"Then--then I'll do whatever Steve asks me to. I promise."
"That's good enough for me," Steve said.
A few minutes later, armed with atorifles and their share of the food
and water that was left, Steve and Mary set out northward across the
sand while the caravan continued east. Fear of what they might find
mounted.
* * * * *
The first night, they camped in the lee of low sandhills. The second
night they found a small spring with brackish but drinkable water. On
the third day, having covered half the distance to the Kumaji
settlement, they began to encounter Kumaji patrols, on foot or
_thlotback_, the six-legged desert animals running so swiftly over the
sands and so low to the ground that they almost seemed to be gliding.
Steve and Mary hardly spoke. Talk was unnecessary. But slowly a bond
grew between them. Steve liked this slim silent girl who had come out
here with him risking her life although she must have known deep in her
heart that her father had almost certainly decided to turn traitor in
order to regain his fortune.
On the fourth day, they spotted the unicopter from a long way off and
made their way toward it. It had come much further than Steve had
expected. With sinking heart he realized that Tobias Whiting, if he
escaped the crash-landing without injury, must surely have reached the
Kumaji encampment by now.
"It doesn't seem badly damaged," Mary said.
The platform had buckled slightly, the 'copter was tilted over, one of
the rotors twisted, its end buried in sand. Tobias Whiting wasn't there.
"No," Steve said. "It's hardly damaged at all. Your father got out of it
all right."
"To go--to them?"
"I think so, Mary. I don't want to pass judgment until we're sure. I'm
sorry."
"Oh, Steve! Steve! What will we do? What _can_ we do?"
"Find him, if it isn't too late. Come on."
"North?"
"North."
"And if by some miracle we find him?"
Steve said nothing. The answer--capture or death--was obvious. But you
couldn't tell that to a traitor's daughter, could you?
As it turned out, they did not find Tobias Whiting through their own
efforts. Half an hour after setting out from the unicopter, they were
spotted by a roving band of Kumajis, who came streaking toward them on
their _thlots_. Mary raised her atorifle, but Steve struck the barrel
aside. "They'd kill us," he said. "We can only surrender."
They were hobbled and led painfully across the sand. They were taken
that way to a small Kumaji encampment, and thrust within a circular
tent.
Tobias Whiting was in there.
* * * * *
"Mary!" he cried. "My God! Mary...."
"We came for you, Dad," she said coldly. "To stop you. To ... to kill
you if necessary."
"Mary...."
"Oh, Dad, why did you do it? Why?"
"We couldn't start all over again, could we? You have a right to live
the sort of life I planned for you. You...."
"Whiting," Steve said, "did you tell them yet?"
"No. No, I haven't. I have information to trade, sure. But I want to
make sure it's going to the right people. I want to get our...."
"Dad! Our money, and all those deaths?"
"It doesn't matter now. I--I had changed my mind, Mary. Truly. But now,
now that you're a prisoner, what if I don't talk? Don't you see, they'll
torture you. They'll make you talk. And that way--we get nothing. I
couldn't stand to see them hurt you."
"They can do--what they think they have to do. I'll tell them nothing."
"You won't have to," Whiting said. "I'll tell them when we reach the
larger settlement. They're taking us there tomorrow, they told me."
"Then we've got to get out of here tonight," Steve said.
The low sun cast the shadow of their guard against the _thlot_skin wall
of their tent. He was a single man, armed with a long, pike-like weapon.
When darkness came, if the guard were not increased....
They were brought a pasty gruel for their supper, and ate in silence and
distaste, ate because they needed the strength. Mary said, "Dad, I don't
want you to tell them anything. Dad, please. If you thought you were
doing it for me...."
"I've made up my mind," Tobias Whiting said.
Mary turned to Steve, in despair. "Steve," she said. "Steve.
Do--whatever you have to do. I--I'll understand."
Steve didn't answer her. Wasn't Whiting right now? he thought. If Steve
silenced him, wouldn't the Kumaji torture them for the information?
Steve could stand up to it perhaps--but he couldn't stand to see them
hurt Mary. He'd talk if they did that....
Then silencing Whiting wasn't the answer. But the Kumajis had one
willing prisoner and two unwilling ones. They knew that. If the willing
one yelled for help but the yelling was kept to a minimum so only one
guard, the man outside, came....
* * * * *
Darkness in the Kumaji encampment.
Far off, a lone tribesman singing a chant old as the desert.
