Their fur was unkempt, their tails naked with
filth and disease. Their leather aprons hung in tatters. One or two in
the crowd were humans, the dregs of the Kharsa. But the star-and-rocket
emblem blazoned across the spaceport gates sobered even the wildest
blood-lust somewhat; they milled and shifted uneasily in their half of
the square.
For a moment I did not see where their quarry had gone. Then I saw him
crouched, not four feet from me, in a patch of shadow. Simultaneously
the mob saw him, huddled just beyond the gateway, and a howl of
frustration and rage went ringing round the square. Someone threw a
stone. It zipped over my head, narrowly missing me, and landed at the
feet of the black-leathered guard. He jerked his head up and gestured
with the shocker which had suddenly come unholstered.
The gesture should have been enough. On Wolf, Terran law has been
written in blood and fire and exploding atoms; and the line is drawn
firm and clear. The men of Spaceforce do not interfere in the old town,
or in any of the native cities.
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