1

Gwen’s delivery had been difficult. The baby was large and she was small. She was many hours in difficult labor, and afterwards was laid up for weeks. She remembered few details. One vividly stayed in her mind: the moment when Yanulf laid her baby on her breast. That couldn’t have been more than a few seconds after the boy was born.

She didn’t remember telling Yanulf that the boy was to be called “Les,” but she didn’t regret that. Someday she’d be able to tell Les of his father and give him the message the pilot had left for his child.

It took a long time to regain strength. For weeks she could only nurse her son once a day. Fortunately two other children had been born a few days before Les, both to robust clanswomen with milk to spare. Later Gwen wondered if this had not been the origin of the ancient custom of godparents; without other women’s aid, Les would have died.

Gradually she became aware of life outside her lodge. At first she took little interest beyond a feeling of bitterness that Rick and Mason had not returned from Tar Kartos and had not allowed Caradoc to return either. She had one letter from Rick, telling her that the university could begin the next summer, if the peace with Marselius held. She was delighted. Everything seemed to be going well.

Then she found that many of the young men were gone. All of the officers and noncoms of Rick’s new model army had been summoned to Tar Kartos, as were the smiths. When she tried to find out why, she learned nothing. None of the women knew why their men had been sent to the western mountains. A few thought there would be another raid when the ice had melted in the lochs and passes, but no one was certain. There was no way to find out. For the first time since she’d come to Tran, Gwen was afraid that she’d lost control of the situation.

The suns stood at an angle of thirty degrees and the snows had melted in the lowe~r passes before Yanulf was allowed to visit Tar Kartos. He returned to tell her in great secrecy that Rick planned war to restore Chelm to Tylara.

“Aye, Lady,” he said. “They tell me I will be able to return to Castle Dravan before Midsummer’s Day. Even as we speak, the fiery axe runs through the Garioch.”

Gwen was horrified. This was the ruin of all her plans. “But—this is madness! He makes war on the star men?”

“Aye. No one knows what the lord Rick intends, but it is said that he has a plan to destroy both the star men and Sarakos. I do know that he has every cart in the land carrying manure to a place near Tar Kartos where he has built a water mill.”

Manure. “And he also gathers brimstone?”

Yanulf looked surprised. “Aye: Manure and brimstone. But I do not know what magic he can make with those.”

“I do,” Gwen said. Gunpowder. “Every cart in the land” was probably an exaggeration, but it still meant that Rick was making a lot of black powder. Why had he decided on war, black powder against machine guns? “Yanulf, I must speak with him,” Gwen said.

“It would not be wise,” the priest answered. “You have yet to regain your strength. Besides, the army marches as soon as the clans reach Tar Hastigar. You might not arrive before the war begins.”

“Then it will be even more important that I speak with him.”

“Your fear shows clearly,” Yanulf said. “Do you not believe that the lord Rick will be able to defeat the star men? Drumold believes so—”

“I do not know,” Gwen said. What can Rick be planning? He doesn’t take foolish chances. He must believe he can do it. And if he does— “But there is much that he must know before he goes to battle. We must go to him.”

Yanulf studied her carefully. “This is important to you.”

“It is important to everyone on this world,” Gwen said. “On this world, and on other worlds as well.”

“Can you not send him a message?”

“None that he would believe,” Gwen said. “Nor dare I tell anyone what must be said. It would be more unwise to write it. No, I must go myself, and quickly.”

“I believe you,” Yanulf said. “I will arrange what I can. But we will not travel swiftly, my lady, for you would not survive a swift journey. And we will require nursemaids for your child, and soldiers to escort you. This will take time.”

“We have so little time,” Gwen said.

“I will do what I can.”

“It would be better if we waited,” Camithon said. “The spring rains are barely over, and the mud will be thick. We will not be able to ‘travel swiftly.”

There were murmurs of assent from around the council table. Rick was pleased to see that Drumold and Balquhain said nothing, but waited for Rick to speak. “Neither will Sarakos,” Rick said. “But more than that; we will not have sufficient food to wait longer and still carry supplies with us. Mason has trained the new troops well.”

“I’d like more time with them,” Mason said. “But I think they’ll be steady enough.”

“Thus we can gain little by delay,” Rick said. He pointed to the map on the council table. “At noon on the day after tomorrow we march. We’ll take the direct route along the road. At dawn tomorrow I want the scouts out ahead to make certain that news of our passage does not get to Drantos ahead of us. Now there are other details.” He unrolled several parchments, and bowed to the boy seated at the end of the table.

“Majesty, these are decrees,” Rick said. “The most important proclaims a general amnesty for all acts prior to this spring and guarantees that each man will inherit from his father. When we reach the borders of Drantos, these will be sent throughout the land as quickly as possible.”

“You ask me to forgive the traitors who rose against my father,” the boy said. His voice rose. “Never!”

“You must,” Rick said patiently. “How else can we arouse the countryside against Sarakos? Think upon it, Majesty. Would you rather sit on your father’s throne, or look at your kingdom from exile?”

‘‘If every man inherits from his father,” Calad said, “how do you propose to reward our clansmen and allies?”

