"Aren't you here ahead of time?" asked Kana.
"Oh, I'm not your relief. We're to double up on the posts from now on, Hansu's orders. There's a nasty smell rising, and it isn't all from wool either. Yorke's been gone almost ten hours. It doesn't take that long to sign a retreat treaty. You bring your pack with you?"
Kana kicked the roll by his feet. "Sure. But Hansu won't march until he hears from Yorke — "
"I don't think so. Now — just what is that?"
The sun of Fronn was pale and feeble compared to the Sol which warmed Terra, but it did give light and now behind the milling Llor, from the edge of a small thicket on the river bank, those pale rays were reflected by some bright surface directly toward the Terran lines in a regular rhythm.
Three letters of their own native tongue, a cry for aid so old that its origin was long ago lost in the mists of Terra's war-torn past — a signal only one of their own kind would send! Kana laid down his rifle.
"Take over!" He moved before Mic could stop him. His hours of duty at this post had not been wasted. There was a way, if not an easy one, to get down to that coppice without venturing into the open now patrolled by the Llor.
Kana lowered himself over the edge of the cliff, kicking for holds with the toes of his battle boots. Fly-fashion he was able to crawl down to the few inches of beach. There was about a foot of sand and gravel between the base of the cliff and the rushing water. With his back to the wall, hidden from anyone above unless he leaned far enough over to sight him, Kana fought his way by inches along the stream. Once or twice the lapping water curled about his toes and he dug his fingers into the soil at his back for a hold. The worst was losing his sense of direction, for he had to stop every few feet and look up for the trees which were his goal.
How long that crab's journey took he could not have testified, but it seemed to him that he had been at it for at least an hour when the sight of black-green foliage set him turning to face the cliff. A bundle of roots protruded from the bank within reach and he began to climb. Dried clay powdered his face and he wiped his eyes with one hand while he held on with the other. His nails tore and broke and his uniform was plastered with dust and clay, but he wormed his way up into the embrace of a thorny bush.
"Terra?" He kept his voice low. But at the answer to his question he pushed forward recklessly. That moan could only have been born of real suffering.
His forward spring brought him to the very edge of the thicket facing west. Collapsed half over a fallen tree, veiled from the Llor riders by only a thin screen of brush, was a limp body.
Kana hardly dared to touch the body when he saw the extent of the burns which had charred away most of the green-gray tunic. Flamer wound! He shrank from causing the torture he knew his grip must bring as with infinite horror he raised the other. The blackened, seared body writhed out of his hold and a moan sounded the wounded man's pain. Gritting his teeth, Kana took hold for the second time and fought the other's feeble attempts to pull free. At last he turned the heavy head to the light. The flamer had not touched the face and though it was contorted and twisted with agony, Kana knew who it was he supported in his arms.
"Deke! What — what have they done!"
6. If The Faith Be Broke
The dark eyes struggled to focus. It was as if Deke Mills came haltingly back from a long distance, driven by some overwhelming sense of duty.
"All — dead Hart Device Tell Hansu — Hart Device — "
Kana nodded. "I should tell Hansu that Hart Device is responsible?"
Deke's eyes gave assent. "No — not alone. Galactic — agent — hiding Burned us down." Some spark of strength steadied his voice. "Tried — tried to get Yorke to renegade too. When he said no — flamed us from behind. All dead — thought me dead too. Agent came — looked. I saw him clear — agent — tell Hansu — C.C. backing Device. Crawled — crawled — hours and hours crawled. They had just flamers — no big stuff. Tell Hansu — flamers — "
"There's a Galactic Agent with them and they have C.C. arms," Kana repeated with cold steadiness.
For a long moment Mills lay quiet in his hold, summoning up strength.
"Tell Hansu — C.C.behind it — wipe us out if they can. Mustn't be cut off here. Back to ships — report — Combat — report — "
One of the charred stumps of hands stirred, pawed at Kana's sleeve.
"I'll tell him, Deke," he hastened to promise.
"From behind — no chance — Hart Device — " Mills' whisper thinned and then died. Then he said quite clearly and coherently:
"Give Grace, Comrade — !"
Kana swallowed, his mouth dry. For an instant he was back again in the chapel on Terra, half the Galaxy away from this Fronnian wood. He had been drilled in the Ritual, he knew what had to be done. But somehow, in spite of all the solemn instructions, he had never really expected to be called upon to give the Last Grace —
Deke's pain-filled eyes held his. His duty done, he was waiting for the release from the world of agony which held him. Mills knew what his wounds meant. Nothing could be done for him even by the Medicos on Secundus. And he could not be transported there. Slowly, trying not to add to Mills' pain, Kana lowered the other to earth and opened his own tunic to reach the slender knife all Combatants wore on their breasts. This was the "Grace" of the fighting man — to be carried with him awake or sleeping all his life — to be used for one purpose only.
Kana drew the steel into the light. He raised the plain cross hilt to his lips and said the proper words, hearing his own voice as if it belonged to a stranger, knowing that Deke's twisted lips were trying to shape the same plea.
" — so do I send thee home, brother-in-arms!" Kana ended, he could not delay any longer.
The knife slipped into the place instruction had taught him to seek. Then he was alone — left to slip that wet blade back in its sheath. It could not be cleaned except in the earth of Terra. There was one thing more — the husk which had been Deke Mills must not be left for the Llor and it was beyond his power to carry the body back to camp.
From his belt Kana unhooked a cartridge. With great care he unscrewed its cap and placed it on the body. Then he threw himself back toward the cliff. The blast came in a sheet of flame before he was quite over the bank. When that fire died Deke Mills would never be found.
Kana inched his way upstream at the fastest pace he could manage, trying to keep his mind blank of all but Mills' message to Hansu. With Yorke and the other Swordtans murdered, Trig Hansu now commanded the Horde.
He found the end of a rope dangling over the bluff below the sentry post and with its aid got up to the camp. At the top he found not only Mic but Hansu waiting for him. Downriver a pillar of black smoke penciled into the sky and the Llor were gathering at the edge of the wood. Kana made his terse report.
"They flamed Yorke and the rest from behind when Yorke would not agree to join them. A C.C. Agent watched the whole thing secretly. Hart Device leads the Mechs. Deke was mortally wounded but crawled — as far as the wood over there. He said he saw C.C. flamers but none of their big stuff — thought that they were out to get us all."
Hansu's expression did not change at the name of the renegade Mechmaster or at the mention of the Agent. And almost before Kana finished speaking he was giving orders to the handful of veterans nearby.
"Dolph, you take over Team One, Horvath, Team Two. Prepare to move out. And send Bogate here."
Hansu asked one more question of Kana in a low voice:
"Mills?"
Kana found no words to answer that. He drew out the Grace Knife to display its stains. Behind him, through his sick misery, he heard Mic's breath catch. But Hansu made no comment. And he asked nothing more.