They waited for Nymani through dragging minutes. Surely those in the
camp would expect their arrival soon now? Dane's fire ray was in his
hand as he measured the distance to the drummer's stand.
"It is done," Nymani whispered from the darkness behind them. Jellico
and the Chief Ranger moved to the left; Tau crept to the right and Dane
pushed level with the medic.
"When they move," Tau's lips were beside his ear, "jump for that drum. I
don't care how you get it, but get it and keep it!"
"Yes, sir!"
There was a wailing cry from the north, a howl of witless fear. The
singers stopped in mid-note, the drummer paused, his hand uplifted. Dane
darted forward in a plunge which carried him to that man. The Khatkan
did not have time to rise from his knees as the barrel of the fire rod
struck his head, sending him spinning. Then the drum was cradled in the
spaceman's arm, close to his chest, his weapon aimed across it at the
startled natives.
The crackle of blaster fire, the shrill whine of needlers in action,
raised a bedlam from the other end of the camp. Backing up a little,
Dane went down on one knee, his weapon ready to sweep over the
bewildered natives, the drum resting on the earth against his body.
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