“Sarakos has created vacant places enough,” Rick said. “Lands without heirs, for those who would be bheromen of Drantos rather than clansmen of Tamaerthon. One of these documents gives Mac Clallan Muir the right to dispose of the ownerless lands in two counties. Another gives the lady Tylara the same rights within Chelm.”

“My lord,” the boy said, “the price of your aid comes high.”

Rick said nothing. After a moment, Camithon said, “it is not so high as might he. We came to Tarnaerthon as beggars, and we leave with hopes of victory. Sign, lad. You will not see a better bargain.”

Rick took the parchments to the end of the table. In the past weeks he had come to like the young king. The boy was intelligent enough to bow to the inevitable.

“What are these other parchments?” Ganton asked.

“One is a treaty of alliance between Tamaerthon and Drantos,” Rick said. “It contains provision for the Roman Empire to join the alliance if Caesar wishes.” And getting both Camithon and Drumold to agree to that had taken many nights of arguing; nights that Rick would rather have spent planning the battle. Eventually the growing Demon Star had convinced them more than any arguments Rick could make. When the invading star got closer, the lands to the south would be too hot to live in. They could expect hordes of refugees, an influx they couldn’t possibly accept. And the refugees would come armed—a wandering of the tribes such as had happened in Julius Caesar’s time. It would take a strong alliance to force them to settle elsewhere.

“Another document states that you will live in the household of the lady Tylara during your minority,” Rick said.

Ganton smiled. “Oh, I’d like that. She’s nice,” he said. He looked up at Camithon. “Since the Lord Protector agrees, we consent,” he said formally. He took the pen and scrawled his name on each parchment.

One less thing to worry about, Rick thought. At least we’ve made a start on the mess I’ll face after we win. If we win.

Gwen arrived at Tar Kartos to find the fortress town nearly empty except for Caradoc and a cornpanv of mounted archers.

“The lord Rick received the message that you were coming,” he said. “He could not wait, but asked me to remain to greet you. He left this for you.” The archer commander handed her a parchment.

Gwen unrolled it. “Gwen,” it said. “I’ve already had Camithon send marching orders to the holdout forces in Drantos. This operation takes careful timing, and I’ve got to move now if we’re going to link up with them. I can’t wait for you.

“If you’re still in a hurry to talk to me, Caradoc will escort you. You’ll be taking your chances. I intend to make a fight of it as soon as I can, so you might be coming into a battle. I think we’ll win, but nothing’s certain in war.

“My advice is to stay in Tamaerthon. Even if we lose, they’re unlikely to annihilate us. There’ll be enough force left to hold Tamaerthon no matter what. The university is more important than the war. I’ve sent Larry Warner back to the Garioch. He wasn’t much of a soldier, but he ought to be pretty good as a professor. If I don’t come back, you’ll have all of my share of the plunder from the raid, and that ought to be enough to get a school going.

“I almost left orders to have them keep you in Tar Kartos, but I’m just scared enough of what you know that I want to leave that choice up to you. I hope you decide to stay.” The parchment was unsigned.

She looked up to Caradoc. “How long will it take to catch up to them?”

“They left nine days ago,” he said. “And they intended hard marching. We can travel faster than they, but I doubt we will reach them in much less than a ten-day.”

Just possible, she thought. Yes. I may get him to call off this war before it’s too late.

I may not get there in time, either. “I will come with you as soon as I have arranged quarters here for the nursemaids and my baby,” Gwen said. “We must find Rick before he battles the star men.”

They reached the rear guard of Rick’s force seven days later. It took another day to pass through to the front. The countryside was wooded and hilly, and the single road was clogged with baggage carts and camp followers. Toward evening they reached an area where the countryside opened out and the road ran through broad fields. The army had deployed in battle array across a front three miles wide. Before they could reach the forward edge of the front, they were stopped at a roadblock. Despite Gwen’s shouts and Caradoc’s rank, they were firmly escorted back to a headquarters pavilion a kilometer behind the lines.

The headquarters was occupied by orderlies and staff officers. Messengers came and went in obvious preparation for a major battle on the next day. No one seemed to know why Rick had taken the light cavalry and several heavily laden wagons three kilometers farther up the road to the only village in the area.

Just before evening, Gwen heard shouting and then saw several groups of heavy cavalrymen ride northwest up the road. The sun was setting when she heard them returning. They were followed by the mounted archers at full gallop and, a few minutes later, by Rick and his personal guardsmen.

He paused to send messengers off with orders, then came into the pavilion. Gwen would not have recognized him if she hadn’t heard him talking. He was dressed in chain mail and the scarlet cloak Marselius had sent as a gift. His helmet was the typical bullet shape with nasal guard worn by heavy cavalrymen, and he wore steel shoes and greaves rather than boots. As he came in, Jamiy helped him remove his helmet and gorget, but he kept the rest of the armor on. He sat at the table across from Gwen. “They told me you were here,” he said. “If you’ll excuse my saying it, you couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve a battle to plan,” he said. “Before dawn tomorrow, which means there are a million details tonight. If you’ve got something to say, Gwen, make it quick. I want you a good way toward Tamaerthon before the fighting starts.”

“Your concern touches me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You could have stayed in Tar Kartos. I wish you had. I don’t intend to lose tomorrow, but if I do, I’m counting on you to start the university. I still think that’s the most important thing we can do for this planet.”

