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the lazer was still pointed and ready. The warriors recognized a fighting stance and the sharper-witted suspected rightly that the stranger held a weapon. Spear arms tensed and a dozen voices spoke in warning. With Kananda fallen they looked to Ramesh for a lead. The young prince bit his lip uncertainly. He was not ready for this level of responsibility. At the same time he was a Karakhoran prince and with Kananda unconscious, he was the only acting member of the royal line present. He looked down at Kananda and read the signs. The dead tiger told its own tale.
    â€œWait,” Ramesh decided. “He is only one man.”
    â€œThere are three.”
    Ramesh looked up as Kasim, one of the horse-riders, spoke at his side. He saw two more of the strange silver-suited figures wading across a small stream. They too held mysterious weapon-like implements in their hands. Kyle and Laurya came to stand silently beside Blair, the former putting a cautionary hand on his companion’s weapon arm as he saw that the situation, although tense, was not desperate.
    â€œThey are dangerous,” Kasim said nervously. “We should slay them all before more appear.”
    The head huntsman was looking over the dead sabretooth with a practised eye. His fears were confirmed and he was only surprised to see the beast dead.
    â€œSire,” Hamir said slowly, speaking in Hindu which Zela and her companions could not understand. “There is a wound I do not understand in the side of the beast. It was not made by a spear. The flesh and fur are burned as though by fire.”
    â€œPerhaps that is what those weapons do,” Kasim suggested. “We should kill these people, before they kill us as they have killed Kananda and the tiger.”
    A dozen voices shouted assent, and a dozen spear arms were poised to throw, but still they awaited the royal command. And still Ramesh hesitated. Then another elephant pushed its way up to his side.
    â€œThere is no burn wound on the Prince Kananda.” The high priest Kaseem made the solemn observation from the lofty perch of his canopied seat on the elephant’s back. “If these people slew the beast, then perhaps it was to save our prince.”
    Ramesh glanced at the old Brahmin with relief. “What do you advise?” he asked in a rare moment of complete deference.
    Before the old man could answer, a new voice chose to make itself heard, booming above the assembled heads as though coming from the sky itself.
    â€œZela.” The voice was Cadel’s, amplified through a communication speaker from the ship. “I have the ships main battle lazer targeted on your new friends. Ready to fire on your command.”
    Prince and priest, warriors and hunters, all drew back in sudden terror from the sound. They stared upward with bloodless faces, and then a chorus of gasps, whispers and exclamations focused their gaze further down the valley, where the Tri-Thruster command ship stood tall and graceful against the green jungle and the brilliant blue sky.
    â€œA black temple—a temple of steel.” The words were choked hoarsely from the ashen ranks of the Hindus. “These must be the gods—the gods speak—the voice is Indra !.
    â€œCadel.” Zela used their moment of confusion to speak into her communicator. “Do nothing.” She looked up to Kaseem and Ramesh and smiled as warmly as she knew how. Their languages were different, but a smile was a universal sign of friendship, or at least she so hoped. “We are your friends,” she said quietly. “Please let us help you.” She knew they could not understand, but trusted that the tone of her voice would add to the reassurance of her smile.
    Ramesh could only gape, while Kaseem suffered an internal turmoil of mental struggle and physical emotion. The old priest was torn between faith and doubt, fear and ecstasy, and hope and despair. These beings were nothing like any of his dearly