Fire Time

TWENTY-TWO

The morning before rendezvous, Sparling and Jill announced that they intended another overnight trip. Innukrat regarded them closely. “For what?” she asked.

“You know my work is to learn about animals,” Jill answered. “I would observe those that fare by darkness.”

“Aye. And yet—” Arnanak’s wife sighed. “Your manner has changed of late. I wish I knew your kind well enough to guess how or why. But I see it, and hear it in your speech.” Her nostril dilated. “I smell it.”

Jill stood taken aback. Sparling jumped into the breach:

“You are right. The battle for Port Rua must be well along, maybe ended. They are our friends yonder. Do you not fear for those you care about, and long for any word even though it be evil?”

“Are we that alike?” Innukrat said very quietly. “Then go you shall if you wish. I have my work here to keep me from thinking too much.” She gave them a generous ration both of native food and supplement.

When they were afoot, Jill confessed: “I thought I was a fanatic (j.g.). Instead, I feel treacherous.”

“Don’t,” Sparling said. “Nobody alive can be more loyal than you. But loyalty to the whole of creation isn’t possible.”

As I have found out, Rhoda, jabbed within him.

Tomorrow I must face you, who’ve never stopped loving me.

And 1 may do that with manacles on my wrists. Is this why I hope my crazy scheme will work? He touched the hunting knife which he, like the girl, wore. Why the idea hit me in the first place, after what Dejerine told us? Could it be that the amateur bombing plot won’t likely get me in enough trouble to make love unimportant?

He glanced at her profile, envied her straightforwardness, then: Stop groveling! What a waste of our last time alone.

They spoke seldom through the next hour, for the climb was hard to their goal. When the subject arose of where that was to be, they had simultaneously named the same place; and their eyes met and they laughed. It had the required characteristics, distance from Ulu, easy identifiability, safe landing for a vehicle. Other locations were handier. But here they could spend an easy evening.

Timberline in Valennen was drawn not by cold but by aridity; and evolution in the Starklands had given T-life greater endurance of this than ortho-life. At the campsite, red and yellow forest had, kilometers behind, yielded to blue growth of different shape, fringed, leathery to the touch. Bushes grew well apart. Still wider spaced were trees. But where the mountain thrust forth an enormous outcrop, which the Ulu folk named Arnanak’s Rump in his presence, a concavity on the south side cast shade. From under the foot trickled a spring. Nearby rose the dark bronze trunk of a phoenix, whose roof gave further shelter. The ground was padded with cerulean turf. Here and there sparkled bright orange not-quite-flowers. Westward the plateau became entirely open, and outlook ran unhindered to the gray awesomeness of the Worldwall.

The humans fell prone on opposite sides of the water, drank and drank. Sparling noticed blessed coolness and a tang of iron, but mainly Jill’s cheek against his and a strand of blond hair in the rivulet. Slaked, they settled down in shadow dappled crimson and gold. There was a curious absence of odor from the soil—human noses didn’t respond—but no matter; his body and hers breathed forth a fragrance of flesh that had been at work outdoors.

“Hoo-ha,” Jill said. “Let’s just sit a while and sweat.”

Sparling’s gaze lingered on her as he chose words. “I’m happier than I can explain, seeing you aren’t downcast.”

She tossed her head. “I refuse to be. Don, Larreka—I’ll mourn afterward. Neither would want me doing it here… nor you, Ian.”

“I wish I had, well, your ability—no, your courage to be glad.”

Her smile was lopsided. “You think that comes easy? It’s a fight, and I don’t win every round.” She reached to ruffle his hair. “Let’s help each other stay cheerful, amante. Captain’s dinner tonight, followed by revelry. Tomorrow we make port.”

“What then?”

“Who knows?” She grew altogether serious. Tears jeweled the thick lashes. “I ask one thing of you. Ian. One solemn promise.”

“Yes?” You can have any I dare give.

“Your word of honor. Whatever I do, don’t try to stop me.”

