Henry began swearing. Rafik's glare was the kind that kills. Barda took Andrew aside and began to whisper.
They broke. 'All right,' Andrew said, 'we have to go. I have to go. I killed a prole tonight for that gun. Jeremy, for Earth's sake, when did you think of this?'
'Came to me while I was in the shower.'
'What can we do? Steal one wagon? Do they ever separate?'
'They can be separated. There are stories. You need more than fourteen people for a bandit gang, though. Yet again, Andrew, what would you do with it? Even if we could peel off a wagon and kill everyone in it and take all their yutz guns, we wouldn't have enough firepower to hold off shark attacks. We'll lose our chugs in the first week! That's why they take so many wagons.'
'Well, if it's that hopeless, there's no point in any of you going. I'm a trusty. You c-'
'I'm coming,' Barda snapped without looking up. She was rolling the biggest of the kitchen knives into a pair of shorts.
'You couldn't have stopped me doing anything,' Andrew told her. 'Didn't know I was out there killing a prole and hiding the pack wagon. Can't stop me now, 'cause I'm holding that damned hose of a prole gun. So, Jeremy, do you have anything to say that isn't 'We're all gonna die'?'
Jemmy said, 'I think we can become a restaurant.'
23
The Run
Old sun, old planet, means less of heavy metals and radioactives. The crust is too thick for plate movement and mountain building. Destiny doesn't really have more water than earth, but it covers nearly everything.
-Henry Judd, Planetologist
Andrew stopped them just outside the stormlock in the flapping white light of the electric banner. 'I forgot something.' He grinned, and turned to go back in.
Jemmy had him by the poncho. 'No you don't. Amnon!' he bellowed.
The snout of the prole gun pushed into Jemmy's throat. Andrew almost-whispered, 'Just what d-?'
Jemmy screamed, 'He's going to kill the ones who stayed!' The crowd of refugees melted. Jemmy couldn't tell who ran or where they hid, but Barda and Willametta moved immediately to Andrew's side. They whispered urgent remonstrances, their hands caressing his arms, while Amnon stepped up behind him and wrapped his big arms around Andrew's head.
But Andrew pushed the prole gun hard under Jemmy's chin, and Jemmy didn't try to move.
Amnon's arms began to tighten and twist. He asked, 'The twins too, you birdfucker?'
'We can't leave them to talk!'
Barda was holding the point of the biggest of the kitchen knives just under Andrew's eye.
Andrew cursed and released the gun. Jemmy caught the heavy thing and cradled it, pointing it at nobody. A tiny green light twinkled in the butt. He said, 'You never did have a plan, did you? Just kill and kill until something stops you.'
'Nooo.'
'Jeremy. Jeremy! Give me the gun a minute.'
'What?' Jemmy swung round; the gun swung too. One of the twins shied back.
'Just give me the gun for a breath,' she pleaded, laughing.
'I don't think so.'
'Then you do it. Shoot up the toolhouse a little.'
'Bad idea, Rita.'
'Dolores. But look-'
Willya shouted, 'Barda, don't cut him, it's all right! Let him go. Now what, Andrew?'
Andrew snarled like a beast.
'Plan,' Jemmy said in disgust. Without Andrew the rest had no direction, but Jemmy Bloocher might as well be lost on another planet.
He said, 'Push anyone stupid enough to trust you until he drops out, then kill him for it. Kill proles till they shoot everyone who's still with you. Keep it up till there's nobody left. Plan?'
Andrew wrenched himself loose, and they let him do it. He shook himself, and strode off shouting, 'Follow me!'
The flapping yellow blaze dwindled into black rain.
In the rain and the thunder there was a rustling too, and motion that wasn't just trees in the wind. A big bird dropped from the sputtering sky and lifted again with a turtle-shape in its four sawtooth-edged feet.
Andrew had told them to keep their ponchos. He was right. The night was alive.
Rafik Doe recognized tree roots strangling a sharp-edged boulder, and fished Jemmy Bloocher's pack from underneath. Those on the short list stripped and donned the swim trunks and windbreakers from Carder's Boat, then wore their firebird colors over them. Jemmy gave his prole gun to Amnon before he pulled a windbreaker over his head, then his own old and battered pack. Amnon handed the gun back, somewhat to Jemmy's surprise, and got himself dressed.
They'd walked halfway back to the field where Shimon died. In a sputter of lightning they watched a battle between shadows of birds. Rafik complained in a continuous drone, until others took up the theme too.
'Here!' said Andrew.
He meant a line of spiky black-and-bronze foliage dug into the crack that ran up a near-vertical rock face.
There were exclamations and protests, and then they climbed. Jemmy waited to help the laggards.
Shar Willoughby got ten meters up and froze.
Jemmy climbed up to show her which plants would hold, where to place her feet. She shook her head and wouldn't look or move. 'Get me down. Just get me down.'
Andrew and Barda were high above him. He couldn't ask: Do we need Shar? She was wearing shorts and windbreaker! But she'd never make it, and she was blocking the path.
A ten-meter fall would break bones. He guided her down, letting her stand on his shoulders when he had to. She knelt at the bottom, panting like a dog. He made her strip and took her shorts and windbreaker.
The others were climbing. Shar plodded back toward the barracks.
Jemmy pulled himself along a row of Destiny plants. Or was it all one plant? He couldn't see a break, just a line of roots prying a mountainsized rock apart.
Before that crack ran out there was another.
The world was all tilted surfaces, black and lightning-white, and roar of thunder. He remembered wandering in a daze, mostly blind and mostly deaf, pulling himself from nowhere to nowhere just because he wasn't dead yet. .
But this night was very different from the night he'd abandoned Carder's Boat. He'd been fed and succored, and twelve people had given their lives into his hands... gloves. Nobody else had gloves.
The plants ended suddenly. Other climbers started having trouble. Jemmy had to double back a few times to guide the others to foot- and handholds. The prole gun's strap left Jemmy's arms free. He could see Andrew watching from far above.
If Jemmy slipped, Andrew would have the gun again.
'Here,' Andrew bellowed. 'The ledge. Leave your ponchos here. Firebird shorts too. Use rocks to weigh them down.'
Rafik exclaimed, 'Now what on Earth are you playing at, Andrew?'
'Do it right!' Andrew bellowed. He'd left his own clothing where he was, fifty feet above the ledge, sleeves spread and wedged in cracks. 'They can't see through unless the clouds break!' He scrambled back and helped