"Are you asleep?" Mary asked.
"No," Steve said.
"Dad is. Listen to the way he's breathing--like a baby. As if--as if he
wasn't going to betray all our people. Oh, I hate him, I hate him!"
Steve crawled to where the older man was sleeping. Tobias Whiting's
voice surprised him. "I'm not asleep. I was thinking. I--"
"I'm going to kill you," Steve said very softly, and sprang at Whiting.
He paused, though. It was a calculated pause, and Whiting cried out as
Steve had hoped he would. Then his hands found the older man's throat
and closed there--not to kill him but to keep him from crying out again.
Sand stirred, the tentflap lifted, and a bulky figure rushed inside.
Steve got up, met him halfway, felt the jarring contact of their bodies.
The pike came up dimly in the darkness, the point scraping against
Steve's ribs as the guard lunged awkwardly. Steve's fingers sought the
thick-muscled neck, clamped there--squeezing.
The guard writhed. His feet drummed the sand. With one hand he stabbed
out wildly with the unwieldy pike. There was a cry from Mary and the
guard managed a low squawking noise. Outside, the rest of the camp
seemed undisturbed. There was death in Steve's strong tightening
fingers. There had to be death there. Death for the Kumaji guard--or
death for the fleeing Earthmen, who had lost one colony and must seek
another.
* * * * *
They fell together on the sand, the guard still struggling. Steve
couldn't release his throat to grab the pike. The guard stabbed out
awkwardly, blindly with it, kicking up sand. Then Tobias Whiting moaned,
but Steve hardly heard him.
When the guard's legs stopped drumming, Steve released him. The man was
either dead or so close to death that he would be out for hours. Steve
had never killed a man before, had never in violence and with intent to
kill attacked a man....
"Steve!"
It was Mary, calling his name and crying.
"It's Dad. Dad was--hit. The pike, a wild stab. He's hit bad--"
Steve crawled over to them. It was very dark. He could barely make out
Tobias Whiting's pain-contorted face.
"My stomach," Whiting said, gasping for breath. "The pain...."
Steve probed with his hands, found the wound. Blood was rushing out. He
couldn't stop it and he knew it and he thought Whiting knew it too. He
touched Mary's hand, and held it. Mary sobbed against him, crying
softly.
"You two ..." Whiting gasped. "You two ... Mary, Mary girl. Is--he--what
you want?"
"Yes, Dad. Oh, yes!"
"You can get her out of here, Cantwell?"
"I think so," Steve said.
"Then go. Go while you can. I'll tell them--due south. The Earthmen are
heading due south. They'll go--south. They won't find the caravan.
You'll--all--get away. If it's--what you want, Mary."
She leaned away from Steve, kissing her father. She asked Steve: "Isn't
there anything we can do for him?"
Steve shook his head. "But he's got to live long enough to tell them, to
deceive them."
"I'll live long enough," Whiting said, and Steve knew then that he
would. "Luck to--all of you. From a--very foolish--man...."
* * * * *
Steve took Mary's hand and pulled her out into the hot, dark, wind-blown
night. He carried the dead Kumaji's pike and they slipped across the
sand to where the _thlots_ were hobbled for the night. He hardly
remembered the rest of it. There was violence and death, but necessary
death. He killed a man with the pike, and unhobbled one of the _thlots_.
The animal screamed and two more Kumajis came sleepily through the night
to see what was the matter. With the long edge of the pike's blade he
decapitated one of them. He slammed the shaft of the weapon across the
other's face, probably breaking his jaw. The camp was in a turmoil. In
the darkness he flung Mary on the _thlot's_ bare back in front of him,
and they glided off across the sand.
Pursuit was disorganized--and unsuccessful. It was too dark for
effective pursuit, as Steve had hoped it would be. They rode swiftly all
night and continued riding with the dawn. They could have gone in any
direction. The wind-driven sand would obliterate their trail.
Two days later they reached the caravan. As they rode up, Mary said,
"Steve, do you have to tell them?"
"We can tell them this," Steve said. "Your father died a hero's death,
sending the Kumajis off in the wrong direction."
"And not--not what he'd planned to do at first."
"No. We'll tell them that was his intention all the while. A man can
make a mistake, can't he?"
"I love you, Steve. I love you."
Then they rode down on the caravan. Somehow Steve knew they would all
reach Oasis City in safety.
With Mary he would find a new world out in the vastness of space.