'What difference does it make?' Bochner scowled. 'There's a field, isn't there? A town of sorts? People!'
'Yes, but we have that, too.' Egulus jerked his head at the sun. 'And we're in the Quillian Sector. Space is full of noise. From here, you send word by courier and get it the same way. Close in, they can hear us but we don't know in which direction the field could be lying. It could even be on the other side of the planet.'
'If it is?'
Egulus shrugged. 'Luck,' he said. 'It's a matter of luck. They could pick up our transmission or it need never reach them.'
And, even if it was heard, it could be ignored.
Dumarest said, 'Can you increase the power? Send out an overall blast?'
'Maybe.' The captain frowned, thinking. 'If I can rig the circuits, yes. Threnond used the emergency alarm as a base and the capacitors are an integral part. He bypassed them, but they can be reincorporated. But if we do that, Earl, we'll be taking a chance. The power won't last.'
'How long?'
Again the captain frowned. 'I can't be sure. We've used up a lot during the journey. About three strong emissions, I'd say. Maybe one or two weak ones, then finish.'
'A gamble,' said Bochner. 'If they don't hear us we'll have to make our own way.' His teeth flashed in a smile as he thought about it. 'Back to the beginnings, Earl. To hunt and trap and make do as best we can. It won't be too bad. We've skill and adaptability and we've a woman.'
'Savages.' Egulus looked at the radio. 'I was on an expedition once. We'd heard about a ship which had been wrecked in the mountains of Glechen. We didn't find it but we found what could have been the survivors. They couldn't read, spoke in grunts, were covered in scabs and practiced cannibalism. Fifty years, maybe less, and they were back in the dirt.'
'They were soft.' Bochner echoed his contempt. 'If a man is anything at all he'll find a way to make out, no matter what his environment. That's what life is all about, isn't it? To take what is and make it what you want it to be. Right, Earl?'
'Save the power.' Dumarest ignored the question as he looked at Egulus. 'Adjust the radio, but don't use it until we reach the summit.' To the hunter, he said, 'Well eat and move on. You go ahead and scout If you find anything of interest, just leave it. No private hunts. No risks.'
Bochner said flatly, 'Are you giving me orders?'
Dumarest caught the tone, saw the sudden tension, the stance which betrayed anger barely controlled. A reaction to fatigue too long denied, of nerves worn, yet masked by a casual facade. Of a maniacal pride which, even now, had to challenge the hint of another's authority.
He said mildly, 'No, I'm not giving you orders. You stay with the others, if you want I'll go ahead and scout.'
'You think I'm tired?'
'I don't know what you are.' Dumarest met the eyes, wild, wide, the irises edged with white. 'But me, I'm bushed.'
The admission brought the reaction he'd expected. Bochner relaxed, smiling, armored in his conviction of superiority.
'Hell, Earl,' he said. 'I'm bushed, too-a little. You go ahead and rest.'
They reached the summit as darkness began to edge the horizon and the light of the dying sun threw streamers of red and gold, orange and amber against the vault of the sky. A spectacle which would have entranced Gale Andrei, but she, dead, had no eyes to see and they were too exhausted to do more than slump and stare at what lay beyond the peaks edging the shore.
A rolling savannah of bush and scrub, interspersed with clumps of trees now touched with the golden promise of the fading light. A stream which meandered toward a river which must wind on a slow and torturous path to the sea some distance to one side. Clouds, like smoke in the far distance, and beyond them, the soaring loom of mountains, their summits touched with perpetual white.
'Nothing!' Dily's voiced her disappointment. 'Earl, there's nothing!'
Game trails, which his eye could see even in the dusk. Places which could conceal, timber which could make huts and fires, brush adaptable to protective stockades, and water which could be navigated, given craft which strong hands and sharp stones could build. A world in which men could live given the determination. But she saw nothing.
'No houses,' she said dully. 'No roads. No animals. No signs of life. A wilderness. It's a damned wilderness!'
'Easy.' Dumarest caught her by the arm, his fingers relaying a warm comfort. 'Just take it easy. Ask Bochner to start a fire and make some sort of a camp.' It would give them both something to do. 'Find some rocks and make sure they aren't harboring snakes. The night will bring wind, so bear that in mind. Come now!' He smiled and lifted up her chin. 'Look on the bright side. There could be swamps or desert down there. Salt flats or marsh. Remember that place you spoke of on Swenna? Your land? Is it so different?'
'No,' she admitted. 'I guess not.'
'Then why the disappointment? It should be like coming home.'
But on Swenna there would be a town and neighbors, and even if they weren't close, they would be there and within contact range. Now she felt as if no one else but themselves existed on this entire planet. That they had crashed to live as best they might, to live and die without ever seeing the civilization she had known. The ships and towns and busy places. The markets and communes and the sound of eager voices.
Bochner said, 'Gather fuel, woman. Get it while there is still light to see. And watch for snakes and things which could bite.' His smile was ugly, that of a predator enjoying the moment before the kill. 'Come now, move!'
The tone of command, which she had heard so often as a child and had never learned to like. For a moment she faced him, tempted to challenge his assumption that she would obey, to take him, hold him, use her hands to crush out his life. A moment only, then she recognized the weakness which made her less than the hunter. Sometimes, at rare intervals, she could overcome it, but always there had to be the stimulus. Now it was easier to turn and move off to gather dried grasses and broken twigs, patches of moss and windblown debris which would burn.
Egulus said, 'Here, Earl? It's as high as we're going to get unless we head for those mountains.'
'Here.' Dumarest looked at the sun, the sea bathed in washes of color, swaths of warm and enticing hue which matched and augmented the splendor of the sky. 'But not yet. Wait until its well after dark. We don't want to fight the sun more than we have to.'
'After dark,' agreed the captain. 'We've three good, strong bursts, Earl. Shall I send them out quickly, one after the other, or space them out?'
'Space them through the night. Send the last at dawn. Wait, then use what power is left to do what you can.'
'And if we get no response?' Egulus sucked at his lips as Dumarest made no answer. 'Maybe I can pick up something by switching to reception. No luck so far, but the hills could have blocked the signal. At least we might get a line as to the whereabouts of the field.'
And if not they could, perhaps, see ships coming in to land. Others leaving-if they were on the right hemisphere.
Darkness brought a chill wind, which caught at the fire and sent the flames dancing to paint the area in shifting patterns of light. From the shadowed savannah, something cried out with a harsh, grating sound quickly ended. A beast falling to the claws and fangs of a predator or the mating call of an animal in heat. It was not repeated and Dumarest, standing watch, guessed the former to be the most likely explanation.
He turned as Bochner came towards him. The hunter looked at the cold gleam of the knife lifted towards him and smiled.
'I could have killed you, Earl, had I wanted.'
'Perhaps.'
'You imply doubt. There is no doubt. I could have been on you before you knew it. A move. A single blow and you would be dead, now.' The hunter drew in his breath, released it with a soft inhalation. 'My friend, I am a
