“What? What do you mean?”
Before Douglas could reply, a trio of trucks pulled up noisily in front of the house and the voices of two dozen men filled the air. Doors slammed. Boots clumped on stairs.
Jameson stepped into the bedroom, poking the muzzle of an automatic rifle ahead of him. “You okay?” he asked Alec.
Nodding, Alec got up from the chair. “This is Douglas Morgan,” he said. “Keep this house guarded. No one goes in or out unless I personally grant permission. I’ll set up my headquarters in the first house on this street, where my truck is parked.”
“Right,” Jameson said.
Douglas spoke up. “I presume the condemned man will get a meal sometime this evening?”
Alec could not look him in the face anymore. To Jameson he said, “See to it.”
Then he left his father sitting on the bed, surrounded by the armed strangers.
Alec ate his dinner alone in Angela’s house, the first hot meal he’d had in many days. He was almost finished when Kobol burst into the tiny kitchen.
“We’ve got it!” he crowed, pushing past the protesting guard stationed outside the kitchen door.
Alec looked up tiredly. Kobol was jubilant, practically dancing, bad hip and all.
“We’ve got the fissionables!” Kobol repeated. “Enough to last fifty years, at least!”
“And then what?”
Kobol stopped in mid-prance. He stood uncertainly before the rough wooden table at which Alec sat. His smile of triumph began to crumble. “What do you mean?”
Alec began to understand part of what Douglas had been telling him. “What then? What happens to the settlement after fifty years?”
Kobol shook his head, a short snap to either side, like a horse shaking off a gadfly. “They’ll find more, of course. Fifty years is a long time; we won’t be around to worry about it.”
“No,” Alec said. “I suppose not.”
“I’m ordering a pair of shuttles down to start loading the fissionables at first light tomorrow. They can land at the airfield right here.”
“All right.”
“And I want Douglas packed aboard too. They’ll be waiting for him back at the settlement.”
Alec pushed his unfinished plate away from him and got to his feet. “No.”
“Eh? What do you mean?”
“I mean no. You’re not taking Douglas back to the settlement. We’ll handle him right here. I’ll take care of it.”
“No you won’t.” Kobol’s tone hardened. “You’ve been riding pretty high, but it’s time you realized that I’m a Council member and I have the final say in...”
Alec pulled his gun from its holster. “Martin, you can take the fissionables and yourself back to the settlement tomorrow. I’ll follow you there shortly. But Douglas stays here. He chose to live on Earth, he might as well be buried on Earth. If you want to be buried here too, just say one more word.” Alec’s voice was as soft as the purr of a leopard. “One more word, that’s all.”
Kobol’s mouth opened, but no sound came from it. He snapped it shut with an audible click of his horsy teeth. His face went white with anger and fear.
“Good,” Alec said. He pointed to the door with the gun. “Now get out of here and go about your work. Leave Douglas to me. And keep your hands off my mother until I return to the settlement. You can be killed there as easily as here. Remember that.”
Seething, Kobol turned and limped out of the house.
Alec holstered his gun and sat down to finish his meal. But he was no longer hungry. Suddenly he felt old, grayer than his father, weary and miserable and completely alone.
The guard peered around the door jamb. “Sir?”
“What is it?”
“We have a prisoner here... someone you said you wanted to see.”
“Will Russo?”
“That’s who he says he is, sir.”
“Send him in!” Alec rose again and came around the table.
Will strode in. He was caked with grime and his clothing was torn in several places, but when he stepped into the kitchen and saw Alec his big puppydog grin spread across his face.
“You weren’t fooling about a big army, were you?” he said.
Alec put his hand out and Will grabbed it.
“Are you all right?” Alec asked. “Have you eaten? Are you hurt?”
