“It’s not my world,” Susan said quietly; Dibbs ignored her.
“Messire Lieutenant,” Raven said, “methinks you might best reconsider. I’ll not ask you to join us if you’ve no wish to, but in all true compassion that the Goddess bids us, I’d warn you that this place be perchance more dangerous than you realize.”
“This place,” Dibbs replied, “is where the space warp comes out.”
“Aye, so ’tis, and therefore of interest to Shadow; would you face more such as this?” The nobleman gestured at the dead monster.
“You think more are coming?”
“Aye, so I do.”
“Well, I don’t,” Dibbs said flatly. “And if they do, we’ll take shelter.”
“And what can shelter you from such as that?” Raven was clearly trying hard to be reasonable and persuasive; Prossie wondered why, since she was fairly sure he didn’t particularly want Dibbs and his men along any more. Could it be honest concern?
That was a frightening thought, that there was something so fearsome approaching that Raven would worry about what it might do to other people.
More likely Raven was afraid that if Dibbs and company stayed here at the ship they would somehow interfere with his own schemes against Shadow.
“We’ll be safe enough in the trees,” Dibbs said. “We can take care of ourselves.”
Raven considered for a moment; Stoddard and the Earthpeople all watched him. Valadrakul was studying the dead monster; the soldiers were looking in various directions.
“An it please you,” Raven said at last, “I’d ask a favor. Could call for volunteers, that would come with us?”
“Lieutenant,” Prossie said, before Dibbs could reply, “Base One agrees with Raven that there’s a risk here.”
No one at Base One had said any such thing. Prossie had once again yielded to the temptation to play God, to alter the facts to suit herself-or at least to exceed her authority and lie.
Prossie could sense that Carrie, who had not been paying much attention, was suddenly much more interested. Prossie tried to ignore her questions. Did someone here say that? Did I relay that? I don’t remember anything like that, Prossie…
Dibbs did not like what he heard, either. He frowned at Prossie.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
“But volunteers?” Raven asked, his tone almost wheedling.
Dibbs glanced at his men, then yielded. “All right,” he said, “you can take volunteers. I doubt you’ll get any.”
“I’ll go,” Prossie said immediately. “Base One will want to stay in touch with the advance party.” It would get her away from Lieutenant Dibbs and, she hoped, eliminate any further temptation to lie about relayed messages. More importantly, it would get her away from the space-warp; she was now convinced that Raven was sincere in his warning, and that this place was a death trap.
“Wait a minute, Thorpe,” Dibbs protested. “What am I supposed to do for communications, then?”
“With all respect, sir, you won’t need any, if you’re just waiting right here. And Base One can send messages through the warp if they have to.”
Besides, Prossie thought, she wasn’t reliable anyway. She had lied about messages more than once already. The farther she got from Lieutenant Dibbs, the less likely she would be to do it again-and the less likely she would be to think about it, and perhaps let Carrie know what had happened.
She tried not to let those thoughts come clear; she didn’t want Carrie to hear them.
Carrie wasn’t receiving, though, she was sending, objecting to Prossie’s decision. Prossie hadn’t cleared it, she hadn’t even asked anyone at Base One, how could she volunteer for anything that way? Telepaths didn’t do that! Telepaths don’t choose for themselves! And who had told her that there was any danger?
Then Spaceman Singer said, “I’d like to go, too, sir,” and suddenly everyone was distracted; Prossie felt a surge of relief that she was no longer the center of attention.
But she dared not think about it, dared not enjoy the relief; Carrie would notice. Instead, she forced her mind into a receptive blank, and passed the scene in the forest on to Carrie without comment, as mindlessly as she could, struggling to be only a camera.
* * * *
“Do we wait until morning?” Pel asked, as he carefully felt the scratches on the back of his head; they were scabbing over. He tugged a lock of hair out of the congealing blood and winced at the sharp pain that resulted.
“Nay,” Raven said. “And spend the night here, with that?” He gestured at the dead bat-thing. “More, ’tis by night and the dark that Shadow’s strongest. We’ll depart as soon we may.”
“It’s already well after noon.”
“And I know it well, friend Pel; think you I’d not? It may be we’ll not get far, but every pace we put betwixt ourselves and this place will be a pace away from wasting our lives.”
Pel nodded. “Right,” he said.
“Who all is coming?” Amy asked.
“Well, we are,” Pel said, indicating himself, Amy, Susan, and Raven. “And Valadrakul, and I think Stoddard…”
“Aye,” Stoddard said. “I’ve no wish to linger in this foul spot.”
“And three of the soldiers…” Pel said.
“Three?” Amy asked. She turned, and saw only one Imperial trooper standing near. Dirt was smeared down the front of his uniform; he had obviously hit the ground at some point, but nothing appeared torn or bloody. He had his helmet tucked under one arm.
“That’s right,” the soldier said. “Me, and Ronnie Wilkins, and Bill Marks. Four, if you count Miss Thorpe.”
“So where are the others?” Amy asked.
“Ronnie and Bill are arguing with the lieutenant,” the soldier explained. “I’m not sure where Thorpe went.”
“’Twill do no good,” Raven said. “’Tis plain Messire Dibbs’ mind is set firmly in its course.”
“That’s why I’m over here with you folks,” the Imperial agreed.
“What about Ted?” Amy asked.
Pel frowned, and glanced at the lawyer, who was standing to one side, alone, gazing idly at the dead bat-monster. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“We better take him,” Amy said. “He’ll get killed if he stays here. The lieutenant isn’t going to want to look after him.”
“I don’t know,” Pel said reluctantly. “He’s pretty far gone. He could really slow us down…”
“Pel Brown, how can you say that?” Amy shouted. “If he doesn’t come with us, he’ll never get home to Earth! And getting home is probably the only chance he’s ever got to recover, and you know it!”
“It’s not a hell of a great chance,” Pel shouted back. “If we drag him along, maybe none of us will get back!”
Amy prepared to shout a reply, but Pel raised a hand to forestall her. “You’re right, you’re right,” he said. “I know that. We have to bring him. Stoddard, could you go bring him along, please?”
“I’ll go,” Susan said quietly.
“Together, then, lady,” Stoddard said.
As if echoing the Earthpeople’s shouts, a loud argument broke out just then among the Imperials; startled, Pel and Amy turned to see two soldiers marching angrily away from their companions and toward Raven’s group.
A third hesitated, and then followed. This one had no helmet, Pel noticed.
The pair marched up; the shorter of the two addressed the soldier who was already there.
“You better be right about this, Al,” he said. “The lieutenant says that he’ll let us go and won’t try to stop us, but if Base One calls it desertion, he won’t argue with them, either.”
“Lord Raven,” the first soldier said, “this is Ronnie Wilkins. And beside him there is Bill Marks.”
“And your own name, good sir?” Raven asked.
The soldier smiled. “Guess I forgot to say; I’m Albert Singer.”