“What? What are you thinking of?” Suicide? Impossible!

Her eyes dropped; fingers wrestled in her lap. “I can’t rightly tell. Everything’s tangled beyond redemption. But, oh, suppose I decided to—go propagandize on Earth, on behalf of Ishtar. I can claim accumulated leave, my right to a passage. You can’t, and I doubt you can buy a ticket either while the war lasts. You could hold me back, though, by begging me to stay and be your mistress.”

“Do you imagine I’d be that selfish? Making you act against your conscience? In fact—when we return, I have… my obligations, and you shouldn’t spend more of your life on an old man who can’t ever give you anything real—” Assuming I’m there at all.

She laid a hand across his mouth. He kissed her palm. “Hush,” she said. “We’ll work that out later on, when we know what’s best, least unkind.” Rapidly: “See why I want your word, effective immediately, you’ll let me find my own way, whatever it may turn out to be? I have to explore these questions freely.”

He nodded. She released him to reply, “Yes. Maybe I should’ve expected this demand from you. Freedom,” and wonder why she winced. But in a moment she pursued:

“Then I have your promise?” And he responded:

“Yes, you do.”

She cast both arms around him. “Thank you, thank you!” She struggled not to weep. “I never loved you more than now.”

He comforted her as best he was able. In a surprisingly short time she could lift eyes full of mischief and breathe, “I’ll start collecting right away. Guess what you mustn’t prevent me from doing.” And very soon after: “Ah, yes, I figured you’d co-operate.”

Later, when Anu hung immense above the peaks, they built a fire and cooked supper. Then came stars and moons. They would sleep a little, and rouse to each other again—

The rescue vehicle arrived at mid-morning.

“There he comes!” Jill called. Sparling’s look followed her upflung hand. A blinding-bright spark hurtled out of the south, became a winged barracuda shape, overshot, looped back, and circled far overhead, trailing thunder. They embraced a final hasty time and ran from rock and tree, into the heat and glare beneath naked heaven where they could be seen.

The aircraft slanted down. Jill whistled. “That’s a big Boojum,” she said.

A Huitzilopochtu, Sparling recognized. Six machine guns, three cannon, an energy projector, and a couple of one-kiloton blast-focused missiles. His head had felt a bit hollow and sandy, but the feeling vanished in a thrum of excitement.

The microcom on his wrist beeped. He admitted Dejerine’s voice: “Hello on the ground. All clear?”

“All clear,” Jill responded. “Come join the party.”

The vessel did. Sparling’s heart banged. Was the officer indeed aboard alone, as he had mentioned he would be? Sensors, computers, effectors, and whatnot, that was nevertheless a lot of machine to single-hand. Part of me wishes he’s got companions or—or anything… It halted. They jogged toward it.

A lock opened and extruded a gangway. Dejerine appeared at the top, a slim figure in a trim field uniform. He waved. Jill waved back. Metal thudded beneath hastening boots.

Dejerine shook their hands. His clasp was enthusiastic. But did he seem tired, nervous, even suspicious? Well, after what he’s been through— He bears no side arm. No side arm.

“Welcome,” he greeted. “I can’t tell how happy I am to see you again.” His attention was directed at Jill. Where else? She told me he acted fond of her. Who couldn’t?

“Did you truly come by yourself?” she asked.

“Yes,” Dejerine said.

Sparling knew both glee and grief.

“We may as well start right home,” Dejerine said. “It’s a glorious flight. This planet has more beauty than my mind can take in.”

Then why won’t you let us save it, you—no, not you son of a bitch—you military robot?… Hold on there, Sparling. You’re too damn near hysteria.

They entered. The lock closed behind them. Conditioned air shocked with mildness and moisture. The main body of the craft extended ranks of instruments and equipment on either side of a passageway.

Dejerine wiped a forefinger across his sweaty mustache. “I can’t imagine how you two stood that furnace this long,” he said.

