J.B. stood and looked around. "Yeah, well, I guess we'll just have to work that one out when we come to it. We'd better get back. Someone on sec will have noticed us leave, and if we spend too long out here they'll get suspicious and come looking."

 

 They returned to the center of the ville in silence, passing a sec patrol on the way. When they were in the small square, both J.B. and Mildred noted a sec man watching them with interest.

 

 "Markos likes to keep his eye on things," J.B. commented wryly. "And I'll tell you something else, Millie. We haven't really talked much about anything except—"

 

 "I know," she said, cutting him off. "Priorities?"

 

 "Mebbe. But it's not just me. Where do we all stand with you?"

 

 Mildred shrugged. "I don't even know where I stand right now. Things are going too fast for me to step back to figure it out. But I know I'm going to have to," she added before J.B. had a chance to speak.

 

 "Okay," he agreed. "Look, I need to get back to discuss this with the others. Tomorrow morning, right here, before we set off for the felling area."

 

 "Yeah. Be careful, John," she said, holding him for a moment.

 

 "Mebbe you should be thinking that of yourself," he murmured before turning to go.

 

 Mildred watched him leave the square, heading toward the companions' quarters. What exactly had he meant by that last remark? she wondered. Glancing over to Sineta's quarters, she wondered if she should break her promise to Barras and tell his daughter. It could help if they ran into sec trouble while trying to retrieve the horde. But someone from Pilatu knowing would really complicate things.

 

 Mildred decided to take a walk to take some time to think about things. She set off alone.

 

 AS SHE WALKED DOWN the side streets of the ville, wrapped in her own thoughts, Mildred felt so safe that she wasn't listening for attack, or keeping the corner of her eye fixed on that spot in her peripheral vision that was always the first indication of danger. She had grown soft during the days she had spent in the company of Sineta and Markos, believing the danger would be to her companions, not to her.

 

 She turned into the alley, thinking only of her dilemmas. Should she speak to Sineta? Was her future with the Pilatans or her companions who had rescued her as a freezie? What was she to do about J.B. and Markos? It was a problem for Mildred simply because she was a woman who had never really had to think about such things before. In the predark world she had fought every inch to become a doctor and exist to be considered a woman first and an African American second. Not because she wished to deny her heritage, but because she had felt this would be the only way on her chosen course to beat back prejudice. Maybe she had been wrong, and had forgotten things learned from her father and his teachers. It was right at the time. And then, after waking up in Deathlands, she'd had no time in which to consider such niceties—for that was what they had become. It was chill or be chilled, and survive at all costs. Given a choice, you tried to do the right thing, but what was that, now? Always, her whole life before and after skydark had been based around acting and reacting, moving forward. There had been no choices such as this to make; or, at least, no time to think about them when you had to move on with such rapidity.

 

 So now, when it came to a point where she had to consider such matters, she found herself ill-equipped for the task. She had never had to deal with her emotions in such depth before, and she had no idea where to begin.

 

 It was perhaps because of her introspection that she failed to notice the lantern in the alley was extinguished. It could have just been one of those things. Low on oil or a wick that wouldn't take after lighting. Maybe she would have taken no notice of it, even if she had been concentrating.

 

 But then, at least, she would have been on triple-red. As it was, she was oblivious to the sound of breathing and the deliberately muted footfalls that padded behind her. In fact, she was halfway along the alley, at the worst possible tactical position, when she became aware. Somewhere at the back of her mind, behind the constant rollover of cogitation, a spark of instinct alerted her, flashed warning lights.

 

 Jolted from her self-imposed reverie, Mildred suddenly became aware of the breathing and the soft, uneven pad of feet. One person—indeterminate sex— making an attempt to be quiet that would have worked in a less-quiet atmosphere.

 

 No one trying to be that silent in a darkened alleyway had any intentions toward friendliness.

 

 Mildred turned rapidly to face the opposition, whoever it may be. She was acutely aware that she was unarmed and not completely free of her preoccupation with her problems, which refused to be blotted out, and this would slow her reflexes. If she could spare the energy, she would curse herself. But it was already too late for that.

 

 Her eyes weren't accustomed to the darkness as much as she would have wished. She was only aware that her attacker was wiry—height was impossible to tell as he or she had dropped into a crouch. Instinctive reading of the body language and shape told her that it was a male attacker, but beyond that he was hidden in the shadows, his head shapeless beneath a hood or scarf of some kind.

 

 She had no time to make other judgments as he was on her. She was slow and had allowed him to make the first move. Nonetheless, he had to have had some idea of her capabilities, as he had been swift to pounce as soon as she turned. By the time she had fully rotated 180 degrees to face him, he had sprung forward and was in midair. His face was still swathed, his shape disguised by a loose cotton shawl or cape that billowed out to his rear. It was effective in more than just disguise. The material effectively blotted out the residual light from the street behind him, making it harder for her to see what he was doing.

 

 Knowing that he would cannon into her, and there was nothing she could do about it, Mildred let her muscles relax and began to fall back. It had the desired effect. As he hit her, the impact was lessened by the momentum of her own descent, and she was ready for the hard packed ground when she hit. It still jarred, but she didn't damage anything and the breath wasn't driven from her body for she had exhaled in readiness.

 

 Her opponent, however, didn't have as easy a descent. Expecting her to crumple and be driven back by the force of his body against hers, he was unprepared for the lack of resistance and hadn't had the time to prepare for the unexpected force of his own landing. He grunted at the impact. Although softened by having Mildred beneath him, it was enough to drive out his breath while his own momentum made him stumble and cartwheel over her body to land awkwardly some distance away.

 

 Before he had even come to rest, Mildred was coming to her feet, using a hand on the ground to pivot as she rose and turned simultaneously. It was risky, because if he was quick enough he could kick or strike at her hand and leave her falling on her face with one arm rendered useless. But if she came to her feet in any other way she would be facing away from him, leaving her back undefended.

 

 There was little room to move. The walls of the alley seemed to close in on her, making the area of combat close and cramped. Surely someone in the buildings on either side would hear the scuffle? If she cried out an alarm… No, that would take too much effort and breath. She felt in her gut that this was something she would have to deal with herself.

