“Fetch water,” said the young naval officer to the officer of the court.
“No,” she said.
“‘No’?” he asked.
“I am of the blood,” she said. “Such as I do not draw water.”
“Then you fetch it,” said the officer to the other young woman.
“Not if she does not,” she said.
“I will fetch it,” said the older woman.
She left, to go to the small stream nearby.
The capsule which had been appropriated, or commandeered, by the young naval officer, had been, as we recall, severely damaged in the incident of the pursuing missile, that which had been prematurely exploded against the jettisoned clearance thruster. As a result the capsule had been left much at the mercy of its momentum and position, lost in the winds of space, so to speak, subject to the numerous subtle forces, primarily gravitational, obtaining in that area at that time. It had eventually drifted into a scarcely tangible current, if one may so speak, and, some days later, had found itself, like a speck in an invisible whirlpool, caught in a rapidly degrading orbit, at the focus of which was a remote world, one on which they had managed, two days ago, to effect a successful landing, thanks largely to the skill of the young naval officer, the viability of certain viewing and measuring instrumentation, and the proper functioning of a manually responsive landing system.
“We will need firewood,” said the young naval officer to the officer of the court.
“Have you repaired the radio?” asked the officer of the court.
She knew, of course, that it had been damaged beyond repair, various components shattered in the injury to the capsule, others literally melted and fused as a consequence of the short-circuiting attendant on the impact. That had been determined within an hour after the impact.
“It cannot be repaired,” said the young naval officer.
The officer of the court tossed her pretty head. Why then should he expect her to gather wood? Too, had he not insulted her, by responding as though her question might have been an honest, civil one, pretending to ignore the hint that he was somehow to blame for its damage? To be sure, it was he who had interposed, almost at the last moment, the clearance thruster. Might he not have jettisoned it earlier, perhaps a hundred miles earlier?
“You go, then,” said the naval officer to the shopgirl.
“I might crack my nails,” she said, looking at the officer of the court.
“If you do not work,” said the young naval officer to the two young women, “you will not be fed.”
“Do not amuse us,” said the officer of the court.
The young naval officer clenched his fists.
“You must feed us,” said the officer of the court. “We are citizens of the empire.”
“Yes,” said the shopgirl.
“It is our right to be fed,” said the officer of the court.
“Yes!” said the shopgirl.
“Better you had both been left on the Alaria,” said the young naval officer, “at the mercy of the Ortungen.”
“Do not speak so!” chided the officer of the court.
“Perhaps they could have gotten some good out of you,” he said.
“Beware your speech!” said the officer of the court.
“But they probably would not have found either of you of sufficient interest to be kept,” he said, “even as naked slaves.”
The shopgirl gasped, putting her hand before her mouth.
The officer of the court was furious, and, for a moment, speechless. Then she said, “Arrange for our rescue!”
The young naval officer glared at her.
“Put out a signal, or something!” she said.
“Do you think you are on a beach, on some civilized world, with transports overhead every hour?” he asked.
“Light a beacon,” said the officer of the court.
“And who would see it?” he asked.
“Surely there is someone on this world,” she said.
“That is possible,” he said.
“Surely someone!” she said.
“But who?” he asked, meaningfully.
The officer of the court, and the shopgirl, were silent.
The young naval officer withdrew.
The shopgirl stood up, and looked about herself. “This is a beautiful world,” she said.
The officer of the court sniffed.
“It is primeval,” said the girl, “untouched, unspoiled.”
“I am glad you like it,” said the officer of the court. “You may spend the rest of your life here.”
“What did he mean,” asked the shopgirl, “that he did not know who might see a beacon?”
“I do not know,” said the officer of the court. “I am sure we are alone on this world.”
“I am not so sure,” said the shopgirl.
“Why do you say that?” asked the officer of the court.
“I thought I saw something, yesterday,” she said.
“What?” asked the officer of the court, apprehensively.
“I do not know,” she said.
“Perhaps it was a beast,” said the officer of the court, uneasily. Surely, last night, when they were locked in the capsule, they had heard things outside, prowling about. Too, there had been howling, roars, in the forest.
“Perhaps,” said the shopgirl.
“He took the pistol, of course!” said the officer of the court, angrily.
“It has only a charge or two left, surely,” said the shopgirl.
“What will protect us, if something comes?” said the officer of the court, looking about herself.
“We can run to the capsule,” said the shopgirl.
“Where is he?” asked the officer of the court.
“Doubtless he has gone for firewood,” she said.
“I’m hungry,” said the officer of the court.
“I wonder if there are men here, on this world,” said the shopgirl, looking at the darkness of the trees.
“I would not know,” said the officer of the court.
“It there were, they would almost certainly be barbarians,” she said.
“Undoubtedly,” said the officer of the court.
“I wonder how they would view us,” she said.
“As persons, as ladies,” said the officer of the court.
“But if they were truly barbarians —” said the shopgirl.
“I wonder where Oona is,” said the officer of the court. This was the name of the woman in the pantsuit, it now frayed and dirty, who had gone to fetch water.
It seemed she should have returned by now.
There was some cause, incidentally, for the guarded reply of the young naval officer, that having to do with his response to who might see a signal, or beacon, if one were set. He had, you see, seen earlier some signs of human habitation, footprints by a stream, and a broken spearblade. Too, yesterday they had smelled smoke, from afar. He had climbed a tree and discerned the fire, but it seemed no ordinary fire, centered in a locale, then spreading, much at the mercy of wind. Rather, though he had not called this to the attention of his companions, it had been a fire of unusual pattern, one seemingly in defiance of nature, surely nothing one would expect to result from a simple blast of lightning, and, too, from where would have come such a blast, out of a clear sky?