"Yeah. We figure it's no use stayin'. Comin' with us?"
Why not? It was his only chance for life. He had no stake in the
colonies. He'd joined the Legion for adventure.
Then he looked at Kuna, and at Breska, thinking of all the people of
two worlds who needed ground to grow food on, and water to grow it
with. Something, perhaps the ancestor who had died in the Alamo, made
him shake his sandy head.
"I reckon not," he said. "And I reckon you ain't, either."
He was quick on the draw, but Bull had his gun already out. The bullet
thundered against Tex's skull. The world exploded into fiery darkness,
through which he heard Breska say,
"Sure, Bull. Why should I stay here to die for nothing?"
Tex tried to cry out, but the blackness drowned him.
He came to lying on the catwalk. His head was bandaged. Frowning, he
opened his eyes, blinking against the pain.
Breska hunched over the nearest gun, whistling softly through his
teeth. "The Lone Prairee." Tex stared incredulously.
"I--I thought you'd gone with the others."
Breska grinned. "I just wasn't as dumb as you. I hung behind till they
were all outside, and then I barred the door. I'd seen you weren't
dead, and--well, this cough's got me anyway, and I hate forced marches.
They give me blisters."
They grinned at each other. Tex said,
"We're a couple of damn fools, but I reckon we're stuck with it. Okay.
Let's see how long we can fool 'em." He got up, gingerly. "The Skipper
had some books in his quarters. Maybe one of 'em would tell what this
dry stuff is."