 

 She was on her feet and poised as her opponent hauled himself upright. As he did so, his right hand darted to his waistband and pulled out a wicked-looking knife. The blade was long and came to a vicious point. There wasn't enough light in the alley for the blade to glint, but the metal showed as a white shape, clear and sharp against the dark of his body.

 

 It was a knife that looked horribly familiar. Mildred felt her senses whirl. It was J.B.'s Tekna that her assailant was brandishing, and he was moving toward her.

 

 For a fraction of a second she was paralyzed by the revelation, then adrenaline kicked into her bloodstream and she was galvanized into action by the knowledge that if she didn't move right now, there would be no time later for idle reflection.

 

 Time slowed. The adrenaline in her system made everything in her body seem to move at a faster rate, making it easier to make snap decisions without panic. She knew that one wrong move could leave her chilled. She had no intention of making it that easy for her opponent. Dropping into a combat stance, she balanced on the balls of her feet, so that her balance had a forward impetus. As her opponent thrust at her with the knife, she swayed her hips to feint to her left. It was a movement her opponent followed automatically, with little thought and complete instinct, which was just what Mildred wanted. Straightening and moving to the right, she grabbed his forearm as it came past her, the knife harmlessly slicing at empty air. Both hands grabbed at the forearm, taking it in an iron-hard grip. With some part of her mind that was still functioning, she noticed that he was covered from shoulder to fingertips, long sleeves tucked into gloves. She had no idea if her attacker was white or black, something that was important to her. If it was J.B., and not merely someone who had his knife… But he had been in the armory all day. Who could take it without his knowing?

 

 All these thoughts whirled through her mind in a fraction of a second. The tension in the muscles of her attacker's forearm as he responded to her grip brought her attention back to the moment and focused her on the immediate danger. Hissing breath through her teeth with the effort, she thrust the arm down and brought her knee up so that it connected with his elbow. The force caused him to yelp with pain and the knife to fall from his nerveless fingers. She could also reasonably have expected the force to shatter his elbow and tear cartilage and tendon, rendering the arm useless. But whoever her attacker may be, he had reactions almost as quick as her own. Knowing that he couldn't stop the blow, he contrived to duck into the movement and twist his arm so that Mildred's knee didn't hit him square on the elbow, and he was able to absorb enough of the impact momentum to prevent serious injury.

 

 This fractional movement was also enough to upset Mildred's balance, which had been weighted toward the delivery of her knee. She stumbled, shuffling her grounded foot to adjust balance.

 

 It was the cue her attacker needed. He swept his own leg around so that his heavily booted foot caught her in the calf. A sharp pain shot up past her knee and the muscle went dead as the nerves responded to the blow. She felt her leg buckle and cursed inwardly as she knew she had to fall. She let go of the man's arm and tried to lessen the impact of her fall, but to little avail. She stumbled back, trying to make a yard of space for herself, or at least to fall against the wall of the building behind her, so that she wouldn't be prone. But it was no good. She fell awkwardly onto the hard ground, feeling the breath explode from her lungs. Her shoulder jarred awkwardly and painfully against the adobe wall behind her. She pitched herself sideways to prevent her head from cracking against the wall, leaving her at best stunned, at worst, unconsciously and completely vulnerable.

 

 She took the force of the ground on her elbow and shoulder and tried to use any bounce in the earth to act as a lift as she rose to a sitting position. She was still vulnerable, but at least she was facing her attacker and might be able to parry an immediate blow.

 

 However, there was no such blow. Instead of moving in to strike empty-handed, her opponent had opted to try to retrieve the Tekna. Definitely for use in the attack, but perhaps also because it would be incriminating if found?

 

 Why the hell had none of the Pilatan sec heard the fight, or been alerted? Where the hell were they? Usually, it was impossible to avoid them.

 

 No time to think about that now. The assailant's move had bought her a precious fraction of a second in which to recover her balance and poise, to act rather than react. Pushing herself upright, Mildred ignored the throb in her calf, still aching from the kick, and moved toward the masked man. In the enclosed space of the alley, it took but a moment, and he only had time to look around from his action of picking up the Tekna before she was on him. Not trusting her aching leg to support her steadily, she used it to kick at the man. With his back half turned to her, it wouldn't be a truly effective blow in the manner of a head shot, but catching him full in the ass pitched him forward so that he sprawled on the dirt, the knife dropped.

 

 Mildred hissed in pain at the impact of the kick. She hadn't pulled the punch at the last, but was aware that her damaged leg carried less force than usual, and still hurt like hell. It was as well that she hadn't trusted it to support her weight.

 

 The masked man was scrambling in the dirt, rolling to face her as he tried to right himself. He lay with his legs apart, and she considered taking a kick at his exposed testicles. It would disable him, but she would run the risk of him grabbing her foot and pitching her off balance. Her eyes flicked across the ground, searching for the knife. There it was, to one side of him, still within reach, but seemingly forgotten as he struggled to right himself.

 

 "Hey, what's going on down there!"

 

 The shouted exclamation from behind made Mildred start. She hadn't heard anyone raise an alarm, so it had to be one of the regular sec patrols that she had cursed for their absence a few moments before. She felt the automatic urge to turn to reply, but reason took over and she kept her eyes fixed firmly on her still prone attacker. The imperative had shifted. His priority now would be to get away fast, while she wanted to keep him right where he was, so that he could be unmasked.

 

 "I asked a question. Freeze and don't move a muscle," shouted the sec man as he began to move down the alley. She could hear his running feet. A few seconds and he would be at her shoulder. Time enough for her attacker to make his getaway if she let him.

 

 The masked man struggled to his feet as Mildred advanced.

 

 "No, you bastard," she raged as she launched herself at him. He had left the Tekna on the ground, so he was still unarmed: level playing field. Mildred's leap was tempered by her injured leg, which still refused to move properly, but she was still fast enough to catch him full-on as he clambered to his feet.

