"No. It's just that I've led them to you. We're in the same boat now.
With the mechanical hounds on our heels. They will connect you through
me, now that our trails have crossed. And they'll follow both of us. How
will you manage?"
Songeen smiled wearily. "One always takes risks. I came here prepared
for--anything."
"Don't be a fool! Protection Police don't stop to ask questions. They're
hired Killers."
"I suppose not. What do you suggest?"
"Run and hide. Come with me, if you like. But suit yourself. I'm getting
out of here. Out into the wastelands. It's almost dawn now. In the city,
we're lost. Outside, there's a chance. A poor one, but--"
Light was that gray ugliness that precedes the smeary glare of dawn on
Venus. The girl seemed very slight and young and helpless. Again, Newlin
felt that impulse to save and protect her. He could see no details of
feature, even her face was shadowed, and not quite human; but her body
was beautiful, and trembling.
"Are you coming?" he asked, savagely.
"I'll go with you," she said. "You're kind. Perhaps I can _help_ you. If
they corner us, please kill me. I don't like--being hurt."
Newlin laughed grimly. "It's a promise. But I'll kill some of them
first."
"Please," she begged. "No killing--not for me."
* * * * *
Ten hours later, far out in the wastelands, Spud Newlin called a halt.
The girl had trudged wearily behind him, uncomplaining and with patient
determination. They wasted no precious breath in words, and walking had
been doubly difficult for her. The protection armor was twice too large,
and very cumbersome for such a slight figure; but such garments never
come in half-size. Children and women are forbidden to venture into the
wastelands, except in special vehicles.
Actually they had started out by vehicle. But it was old, cranky and
ready for the junkyard. In the first flurry of sandstorm, it had
clogged, burned out and died. Nothing very reliable was available in the
black market without more notice.
Newlin accepted the inevitable and proceeded on foot. Perhaps they could
reach the Archaeological Station at Sansurra. He was not certain if it
would be inhabited at the Sandstorm season, but there was a good chance
of stored food and water. Turning back to Venusport was impossible. So
they went on.
Now he was confused. Directions are difficult at best on Venus, and his
radio-compass proved faulty. He had only the vaguest idea where they
were, and none at all where they were headed. But if he stopped too
long, the shifting dunes would cover them. And if they tried to go too
fast, it would be fatally easy to blunder into one of the open
sink-holes of molten, radioactive metal.
He stopped and motioned the girl to rest.
She sank down, exhausted.
Newlin adjusted the throat microphones and headsets in their plastic
helmets to make for easier conversation. But for a while, neither could
talk. They sat and gasped, yearning for a breath of fresh, unreclaimed
air. Water supplies were low, and already Newlin had established iron
rations. Drinking by tubes was difficult in the helmets and the water
was warm and foul.
"You're lost?" Songeen asked at last.
Newlin nodded. He produced a wrinkled, battered map. "I can't even trust
the compass. I don't know where we are."
The girl took the map in her gloved hands and peered intently through
her face-mask. One finger traced a tiny circle in the film of dust.
"I know," she said. "We are somewhere about here. And over there--" she
indicated a direction behind Newlin--"is the city from which my people
came."
Newlin was startled. The directional instinct with which all Venusians
are endowed was familiar enough, yet he would have sworn the girl was
not from the enfeebled and mutant races of the veiled planet. She was,
at once, more human--and more remote. Songeen guessed his doubt. Through
the fused quartz faceplate, her angular features wore a curious, faint
smile.
"No, not Venusian. This was an--an outpost. A colony and a quarantine
station. The city was abandoned long ago. Long before the atomic
holocaust my people fled. Eons have passed. Everything is now in
ruins--if even ruins remain. See, it is not marked on the map. Not even
as ruins. But we have unusual race-memory. I can see the fabulous towers
and arsenals, the terraced gardens and the palaces--as if they still
stood today as they were in that vanished yesterday. And we have the
homing instinct. It was my people who gave it to the Venusians. The one
thing of value that still remains to them."