The Link | Page 2

for him, and
he stopped short, staggered for a moment by the overpowering beauty
in the vaulted room.
A girl with red hair the color of new flame was dancing with
enthralling beauty and abandon, her body moving like ripples of wind

to the music which filled the room with its throbbing cry. Her beauty
was exquisite, every motion, every flowing turn a symphony of
flawless perfection as she danced to the wild music.
"Lord Nehmon!"
The dancer threw back her head sharply, eyes wide, her body frozen in
mid-air, and then, abruptly, she was gone, leaving only the barest
flickering image of her fiery hair. The music slowed, singing softly,
and Ravdin could see the old man waiting in the room. Nehmon rose,
his gaunt face and graying hair belying the youthful movement of his
body. Smiling, he came forward, clapped Ravdin on the shoulder, and
took his hand warmly. "You're too late for the concert--it's a shame.
Mischana is the master tonight, and the whole city is there."
Ravdin's throat tightened as he tried to smile. "I had to let you know,"
he said. "They're coming, Nehmon! I saw them, hours ago."
The last overtones of the music broke abruptly, like a glass shattered on
stone. The room was deathly still. Lord Nehmon searched the young
man's face. Then he turned away, not quite concealing the sadness and
pain in his eyes. "You're certain? You couldn't be mistaken?"
"No chance. I found signs of their passing in a dozen places. Then I
saw them, their whole fleet. There were hundreds. They're coming, I
saw them."
"Did they see you?" Nehmon's voice was sharp.
"No, no. The Warp is a wonderful thing. With it I could come and go in
the twinkling of an eye. But I could see them in the twinkling of an
eye."
"And it couldn't have been anyone else?"
"Could anyone else build ships like the Hunters?"
Nehmon sighed wearily. "No one that we know." He glanced up at the

young man. "Sit down, son, sit down. I--I'll just have to rearrange my
thinking a little. Where were they? How far?"
"Seven light years," Ravdin said. "Can you imagine it? Just seven, and
moving straight this way. They know where we are, and they are
coming quickly." His eyes filled with fear. "They couldn't have found
us so soon, unless they too have discovered the Warp and how to use it
to travel."
The older man's breath cut off sharply, and there was real alarm in his
eyes. "You're right," he said softly. "Six months ago it was eight
hundred light years away, in an area completely remote from us. Now
just seven. In six months they have come so close."
The scout looked up at Nehmon in desperation. "But what can we do?
We have only weeks, maybe days, before they're here. We have no
time to plan, no time to prepare for them. What can we do?"
The room was silent. Finally the aged leader stood up, wearily, some
fraction of his six hundred years of life showing in his face for the first
time in centuries. "We can do once again what we always have done
before when the Hunters came," he said sadly. "We can run away."
* * * * *
The bright street below the oval window was empty and quiet. Not a
breath of air stirred in the city. Ravdin stared out in bitter silence. "Yes,
we can run away. Just as we always have before. After we have worked
so hard, accomplished so much here, we must burn the city and flee
again." His voice trailed off to silence. He stared at Nehmon, seeking in
the old man's face some answer, some reassurance. But he found no
answer there, only sadness. "Think of the concerts. It's taken so long,
but at last we've come so close to the ultimate goal." He gestured
toward the thought-sensitive sounding boards lining the walls, the
panels which had made the dancer-illusion possible. "Think of the
beauty and peace we've found here."
"I know. How well I know."

"Yet now the Hunters come again, and again we must run away."
Ravdin stared at the old man, his eyes suddenly bright. "Nehmon, when
I saw those ships I began thinking."
"I've spent many years thinking, my son."
"Not what I've been thinking." Ravdin sat down, clasping his hands in
excitement. "The Hunters come and we run away, Nehmon. Think
about that for a moment. We run, and we run, and we run. From what?
We run from the Hunters. They're hunting us, these Hunters. They've
never quite found us, because we've always already run. We're clever,
we're fortunate, and we have a way of life that they do not, so whenever
they have come close to