 

 Once more, the masked man grunted loudly as he was thrown to the ground, Mildred on top of him.

 

 But that was when it started to go wrong. As she hit the ground, she had the bizarre feeling that she had bounced back up. The sec man had arrived at the rear of the action, unable to see what was happening with any clarity, and had elected to take out the first party he could lay hands on…which just happened to be Mildred.

 

 "Okay, let's break this up," he said with a sharp exhalation of breath as he plucked at the back of Mildred's shirt and pulled her up, throwing her back against the wall. He was a huge man-mountain, several inches taller than the woman and almost as wide as the alley. And he could throw her with some force, as he demonstrated with ease.

 

 Mildred moaned as she hit the wall…hard. Her spine jarred, her ribs ached and she was unable to breathe. All she knew was that he had pulled her off the man who had tried to chill her, and he couldn't be allowed to get away. Unable to even try to explain, she knew she had to act. She forced herself forward so that she staggered toward the sec man as he bent to pick up her still-prone assailant.

 

 If she had been thinking clearly, she would have realized what a stupid move it was. If she just left the sec man alone, he would mop up the mess. But she could only focus on the thought of her attacker getting away. She stumbled as she threw herself onto the back of the unsuspecting sec man, hitting him with very little force, her balance taking her to one side. Unfortunately, he hadn't expected her to move after he had thrown her against the wall, and she caught him by surprise and off balance. With one massive hand still on her attacker, the sec man pitched to the side, catching his temple on the adobe wall.

 

 It was enough for him to break his hold as he fell. And enough, with the sec man out of the frame and Mildred stunned and falling against the far wall, for her attacker to scramble down the alley, covering ground as he regained his senses, exiting into the street beyond.

 

 "You stupid bastard," Mildred gasped between breaths that ached in her bruised ribs.

 

 The sec man drew his H&K and clicked the safety. "We'll see about that. I think you owe me an explanation."

 

 "I think you both owe an explanation—and to me."

 

 The alley was flooded with light as Markos appeared with a flaming torch that cast shadows over the giant sec man and Mildred, who squinted with the sudden illumination.

 

 "I—" the sec man began, but Mildred cut him short.

 

 "Markos, someone tried to chill me. I fought him off—knife's down there. He got away because of this guy…" she managed to gasp between labored breaths.

 

 The sec boss's eyes were drawn to the Tekna. "Which way did he go?" he rapped, a steely edge to his voice. Mildred didn't try to speak, but indicated the far end of the alley.

 

 Markos gave a curt nod and set off down the alley, his legs covering the ground with ease. He disappeared around the corner at the far end and the alley was plunged into darkness.

 

 "I didn't know who was protagonist and who—" the giant sec man began, only to be cut off by Mildred for the second time.

 

 "Save it. Not in the mood right now," she rasped.

 

 She was in even less of a congenial mood when Markos arrived in the alley, his blaster drawn and J.B. preceding him.

 

 "John?" Mildred gasped. The Armorer was limping, as when she had left him earlier. Limping like her attacker. But he was still dressed as he had been, and showed no signs of injury from combat. He didn't look like a man who had just been in a no-holds-barred fight.

 

 But what the hell was he doing here? He had to have been close, as Markos had only been gone a matter of moments.

 

 "Millie! Dark night, what's going on?" he said, making to move toward her, but stayed by the jab of Markos's blaster in his ribs.

 

 "Wait, my friend. I think you owe us an explanation."

 

 J.B. whirled angrily. "What—"

 

 "Look, John," Mildred cut in, indicating the Tekna that still lay on the ground.

 

 J.B. followed the line of her arm and started when he saw the knife. "What's that doing here?"

 

 "A good question," Markos murmured mildly. "It is yours, is it not?"

 

 J.B.'s eyes narrowed, and his voice became a thin whisper. "It's been in the armory. Anyone with access could have taken it."

 

 Ignoring this, Markos directed his next question to Mildred. "Was it this man who attacked you?"

 

 Mildred looked at the Armorer. She hadn't mentioned her attacker's limp, as this would lead to an obvious—to Markos—conclusion. But it was in her mind.

 

 "I don't know…" she began. "I can't be sure. The man who attacked me was swathed from head to foot, masked." She shook her head.

 

 J.B. was furious and saddened in equal measure, a mix of emotions he couldn't come to terms with. His voice was barely audible, even in the quiet night. "You're not sure? You think I could…" His voice trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders.

 

 Mildred couldn't look the Armorer in the eye, turning away as she answered. "Why are you here? You were going back to the others when I left you."

 

 "I had to think about…what we talked about," he said cautiously. He couldn't reveal the secret entailed to Mildred, yet his necessary reticence made Markos all the more suspicious.

 

 "How very convenient," the sec boss murmured.

 

 J.B. glared at him. "So what was Millie doing here?"

 

 "Yeah, okay…I had to think about what we'd talked about, too," she said. It was an admission that cast a different light on J.B.'s seemingly feeble excuse.

 

 "So you cannot prove it was this man who attacked you?" Markos asked bluntly. "You will not say that it is?"

 

 "I can't."

 

 "But can you say it was not he?"

 

 Mildred paused. Could she? It was a pause that brought anguish to the Armorer's face. Finally she said, shaking her head sadly, "No, I can't."

 

 Markos looked at J.B. with barely concealed contempt. "You may go…for now. But I shall detail men to watch you and your friends. Where there is doubt, I must make sure."

 

 J.B. left the alley without looking back at Mildred. She said nothing as Markos also dismissed the giant sec man. She said nothing when Markos told her to go and rest. She didn't respond when he held out a hand to her as she passed him. She didn't even notice his puzzled and hurt expression as he stood at the head of the alley, watching her go:

 

 She had too many other things on her mind.

 

 MILDRED TOLD Sineta only the barest details of what had occurred, and only to explain the condition in which she arrived back at the baron's daughter's quarters. She was quiet, and Sineta didn't push her.

 

 The women retired for the evening and Mildred figured that she would sleep from sheer exhaustion. But that was denied her. She couldn't settle, her mind endlessly chasing arguments around in circles until she could find some kind of resolution that ceaselessly evaded her.

