"Yes, if you wish. There is not much to see, though. I had thought ..."
He mashed out his cigarette.
_She is clean, Shind?_
_Yes_.
"I am _really_ interested," he said, "and I know what you thought. You thought that I had come here for purposes of sabotage or revolution. This is more important, however. While a small act of violence may annoy the CL, they can live with it. But if the Mound can furnish me with the information that I want, I will have a clue as to the nature of the greatest terror weapon in the galaxy."
"What is it?"
"The identity of H."
"How could that help you?"
"I am keeping that to myself for now. I had better start by looking up there, though. If my man had a camp up there on the Mound, some traces might still remain, Of what sort, I do not know. But I'm sure that whoever brought him back would have left his gear alone or destroyed it--if they found it at all, that is. If it is still there, I want it."
"I will help," she said. "I want to help. But I do not get time off until--" and he rose to his feet, towered above her, leaned down, touched her shoulder.
She shuddered at the contact.
"You don't understand," he said. "This is your last day in this place. You're your own person now. In the morning I would like you to make arrangements for the purchase or rental of a couple or three of those _kooryabs_, and all the gear we will need to ride to the Mound and spend some time there--maybe a week or so. I don't want to lift ship and have any curious young port controllers track me. When we do ride out of here tomorrow, though, that will be the end of the story so far as you and this place are concerned. You do not have to concern yourself over 'time off' or 'time on.' You are quitting with minimum notice. That's legal here, isn't it?"
"Yes," she said, sitting straight-backed and gripping the arms of the chair.
I did not want to, he thought. But she can help me in this respect. And she is a DYNAB girl the damned CL has driven half-nuts. She comes along.
"Then that is settled," he said, moving back to the bed and lighting another cigarette.
She seemed to relax.
"I believe that I will take a cigarette now--Malacar."
"Rory," he corrected.
"Rory," she agreed.
He rose again, gave her one, lit it for her, returned.
"I never heard anywhere about you being a telepath," she said, after a time.
"I'm not. It's sort of a trick. Tomorrow I might show you how I do it."
But not tonight, he thought. Gods! If it's taken this long to get you half-relaxed, I am not going to introduce you to a hairy Darvenian with eyes big as teacups. You would probably scream and they would bring on the bouncers.
"Mind if I open those shutters for a minute?" he asked.
"Let me do it."
"No, that's all right."
But she was already on her feet and halfway across the room.
She located a control beneath the sill and they slid back into the wall.
"Would you like the window opened too?"
"A little," he said, coming up and standing beside her.
The window responded to another control, and he inhaled the moist night air.
"Still raining," he observed, and he extended his hand and flicked an ash outside.
"Yes."
Looking out over a low rooftop, they watched the quiet city through the drops and rivulets on the half-raised pane. The lights below were fractured, shifted slightly. With the mild draft that entered, there came the faint salt odor of the sea. "Why do you keep it closed?" he asked her; and, "I hate the sight of that city," she replied, without emotion. "It is not too bad at night, though, when you can't see anything." A faint thunder-rumble rolled down from the hills. He rested his elbows on the sill and leaned forward. After a moment's hesitation, she did too. She was quite close to him then, but he knew that if he touched her the moment would be shattered.
"Does it rain often here?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Especially at this time of year."
"Do you do any sailing, or swimming?"
"I swim, to keep in practice, and I know how to handle small vessels. But I do not especially like the sea."
"Why not?"
"My father was drowned. This was after my mother died and they had put me in with the children. He tried to swim around Point Murphy one night. I guess that he was attempting to escape from the Relocation Center. --At least, they told me he had drowned. --It might be that one of those damned guards shot him."
"Sorry."
"I was just a child. I didn't know enough to hate them until later."
He flicked more ashes through the window.
"What will it be like after you win?" she asked.
He threw away the cigarette.
Staring, he saw it become an instant's comet.
"Win?" he said, turning his head and looking at her. "I am going to fight until I die, but I will never break the CL. I will never win, in that sense. My objective is the preservation of the DYNAB, not the destruction of the CL. I want to keep thirty-four little worlds from becoming subservient to the whims of fourteen leagues. I can't hope to beat them, but maybe I can teach them some respect for the DYNAB-- enough so that the DYNAB might have a chance to grow and expand to the point where it can achieve League status itself one day, rather than being reapportioned and absorbed by the others. If we had a chance to colonize a few dozen more worlds, if we were unhampered by the Leagues instead of being boycotted and cut out every time we tried our hand at something new, then we'd have a chance. I want us to join the CL--not break it--but on our terms. Sure, I hate them, for what they did to us. But they're the best civilization we've got. I want to be in on it--but as an equal."
"... And the thing on the Mound? The identity of H?"
He smiled crookedly.
"If I can get control of H's secret, I'll go down in history as one of the blackest villains who ever lived. But, by the gods! I'll scare the holy hell out of the CL! They'll leave the DYNAB alone for a long time afterward."
She tossed her cigarette after his and he lit them two more.
They listened to the voice of a faraway storm-buoy and saw into the distance whenever the lightning flickered. When it flashed far ahead, the skyline was silhouetted dark and gap-toothed before them; when it came from behind, the windows of Capeville each seemed to catch some of its burning and spill it in a different way. Mainly, though, there were only the fractured lights of the city.
I haven't talked like this in ages, he thought. I don't always have Shind sitting there to tell me who I can trust, though. She's a likable child. Certainly pretty. But those whips, and that funny way the desk clerk acted ... She hates everybody here. I didn't think they went in for the fancier stuff in government-run places. Maybe I'm old-fashioned ... Of course I am. Too bad about her. Perhaps one day she will find somebody, back in the DYNAB, who will be kind to her in just the right ways ... Hell! I _am_ getting old! That air feels good. Nice view.
A low-flying aircraft passed slowly, circling like a luminous insect. He watched it mdve off in the direction of the field where he had landed.
Could be a jump-buggy, he decided. About the right size. Who would come down on a night like this when he could stay in a nice, warm, dry orbit until things blow over? --Not counting me, of course.
The vessel swung through a slow, circular pattern, then hovered as though awaiting landing clearance.
"Jackara, would you turn the light out?" he asked, and she stiffened beside him. "... And if you have binoculars, or a telescope of some kind," he continued quickly, "please get it for me. I'm curious about that vessel."