“Never!” Sittas snapped, with a vehemence that surprised them all.
The old man walked up to the Komani. and, standing barely as tall as the officer’s breastbone, said furiously, ‘This place is sanctuary for wounded men. Do you understand? Sanctuary. Neither Okatar Kang nor the Terran commander has any right to claim prisoners here. The men here are no longer warriors—not until they are well enough to rejoin their companions. In this town the war does not exist. Isn’t it enough that you have killed and crippled so many? Get out of here—you smell of death. Out!”
The Komani officer was forced back a step. Uncertainly, he mumbled, “Well, if it’s sanctuary … we have no quarrel with your religious feelings.” He turned and walked out. The three warriors followed him,
Outside, the Komani warrior who had been silently waiting for almost three days, sat immobile and watched the entrance to the town hall. For an instant Sittas was framed in the doorway, and the warrior’s hand slid to the butt of his pistol, but then the priest turned away and went back inside the building. The warrior grunted to himself and relaxed. He did not stop watching.
News of sporadic fighting between the Terrans and Komani trickled into the hospital that morning. The Mobile Force was in the open country, and a few of their scoutcars had brushed briefly with Komani patrols.
Near noontime a Terran supply van rumbled through the dusty main street of Matara and stopped before the town hall. A white flag flew from its whip antenna. A lieutenant and five other Marines got out of the cab and entered the building, looking for Sittas.