 

 For so long she had denied a part of herself. She had been Mildred Wyeth, one of a team, despite the fact that she had a fundamental difference. She was black. In the days before the nukecaust, that had made a difference. Maybe it still did, but in a subtly changed way. Black was like mutie, despised by some and tolerated by others, but mostly ignored in the struggle to survive. Being in this community had put her back in touch with that lost part of herself, and that was good. But was it that great when it came to making her doubt J.B.? Leaving aside the relationship they had built between them, and her feelings for Markos, there were more pressing issues. J.B., Ryan, Krysty, Jak, Dean…even disagreeable, argumentative Doc—they had been through so much together, made bonds of loyalty forged in fire. The fire of battle and the promise of buying the farm. Things that went deeper than age, race and sex—the knowledge that they would pull together without it even being spoken of or thought about.

 

 And she was doubting that, denying it?

 

 The time to strike out for the mainland was near. Within the ville there were the same divisions as when she first arrived. Those who wished separatism wouldn't move on or accept cold reality. Was she over compensating for all those years and edging toward them? Why else did she think J.B. had been behind the attack, if not because he was a different color?

 

 There was a rift between her and the companions. But perhaps this was a good thing. It made her examine herself, her priorities and loyalties. Without the rift, she couldn't have realized how much both her own color and also the loyalty of her companions meant to her.

 

 In the end, the ideals of the island were pitched against pragmatism and experience of reality in the world outside.

 

 Some wanted nothing less than war. But who makes the sides in a war?

 

  

 

 Chapter Ten

 

  

 

 For the next couple of days Mildred kept some distance between herself and the rest of the companions. Although she wanted to know what Ryan had to say about Barras's revelation, and if they would act upon it, she was also aware that J.B. had been stung by her suspicions and that at least some of his anger would communicate itself to the others. She wanted time for this to subside, and for herself to gain some kind of equilibrium after the wild seesaw of her own emotions had stabilized.

 

 Besides which, there was work to be done. The preparations for the exodus were nearing completion. The tree felling had been completed and the companions were now at work on the beaches, helping to build boats and seaworthy rafts from the wood they had helped to fell. It was an easier situation for them, as the beach was nearer the ville and, in a more open environment, it was easier to keep alert and to look out for your back. Not that this was as necessary as before. The radical separatists who had been detailed to tree felling weren't allowed to work on the boats and rafts. Markos, in consultation with Sineta and Mildred, had felt that it may be too tempting for those radicals who were in favor of sabotage to loosen a few joints, slacken a few ropes, and so delay or scupper attempts to leave the island.

 

 Mildred, meanwhile, had neared the completion of her own tasks. The Pilatans had the majority of the personal belongings and the tools of their trade packed and ready, leaving only the necessities for the time up until departure. The treasures of the ville, the armory, and the paintings and writings that charted the history of the ville were also carefully packed, along with food supplies and farming tools.

 

 There was, however, the one treasure that still remained unclaimed, and time was growing short. Mildred had stalled Barras when he had asked to see her, but the old man was growing impatient and nervous on the matter.

 

 "I do not have long, Mildred Wyeth—a matter of days, mebbe not even that," he had whispered to her on her last visit. "How can I join my ancestors on the long journey knowing that I have let them down in the this manner, that I have betrayed my people?"

 

 Mildred looked at him. She couldn't argue with his self-diagnosis. He was little more than ashen parchment skin stretched over a skeleton that seemed to shrink into itself with each passing day. His eyes were cloudy, so that she could no longer tell if he was focused on this world or one that he could see beyond this life. His voice was little more than a harsh, croaking whisper.

 

 She would have to act soon, or she was sure that he was right. He would buy the farm without being satisfied. When she'd left the baron on that day, she decided that she would have to act immediately.

 

 It was a decision ratified by the events of the next morning.

 

 "MY FATHER IS NEARING his end," Sineta said softly as she and Mildred prepared for the day ahead. It was neither question nor statement. She continued. "The time for us to depart grows near, but still I feel I should spend more time with him."

 

 "So you want me to cover something for you?" Mildred questioned.

 

 "The livestock is to be fitted for the crates that will carry them to the mainland. Horses will be loaded singly, but Markos believes that the pigs and goats should be crated in small numbers."

 

 "Makes sense," Mildred agreed. "And you want me to go and oversee the fitting while you spend more time with Barras?"

 

 Sineta fixed Mildred with a puzzled look. "Yes…are you sure that is all right?"

 

 "Yeah, sure," Mildred said in an offhand manner that she knew sounded false as it left her lips. The truth of the matter wasn't that Mildred resented covering for Sineta, which was possibly what the baron's daughter believed; rather, Mildred was concerned that Barras, nearing the big chill and beginning to lose his grip on lucidity, would say something to Sineta about the hidden treasures that Mildred was supposed to have recovered. To hear about it in the ramblings of her dying father and not from Mildred would naturally arouse suspicion. And if she told Markos… The sec boss was already growing distant from Mildred, their earlier attraction replaced by a self-imposed restraint. This would only add to his…what? Suspicion? Confusion? She no longer knew what he felt. Which made him a loose cannon in the equation.

 

 "If there is a problem, you would not hesitate to share it with me, would you? We are, I would hope, bonded by more than just our skin," Sineta said softly.

 

 Mildred shook her head. "No, there's no problem," she said slowly, hoping that her lie wouldn't show through. "It's just that the end is near for Barras, and I've kind of grown to like him," she continued. "It's going to be tough for you when he goes."

 

 "It is good of you to consider me in this manner," Sineta said softly, "but it is something for which I have been prepared for some while."

 

 Mildred sighed inwardly with relief. In truth, it hadn't been a complete lie. She did feel concern for the baron's daughter and was truly worried about how Sineta would react when her father bought the farm. She had merely used this to divert Sineta's attention from the true cause of her apprehension.

 

 With mixed feelings, Mildred made her way across the short distance to where the livestock was housed and farmed. She was relieved to be away from Sineta's questioning presence, but tense about the possibility of fulfilling her promise to the baron.

