Dirrul nonetheless faced
the alternative of losing everything if he waited.

Logically weighing all factors, he concluded he would not be risking
too much, considering the stakes, if he used the teleray. Agron
monitors could pick it up, of course, and no doubt the outpost
stations were instructed to record all messages emanating from within
the territory of Vinin. But Dirrul knew the Air-Command.

They wallowed in the same luxury and comfort enjoyed by the rest of
the Planetary Union. Outposts personnel, so far from the capital,
would be even less likely to take their duties seriously than Dirrul's
own unit.

He tried to make the information enigmatic to the curious and at least
suggestive to the Vininese. He used the landing Wave-code 373. The
small red light on the control panel glowed and he knew he had
established contact. In carefully chosen Vininese he spoke into the
teleray mouthpiece.

"Sorgel requires help for Glenna-Hurd Plan. Exactly fifty days, their
time."

He repeated the message. As an afterthought he gave his own position
and asked for emergency repair assistance. The whole meaning hinged
upon the names of Glenna and Hurd. However, since they had been taken
to Vinin, they should already have outlined the Plan to the Vininese
command. If there were any doubts Headquarters could teleray for
clarification. When his speaker remained silent Dirrul assumed he had
been understood.

He began to feel the pull of Vininese gravity, found himself in
trouble with his ship. He tried to keep the disabled cargo carrier
relatively stationary, so that the Vininese repair ships could locate
him. With only one power tube, however, maneuver was impossible. The
battered ship plunged out of control toward the planet.

For an hour Dirrul fought with all the skill he knew. A thousand feet
above the surface he managed to force the ship to level off
temporarily. He had no time to seek a proper landing area and in any
case his gear had been shot away.

There was a wide flat plain directly below him, in the distance the
towering mass of a large city silhouetted against a range of
mountains. Dirrul headed his ship for the open fields, setting the
safety devices for a crash landing.

He hung around his neck the identification disk Sorgel had given him,
tucking it beneath his tunic. If he were hurt in the landing, a
Vininese might find him, and the disk would indicate that he was
important enough to be taken to the Headqua