Renegade of Callisto

Springing to the edge of the tier, he threw himself into space!

His arms were longer than those of a human being, his body much lighter, and his double-jointed rear limbs packed more than human strength and were capable of fantastic leaps.

For these reasons, then, I suppose, instead of falling to his death on the stone pavement far below, he actually managed to catch hold of the rear strut of the left pontoon.

Dangling by his claw-tips, with the rest of his body dangling above the rooftops, Koja let the drifting craft carry him where it would.

Fido raised an unhappy yowl as this additional weight made the rear of the skycraft sag alarmingly, while the nose lifted steeply heavenward. And in his panic, the pup stepped on that pedal after all.

The engine coughed once, then roared into life.

And the Lankar-jan, pointed giddily skyward, soared into the zenith without a human hand at the controls!

The wind tugged at his cloak and whipped his face with an invisible lash that made his cheeks sting and his eyes tear. Taran was dreadfully frightened, but there was no time for such feelings now. So the brave boy forgot all about his fears and climbed over into the front seat and proceeded to attempt to pry the panicky pup from the controls.

Perhaps this sounds easy, but the doing of it proved difficult. Poor Fido was nearly scared out of his wits (such as they were!) , and he clung desperately to Taran with all six legs. For another thing, even though he was only half-grown, a half-grown othode is still a lot of beast.

It took a bit of doing, but Taran eventually managed to lift Fido out of the pilot’s seat and drag him into the rear seats where, presumably, the panicky pup could do no harm.

By this time Koja had caught hold of the edge of the cockpit. He hauled himself into the craft and helped the boy to immobilize the othode. All four seats had been fitted out with safety belts―such small, light craft can easily be capsized by a sudden gust of air, being virtually weightless―and it was not long before the two succeeded in fastening one of the rear safety belts to the collar Fido wore, using the belt as a makeshift leash.

Once this was accomplished, Taran climbed into the pilot’s seat and began to examine the controls. The craft was still climbing into the sky at a steep angle, but the young cadet managed to work the ailerons and tailfin rudder in such a way as to bring the Lankar-jan’s nose down and elevate the tail until the craft was flying on an even keel again.

It had, however, ascended to a considerable altitude by that point and the air was bitterly cold. Worse than that was the fact that Shondakor no longer lay beneath them. The Golden City of the Ku Thad was, in fact, no longer visible below.

Taran stared around him, searching the horizon with eyes tightly narrowed so they would not water in the wind. Afternoon had become darkness quite suddenly, as was the way of things on Callisto where “day. light” does not depend on radiation from the sun, and such phenomena as sunset and twilight are, therefore, unknown. It was pitch-dark below them and even Taran’s sharp young eyes could discern no particular feature of the night-shrouded landscape as it rushed past beneath them.

“Is everything all right with the machine?” inquired Koja quietly. The young sky cadet shook his head wordlessly, trying to think.

Their predicament was a peculiar one. Taran knew they could not possibly be more than just a few minutes’ flying time from the city of the Ku Thad, but he had absolutely no idea in which direction the city might lie. The trouble was that, during those first few crucial moments when the aircraft had been soaring into the heavens above Shondakor, they had both been too busy trying to get Fido tied down to notice in which direction the runaway ornithopter was heading.

The craft bore nothing on its instrument panel to serve in lieu of a compass, and, as the Thanatorians have never learned to ascertain direction from the stars, Taran was helpless to know which way to turn. At this very moment, they might indeed be flying back to Shondakor; on the other hand, it was equally possible that every consecutive instant of flying time could be carrying them farther and farther from the city. What was he to do?

Incidentally, the reason why the races native to Thanator do not possess much knowledge of the skies is due, quite simply, to the fact that their world is part of the Jovian moon-system. When you share the heavens with a dozen or so major luminaries, stars and constellations are not all that easily visible. And the orbits of the moons of Jupiter are excessively complicated―and the situation is further complicated by the fact that the Thanatorian races live on the surface, of one of those moons, in the very midst of the system.

Trying to think of something to do, Taran took the controls tentatively. And the Lankar-jan hurtled on, careening blindly through the impenetrable darkness.

Behind, on the parapet of the palace, Bozo stared after the hurtling craft. The mighty othode knew in the depths of his faithful and loyal heart that something was very wrong, but he did not know precisely what. He knew, however, that Taran and Koja and Fido were somehow in trouble, in danger, and the great beast threw back his head and lifted his voice in a hoarse, despairing howl.