 

 She arrived at the livestock pens to find chaos. Markos and the giant Elias—whom she recognized from his tree-felling detail with the companions—were chasing a goat that had escaped its pen and was running riot among the pigs. The livestock farmers, meanwhile, were concerned with preventing the spooked pigs from breaking the walls of their pens and trampling the crates that lay empty and looked all too fragile at the side of the goat enclosure.

 

 "Damn this creature, why does it not respond our directions?" Markos yelled as he and Elias tried to form a pincer movement that would direct the creature back toward its own pen. To the sec boss's intense annoyance, the goat failed to yield to his direction. With a bleat of fear mixed with triumph, it slipped under his outstretched arms and ran free once more.

 

 "It is a free spirit, and not one of your lackeys that you can direct like a machine," returned Elias with a throaty laugh as he watched the creature circle the pigpen, scattering squealing pigs in his wake.

 

 "Then if it is like you, think like the goat and give me a suggestion that has more practicality," Markos snarled in frustration.

 

 "Things not going so well?" Mildred announced her arrival with a comment that failed to keep the amusement from her voice.

 

 "I'm glad that you find it a source of pleasure that we struggle to prepare for our travels," Markos snapped with a petulance and pomposity that showed how hard he was struggling to keep his dignity.

 

 "Lighten up." Elias laughed. "Man versus beast and beast is winning…there's a lesson in there somewhere, I'm sure."

 

 The goat came hurtling out of the pen, yelping after a bite on its hind quarters from an enraged pig had left it floundering. Sensing their chance to drive it out, the pigs had united into a driving force that had, like a sentient battering ram, forced it toward the gate of the pen.

 

 The terrified creature, skirting around Markos and Elias, too startled and surprised to react in time, headed for the open woods beyond the pens. It was also heading straight toward Mildred.

 

 In the fraction of a second she had, Mildred dropped to her haunches and looked the goat in the eye. Its wild, glassy eyes showed nothing except terror. It wasn't seeing anything in front, merely running blind. Unfortunately, it also gave her little idea of which direction it would take to get past her.

 

 She would have to guess. The goat was upon her, and on some instinctive level she saw it begin to sway toward the left as it shifted balance to swerve around the obstruction in its path. As it passed, she threw herself to the right and grabbed it around the neck. She had only the one chance and she had to make it count. She grasped the tensed muscles of the creature's neck, feeling the hardness of its tendons and flesh beneath the greasy coat. It resisted her attempt to dig in for a firm hold, and she found her fingers slipping on the heavy oil of the goat's hair.

 

 "Oh, no, you bastard, you're not getting away and making me look like an idiot," she muttered as she clung on for dear life, wrapping herself around the beast, slowing its momentum and dragging it down. She felt it wriggle and whip like a snake beneath her, bleating in a mixture of fear and anger as it found itself constrained.

 

 "Don't worry, don't worry, it's okay," she repeated over and over in soothing tones as she held on to the goat. Around her, the livestock farmers were penning those pigs that had escaped and calming those that had remained. Things were returning to a calm mirrored by the creature she still held: its thumping heart against her own chest beginning to slow.

 

 "I think you may cease to grip so closely. I'm sure Markos won't want you to smell too much of goat. Or maybe he would," Elias said with heavy humor and a sly glance at the sec boss as he took the goat by the neck, gently guiding it back toward its own pen after Mildred released her grip.

 

 "I know one thing for sure. I could do with a bath already," she said as she rose, attempting to dust herself down but finding she was covered in an almost adhesive layer of goat grease and farm yard mud.

 

 "Why are you here?" Markos asked brusquely and without ceremony, trying to cover his embarrassment at Elias's blatant amusement.

 

 "Sineta sent me to check how things were going. She's with her father again."

 

 Markos nodded solemnly. "I fear it cannot be long now."

 

 "Frightened he's going to buy the farm without naming you?" Elias asked as he returned to them. Although his tone was seemingly light, there was an element of malice shot through.

 

 "You would dare speak of the baron in such a manner—" Markos began, visibly bristling.

 

 "It doesn't matter how he speaks of him," Mildred cut in. "It doesn't change what's happening or why I'm here. So, how are things going?" She was in no mood to listen to the two men sparring for points, and her last question was delivered in a manner that would brook no argument.

 

 Markos told her briefly that the penning of the livestock was going well, had been going very well until the point at which she had arrived, and that they were on target to be ready for the appointed date. He then pointed out that he should be elsewhere, and excused himself.

 

 "Seems like he can't wait to get away," Elias remarked as they watched the sec boss leave. His implication was clear and Mildred found herself taking a strong dislike to the giant beside her.

 

 "Might be more than one reason," she said pointedly. "So, you want to stop being interested in things that aren't your concern and show me what I want to know?"

 

 Elias nodded and began to lead her around the pens and the area covered by the livestock farm. Sensing the guarded hostility in her stance, he changed his tone and was serious as he gave her a full report of the livestock farming activities. When he had finished, and they had come full circle, he excused himself, saying that he had to carry on with his allotted task. It was only then that a certain amount of sarcasm filtered through into his voice, causing Mildred to watch his back with a degree of skepticism as he turned and walked away.

 

 Something told her that his anger and dislike of Markos had been turned on her, as well. There was something about the giant that made her wary, but it wasn't anything that she could pin down exactly, which made it all the more unsettling.

 

 Mildred stood watching him for a moment, then turned and walked back toward the ville. To return to the baron's quarters and Sineta, she had to walk through the housing on the edge of the ville. At this time of day—it was now midmorning—this part of the ville was deserted, the populous being either occupied at the center, the beach, the farms, or out hunting. It was quiet, and Mildred walked freely, pondering what role Elias played in the drama of Pilatu. She was aware that he was Markos's rival for Sineta's hand, and why Barras had made him such; she also knew that the baron's daughter didn't trust him. To what lengths would he go to gain power now that the Pilatans were to move to the whitelands, particularly in view of his rival Markos's own opinions?

