The tape ran out. Duncan still sat staring at the gray screen, knowing that he wanted to refuse, go back to Kesrith, make his peace with the authorities find some safe life in the Kesrithi hills.
He did not know by what insanity he could not. Perhaps it was something as selfish and senseless as pride; perhaps it was because he could not envision a use for himself thereafter except perhaps to open the backlands to human habitation. And the world would change.
He cut the screen off, gazed around at the little command station that would be his for what might be the rest of his life, with which he could live for a little time. It was enough.
He boarded Flower with no change of insignia, nothing visible to indicate the change in circumstances; but the officers of Flower had been informed, evidently, of the authorizations granted him, for there was no demur when he asked the transfer of his gear and for preparations on the dockside.
And when he had done so, he went to Luiz, and last of all to Boaz.
It was the hardest thing, to break to her the news that all her labors were without issue so far as security would ever let her know, that he was taking her charges from her permanently he, who had assisted her, and now returned to the military wing that she hated.
“Reasons are classified,” he said..”I’m sorry, Boaz. I wish I could explain.”
Her broad face was touched with a frown. “I think I have an idea what’s toward. And I think it’s insane.”
“I can’t discuss it.”
“Do you know what you’ve let yourself in for?”
“I can’t discuss it.”
“Are they going to be all right? Are you yourself content with arrangements for them?”
“Yes,” he said, disturbed that she seemed to guess so accurately what was in progress: but then, Boaz had done the researches on the artifact. Doubtless many on Flower had an idea and surmised after one fashion and another what the military would do with the information they had found. He suffered the scrutiny of her eyes for a moment, guilty as if he were betraying something; and he did not know what power had claimed him whether friends or enemies of Boaz’ principles or what he himself served, whether she would understand that, either.
She smiled sadly, a mask that covered other feelings. “Well,” she said, “hard for us, but there’s nothing to be done for it. Sten, take care.” The smile died. “Take care for yourself. I’m going to worry about you.”
He was touched by this, for if he had a friend anywhere about Kesrith, it was Boaz, fortyish and the only ranking woman in the civ sector. He took her by the hands and on an impulse, by the shoulders, and kissed her on the side of the mouth.
“Boz, I’m going to miss you.”
“I will have to get myself some new dusei,” she said. Tears were very close to the surface. “I imagine you’ll be taking them, too.”
“Yes,” he said. “Be careful of those beasts, Boz.”
“Watch yourself,” she urged him hoarsely. For a moment it seemed she might say something further. At last she glanced down and aside, and together they set about the necessary business of arranging the transfer of the dusei.
The whole section was closed to foot traffic and all movement down the rails was halted while the transfer was being made the matter of sealed canisters of supplies and Duncan’s own uninteresting baggage first; and then the mri, from Saber, in the sealed automeds used in evacuations of wounded not a man on the docks that could not guess who was being moved under such extraordinary security; but the precautions were as much to protect the mri as to conceal their removal. Mri were bitterly hated, and the looks that followed those sealed units were in many cases murderous.
And lastly, the docks entirely cleared, came the dusei, for whom no such protective confinement was practical. Duncan had consulted much with Boaz on the question of their transfer, considered using freight canisters, and finally, all such possibilities discarded, simply directed everyone to clear the corridors, ordered the loading crews behind sealed doors, and had the hatches opened.