* * * * *
He walked on to meet the rider, who had dismounted, leaving his beast
behind. He was a slight, wiry man, this EPC officer, with the rawhide
look of the frontiers still on him. His hair was grizzled and his
sun-blackened skin was deeply lined, but there was nothing in the least
aged about his hard good-humored face nor his remarkably keen dark eyes.
"It's been a long time, Eric," he said.
Stark nodded. "Sixteen years." The two men studied each other for a
moment, and then Stark said, "I thought you were still on Mercury,
Ashton."
"They've called all us experienced hands in to Mars." He held out
cigarettes. "Smoke?"
Stark took one. They bent over Ashton's lighter, and then stood there
smoking while the wind blew red dust over their feet and the three men
of the patrol waited quietly beside the Banning. Ashton was taking no
chances. The electro-beam could stun without injury.
Presently Ashton said, "I'm going to be crude, Eric. I'm going to
remind you of some things."
"Save it," Stark retorted. "You've got me. There's no need to talk
about it."
"Yes," said Ashton, "I've got you, and a damned hard time I've had
doing it. That's why I'm going to talk about it."
His dark eyes met Stark's cold stare and held it.
"Remember who I am--Simon Ashton. Remember who came along when the
miners in that valley on Mercury had a wild boy in a cage, and were
going to finish him off like they had the tribe that raised him.
Remember all the years after that, when I brought that boy up to be a
civilized human being."
Stark laughed, not without a certain humor. "You should have left me in
the cage. I was caught a little old for civilizing."
"Maybe. I don't think so. Anyway, I'm reminding you," Ashton said.
Stark said, with no particular bitterness, "You don't have to get
sentimental. I know it's your job to take me in."
Ashton said deliberately, "I won't take you in, Eric, unless you make
me." He went on then, rapidly, before Stark could answer. "You've
got a twenty-year sentence hanging over you, for running guns to the
Middle-Swamp tribes when they revolted against Terro-Venusian Metals,
and a couple of similar jobs.
"All right. So I know why you did it, and I won't say I don't agree
with you. But you put yourself outside the law, and that's that. Now
you're on your way to Valkis. You're headed into a mess that'll put you
on Luna for life, the next time you're caught."
"And this time you don't agree with me."
"No. Why do you think I broke my neck to catch you before you got
there?" Ashton bent closer, his face very intent. "Have you made any
deal with Delgaun of Valkis? Did he send for you?"
"He sent for me, but there's no deal yet. I'm on the beach. Broke. I
got a message from this Delgaun, whoever he is, that there was going to
be a private war back in the Drylands, and he'd pay me to help fight
it. After all, that's my business."
Ashton shook his head.
"This isn't a private war, Eric. It's something a lot bigger and
nastier than that. The Martian Council of City-States and the Earth
Commission are both in a cold sweat, and no one can find out exactly
what's going on. You know what the Low-Canal towns are--Valkis,
Jekkara, Barrakesh. No law-abiding Martian, let alone an Earthman,
can last five minutes in them. And the back-blocks are absolutely
_verboten_. So all we get is rumors.
"Fantastic rumors about a barbarian chief named Kynon, who seems to be
promising heaven and earth to the tribes of Kesh and Shun--some wild
stuff about the ancient cult of the Ramas that everybody thought was
dead a thousand years ago. We know that Kynon is tied up somehow with
Delgaun, who is a most efficient bandit, and we know that some of the
top criminals of the whole System are filtering in to join up. Knighton
and Walsh of Terra, Themis of Mercury, Arrod of Callisto Colony--and, I
believe, your old comrade in arms, Luhar the Venusian."
Stark gave a slight start, and Ashton smiled briefly.
"Oh, yes," he said. "I heard about that." Then he sobered. "You can
figure that set-up for yourself, Eric. The barbarians are going to go
out and fight some kind of a holy war, to suit the entirely unholy
purposes of men like Delgaun and the others.
"Half a world is going to be raped, blood is going to run deep in
the Drylands--and it will all be barbarian blood spilled for a lying
promise, and the carrion crows of Valkis will get fat on it. Unless,
somehow, we can stop it."
* * * * *
He paused, then said flatly, "I want you to go on to Valkis, Eric--but
as my agent. I won't put it on the grounds that you'd be doing
civilization a service. You don't owe anything to civilization, Lord
knows. But you might save a lot of your own kind of people from getting
slaughtered, to say nothing of the border-state Martians who'll be the
first to get Kynon's axe.
"Also, you could wipe that twenty-year hitch on Luna off the slate,
maybe even work up a desire to make a man of yourself, instead of a
sort of tiger wandering from one kill to the next." He added, "If you
live."
Stark said slowly, "You're clever Ashton. You know I've got a feeling
for all planetary primitives like those who raised me, and you appeal
to that."
"Yes," said Ashton, "I'm clever. But I'm not a liar. What I've told you
is true."
Stark carefully ground out the cigarette beneath his heel. Then he
looked up. "Suppose I agree to become your agent in this, and go off to
Valkis. What's to prevent me from forgetting all about you, then?"
Ashton said softly, "Your word, Eric. You get to know a man pretty well
when you know him from boyhood on up. Your word is enough."
There was a silence, and then Stark held out his hand. "All right,
Simon--but only for this one deal. After that, no promises."
"Fair enough." They shook hands.
"I can't give you any suggestions," Ashton said. "You're on your own,
completely. You can get in touch with me through the Earth Commission
office in Tarak. You know where that is?"