“The most important thing you can do is to call off this war,” Gwen said.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth at last?” Rick asked. “That calls for a celebration.” He turned to the door. “Jamiy, a flask of wine, please. And ask the lady Tylara to join us when she arrives.”

“Sir. I think I hear her patrol coming now.”

“Good. All right, Gwen, why is this so important, and why haven’t you told me before?”

“It wasn’t my secret,” Gwen said. “Why couldn’t you leave things alone? Everything was going so well. We had a perfect place to hide, and enough to eat. Parsons would grow those stupid drugs—”

“That’s debatable,” Rick said.

She looked up in alarm. “Why?”

“Parsons and Sarakos don’t have much of a hold on this country. They’ll be doing well to feed their army, much less grow a couple of thousand acres of madweed.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway. With any luck, Parsons and Sarakos will both be dead by morning.”

“How?”

Rick grinned without humor. “I selected this place pretty carefully. Took real timing to reach it just about the time that Parsons would. We’ve got a nice muddy field out there—better suited to my infantry than Sarakos’s cavalry. Ideal for a battle. Of course there are other places like that, but this one has a special feature. There’s only one village for thirty kilometers up the road ahead.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Swampy fields. One village. We held it last night and most of today, but we let Sarakos chase us out of it this afternoon. We had to run fast. Didn’t get a chance to burn it down. Warner says Parsons and his people don’t like sleeping in fields. Guess where they’ll make their headquarters tonight—”

“What are you planning?” Gwen demanded.

Rick looked at his watch. “The hardest part was the fusing,” he said. “Took me weeks to come up with a slow match that burned reliably, and I still can’t time it too close. Making twelve barrels of gunpowder wasn’t so difficult, and it was no trick at all to bury it in the village. An hour or so before dawn, André Parsons is going to get one hell of a surprise.”

“You’re going to kill them all? And destroy all their equipment?”

“I certainly hope so. I wish there were another way, but I can’t think of one. I can’t even parley with them. If André knows he’s fighting me and not just locals, he’ll be a lot more suspicious. Where in hell is that wine?” He shouted for his orderly.

“You don’t look very pleased,” he said. “I thought you lived in terror that Parsons would find us and report to the Shalnuksis. Now you won’t have to worry.”

“Oh, boy!” she said. “And I was trying to be careful. I didn’t expect you to be able to win—”

“Thanks for the confidence.”

“Rick, this isn’t a game! If you win—when you win—will you be able to grow the surinomaz for the aliens?”

What is this? Rick wondered. He had noticed her alarm when he told her Parsons might not be able to grow the crops for the aliens. Now this.

Could I manage it? Probably. I’ve got enough allies, and I can talk Camithon and the king into it provided we can import enough grain. But I can think of at least one damn good reason not to deal with the aliens at all. Why is she worried about surinomaz? And how can I make her tell me what she knows?

He shrugged. “Without the equipment Parsons has? Not easily. Madweed isn’t a popular crop here, and taking that much good land out of grain cultivation wouldn’t be simple. But Gwen, I’ve been listening to those legends about the dangers of dealing with the sky gods.”

Jamiy came in with wine and pewter cups. “The lady Tylara has returned safely,” he said. “She will come when she has spoken with her brother.” The orderly hesitated. “I do not think she was pleased to learn that the lady Gwen is here.”

Rick laughed. “I don’t expect she was,” he said. “Thank you.” He filled the cups. “Look, what’s got you scared?”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Maybe I can suggest something,” Rick said. “I’ve given this a bit of thought, too. Try this. The rogue sun comes at six-hundred-year intervals, and that’s the only time the Shalnuksis have any interest in Tran. That’s roughly 1400 A.D., 800 A.D., 200 A.D., 200 A.D., 400 B.C., 1000 B.C., and 1600 B.C. The languages are Indo-European and you’ve several times mentioned similarities to Mycenae and Crete. That’s 1600 B.C. or a little later; the rogue’s period isn’t a full six hundred years. All right so far?”

She nodded. “It’s the earliest I’m sure of. Archaeologists on Earth have violent arguments about the languages of the Mediterranean in that time period—”

“They’d love to know what we know,” Rick said. “All right. The 1000 B.C. expedition blends in with that. Maybe that’s when they brought the Celts. Then or 400 B.c.There’s no question about 200 A.D.— that’s Imperial Rome about the time of Septimius Severus, and we’ve even got Lucius’s parchments. Then about the time of Charlemagne they brought in a group, and there’s plenty of evidence for that. Charlemagne was crowned Holy Roman Emperor on Christmas Day in 800 AD., and they must have picked up some of his heavy cavalrymen not long before. That brings us to 1400 or so. There’s not one single trace of that visit. Why not?”

Gwen didn’t say anything. Rick leaned forward to throw a block of peat onto the small hearth fire.

“We know they didn’t skip that time,” Rick said. “You told me you’d studied Tran languages of six hundred years ago. But nobody knows anything about longbow tactics, so they couldn’t have brought English or Scots or Welsh. Maybe French. The French didn’t learn anything from Crécy. Only nobody ever heard of the Swiss pike, either. Nobody knows how to make plate armor, but they were using it in Europe in 1400. So who did they bring? There’s no sign of mixed races. No Orientals or blacks or Indians.

