“Alec,” Jameson said, his lean face hidden in the shadows, “What do we do if she tells us where he is? We can’t just walk up to Douglas and expect him to hand us the fissionables.”
“No—but we can call down as many men as the settlement can provide. And I think we can recruit some of the people around here. They can’t all be totally loyal to Douglas. They’ll join our side for a share of the loot, especially when they see the army we can put together.”
“You really think Kobol’s going to bring down an army for you?”
“Not for me,” Alec said. “For the fissionables. They’ll have to.” And he added silently, to himself, Even if Kobol’s gained complete control of the Council he’ll have to come here for the fissionables.
In the dwindling firelight, it was impossible to see the expression on Jameson’s face. He said slowly, “Listen, Alec... some of the men don’t think we’ll ever get back to the settlement. They think we’ve been written off.”
“That’s not true!”
“It’s what they think,” Jameson said. “And... well, they’re not all that unhappy about it. This is a big world here. We could carve ourselves a nice chunk of it, if we wanted to. Some of the men have even been wondering why we don’t join up with Douglas...”
Alec almost swung at him. At the last instant he managed to check himself, already leaning toward Jameson with his fists clenched and ready.
Forcing his voice to remain calm, Alec asked, “Join the traitor? Let the settlement die?”
“They’ve left us to die.”
“They’ll send all the help we need, when we’re ready for it.”
Jameson made a low, sighing sound. “It better be soon, if you expect to have any of these men following you.”
“It will be,” Alec snapped. He was blazing hotter than the fire now, not trusting himself to say any more. He started to walk away.
“Wait,” Jameson called. He unbuckled his gun-belt as he walked up to Alec. “If you’re going to go strolling in the dark, you’d better have at least a pistol. Don’t trust anybody.”
Alec’s anger softened. “All right,” he said. “Thanks.” He strapped the gun to his hip.
Walking down a crooked lane between two rows of huts, Alec saw that the stars were gleaming brightly. He recognized Orion rising sideways above the southern horizon. It’ll be winter soon, he thought. We’ve got to get the job done before the snows start.
He paced along the bare dirt path slowly, thinking, planning, trying not to think of confronting Angela and questioning her. I’ve got to find a power source for the radios. Douglas must have a few tucked away here and there, this close to his headquarters. Find one, make a raid, stay long enough to get a message off to the satellite.
A sound pulled him up short. A gasp, scuffling, heavy breathing. He flattened himself against the rough logs of the nearest hut and slid the pistol from its holster.
Again. A muffled sound, almost a groan, but stifled.
Carefully, Alec edged along the log wall. A dim light glowed faintly from a doorway in the next hut. He tiptoed for it. More gasps, whispers, then a low voice saying:
“C’mon cutey... come across... you won’t look too good if you don’t...”
Alec stepped into the hut, gun level at his waist.
In the wavering light of a single candle, he saw one of his own youngsters holding Angela’s arms pinned tightly behind her back with one brawny arm, his other meaty hand over her mouth. Gianelli stood in front of her with a long, slim knife. Her shirt was torn away and three long welling red slashes streaked down one breast to the nipple. Her eyes were wide with pain and terror.
“Gianelli!”
He wheeled around. The knife blade was red.
“You want to find out where your father is, I’ll find out for you,” Gianelli said, his voice low and shaking with excitement. “I’ll get a lot more out of her, besides.”
“Get away from her.”
The kid let his hand drop from Angela’s mouth, but still held her arms.
“Listen,” Gianelli said. “I’ve had a bellyfull of your orders. I’ll get what you want from her and then I’ll get what I want.”
The gun’s blast was deafening in the tiny hut. Gianelli slammed back against the wall, his mouth open in a silent “Ooohhh...” He dropped the knife and slid to the floor.
The kid stepped away from Angela, toward Gianelli’s crumpled body. “I... he told me...”
Alec fired once more and the kid’s face dissolved in an explosion of blood. Angela screamed and Alec grabbed her, pulled her out of the hut into the clean night air, leaving the stench of gunsmoke and blood behind them.
“They... they...” she gulped.
“They’re dead,” Alec said. He still held the gun. His hand was trembling so badly that it took three tries to slide it back into his holster.
Jameson was the first to reach them, a carbine in one hand. Half a dozen other men pounded up right behind him.
“What happened?”
“I just killed two men who couldn’t follow orders. Drag them out into the village square and leave them there.”
They were a quiet and subdued group when they left the village the next morning. The villagers stood mutely around the two corpses as Alec lined his men together and marched them out the gate, down the westward road. Angela rode on the captured wagon beside Alec. Douglas’ man, unarmed, drove the horses.
She still seemed dazed. “You’re just going to... leave the bodies there?”
Alec had not slept all night. His head throbbed. “Let the villagers bury them in the fields. Make good use of them.”