 

 It was a measure of Mildred's distraction at the manner in which she had become embroiled within the culture and politics of Pilatu that she had slipped into a reverie despite the attack a few nights before. Her attention wasn't focused on the outside world, and it was only when chippings from the adobe wall to her left hit her ear, and she saw the cloud of dust thrown up by impact, that she realized that she was being fired upon.

 

 Any cogitation on island politics was pushed to the back of her mind as instinct took over. Mildred threw herself forward into a roll, eyes darting back and forth for a place to take shelter. Where the hell was the firing coming from? Another shot pockmarked the earth in front of her, throwing up another cloud of dust.

 

 Mildred thanked the Lord that whoever was firing at her had lousy aim, and tumbled toward the doorway of a house. She was acutely aware that whoever had fired had access to the armory for the simple reason that the shots had made no sound. Whoever was shooting had a blaster with a fitted silencer. Even in the almost total silence of the deserted street, there was no sound to alert her or to give her an indication of position. The only thing she was able to determine was that her assailant must be some distance away for even a silenced blaster to be silent.

 

 She jerked away and narrowly avoided receiving a splinter through her eye when the next shot took a chunk out of the door frame where she was taking shelter. Time to move out.

 

 As she scuttled across the street, keeping low and moving quickly, trying to present as small and awkward a target as possible, she figured that he had to be firing from somewhere over to the right. From the low angle of the shots, he had to be fairly high. In one of the houses or on top? Taking a second to glance up as she moved, she could see no one on the rooftops. But could she stop to scan enough to take in distance? After all, he had to be some distance away.

 

 No time. Another shot hit the dirt in front of her, kicking up a cloud.

 

 Where the hell could she go? There were no open doors, and if the ones she tried were locked, she would present an easy target in the time it would take her to find this out. Dammit, where could she go? Maybe she could double back and try to make the last alley she had passed. If she took the one on the right, it would make for an almost impossible angle and her assailant would have to reveal himself in some way to get a better shot at her.

 

 She turned back, spinning on her heel. It was a clumsy maneuver when she was still trying to keep low and small, but the sudden change of direction should— she hoped—compensate for how slow it would make her. A hope that was confirmed when the next shot hit the wall of a house farther in front of the direction she had turned from. It could buy her the few moments she would need to make the alley.

 

 However, the assassin had to have had reflexes that were better than his aim, as the next shot hit the wall beside her.

 

 "Shit!" she cursed, not expecting to have her direction tracked with such speed. She could see the alley up ahead to her left after she had reversed direction. It was only a few yards away.

 

 Mildred felt a stinging blow across her forehead, as though someone had tried to carve their initials with a red-hot poker across her head. She was aware of nothing else except the ground coming up the short distance to meet her.

 

 She didn't feel herself hit. She was already unconscious.

 

 IT WAS ONE HELL of a headache. She didn't think she had been out for long, but it had been long enough— certainly long enough for two sets of footsteps to approach her from the same direction.

 

 Part of her wanted to cry out to them for help, but a small voice inside told her to play possum until she was sure they were friend not foe. It was the right call.

 

 "Is she chilled?" someone murmured. It was a voice she couldn't quite identify because it whispered, but it was familiar. The other, when it replied, was immediately identifiable.

 

 "She's not moving, and not talking, and that's something for which we must be joyous," Elias said in a quiet voice barely louder than his companion's.

 

 "This is not the time for humor," snapped the unidentified voice. Mildred desperately wanted to open an eye to see who it was, but knew this would bring certain death.

 

 "Who said I was being particularly funny?" Elias returned. "She talks too much, and is a pain in the proverbial ass, whether you mean posterior or animal. She's come between Barras, Sineta and my attempts to wheedle my way into that loathsome woman's favor. The only good thing I can see about her, as far as I'm concerned, is that she's taken your brother's mind off being my competition."

 

 "Do not bandy words or push whatever luck you may have left," the second voice raged, attempting to keep a low voice despite the level of rage causing his words to be little more than a venomous hiss.

 

 So the second voice belonged to the albino Chan? Mildred found it hard not to show any amazement as she lay there. The arbiter of integration and the prophet of separatism made for strange bedfellows. What could have brought them together, and why was their venom directed toward her?

 

 More to the point, what the hell was she going to do lying here playing possum with two enemies upon her, at least one of whom was armed?

 

 They were within feet of her now and would soon determine that she was still alive. Not for long, she was sure. But as long as they kept arguing, it gave her some time to think.

 

 "I wouldn't get overexcited if I was you," Elias said with that sardonic calm that Mildred had found so infuriating earlier and that seemed to have the same effect on his uneasy ally. "I believe it was my shot that actually claimed the bitch, rather than yours. That gives me the moral advantage, I believe."

 

 "You?" Chan spit. "You have no idea of what the word even means. Do not talk to me of such matters. This is pragmatism, pure and simple."

 

 "Of course, whatever you say…and your motives are pure at heart, are they?" Elias mocked.

 

 "My motives are not your concern, although they are fueled by the likes of yourself."

 

 Elias sighed. "Whatever you say. I would suggest, however, that rather than discuss philosophy with this creature sprawled in front of us, we would be better employed disposing of her."

 

 Chan snorted. "We haven't even checked whether or not she is breathing."

 

 "Then all the more reason to do so. If she's still alive, we carry her off and finish the job where we're going to dispose of her. I don't have any particular desire to be caught with the half-chilled or chilled by any of your brother's lackeys. Even you would find that hard to explain to him. Besides, I have plans for her."

 

 There was something in the tone of his voice that made Mildred want to shiver, something she was barely able to suppress. At least they didn't plan to chill her then and there when they inevitably discovered that she was still alive. It would buy her a little more time, and that was all she had.

 

 She felt a foot prod at her, tentatively, and with some disgust that managed to communicate itself even into that gesture. She stayed limp and allowed the sharp toe of the booted foot to jab her several more times in the ribs without giving way to the desire to gasp at the pain.

