kness, the point scraping against
Steve's ribs as the guard lunged awkwardly. Steve's fingers sought the
thick-muscled neck, clamped there--squeezing.

The guard writhed. His feet drummed the sand. With one hand he stabbed
out wildly with the unwieldy pike. There was a cry from Mary and the
guard managed a low squawking noise. Outside, the rest of the camp
seemed undisturbed. There was death in Steve's strong tightening
fingers. There had to be death there. Death for the Kumaji guard--or
death for the fleeing Earthmen, who had lost one colony and must seek
another.

* * * * *

They fell together on the sand, the guard still struggling. Steve
couldn't release his throat to grab the pike. The guard stabbed out
awkwardly, blindly with it, kicking up sand. Then Tobias Whiting moaned,
but Steve hardly heard him.

When the guard's legs stopped drumming, Steve released him. The man was
either dead or so close to death that he would be out for hours. Steve
had never killed a man before, had never in violence and with intent to
kill attacked a man....

"Steve!"

It was Mary, calling his name and crying.

"It's Dad. Dad was--hit. The pike, a wild stab. He's hit bad--"

Steve crawled over to them. It was very dark. He could barely make out
Tobias Whiting's pain-contorted face.

"My stomach," Whiting said, gasping for breath. "The pain...."

Steve probed with his hands, found the wound. Blood was rushing out. He
couldn't stop it and he knew it and he thought Whiting knew it too. He
touched Mary's hand, and held it. Mary sobbed against him, crying
softly.

"You two ..." Whiting gasped. "You two ... Mary, Mary girl. Is--he--what
you want?"

"Yes, Dad. Oh, yes!"

"You can get her out of here, Cantwell?"

"I think so," Steve said.

"Then go. Go while you can. I'll tell them--due south. The Earthmen are
heading due south. They'll go--south. They won't find the caravan.
You'll--all--get away. If it's--what you want, Mary."

She leaned away from Steve, kissing her father. She asked Steve: "Isn't
there anything we can do for him?"

Steve shook his head. "But he's got to live long enough to tell them, to
deceive them."

"I'll live long enough," Whiting said, and Steve knew then that he
would. "Luck to--all of you. From a--very foolish--man...."

* * * * *

Steve took Mary's hand and pulled her out into the hot, dark, wind-blown
night. He carried the de