“Ydwyr—Wait. Someone coming. Ydwyr’s people, no danger, but if somebody from the ship gets curious about—Hold on.”
Silence, fog, night seeping over a land whose wetness had started to freeze. A few faint noises and a wan gleam of light slipped past the cave gate. The Domrath must be snuggling down, the Merseians making a final inspection by dimmed flashbeams before leaving…
“It’s all right, Nicky. I wished him to go past. I guess his intention to look into my room wasn’t strong, if he had any, because he did go past.”
“What?” Flandry asked in his daze.
“I’ve been…Ydwryr’s been working with me. I’ve learned, I’ve developed a…a talent. I can wish a person, an animal, to do a thing, and when I’m lucky, it will. But never mind!” The stiffness was breaking in her; she sounded more like the girl he had known. “Ydwyr’s the one who saved you, Nicky. He warned me and said I should warn you. Oh, hurry!”
“What’ll become of you?” The man spoke automatically. His main desire was to keep her voice in the circuit, in the night.
“Ydwyr will take care of me. He’s a—he’s noble. The Merseians aren’t bad, except a few. We want to save you from them. If only—you—” Her tone grew indistinct and uneven. “Get away, darling. Before too late. I want t-t-to remember you…like you were—God keep you!” she wailed, and snapped the connection.
He stood for a timeless time until, “What’s wrong. Dominic?” Cnif asked.
“Uh, khraich, a complicated story.” Flandry shook himself. Anger flared.
No! I’ll not go meekly off to their brain machines. Nor will I quietly cut my throat, or slip into the hills and gently become an icicle. A child underneath moaned terror of the devouring dark; but the surface mind had mastery. If they want to close down me and my personal universe, by Judas but they’ll pay for their fun!
“Dominic, are you there?”
“Yes.” Flandry’s head had gone winter clear. He had but to call them, and ideas and pieces of information sprang forward. Not every card had been dealt. Damn near every one, agreed, and his two in this hand were a deuce and a four; but they were the same suit, which meant a straight flush remained conceivable in those spades which formerly were swords.
“Yes. I was considering what she told me, Cnif. That she’s about decided to go over to the Roidhunate.”
No mistaking it, and they must have noticed too, so she won’t be hurt by my saying this. But I’ll say no more. They mustn’t learn she tried to save me the worst. Let ’em assume, under Ydwyr’s guidance, that the news of her defection knocked me off my cam. Never mind gratitude or affection, lad; you’ll need any hole card you can keep, and she may turn out to be one.
“You’ll realize I…I am troubled. I’d be no more use here. They’ll take off soon in any case. I’ll go ahead and, well, think things over.”
“Come,” Cnif invited gently. “I will leave you alone.”
He could not regret that his side was gaining an agent; but he could perceive, or believed he could perceive, Flandry’s patriotic anguish. “Thanks,” the human said, and grinned.
He started back along the trail. His boots thudded; occasionally a stone went clattering down the talus slope, or he slipped and nearly fell on a patch of ice, Lightlessness closed in, save where the solitary lance of his flash-beam bobbed and smoked through the vapors. He no longer noticed the cold, he was too busy planning his next move.
Cnif would naturally inform the rest that the Terran wasn’t waiting for them. They wouldn’t hasten after him on that account. Where could he go? Cnif would pour a stiffish drink for his distressed acquaintance. Curtained bunks were the most private places afforded by the bus. Flandry could be expected to seek his and sulk.
Light glowed yellow ahead from the black outline of the vehicle. It spilled on the Domrath’s autumnal huts, their jerry-built frames already collapsing. Cnif’s flat countenance peered anxiously from the forward section. Flandry doused his flash and went on all fours. Searching about, he found a rock that nicely fitted his hand. Rising, he approached in straightforward style and passed through the heatlock which tonight helped ward off cold.
The warmth inside struck with tropical force. Cnif waited, glass in hand as predicted, uncertain smile on mouth. “Here,” he said with the blunt manners of a colonial, and thrust the booze at Flandry.
The man took it but set it on a shelf. “I thank you, courteous one,” he replied in formal Eriau. “Would you drink with me? I need a companion.”
“Why…I’m on duty…kh-h-h, yes. Nothing can hurt us here. I’ll fetch myself one while you get out of your overclothes.” Cnif turned. In the cramped entry chamber, his tail brushed Flandry’s waist and he stroked it lightly across the man, Merseia’s gesture of comfort.
Quick! He must outmass you by twenty kilos!
Flandry leaped. His left arm circled Cnif s throat. His right hand brought the stone down where jaw met ear. They had taught him at the Academy that Merseians were weak there.
The blow crunched. Its impact nearly dislodged Flandry’s grip on the rock. The other being choked, lurched, and swept his tail around. Flandry took that on the hip. Had it had more leverage and more room to develop its swing, it would have broken bones. As was, he lost his hold and was dashed to the floor. Breath whuffed out of him. He lay stunned and saw the enormous shape tower above.
But Cnif’s counterattack had been sheer reflex. A moment the Merseian tottered, before he crumpled at knees and stomach. His fall boomed and quivered in the bus body. His weight pinned down the man’s leg. When he could move again, Flandry had a short struggle to extricate himself.
He examined his victim. Though flesh bled freely—the same hemoglobin red as a man’s—Cnif breathed. A horny lid, peeled back, uncovered the normal uniform jet of a Merseian eye, not the white rim that would have meant contraction. Good. Flandry stroked shakily the bald, serrated head. I’d’ve hated to do you in, old chap. I would have if need be, but I’d’ve hated it.
Hurry, you sentimental thimblewit! he scolded himself. The others’ll arrive shortly, and they tote guns.
Still, after he had rolled Cnif out onto the soil, he found a blanket to wrap the Merseian in; and he left a portable glower going alongside.
Given that, the scientists would be in no serious trouble. They’d get chilled, wet, and hungry. Maybe a few would come down with sneezles and wheezles. But when Ydwyr didn’t hear from them, he’d dispatch a flyer.
Flandry re-entered the bus. He’d watched how it was operated; besides, the basic design was copied from Technic civilization. The manual controls were awkward for human hands, the pilot seat more so for a human fundament. However, he could get by.
The engine purred. Acceleration thrust him backward. The bus lifted.
When high in the night, he stopped to ponder charts and plans. He dared not keep the stolen machine. On an otherwise electricityless and virtually metalless world, it could be detected almost as soon as a ship got aloft in search of it. He must land someplace, take out what he had in the way of stores, and send the bus off in whatever direction a wild goose would pick.
But where should he hide, and how long could he, on this winter-bound world?
Flandry reviewed what he had learned in the Merseian base and nodded to himself. Snowfall was moving south from the poles. The Ruadrath would be leaving the ocean, had probably commenced already. His hope of survival was not great, but his hope of raising hell was. He laid out a circuitous route to the coastlands west of Barrier Bay.