took over then, and thought ceased.
Wil found himself in the open area between the volleyball court and the NMs. He must have shouted; everyone was looking at him. Fraley stared openmouthed. For an instant, he looked afraid. Then he saw where Wil was headed, and he laughed.
There was no humor in the Kid's response. His head snapped up, instant recognition on his face. He sprang to his feet, his hands held awkwardly before him — whether an inept defense or a plea for mercy was not clear. It didn't matter. Wil's deliberate walk had become a lumbering run. Someone with his own voice was screaming. The NMs in his way scattered. Wil was barely conscious of body-blocking one who was insufficiently agile; the fellow simply bounced off him.
The Kid's face held sheer terror. He backpedaled frantically, tripped; this was one bind he would not escape.
THIRTEEN
Something flashed in the air above Wil, and his legs went numb. He went down, just short of where the Kid had been standing. Even as the breath smashed out of him, he was trying to get back to his knees. It was no good. He snorted blood, and rational thought resumed. Someone had stungunned him.
Around him there was shouting and people were still backing away, unsure if his berserker charge might continue. The game had broken off; the glowball's light was steady and unmoving. Wil touched his nose; bloodied but unbroken.
When he twisted back onto his elbows, the babble quieted.
Steve Fraley walked toward him, a wide grin on his face. 'My, my, Inspector. Getting a little carried away, aren't you? I thought you were cooler than that. You, of all people, should know that we can't support the old grudges.' As he got closer, Wil had to strain to look up at his face. Wil gave up and lowered his head. Beyond the NM President, at the limit of the glowball's illumination, he saw the Kid puking on the grass.
Fraley stepped close to the fallen Brierson, his sport shoes filling most of the near view. Wil wondered what it would be like to get one of those shoes in the face-and somehow he was sure that Steve was wondering the same thing.
'President Fraley.' Yelen's voice spoke from somewhere above. 'I certainly agree with you about grudges.'
'Um, yes.' Fraley retreated a couple of steps. When he spoke, it sounded as if he were looking upwards. 'Thanks for stunning him, Ms. Korolev. Perhaps it's for the best that this happened. I think it's time you realized who you can trust to behave responsibly-and who you cannot.'
Yelen did not reply. Several seconds passed. There was quiet conversation around him. He heard footsteps approach, then Tunc Blumenthal's voice. 'We just want to move him away from the crowd, Yelen, give him a chance to get his legs back. Okay?'
'Okay.'
Blumenthal helped Wil roll onto his back, then picked him up under the shoulders. Looking around, Wil saw that Rohan Dasgupta had grabbed his legs. But all Wil could feel was Blumenthal's hands; his legs were still dead meat. The two lugged him away from the light and the crowd. It was a struggle or the slender Rohan. Every few steps, Wil's rear dragged on the ground, a noise without sensation.
Finally, it was dark all around. They set him down, his back against a large boulder. The courts and bonfires were pools of light clustered below them. Blumenthal sat on his heels beside Wil. 'Soon as you feel a tingling in those legs, I suggest you try walking, Wil Brierson. You'll have less an ache that way.'
Wil nodded. It was the usual advice to stungun victims, at least when the heart wasn't involved.
'My God, Wil, what happened?' Curiosity struggled with embarrassment in Rohan's voice.
Brierson took a deep breath; the embers of his rage still glowed. 'You've never seen me blow my stack, is that it, Rohan?' The world was so empty. Everybody he'd cared about was gone... and in their place was an anger he had never known. Wil shook his head. He'd never realized what an uncomfortable thing continuing anger could be.
They sat in silence a minute more. Pins-and-needles prickling started up Wil's feet. He'd never known a stun to wear off so quickly; another high-tech improvement, no doubt. He rolled onto his knees. 'Let's see if I can walk.' He climbed to his feet, using Dasgupta and Blumenthal as crutches.
'There's a path over here,' said Blumenthal. 'Just keep walking and it'll get easier.'
They tottered off. The path turned downwards, leaving the picnic grounds behind the crest of a hill. The shouts and laughter faded, and soon the loudest sounds were the insects. There was a sweetish smell-flowers?-that he'd never noticed around Town Korolev. The air was cool, downright cold on those parts of his legs that had regained sensation.
At first, Wil had to put all his weight on Blumenthal and Dasgupta. His legs seemed scarcely more than stumps, his knees now locking, now bending loose with no effective coordination. After fifty meters his feet could feel the pebbles in the path and he was doing at least part of the navigating.
The night was clear and moonless. Somehow the stars alone were enough to see by-or maybe it was the Milky Way? Wil looked into the sky ahead of them. The pale light was strangely bright. It climbed out of the east, a broad band that narrowed and faded halfway up the sky. East? Could the megayears change even that? Wil almost stumbled, felt the
