bearing a livid scar who should have been on duty at the exit but had been absent. “We all agree on the way we feel. You cheated us. Sold us a lying story so as to get your own way. You and that harlot you slept with. You deserve all you get.”
“Is that why you deserted your post at the portal? Ice had jammed it. How did you expect those outside to get into the shelter without help from inside?” Dumarest stepped forward, grabbed the man’s hand, turned it so as to display the smears of color on the fingers. “So you were the artist. Haven’t you the guts to challenge me? Then I challenge you!”
The Kaldari way. If Gorin backed down he would be branded a coward and lose all respect. Dumarest had beaten him at his own game.
“Damn you!” Gorin tore free his hand and reared to his feet. “No one cheats the Kaldari. It’s time you learned that.”
He lunged forward, confident of his strength and agility, the support of his own kind.
Dumarest met his rush. As a fist lunged towards his face he backed and stepped to one side. His left hand rose, the fingers and palm bent at a right angle to the arm, the heel of the hand smashing like a hammer upwards against Gorin’s nose. He felt cartilage yield, bone shatter to be driven upwards along the nasal passages into the sinus and the brain. Even as blood spouted his right hand was moving towards the throat, fingers folded, the knuckles forming a blunted spear that hit and crushed the larynx.
Gorin fell. Chagal knelt beside him then rose, shaking his head.
A man said, incredulously, “He’s dead?”
“That’s right.”
“Dead from a punch?”
“From a loose mouth,” snapped the doctor. “For refusing to accept discipline. For insulting a decent woman. For taking on more than he could handle. As we all are.”
“Nadine wasn’t a harlot,” said a man. “I knew and liked her. Gorin shouldn’t have called her that.”
Another said, “What did you mean when you said we are all taking on more than we can handle?”
“It’s time for us to make plans,” said Chagal. “To decide on what to do and how to do it. Where to go and when. We’ve sat here too long as it is.”
“There will be rescue,” said a woman. “Others are following us. We sent them the coordinates of Earth. They will find and rescue us.”
“When?” Dumarest stared at the assembly. “Can any answer? Are you certain they are following? Even if they are why should they search for us? To share the loot?”
“There is no loot.”
“Not here and if they were in a ship with working scanners they would know that. So why should they land? Why should they even look?” Anger hardened his voice. “Damn it! Act what you are! Don’t waste time hoping for rescue! Who the hell cares if we live or die?”
A man said, “We need time to think.”
“About rescue? You’ve had that. Now forget it. Start thinking about survival.” Dumarest paused, searching faces, his own hard, determined. “I’ve been watching the sun. It’s closer to the horizon now than when we landed. Which means winter is closing in. It will grow colder, bleaker, soon we won’t be able to move outside. We’ll freeze in here. If we hope to survive we have to move south. In order to do that we need sleds and active people to load and pull them.” Pausing he added, “I’m giving you until tomorrow morning. Then I’m leaving with whoever wants to accompany me.” To Chagal he said, “It’s time to visit your patients.”
They lay on their beds, men and women, broken, crippled, in pain but still alive. The doctor had done what he could but the medications that would have met his needs had been lost in the fury of the landing. A woman with a broken spine could do little more than move her head and lift her arms. A man could do less than that, his partner having to feed, wash and care for him in every way. She reared to her feet as Dumarest approached.
“Don’t touch him! I won’t have him killed!”
“No one is going to kill anyone,” soothed Chagal. To the man he said, “How are you feeling Chen? A little easier?”
“Just a little. Will it be long before I’m on my feet again?”
“Not too long. It just takes a little more time.”
Time and the magic of antibiotics and genetic compounds which would have healed and repaired and restored his normal mobility. Things they didn’t have. Soothing lies were a poor substitute.
The woman with the broken spine said, “Come closer, doctor. You too, Earl.” Then, in a whisper, added, “Did Tazima meet them? She told me she could hear them and was certain they would come in the night. The Shining Ones,” she said irritably as they made no response. “The Guardians of Earth. They will help us when they get here. Tazima could hear them. She told me so.”
“She heard the wind,” said Chagal.
“No! It was more than that!”
“Just the rustle of snow stirred by the wind,” repeated the doctor. “Ordinary sound. If you listen hard enough and have imagination enough you can hear anything you want to hear. Voices. Children crying, women screaming, angels singing, men cursing, Guardians talking-anything.”
“He’s right,” said Dumarest.
“But he could be wrong.” The woman was insistent. “I believed Tazima when she said she’d heard the Shining Ones. I want to hear them too. Will you take me outside? Please!”
Chagal said, “Tazima is dead.”
“I know. I heard. Sound travels in a place like this. But she could have met them. They could have been kind. If they helped her then they could help me.”
“Are you saying you want to die?”
“I am of the Kaldari. We do not fear death. You are of the Kaldari also, doctor. You should not fear killing. Be truthful, now. Can you cure me? Any of us here? Be honest. Do we have any real hope? If we haven’t then be merciful. Do what needs to be done.”
“You have courage,” said Dumarest. “There is no need for you to go outside. I can do what you ask.”
“I thank you for that. You have more compassion than some I could name.” She glanced at the doctor. “But to ask you to do that would be to ask too much. Just help me. Get me outside where I can hear the voices.” Then, urgently, she added, “Why do you hesitate? Why deny me mercy? Must I call others to witness your shame? Help me, I beg you!”
“We’ll need clothing,” said Dumarest. “Covers to keep you warm. There is no need for you to freeze while you listen to the voices. Covers and something to carry you on. I’ll get them now!”
It was as ifnothinghad changed. The sun still hung in the sky, lower now, but the wind was the same and the undulating expanse of snow coated with the fine, seemingly alive swirl of drifting particles. The dell was as he remembered now graced with the woman on what she intended to be her bier. From the rim he looked back at the elfin grace of the wreck and beyond it to where a mound of ice and snow reared in an oblong hummock. Tazima’s final resting place and close to her would be the captain and the navigator and others who had died in the crash. Nadine among them and he felt an inner pain as he remembered the warm softness of her body as he hugged it in his arms knowing, but not wanting to accept the fact, that she was dead. That never again would they share thoughts and emotions, make plans, make love. That, again, he would be alone.
“She is setting an example,” said Chagal. He pointed to where the woman had eased the clothing from her head and shoulders to expose her body to the cold. “Demonstrating the courage of the Kaldari. I hope others will learn from it.”
“If they don’t?”
“Then I must. You are right, Earl. As was she. It is wrong to withhold the mercy of a painless end. Perhaps I should begin at once.”
“But not with her.” Dumarest stared down into the dell. “She has too much courage and has earned respect. If she wants I will do what must be done-but I’ll not leave her to die alone.”
She turned her head as he approached and weakly tried to prevent him from replacing the covers. She smiled as he insisted, smiled again as he chafed her cheeks and let his fingers trail over her throat so as to locate the carotid arteries which carried the blood to her brain. Clamped they would cease to function and, within seconds, she would lose consciousness. In less than a minute she would be dead.