Jill sang sotto voce, “Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego—”

“I brought food, drink, medicine, fresh clothes,” Dejerine continued. “When we’re up, I’ll put us on automatic; but can I do anything for you before we take off?”

Now! And there was no more time for doubt or regret.

Sparling drew his knife, gripped underhanded. “Yes,” His voice resonated through his skull. “You can make ready to deliver the legion. Don’t move! This is a hijack.”

Jill gasped, Dejerine’s olive complexion paled a trifle, though he stood oddly steady and his features merely went expressionless apart from the luminous dark eyes.

“My private idea,” Sparling said. “Never a hint to Jill. But when I knew the circumstances—when I thought how our weak, clumsy effort from Primavera might not work, and at best could only give temporary help—while this monster can cow any warriors who escape it for the rest of their lives—Do you see? I’m prepared to surrender to you afterward, and stand trial and serve sentence. But please believe, Captain, I’m just as prepared to secure you and try being my own pilot if you don’t obey my orders.”

“Ian—” Her voice broke like glass.

Dejerine sprang. The distance was short, he was young and supple, trained in personal combat. Yet Sparting swayed aside and delivered a kick and a left-handed chop which laid him asprawl.

“Don’t try that again, son,” the engineer advised: “You’re good, but I spent years in sections where I’d better know infighting… against Ishtarians. This knife is more emphasis than threat.”

Dejerine climbed to his feet, gingerly touched the places where he had been struck, wet his lips, and spoke slowly: “If I refuse—and I’m sworn to the service of the Federation—you’re practically sure to crash. They don’t let anyone rated less than Master Pilot near the controls of a thing like this. What then about Jill?”

“I’ll send her back to Ulu with a story that accounts for my absence,” Sparling said.

She stepped forward. “Like hell you will, mister,” she stated.

“Like hell I won’t,” Sparling answered; and to Dejerine:

“I repeat, she’s been in no conspiracy, she was unaware of my plan, her behavior has been correct throughout.”

Jill clenched fists and stamped a foot. “You idiot!” she yelled. “Why do you suppose I snaked that promise out of you, not to block me, whatever I did? I intended the same piracy myself!”

He couldn’t gape at her, for he must watch Dejerine and she must keep beyond the latter’s reach. He could only glimpse her in a comer of his sight, flushed, breath quick, fire-blue eyes and teeth agleam. You would, he knew. Aloud. “You’re raving.”

“That she is,” Dejerine said in a hurry. “A touch of sun. I didn’t follow her, she was so incoherent. Sparling, I will assume you’re an honest man, however misguided. If I do your will, under duress, and you surrender to me later—we’ll return here and fetch Jill. We’ll have left her behind, you see, in safety.”

The girl drew blade. “No.” Her tone became one of the grimmest either man had ever heard. “I’m dealing myself in whether you want me or not. I hold you to your oath, Ian. Break it, and you’ll have to fight me. Is that your wish?

“Listen. If you’re alone with him, Yuri has a chance of taking you. He can pull a stunt—he’s a spaceman and he’s younger; he can take more gee force. He can black you out with a dive or a swerve and grab that shiv of yours, and there goes the game. But two of us—two of us’ll be too many; too risky. Right, Yuri? Against two, you’ll have no choice. Your duty’ll be to stay at the helm—if only because you doubt a pair of klutzes like us can return the Federation’s big expensive death machine undamaged.”

I can’t dismiss her now, whatever I do. She’s torched her last line of retreat. The knowledge was like a blow to Sparling’s throat.

Dejerine—Dejerine looked as badly shocked. His shoulders slumped, he gnawed his lip, in a muteness which went on. Finally, his stare never leaving the girl, he said rasp-voiced:

“Yes. Your analysis is correct. I will fly for you.” Turning, he led the way toward the command cabin. His back had straightened but his gait was stiff. And Sparling thought: He guessed I might do what I did. Not Jill. that was a foul surprise, but me. He came here open to me.

A glance at her showed pity on her face. She sees this, too.