“And 1400 is well into the age of gunpowder, but they never heard of it here. Is that reasonable? And it’s not just weapons. Magna Carta in 1213. Nobody ever heard of it. Thomas Aquinas, Roger Bacon, Malatesta, all thirteenth century. By 1400 a whole slew of geniuses had lived, and nobody’s ever heard of them. Not even Lucius, who’s spent his life digging in old documents; or Yanulf, who’s got epic poems so old there’s even a version of Homer. The 1400 expedition vanished without a trace.

“What happened, Gwen? Did somebody kill the lot of them?”

She looked up unhappily. “Les thought so. For about the same reasons you just gave. Why hasn’t there been any progress on Tran? You can’t blame it all on the unstable climate,” she said. “But he didn’t know. There weren’t’ any records in the computer.”

“But that was why you didn’t want electricity. Or anything else. You weren’t all that worried about Parsons, it’s  the Shalnuksis who’ve got you scared.”

“Of course. But if Parsons knew where we were, he’d tell them.” She took a deep breath. “Rick, have you guessed the rest of it? Secret caves. Fire from the sky. And those epic poems about the bad luck that comes from dealing with the evil sky gods. They bring wondrous gifts but take them back again. Fire will fall from the sky, and the only safe place is in deep caves. And there’s another I don’t think you heard—about a taboo place where nothing grows, and a lake with a glass bottom—”

Rick nodded gravely. “They don’t do things by halves, do they? Atom bombs—”

“I don’t know. But even without knowing about Yanulf’s epics, Les thought it likely. That’s why he wanted me to run away. Hide as far from Parsons as possible.”

“And why you didn’t warn me that Parsons was going to mutiny,” Rick said. “So you’d have someone to go with.”

“Yes. Rick, I’m sorry.”

“Sure. But I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me all this before.”

“Because I didn’t know what you’d do. Rick, I’m sorry I’ve kept you in the dark, but after all, we’ve done pretty well. We have a safe refuge, enough to eat, a place for a university—I thought of starting one before you did, but it seemed better to let it be your idea. Everything was going fine. Why should I complicate matters by telling you about problems you couldn’t do anything about? And I was afraid you’d want to warn Parsons. After all, they were once your men—”

“I probably would have. I’d do it now if I weren’t about to kill them anyway.” He drained his wine cup and cursed. “If I’d known before, maybe this war wouldn’t have to be. André can’t have any love for Sarakos.”

“You still don’t understand,” Gwen said. “You have to warn him now. Rick, no matter who wins tomorrow, we’ve got to be certain the victor has enough power to be sure of growing surinomaz.”

“The hell we do. You’ve just told me that dealing with the Shalnuksis isn’t very smart. So we just vanish. Hide in the caves when they show up. Let them whistle for their drugs.”

“It’s not that simple,” Gwen said. “Rick, you said your university would be important to the people of Tran. You seemed to care.”

“Sure, I’d like to accomplish something worthwhile,” Rick said.

“That surinomaz crop is more important than your university,” Gwen said. “And to far more people than just those on Tran. It’s important to the whole human race.”

2

Rick refilled his wine cup. “I think you’d better explain that last statement,” he said carefully. “You’ve told me often enough that this surinomaz crop isn’t worth that much to the Shalnuksis. How can it be important to the whole human race?”

“It’s a long story,” Gwen said.

Rick looked at his watch. “We’ve got between four and six hours before the gunpowder blows. That ought to be long enough. Only this time tell me the whole story. I’m tired of trying to operate in the dark.”

“You haven’t done too badly,” Gwen said. “All right. If the Shalnuksis send a ship and find out there’s not been a harvest and won’t ever be one, they won’t send another. But if they think there’ll be good harvests, they’ll arrange for ships to come every year the crop will be good. Eventually they’ll have to send Les.”

“Jesus Christ. Gwen, are you still in love with that S.O.B.?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I am. Not that it matters.” She spoke defiantly. “Don’t look at me like that. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s wrong. Rick, he didn’t just throw me out. I could have gone with him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because they wouldn’t have let our baby live.”

“They? Who? And why not?”

“The Confederacy. They breed their human servants. Even if they’d let my baby be born, they wouldn’t have let me raise it. All their human children grow up in a school.”

“Gwen, what the hell are you talking about? Breed humans?”

“For loyalty,” Gwen said. “But sometimes they breed in ‘wild’ humans from Earth to give the strain initiative. Les had a wild grandmother, and they won’t allow more wild genes in his line. Rick, I know it sounds fantastic.”

“Fantastic. That’s a good word,” Rick said. “How long has all this been going on?”

“At least five thousand years.”

Five thousand years. “And you believe that?”

“Yes. Everything I saw in the ship’s data banks is consistent with it. And look how long they’ve been coming to Tran.”

“But five thousand years? Gwen, all that time, and they’ve never made an official visit to any government on Earth. All that time they’ve been dealing with us without contact—”

“They can’t and they won’t,” Gwen said. “They don’t allow barbarians in their confederacy. They have a stable union of nearly a hundred races. Most of those never did have periods of unlimited growth.

