"Another obvious comment to add to the rest." Alder's tone was as smooth as the others' but his words held a bite. "We have been searching for Dumarest since it was known he possessed the secret. We are still working to capture him."
"And will fail as before." Avro voiced his certainty. "Fail and perhaps leave more dead cybers as proof of our inefficiency. How often must we repeat an experiment before we are willing to accept the results? Dumarest is no ordinary man. The record makes that clear."
"You suggest?"
"He be hunted by a team dedicated to his capture."
"Hunted? It has been tried."
"By a man trained to hunt beasts." Avro looked from Alder's face, his eyes meeting those of the others in turn. "Dumarest is not a beast but a clever, cunning, resourceful and ruthless man as the record shows. He is also, I suspect, gifted with a certain paranormal attribute. It can be called luck or the favorable combination of fortuitous circumstances but, always, it works in his favor. How else to explain how he has managed to elude us for so long? And he will continue to elude us unless a different attitude is taken to his capture."
Thern said, "He will be caught. Plans have been made. This time he cannot escape the trap."
"And if he does?" Avro threw his bombshell. "I ask the Council to place me in charge of the task of capturing Dumarest. Full authority to direct all resources as needed. Men, machines, money-I ask for total discretion."
"And-" Dekel broke off, continuing, "You have been chosen as a possible successor to Elge. As cyber prime-"
"I would be bound to remain at the desk of office. To capture Dumarest I must be in the field. Therefore I must forgo the possible elevation."
"Yet as cyber prime you could order the disposition of all forces as you wished." Icelus clarified the situation. "Are you telling us that you regard Marie as more suited to the position than yourself?"
"No." Avro refused to admit the other was more capable than himself. "The difference between us is negligible. But I am the most suited to capture Dumarest."
Glot said, "Your gesture is to be commended but it is unnecessary. Soon now Dumarest will be taken and held."
"And if not?"
"You will be given the powers you ask." Dekel ended the discussion. "And Marie will be the new cyber prime."
Salvation came on the thirteenth day in the shape of a tiny mote blurred with refracted light. Closer and details became plain: hills, plains, fuming volcanoes. A crusted shore edged a leaden ocean. Blotched vegetation slashed by rivers and pocked with clearings. The surface held the brooding stillness of a graveyard.
Ysanne woke, struggling to breathe, clawing at the hand clamped over her nose and mouth as she snatched at the laser holstered at her waist. Fingers of steel trapped her wrist and she heaved in a sudden mindless terror.
"Easy," soothed Dumarest. "Easy."
"Earl!" She gasped as his hand fell from her mouth. "What the hell are you doing?"
"You were crying out," he said. "Screaming."
She was lost in nightmare and the prey of ghosts and horrors rooted in the past. Sitting upright she felt sweat dry on her face beneath the caress of a cool breeze.
"A dream," she said. "I was dreaming."
And making noise, which he had stopped with a grim efficiency in order to block the air and prevent any possible outcry. An assassin's trick-had he maintained the pressure she would have died.
Dumarest said, "Are you all right now?"
"Yes."
"Then get back to sleep."
She was too wide-awake to drift again into dreams. Instead she watched as Dumarest returned to the fire, squatting to feed the embers with scraps of fuel, flames rising to scorch the carcass spitted over the hearth. The dancing light illuminated his face, accentuating the planes and hollows, the hard line of the jaw, the somber pits of his eyes. A barbaric face; it belonged to worlds untouched by civilization. And this was just such a world; small, harsh, circling a violent sun. The sky lavender by day and now a mass of blazing stars. Against them the bulk of the Erce reared in mechanical symmetry. From within the ship came the monotonous beat of pumps.
She inhaled, fringed leather tightening over the prominences of her breasts, savoring the sweetness of the natural air, remembering the last few days of their journey, the mounting desperation, the knowledge that the lives of them all depended on her skill. To find a haven and guide the Erce to it-a harsh test for any navigator in the Chandorah. The more so when cooped up in the prison of a suit, skin chafed raw by fabric and metal, lungs starved, nostrils clogged with the stench of accumulated wastes.
A bad time but they had been able to survive. There was an added zest to the air and she inhaled again, relishing the taste of it, the flavor. Air even now was being forced into the tanks aboard the ship but it would never taste the same once they were back in space.
Rising, she stepped toward the fire on silent feet. A tall woman, the thick braids of her hair matched the ebon of her eyes. The wide belt encircling her waist emphasized the swell of her hips. Her face held the sheen of copper and, in repose, held the broad impassivity of a primitive idol.
"I'm not tired," she said.
Silent as she had been, Dumarest had sensed her coming, looking up from where he tended the fire. "If you want to bed down I'll take over the watch."
He shook his head, turning the carcass on its spit; a rodentlike thing as large as a small dog, which sent droplets of juice to hiss on the coals.
"I suppose I could help the others," she mused. "But there's no hurry. Anyway I want to enjoy the night."
She meant the darkness and his presence in the close intimacy of firelight. Turning, she searched the area beyond the glow seeing nothing but formless shadows; fronds tipped with star-silvered tufts, irregular lines framed against the nighted sky, thin spinelike leaves stirring to the soft breeze in a barely audible susurration. Listening, she heard only that and the beat of the pumps and the soft rustle of falling embers.
"So peaceful," she said. "A paradise. We've been here for days now and seen nothing to threaten us."
"As yet."
"It's a deserted world, Earl," she insisted. "No people. Not even a name. Just a place with a number. We were damned lucky to find it." With a rush she added, "Do we have to move on? This is a good world. We could stay here. Build a house. Farm. Hunt. Found a Tribe. We-" She broke off as he shook his head. "No?"
"No."
"But why not, Earl?" She knew the reason and gave it before he could answer. "Earth!" She spat the word as if it were a curse. Sparks rose as she kicked at the fire, filling the air with twinkling points, falling to rest in grey ash on her boot. "What can you find there you couldn't find here? And we know this world exists."
"As does Earth."
"So you say, but ask anyone and they will tell you it's a legend. A myth. This world is neither. It's here and we're on it and we could make it ours. Ours, Earl! Ours!"
That dream was held by every adventurer who headed into space. To find a virgin planet, to settle, to own and to rule. It could still be done and once it had been common but, always, there were snags. Things Dumarest pointed out even as his eyes searched the shadows, the ragged line of vegetation limned against the stars.
Ysanne was stubborn. "You don't understand, Earl. You don't want to understand. A survey could have checked the area and listed all local worlds. They need never have landed. Or a mining company could have found nothing in the way of valuable minerals. Or-"
"It was listed."
"By number, not by name."
"Which means it was discovered some time ago."
"Yes, but-"
"They could have found acid rains," he interrupted. "Lethal climatic changes. Destructive radiation from solar flares-a hundred things. And we are four people in a crippled ship. Assuming the others were willing, what could we do? Farm? Without machines, seed, local knowledge? Build? Hunt?"