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held images of the gods. They were only the size of men, and they lacked the multiplicity of arms and hands essential for the multiplicity of tasks involved in maintaining the whole of creation. They did not wield thunder and lightning, like mighty Indra , the god of the elements and of war. Their feet were firmly fixed upon the Earth. They did not reign in the far blue heaven where the god Varuna was emperor and overseer of all that happened in the universe. And they were not wreathed in sacred flames like the fire-god Agni who carried the smoke and incense of sacrifices to the two great gods. At the same time, the strange voice from the sky had rolled like thunder, and the tiger had been burned with fire. Perhaps only a lightning bolt could have killed such a devil beast. If these beings were not deities, it seemed that perhaps they did have their powers. Perhaps they were messengers of the gods.
    The old man closed his eyes in anguish and swayed dizzily. His tormented mind simp1y could not cope and deep in his heart he was not sure that he wanted to meet the gods. As a physical reality he was not even sure that he had ever believed in them, he had often thought of them as symbolic of a reality that was essentially spiritual and metaphysical. Perhaps he was wrong and Indra had sent these messengers to punish him. The thought stabbed him with a soul-struck fear, and he would have fallen if Ramesh had not been close enough to reach a steadying hand for his shoulder.
    Zela saw that the old man was temporarily incapable of decision and gambled that the others would not act without his lead. She turned to her companions and kept her voice calm and gentle as she issued her orders.
    â€œRelax and put the lazers down on the ground. Laurya, their culture seems male-dominated and so they will probably have less fear of a woman. Come to me slowly.”
    Cautiously, Laurya crossed the open glade. Like Zela, she was golden-haired and golden-skinned, although a few inches shorter and slighter of build. Her silver suit hugged her figure tightly and the contours of breast and hip were clearly defined. She stopped beside her commander who was still resting on her good elbow on the reddened grass. Zela held up her injured arm.
    â€œTreat this, but do it slowly, and do it so that they can all watch what you are doing.”
    Laurya nodded, and conscious that almost every eye was fixed on her movements, she took the medical kit from her belt pack and began her task. Carefully, she cut away the bloodied silver sleeve, and then cleaned the long gash on Zela’s arm. Then, holding the two edges of the cut together, she used a combined anaesthetic and sealing spray to dull the pain and close the wound. Finally she administered an injection against infection.
    When the job was done, Zela rose to her feet and showed her arm to both Kaseem and Ramesh. The old priest had now opened up his eyes, giving up the hopeless struggle to understand, and simply watched with wonder. Zela displayed her arm on all sides, and then, trusting that she had made her point, took out her own medical kit and knelt over Kananda. There was an immediate rustle of spears and movement among the alarmed warriors.
    Kaseem was still at a loss. He stared into the face of Zela, and then at Laurya who had cautiously moved back one pace. He realized that the backward step was meant to be reassuring and non-threatening, and for the first time he took full notice of the gently smiling face of the second of these strange females.
    Laurya’s eyes were green under fine golden lashes, the deep cool green of a forest pool fringed with golden rushes, or the bright flash of green in the gold of a sunbird’s wing. And they were another violent shock to his already over-loaded nervous system, a sharp emotional upheaval that seemed to leap up in his very soul. It was as though he had seen those eyes before, even though the woman was an alien deity.
    The thought was impossible and