When they run into an aggressively unstable race, there’s usually a war. They’ve exterminated some races they decided were hopelessly barbaric. As a result, they’ve achieved what human philosophers always wanted but no one really believes we’ll ever have: universal peace and order and stability.”

“If they’re so damned peace-loving, why have they kept raiding Tran? Why drop atom bombs on their last expedition?”

“The Shalnuksis aren’t peace-loving,” Gwen said. “They just don’t have any choices in the matter. They’re a long-lived race, and Tran is a—Les called it a family business. The Shalnuksis don’t want Tran industrialized, and the Confederacy doesn’t know about Tran.”

“There was a police inspector. Agzaral. He knew all about it,” Rick said.

“Agzaral and some of the other humans know. They’re keeping it secret from their government.”

Why wouldn’t there be corruption in a bureaucracy five thousand years old? “And your friend Les is helping them keep it a secret?”

“Yes.” Gwen fought tears. “Rick it’s not what you think. It’s so hard to explain! Have you ever heard of janissaries?”

“Sure. Slave soldiers of the Ottoman Empire. Administrators, too. They pretty well ran the empire for the Turks. Taken in childhood as tribute from Christian subjects and brought up in schools, lived in barracks and forbidden to marry—God Almighty! Gwen, what are you driving at?”

“What you’ve guessed. Humans aren’t members of the Confederacy, but human soldiers and policemen and administrators like Inspector Agzaral enforce the Confederacy’s policies. That’s why Earth has a special status—not taken into the Confederacy and not interfered with. They need a strain of wild humans to mix in with their tame janissaries.”

“Slave soldiers. Bred for loyalty, and raised in creches—Gwen, do you believe all this?”

“Yes. Why would Les make it up? Why would he say he was a slave?” she demanded. “He was crying when he told me. He said he felt like a dog attacking his master, like a traitor—”

“If they’re that loyal, why was he betraying them? All because of you?”

“No. Oh, maybe partly,” Gwen said. “But that’s not the real reason. Rick, he said it was important that the Confederacy never learn about Tran because — he said the Confederacy’s governing council is worried, now that humans on Earth are going into space. Some of the Council wants to knock Earth back to the Stone Age. Agzaral thinks that may have happened once already. Don’t you see, the humans are being torn apart! They’re bred for loyalty to the Confederacy, but they’re humans, too. They don’t know what to do or.who to trust.”

“Does this council truly expect human soldiers to bomb Earth?” Rick asked.

“The Confederacy Council doesn’t know who to trust either,” Gwen said. “But there are humans who argue it’s the best thing. That wild humans simply can’t be allowed to get loose with their crazy ideas about unlimited growth and continuous progress. They’ve enforced the peace for thousands of years, and that’s more important to them than a planet they’ve never lived on. But other humans want to save Earth. The Council doesn’t know what to do, and neither do Agzaral and his people.

“Some of the janissaries—I may as well call them that,” she said. “Some of the janissaries want the Confederacy to force Earth into membership. It would mean that the Confederacy Council would interfere in Earth’s government. Humans would have to accept the Council’s policies. Stability. Limited growth. The end of what we think of as progress.”

“I see,” Rick said. “They call it ‘stability.’ But there’s another word for a society that hasn’t changed in thousands of years. Stagnant. Or decadent.”

“That’s almost exactly what Les said. His group wants to do more than just save Earth from destruction. They want—Rick, it sounds trite, but they want humanity left free.”

“But where does Tran come in?” Rick asked.

“If they do bomb Earth, or even if they just make Earth into another decadent member of the Confederacy, humans on Tran will still be free. With any luck, one of Agzaral’s people—probably Les himself—will be sent here to collect the drugs. Only this time he won’t be leaving on such short notice. They can bring translations of their textbooks. Scientific equipment. And they’ve got the kind of bureaucracy you’d expect after five thousand years of stasis. Agzaral thinks they might even be able to lose a ship in the recordkeeping and send it here after the Shalnuksis have gone away.”

“Except that the Shalnuksis will be doing their best to kill off anyone who could help Tran progress beyond the Iron Age—”

“Yes. They will. They’ll almost certainly bomb the groups they’ve been trading with. But they might trust that mission to Les or one of his friends. They don’t like long journeys to out-of-the-way places. That’s one chance, anyway. And another is to hide. They won’t kill everyone on Tran. They can’t afford to, because they’ll want to do some more drug trading six hundred years from now.”

Rick shook his head. “They’ve got the stars. Why do they traffic in drugs?”

“You don’t understand real decadence,” Gwen said. “Who are the heavy drug users on Earth? It’s not the poor and downtrodden who have big parties with bowls of cocaine.”

“And I suppose the Shalnuksis make a lot of—what? Money? Do they have money? Anyway, the drug trade profits them.”

“It must,” Gwen said. “But I wonder if they do it for profits at all. It must be a game to them. Excitement.” She thought for a moment. “Take the Mafia as an example. Surely the top dons are fabulously rich already. They could retire, go legitimate, but they don’t. It must be like that for the Shalnuksis.”

“So if we don’t grow the drugs, your friends won’t have any legitimate reason to come here.”

