“Dominic, are you there?”
“Yes.” Flandry’s head had gone winter clear. He had but to call them,
and ideas and pieces of information sprang forward. Not every card had
been dealt. Damn near every one, agreed, and his two in this hand were a
deuce and a four; but they were the same suit, which meant a straight
flush remained conceivable in those spades which formerly were swords.
“Yes. I was considering what she told me, Cnif. That she’s about decided
to go over to the Roidhunate.” No mistaking it, and they must have
noticed too, so she won’t be hurt by my saying this. But I’ll say no
more. They mustn’t learn she tried to save me the worst. Let ’em assume,
under Ydwyr’s guidance, that the news of her defection knocked me off my
cam. Never mind gratitude or affection, lad; you’ll need any hole card
you can keep, and she may turn out to be one. “You’ll realize I … I am
troubled. I’d be no more use here. They’ll take off soon in any case.
I’ll go ahead and, well, think things over.”
“Come,” Cnif invited gently. “I will leave you alone.”
He could not regret that his side was gaining an agent; but he could
perceive, or believed he could perceive, Flandry’s patriotic anguish.
“Thanks,” the human said, and grinned.
He started back along the trail. His boots thudded; occasionally a stone
went clattering down the talus slope, or he slipped and nearly fell on a
patch of ice, Lightlessness closed in, save where the solitary lance of
his flash-beam bobbed and smoked through the vapors. He no longer
noticed the cold, he was too busy planning his next move.
Cnif would naturally inform the rest that the Terran wasn’t waiting for
them. They wouldn’t hasten after him on that account. Where could he go?
Cnif would pour a stiffish drink for his distressed acquaintance.
Curtained bunks were the most private places afforded by the bus.
Flandry could be expected to seek his and sulk.
Light glowed yellow ahead from the black outline of the vehicle. It
spilled on the Domrath’s autumnal huts, their jerry-built frames already
collapsing. Cnif’s flat countenance peered anxiously from the forward
section. Flandry doused his flash and went on all fours. Searching
about, he found a rock that nicely fitted his hand. Rising, he
approached in straightforward style and passed through the heatlock
which tonight helped ward off cold.
The warmth inside struck with tropical force. Cnif waited, glass in hand
as predicted, uncertain smile on mouth. “Here,” he said with the blunt
manners of a colonial, and thrust the booze at Flandry.
The man took it but set it on a shelf. “I thank you, courteous one,” he
replied in formal Eriau. “Would you drink with me? I need a companion.”
“Why … I’m on duty … kh-h-h, yes. Nothing can hurt us here. I’ll
fetch myself one while you get out of your overclothes.” Cnif turned. In
the cramped entry chamber, his tail brushed Flandry’s waist and he
stroked it lightly across the man, Merseia’s gesture of comfort.
Quick! He must outmass you by twenty kilos!
Flandry leaped. His left arm circled Cnif s throat. His right hand
brought the stone down where jaw met ear. They had taught him at the
Academy that Merseians were weak there.
The blow crunched. Its impact nearly dislodged Flandry’s grip on the
rock. The other being choked, lurched, and swept his tail around.
Flandry took that on the hip. Had it had more leverage and more room to
develop its swing, it would have broken bones. As was, he lost his hold
and was dashed to the floor. Breath whuffed out of him. He lay stunned
and saw the enormous shape tower above.
But Cnif’s counterattack had been sheer reflex. A moment the Merseian
tottered, before he crumpled at knees and stomach. His fall boomed and
quivered in the bus body. His weight pinned down the man’s leg. When he
could move again, Flandry had a short struggle to extricate himself.
He examined his victim. Though flesh bled freely–the same hemoglobin
red as a man’s–Cnif breathed. A horny lid, peeled back, uncovered the