a human person and more like some random lump of anonymous earth; and, grimly, Patrice picked up a scoop and took her place with the others.
That earned her a grateful look from Jimmy Lin. 'Thanks,' he said, and then paused to look back at where Martin and Rosaleen were sorting over the guns. Dopey was returning in the arms of one of die Docs. Jimmy looked at Patrice again, this time pleading. 'Listen, you can finish without me, can't you? Because I'd really like to check those weapons out-'
'Go ahead,' she said. And beside her, Pat saw the expression on Dannerman's face and added:
'You too, Dan. We'll be all right.'
The funny thing was, Patrice thought as the men hurried to join the others, that Pat actually did seem to be all right. She wasn't weeping. She didn't even look particularly unhappy. She was frowning slightly in concentration as she dealt with the task at hand, efficiently sliding her ancient scoop into the dwindling pile of dirt, methodically dropping the clods in place to fill the lowest parts of the rising layers of dirt.
It was a good example to follow. Patrice followed it. It was easier refilling the grave than digging it had been, and then, when it was all in, and they had scraped all the loose dirt possible off the ground, there was a small mound to mark the burial place. Patrice knelt to pat it smooth. She was so absorbed in her task it was a surprise to hear Pat's voice. 'Patrice? That's good enough. I'm going to clean up a little.'
Another good example to follow, and Patrice followed it. But then, as they knelt beside the stream, she looked over at the others. 'Then we'd better see what's going on,' she offered. ' 'Sure,' Pat said absently, scrubbing at her hands. The water was cold, and the clayey soil sticky; the dirt didn't want to come off. Then she paused, looking over at Patrice. 'Listen. You're not sore at me, are you?'
'About what?' Patrice was honestly baffled for a moment, then clarity came. 'Oh, you mean about you making out with Dan-Dan? No, of course not.'
Pat didn't seem satisfied with the answer. She was looking at the gravesite. She sighed. 'Easy for you to say, maybe,' she said. 'It might not be so easy for Patsy. She was the one that got killed.' Then, just before she plunged her face into the water, she added, 'You know what I'm wondering? I wonder if there's any truth to this idea of everybody meeting everybody again at the eschaton. Because if there is Dan and I might have some explaining to do.'
is Patrice rinsed the tearstains off her own face she considered what Pat had said. Could it be true that some sort of high-tech heaven was waiting for all of them? For herself, for Patsy-for all of the Pats, including the one on Earth? And for Husbands One and Two (and what would that reunion be like?), and for feckless, ill-tempered Mick Jarvas and all the other people at the observatory, and even for Uncle Cubby, finally getting to see what his heirs had done with his money? Not to mention Hitler and Stalin and Napoleon and everybody else, all the way back to Tiglath-Pilesar and Nebuchadnezzar… and Dopey, too, in fact all the Dopeys there had ever been, as well as all the other myriad extraterrestrials in this astonishingly populated universe, wherever found.
She couldn't imagine it. Would Patsy in fact be ticked off at being allowed to get killed? Would it be like the wronged dead of the old superstitions, coming back as ghosts to haunt those who had harmed them in life? Only these wouldn't be the sort of ghosts that contented themselves with dripping blood from an unseen wound, or shrieking pitifully in the night. These would be real-at least as real as she would be herself, in this fantastic rising- up time in the remote future.
She lifted her face from the water and stopped herself short. No! It wouldn't be like that at all. If they did see Patsy again, it would be that same Patsy who was themselves. Who knew everything about them and forgave all, just as they forgave themselves-and, for the things that weren't really forgivable, simply accepted them and got on with it.
She laughed out loud and stood up, startling Pat who was drying her face with the hem of her shirt. 'No,' she said, 'if it's all true you won't have to explain. It'll be all right.'
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Patrice
The others were gathered around the guns that lay on the ground, spilled out of the coppery-mesh sack Dopey had brought them in. There were far more than Patrice had expected, and as they approached Rosaleen smiled at them. 'Pick a couple for yourselves,' she invited. 'All the guns are duplicated, so there's plenty to go around.'
'But what's going on?' Patrice asked. Dannerman and Dopey were confronting each other; still in the Doc's arms, Dopey's face was at a level with Dannerman's, and they both looked angry.
'Oh, what do you think?' Rosaleen said, sounding exasperated. 'Much argumentation. Simply listen and you will hear it all for yourself.'
Her voice carried to Dannerman, who twitched slightly but stood his ground. 'You stay out of this,' he ordered Dopey. 'We have to consider our options.'
'But you have no options!' Dopey squawked.
'Of course we do! Fighting your damn Horch machines for you is only one of them. We can stay here-'
'You cannot!'
'Why not? You've supplied us with guns. We can defend ourselves in case the amphibians come back… or who knows what other wild animals might be around?'
Dopey said plaintively, 'You speak such nonsense, Agent Dannerman. There aren't any wild animals on this planet.'
'Not even the ones that killed Patsy?' Jimmy asked.
'Not even them. They are simply control groups-exactly like yourselves, you see! There are eight different species out here, kept in separate reservations, and they're all intelligent. Some of them have been here for many, many generations. They're all that's left of races that have become extinct in their home planets-it is,' he added boastfully, 'in a sense, a kind of ecological thing. But no wild animals.'
'What about the furry lizards?' Patrice demanded.
'I know nothing of lizards. Perhaps they were food animals for one of the species. No. The reason you have the guns is to deal with the Horch machines. They are quite large. They have high-powered torches and cutting instruments, and their job is to destroy this whole base.'
'So let them,' Martin growled. 'I vote with Dannerman. We stay here.'
The little alien squealed in irritation. 'But you cannot! You will die if we stay here?'
Dannerman said soberly, 'Maybe we should take that chance. We may be able to find something growing that we can eat so we won't starve-'
'Not starve!' Dopey said impatiently. 'Fry. Here, ask your own astronomers, now that they have finished with this foolish ritual. You should understand the problem, Drs. Adcock. Have you not observed the stars?'
Patrice had a sinking feeling, but it was Pat who spoke up. 'Are you talking about dangerous radiation, from black holes, supernovas, all that? But there hasn't been any, or we'd all be dead already.'
'Of course there has not been any! That is because the Beloved Leaders long ago established a screen around this entire planet so that all lethal radiation was filtered out. But when the power went down, so did the screen.'
That stopped them all. Dopey seized his advantage. 'So you see,' he said, 'you have no other option. No. You must help me. I have given you weapons. I have also provided all these bearers, to carry the excess weaponry and whatever else we need for our task. And, of course, to help with Dr. Artzybachova,' he added politely. 'Now we must restore power and wipe out the remaining Horch surrogates before they finish destroying so much that took so long to build!'
Jimmy Lin emitted a sarcastic yelp. 'What, the six of us? Against machines that defeated your own fighters?'
'But your numbers are not a problem,' Dopey said in surprise. 'Once the standby power is restored we can make many copies of you, all you need-a whole army if you want them, Commander Lin!'
Lin looked flustered, but Dannerman was the one who responded. 'The hell you will! We've had enough of