“Yes. And the first ship here may bomb the planet before we’ve had time to prepare—”

“And this is why you were hiding?”

“Yes. It was all we could think of to do. Les didn’t have much time to talk to me. He was afraid the ship was bugged. He had to whisper everything to me in bed. He didn’t want to leave me here, but I wouldn’t let his damned machine abort my baby, and there wasn’t another choice. He told me to run away and hide and stay a long way away from where they’d be growing surinomaz. When we heard Parsons plotting to throw you out, we thought I’d have a better chance if I stayed with you. Les even told me to marry you. Maybe I would have, too, if you hadn’t met your raven-haired beauty—”

Rick didn’t know what to say to that. Would he have found Gwen attractive if he hadn’t met Tylara? It hardly mattered, and it was too late to worry about, anyway.

It was too late to worry about anything. He looked at his watch. Five and a half hours at most. And a battle to be fought in the morning. The battle didn’t seem so important now. What was? Assume what Gwen said was true. What should he do about it?

“I wish you’d told me earlier,” Rick said. “This makes—it makes everything we’ve done rather trivial.”

“Not really. You’ve done rather well.”

“I’ve survived. Look, we don’t need André’s military equipment. I presume that you’ve got communications gear. You’d have to, if you expect Les to find you again.”

She nodded. “I have a transceiver. He told me when to listen, and not to answer unless I hear a certain code phrase.”

“So. I guess I can grow the damned crops for the Shalnuksis. Maybe we can even work itso they don’t kill too many people with their bloody bombs. Tylara says the caves under Castle Dravan are even deeper than those in the Garioch. But it’s pure dumb luck we can do what’s needed because you wouldn’t tell me enough to let me make an intelligent plan.”

“I wish I had,” Gwen said. “But I didn’t really trust your abilities. We—Les and I—thought Parsons was right: that you were too inexperienced, that Parsons would have a much better chance.

“But Rick, it wasn’t blind luck. Sure, all you were working for was survival, but you’re an ethical man. I don’t think it’s luck at all. Ethical actions may be the best survival tactics after all. I wish I’d acted that way. Instead I trusted Parsons, knowing he’d use brutal tactics—and he failed completely. I wish we’d warned you about the mutiny and told you everything we knew.”

“So do I.”

He thought about what she’d said. Had he acted ethically? Not always. He had tried, and that had to count for something.

Ethics as the best survival policy, even without complete information? He wasn’t sure he could accept that as a general proposition, even though it had worked here and now and this time. The most you could say for sure is that if you did the ethical thing and you did survive, you’d have an easier time living with yourself.

Which, he thought, brings up another point. He sighed and turned toward the door. “Jamiy.”

“Sir.” The orderly came into the pavilion.

“We took one of Sarakos’s officers prisoner this afternoon,” Rick said. “Bring him ‘to me, and bring me parchment, pen, and ink.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why do you want him?” Gwen asked.

“Ethics. You said that the most practical action is the ethical one. I’m not sure I believe that, but I am sure I’ve got no business sitting here waiting for a bomb to go off under a dozen men I brought to this planet.”

Her eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

“What I should have done in the first place,” Rick said. “I’m going to send a letter to André Parsons and offer to parley.”

3

“Man, are ye daft?” Drumold demanded. “We hae won, and you would throw it away.” He looked sideways at Rick. “I had thought you loyal—”

“They are his countrymen,” Tylara said. “As is Gwen. We are not.”

“You know better,” Rick said angrily. “Aye. They are my countrymen. I brought them here, as Tylara reminded me. And if bringing them made me responsible to the people they oppressed am I less responsible to my own men?” And then, bitterly:

“You are in no danger. Dughuilas never tires of saying that I have never fought in a battle. You do not need me.”

“If you are offended by Dughuilas’ words, I will have his head brought to you,” Drumold said. “Och, talk sense. You know full well your value to us. As do we. Wi’out your direction we fight as we did before you came, as a mob. ‘Tis your craft that bested the Romans. If we have not often enough told you that we know your value, I tell you now. Do not be offended by hasty words spoken wi’out thought. I do not doubt your loyalty, and well can I understand that you wish to save your countrymen. But think of the risk!”

“I have,” Rick said. “It’s mostly to me. I’ve planned the battle for you. The catapults and ballista are in place, and their officers know how to use them as well as I do. You know what weapons Parsons has—if they survive. I have not told him of the gunpowder buried beneath the village, and it’s likely he’ll go back there if our talk fails to convince him.”

“I do not care for this at all,” Drumold said.

“Nor I.” Tylara pointed to Gwen. “What has she said to take away your senses?”

“I didn’t want him to do this!” Gwen protested.

“It would take too long to explain,” Rick said. “But I tell you this. If I am killed tonight or tomorrow, the only way you’ll live through the Time is to listen to Gwen and do as she tells you.” He looked at his watch. “It’s time to go. I told Parsons I’d meet him and Elliot and one other on the road midway between the lines. Mason—”

“No sir.”

“Eh?”

“I said, ‘No, sir.’ This is a volunteer job, Cap’n, and I’m not volunteering.”

“I see. Maybe that’s wise of you. All right, I’ll go alone.”

“I do not think I should permit you to go at all,” Drumold said.

“I doubt you can stop me,” Rick said. He held his hand near the holstered Mark IV .45. “I don’t doubt you could kill me, but that seems a strange way to save my life.”

Drumold stood aside.

“That’s all then,” Rick said. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

All was quiet at the forward outpost. Rick stared out into the darkness. Tran’s outer moon gave very little light, and he could see nothing on the road ahead. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Mason.

“I’d feel better if you were coming along,” Rick said. “But you’re right. You’re needed more here. If I don’t come back, take charge of the catapults. A dozen of them firing grenades ought to knock out Parsons’ machine gun.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Cap’n, I’d like it a lot if you didn’t do this, but I know you have to. I don’t believe you can talk sense to Parsons, but I hope I’m wrong. He’s got some pretty good men with him. Elliot, McCleve, Campbell—”

“That’s the way I see it,” Rick said. “Okay, here I go.”

He was startled by another voice behind him. “Wait,” Tylara said. “I am coming with you.”

Like hell you are. He stopped and turned. “No.”

“Yes. You have said there is no danger to you. If there is none to you, there is less to me.”

“You won’t even understand what we’re saying,” Rick protested. “We will speak in English—”

“Yet I am going,” Tylara said. “Do you think I wish to live twice widowed but not yet a bride?” She smiled softly. “And I give you the same reply you gave my father. You cannot stop me without killing me, and that is a strange way to protect my life.”

Oh, bloody hell. And she means it, too. “All right. Let’s go.”

There were footsteps on the road ahead. Rick halted. “André?” he called.

“Yes. Hello, Rick.”

There was no mistaking that bantering voice. “Who’s with you?”

“Sergeant Elliot and Corporal Bisso,” Parsons said.

“Let me hear them.”

“It’s us, Captain,” Elliot’s voice called from the darkness. “Nobody else.”

“And who is with you?” Parsons asked.

“Tylara do Tamaerthon,” Tylara replied.

Now where did she learn enough English to know when to answer? Rick wondered. Mason?

“You have brought a woman?” Parsons asked.

“Sure, André. This is a flag-of-truce meeting. I didn’t think I needed bodyguards.”

The low laughter came back. “Still naïve, my young friend. Well, this time you were correct. I have brought no more than you have heard. Do we now stand and shout in the darkness?”

“No. There’s a hill about a hundred yards to the left. It’s bare on top. We’ll go up there and sit. I’ve brought a dark lantern.”

“So have I. Well, let us get to it, then.”

They reached the top of the knoll together. Rick pulled back the dark shutter from his candle lantern. He could see Parsons grin as he sat down.

“I must say I am completely surprised,” Parsons said. “I suppose I should have suspected when I heard that hill tribesmen had won a great victory over the Roman legions, but I did not.” He took a flask from his belt. “Wine?”

“Later—”

Parsons’ laugh was a low, mocking sound. “Ah. Me first.” He tilted up the flask and drank. “Are you certain you will not join me?”

“I have my own,” Rick said. “I was about to offer you some. Share mine?”

“Perhaps it is better if we each keep our own,” Parsons said. “That way there is no suspicion.” His voice hardened and took on a more serious note. “Why have you asked me to meet you? Do you wish to surrender your army?”

“No. I came to tell you things you don’t know. First thing; have you listened to the local legends? About caves, and fire from the sky?”

“No.”

“I thought not. But you do know about the caves.”

“I know there are caves beneath many of the castles,” Parsons said. “They are important in the local religions. My friend Sarakos was very unhappy that he could think of no way to enter those under one of his castles. He would like me to help him cope with the ammonia, but I have better things to do.”

“You’d better learn about the caves,” Rick said. “That’s one reason I wanted to talk to you. If I lose this battle tomorrow—”

Parsons laughed.

“I said if, and I meant if,” Rick said. “We’ll get to that later. But if you win, you’ll need to know about the caves. You’ll need them for fallout shelters.”

“I fear you make little sense—”

“Listen.” Rick told him of his deductions about the fate of the 1400 expedition, and Gwen’s suspicions. He was careful to be certain that Elliot heard the story as well as Parsons.

“Interesting. I do thank you,” Parsons said. He sounded very thoughtful.

“Of course that may not matter to you,” Rick said. “I understand you won’t be able to raise the surinomaz for the Shalnuksis.” He laughed. “You said I didn’t have enough experience to accomplish the mission, but I seem to have a bigger and better army than you do. And there’s no guerrilla war where I live. So who’s so damned efficient now?”

“That is unkind of you,” Parsons said.

“My apologies. But you see, that surinomaz crop is more important than you know. A lot more.”

“How do you know this?”

“Gwen. Remember her? The pilot’s girlfriend. She found out a lot about the people who brought us here. There’s a lot going on up there.” He pointed to the bright stars and their strange constellations.

“You have not told me why this surinomaz is important.”

“I don’t know that I can trust you,” Rick said. “It involves a lot of people. Including some back on Earth. But assume I’m lying. It’s still important to you. Without that crop, you won’t be getting any juicy trade goods from the Shalnuksis. In fact, André, just what are you accomplishing with your superior skills and experience?”