 

 "Still breathing—I can see that—but not responding. She's either unconscious or playing. If the latter, then I'll just emphasize to you that you keep that blaster trained on her and blow her fucking head off at zero range regardless if she so much as makes a move," Elias commented.

 

 She stayed still and silent, allowing the giant to turn her over. He was as strong as he looked, for she felt the lightness of his touch as he flipped her over with ease. She felt blood from the crease along her forehead run back into her plaits and was thankful it didn't ran down to her eyes. That would make the next part of her act easier.

 

 "No surprise that she is unconscious," Chan muttered, "not with a graze such as that."

 

 "Pity it wasn't a straighter shot and took the bitch out with a blast through the brain," Elias returned with venom. "Now, my sweet little child, let's just see how far from conscious you really are."

 

 As he spoke she felt the hard pad of his thumb on her eyelid. She rolled her eyeball back into her head, which took considerable effort to keep it there as he held her eye open for some time. She wasn't sure how long she could keep it rolled back.

 

 "Yes, I would say that she is well and truly unconscious," Elias pronounced with some satisfaction. "Now we should get her out of here. It's far too public for my taste. There will be some blood on the ground. When I lift her, scuff the earth to cover it."

 

 "I am not as stupe as you seem to believe," Chan returned petulantly. "I had already considered this point."

 

 Mildred felt herself be lifted up by the giant Elias as though she were nothing more than feather, and was flung unceremoniously over his shoulder. He strode off, each step bumping her stomach on his hard shoulderblade. She could hear the scuffling of Chan's feet as he covered the bloody signs of her shooting, and then the patter of the lighter man as he ran to catch up with Elias.

 

 Elias was dangerous because of his size and strength. Chan was a lightweight in every way. She had already sized him up as neurotic. But they were two, and she was alone. More than that, she was quite possibly concussed from the bullet crease and may find it hard to act quickly when called upon. And, finally, they were both armed, and she wasn't. The only advantage she had was surprise, as they believed her to be unconscious. Somehow, she figured that it wouldn't be enough.

 

 They walked for some distance, the two men bickered all the while. The longer they walked, the more she would learn. But to what end?

 

 "I don't like this. We should have finished the job there and then," Chan said.

 

 "And let her be found? There would be an investigation and sooner or later it would be discovered that we have nothing in the way of an alibi. Where would we be then? Would you be able to talk your way out of that with your brother?"

 

 "But the longer we are in possession of the accursed woman, the greater the chances of being caught," Chan argued.

 

 "Not this way," Elias said with confidence. "I have watched carefully the patterns of the security patrols, and I know for a fact that there is no work going on out here. The wood for the boats has long since been felled. All we have to do is keep things relatively quiet. Not difficult with these silenced blasters," he added. "I thought it rather a master stroke to use the one-eyed man's blaster. If anyone checks the armory, they'll find it has been recently fired."

 

 "Would anyone?"

 

 Mildred felt the giant shrug beneath her. "I doubt it, but it would supply a neat and rather confusing finishing touch."

 

 "You have approached this entirely with an unbecoming sense of humor," Chan snapped.

 

 "Oh, come now," Elias replied calmly, "is not the whole thing quite absurd in many aspects? Who would consider the prospect of either of us deigning to work together? You are well known for your bigoted and inflexible views, whereas I am known for my forward looking attitude."

 

 "I—You are the most—"

 

 "And your complete lack of a sense of humor. I really should have added that," Elias cut across the albino's protest, almost musing to himself. "However, I will grant that you showed a commendable streak of ingenuity when you came to see me."

 

 "Pragmatism. I could not do it by myself, and I could see that you have your own reasons to be self motivated."

 

 "Ah, yes, greed. A fine thing. After all, if you don't look out for number one, no one else will."

 

 Mildred felt herself being lifted off his shoulder. Knowing he would drop her with little regard for pain, she allowed herself to relax and to not anticipate her landing. It was hard and painful. She hit the ground on her back, her head bouncing on the ground. She figured they had to be near the river, for the ground was softer here and there was the sound of running water nearby. Had they carried her down to where the treasure was hidden? How the hell had they found out about it? From their conversation, she had assumed that they were aware of both its existence and its whereabouts. She was about to find out how, as they continued their conversation, as if oblivious to the fact of her even being there.

 

 "It is not a noble sentiment, but I can only concur with your somewhat crude way of phrasing it. I had read the legends of the old treasures of the whitelands in the archives of our people, but I had thought the secret lost forever until I heard Barras tell this bitch about it. To know that he had kept the secret for long enough was bad, but to know that he was imparting it to an outsider and for pale ones was intolerable. It belongs to the Pilatans."

 

 "And of course you'll be giving your half to them," Elias said with heavy sarcasm.

 

 "You know perfectly well that I will not," Chan returned with an unexpected fire. "They do not understand what it is to be black. You do not. You think that it is acceptable to mix with outsiders. You think that it is so terrible to want to keep ourselves pure? And yet those fools and morons treat me as different because I am an albino. They treat me with contempt…worse, with pity. Because I have no skin pigment, they do not think of me as being black. You sought power for your views by marrying the baron's daughter, and so did I— although a high yellow beauty like her would not condescend to the likes of me, still I had my brother. He, at least, they all see as a black."

 

 "Uh, excuse me, but strictly speaking, if you have no pigment, then you aren't actually black, are you?" Elias said mildly.

 

 "Of course I am!" exclaimed the albino. "Being black is not about the skin pigment!"

 

 "Then why do you object so strongly to whitelanders?"

 

 Mildred listened to the silence. Elias's mocking tone elicited no verbal response from the albino but heavy breathing as he fought to contain his temper. If she was lucky, they might actually kill each other at this rate, and save her the worry of having to escape. Yeah, as though she should be that lucky. Desperately she sought some way of gaining an advantage over them once she had used the surprise card.

 

 Their argument continued.

 

 "You will use your half of the money to squander," the albino said, sneering, "whereas I intend to set up a community where those such as myself can live in peace, apart from whitelanders and cartoon blacks such as yourself."

