“Better keep her from kibitzing if you can. She might have played the same game ... and I don’t think she can be trusted.”
The first hand had hardly been dealt when Rod threw his cards down and called for a new deck. He emphasized his dissatisfaction by shaking his hand with index finger outstretched, middle finger and thumb conjoined. Then he clenched his fist and shook it at the intent players first with the thumb down and then with the thumb up. His fingers stretched heaven-ward, except for the index finger when he swore the deck they were using was too dirty.
Don Rickter looked up in mock disgust. The icy glint in his eyes deepened. Rod centered his displeasure on him. After a slight pause, Rickter argued back. His own gestures were just as aggressive. Soon all of them joined in. The chatter continued, hand after hand, but the real discussion remained in the deaf and dumb sign language--the game all of them had played on Earth before Earth succumbed to the tetrarchs.
“I let myself get caught,” Rod commenced, “because of a note smuggled through to me on a tetrarchian space ship.”
“Sounds like a trap.” Rickter was succinct. “We couldn’t get a message out from here.”
“I don’t think it came from here.” Rod was equally terse. “I think it came from the survivors of the Hunt.”
“What!” Rickter almost forgot to use his hands. “There can’t be any survivors.”
“But there are,” Rod insisted. “They’ve learned how to live on Tetrarch IV even when the oxygen in their space suits is exhausted.”
At this point a rustling was heard among the gathering kibitzers. The crowd was drawing back in sullen anger while a tall, black-robed, cadaverous personage forced his way through.
“I’m Latham Koler,” he announced, “I understand Rod Harrow is here.”
Rod pushed his chair back. Silence settled over the crowd. It was broken suddenly by a scuffle in the far corner of the compartment. A golden-haired girl struggled in the arms of a slave who tried vainly to clamp his hand over her mouth.
“He’s here all right.” Mona Darlanan’s disheveled hair fell over her shoulders. She pushed the slave from her and struck him sharply. Her clear voice shattered the quiet.
“He’s here. And he’s plotting rebellion. I just realized they’ve been talking to each other in sign language!”