“Is there any point to this conversation?” Parsons demanded.

“Certainly. I hope to persuade you to join us,” Rick said.

Parsons laughed.

“Why not?” Rick asked. “Together we can grow those crops and trade with the Shalnuksis. We might even be able to capture a starship and get the hell off this planet! If we work together.

“Or we can go on fighting, and no matter who wins we both lose. You aren’t going to grow that crop. Sarakos can’t even feed his army! The people here will never stop fighting as long as he’s here. But you must know already that we’ve been welcomed as liberators. My alliance is with the legitimate king, and I’ve got most of the nobility as well. I can get crops planted and harvested. You can’t.

“Come over to our side, and you’ll have an honored place. Wealth and influence, and you won’t have to fight all the time. We both win. Fight me, and we both lose.”

“So,” Parsons said. “You are persuasive, if overconfident. And yet I wonder. I have been thinking since I received your letter, what is it that you can do? Gunpowder? Muskets? I thinkyou have not had enough time. Hand grenades? Undoubtedly, and catapult bombs as well. Tell me, what range do you get with them?”

“Enough. And I have a lot of them,” Rick said. “André, for God’s sake, let’s end this damned war here and now. Can’t you see it’s better if we work together?”

“I see that you are the cause of my troubles,” Parsons said. “The guerrilla war—”

“That was spontaneous,” Rick said.

“I do not believe you. Without you the resistance will collapse, and in the morning we will destroy this barbarous army of yours.” He smiled thinly. “What makes you think I will share power with you and your hill clans?”

“You share with Sarakos—”

“For the moment. I need him. But that will not be forever.”

“André, you’ve gone crazy,” Rick said. “What do you want?”

“What I said I wanted before we left the Moon,” Parsons said. “To be a king. And I do not think you can offer that. Rick, you are a fool. Without you, your cause collapses. I will have your army as well as my own.” His hand darted under his jacket.

It seemed to Rick that everything moved in slow motion. Parsons’ hand reached his pistol, and Rick threw himself violently aside, his hand scrabbling for his own weapon.

Then there was a shout. “No! Damn it, no!” Elliot’s shout startled Parsons so that he fumbled his draw, but Rick was still too slow. He had the .45 in his hand, and the safety off, but before he could swing it around to point at Parsons, André’s own weapon was lining up with Rick’s head—

There were three shots very close up. Rick’s ears rang with the muzzle blast. He heard shouting, but it was incomprehensible through the ringing in his ears. Gradually he realized that he was still alive, and that he felt no shock or pain.

André Parsons fell heavily. His face held a look of total surprise. “My honorable young friend—” he gasped. Whatever else he was going to say never got out.

“Take it easy,” Sergeant Elliot was saying in the Tran dialect. “We surrender.” Elliot held his empty hands high, and after a moment Bisso did the same.

“What happened?” Rick asked. “Who—”

“I tried to stop him myself,” Elliot said. “I already made one mistake about you, Captain. I didn’t want to let Colonel Parsons make another. But he was too fast. I didn’t even draw. It was your girlfriend there.” He pointed to Tylara. She sat motionless, still holding Mason’s pistol in both hands in the approved military grip. One of the baggy sleeves of her cloak was charred, and wisps of smoke rose from where she had shot through it.

Mason came up the hill moments later. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yes—” Rick’s ears still rang. Tylara had been no more than a foot behind him when she fired. His head was clearing, but it seemed to be a long time doing it. Tylara seemed dazed as well. And now here was Mason. “Where did you come from?” Rick demanded.

“Out there,” Mason said. “I did a little scouting in case Parsons brought a sniper. Nobody around just at the moment, but after those shots there will be. We’d better get going. How you doing, Sarge?”

“Just what is going on?” Rick asked.

“Hell, Cap’n, I wasn’t going to let you come out here by yourself,” Mason said. “Figured I’d be more use out where they couldn’t see me. Only you had to pick a place I couldn’t get close enough to! Good thing Tylara thought of borrowing my pistol. She’s been taking lessons dry-firing that thing for weeks now. Cap’n, we really had better get going.”

“All right.” He got up and felt himself swaying until Elliot steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. “Tylara—”

She got up slowly. She kept the pistol in her hand, but she was careful not to point it at anyone. “I had not known,” she said softly. “I did not intend to— shoot—but once.”

“They’ll do that,” Mason said. “Come on, I hear people comin’ from both directions. You move out—I’ll hang back and discourage visitors.” He patted the H&K battle rifle affectionately.

“What now, Elliot?” Rick asked.

“We’ll accept your offer,” Elliot said. “If it’s still open.”

“It’s open,” Rick said. “But it won’t be for long.” He looked at his watch. “You have no more than two hours to get back to the village and bring any men who want to come. Bisso will stay with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Elliot said. “Two hours.” He stood awkwardly for a moment, obviously fumbling for words. “I’m not much for apologies,” he said. “I thought I was doing the right thing back when we first landed. Now—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Rick said. “Just get back with the men. Leave equipment if you have to, but bring the men and what you can carry. Two hours.”

“Yes, sir. Two hours.”

Forty minutes after Elliot brought a dozen men and the light machine gun to Rick’s pavilion, the gunpowder exploded.