 

 "Interesting definition of squander, I would say," Elias commented wryly. "But I really feel that we're wasting time now."

 

 "Something I have been saying to you for some time," the albino snapped.

 

 "So I've suddenly grown weary of your tattle," Elias commented. "I feel it's time to complete step one. Once she's chilled, we'll get the treasure out and leave her corpse there. By the time anyone figures out that she's a little more than just missing, we'll be well away from this accursed island."

 

 There was a pause.

 

 "So who'll do it?" Chan said nervously.

 

 Elias sighed. "Oh, really, do I have to do everything for you?"

 

 The taunt worked. "No, damn you. I'll see to it," the albino snapped.

 

 On her back, eyes still closed, Mildred heard him move near. She thanked her luck that it was the lighter and less competent of the duo that was approaching. He would be easier to take by surprise and to overpower. She could get his blaster and perhaps use him to shield herself to make a difficult shot for Elias. It was a slim chance, but the only one she had.

 

 As the albino leaned over her and she felt the muzzle of the blaster rest against her forehead, she opened her eyes suddenly, ignoring the searing pain of the daylight—even shielded as it was by the albino's body— and looked Chan straight in the eyes.

 

 He gasped and started back, the blaster pointing away from her. Before Elias had a chance to ask him what was wrong, or for him to answer, Chan found himself kicked sideways as Mildred swung her leg up with as much force as she could muster. There was little momentum she could give it, and she was still weak from her head wound, but the kick was strong enough to catch him in the ribs and to catapult him sideways. She rolled after him, feeling the breeze of the first shot from Elias as it threw up splatters of damp earth where her thigh had been moments before.

 

 "Don't fire, for the Lord's sake, don't fire," Chan yelled, his voice pitched high with fear.

 

 "Then get out of the damned way," Elias snorted as he tried to take a clear aim.

 

 With one hand, Mildred grabbed the blaster that had fallen from Chan's hand when he'd been pitched sideways as she grabbed the albino around the throat with the other. It was a difficult maneuver, and the albino was slippery, but at least she had the blaster.

 

 "You dimwit, you didn't even have the safety off," she yelled at him as she flicked the catch.

 

 Elias fired again, the shot whistling past both of them at head level.

 

 "What are you doing?" Chan yelled. "For the Lord's sake."

 

 "Not so loud," Elias ordered. "There are still security patrols—"

 

 He was cut short by a blast from Mildred that tore up a clod of earth to his left. Her usually deadly aim had been spoiled by the albino's movements, which she still sought to contain.

 

 This was a stalemate, and one that couldn't continue for long. Sooner or later Elias would tire of this and just fire through Chan, or the albino would wriggle free and she would be an open target.

 

 What she needed was a miracle. What she got was something close.

 

 "Mildred! Duck!"

 

 Mildred didn't think about what was happening, or where Jak had sprung from. She just threw herself to the ground.

 

 The explosion from behind her was a signal that Jak's .357 Magnum Colt Python had been called into play. It was lucky for Chan that he had also reacted to Jak's call, as the slug would have hit him if he had stayed on his knees instead of flinging himself away from Mildred when she released her grip. The slug tore a great chunk out of the ground in front of them.

 

 Elias had already turned and begun to run for cover. Jak sighted and loosed another shot, which took a chunk out of a tree to the left of the giant's shoulder as he ducked behind it. The wood cut into his shoulder, making him scream but doing nothing to delay his progress. Chan was close behind him, scuttling for cover as Mildred had just a short while before.

 

 Mildred sighted with the blaster she had taken from Chan and fired. But at the last she pulled the shot and it flew wide of the intended mark. Now wasn't the time to take them out.

 

 Jak had stopped firing. He had appeared on the far side of the shallow river and was wading across, unable to stop to take aim if he wished to reach the other side rapidly. His main concern was Mildred's safety, and that had been assured. However, he couldn't understand why she had pulled the only shot she had loosed, and asked her as much as soon as he reached her.

 

 Mildred shook her head. "If I chilled Markos's brother, whether or not it was with Elias, then there would be a whole shitload of explaining to do, and I'm not sure that Markos would want to hear it straight off. And when we get those Bastards, I want it to be clear what they've been up to."

 

 "You be safe till then?" Jak asked.

 

 "I figure they'll go to ground, maybe thinking we'll go straight to Markos or Sineta. Which also means they'll have to act fast. I reckon they'll be back tonight to try to get the stuff out of the rocks and make a break for it. But what the hell are you doing here?"

 

 Jak shrugged and smiled. "Was on errand to livestock, getting stupe measurements for crates and boats 'cause of fuckup…lucky fuckup. Saw Chan and Elias on roof. Not trust one, and seeing other with him made curious. Then blasters out. Didn't know firing on you till followed them when you picked up. Followed out here and kept tail. Didn't know how bad you injured, or if you making out unconscious—body not quite loose enough," he added with a hunter's grin. "Anyway, saw you move and figured time right."

 

 "Sure as shit was," Mildred agreed. "I was never more pleased to see you."

 

 She hugged the albino with sheer relief.

 

 When she let him go, he said, "So if they come tonight, we tell sec?"

 

 Mildred grimaced. "Can't tell them outright. I figure I should make sure Markos is out here at that time and he can stumble on it. But there'll have to be backup."

 

 "How you get him out here?" Jak asked. It wasn't an unreasonable question, but it made Mildred feel awkward. The flare of attraction between herself and the sec boss had been secret, and she wanted it to stay that way.

 

 "I'll figure that out," she said lamely.

 

 If Jak was surprised by that, he didn't betray the fact. Instead he continued. "We tell Ryan, and all of us get here—surround it and ready to help if necessary."

 

 "No," Mildred said emphatically, "I don't want that. This is a Pilatan legacy, and if it comes out because of two blacks who are stopped by outsiders—and pale outsiders at that-—then it'll divide the people when they really need to pull together. Half of them won't want to believe that either Chan or Elias are behind this, and if whites are there…"

 

 Jak nodded. "Just me, then. That work?"

 

 Mildred nodded. "You're an albino. You're acceptable in that sense. