
buzz in his earphones. And an idea came. If he _were_ obeying some
strange call for assistance, couldn't that in some way lead him to
what he sought? The only difficulty was that he had no way of being
more receptive to the impulse than he now was. He could not use it as
a compass bearing.

In the end he chose the Center as his goal, reasoning that if the
prisoner were to be interviewed by the leaders of the aliens, he would
be taken to those rulers, they would not go to him. From a concealed
place across from the open square on which the building fronted, the
pilot studied it carefully. It towered several stories above the
surrounding structures, to some of which it was tied by the ways above
the streets. To use one of those bridges as a means of entering the
headquarters would be entirely too conspicuous.

As far as the pilot was able to judge, there was only one entrance on
the ground level, the wide front door with the imposing
picture-covered gates. Had he had free use of the flitter he might
have tried to swing down from the hovering machine after dark. But he
was sure that Captain Hobart would not welcome the suggestion.

Underground? There had been those ways in that other city, a city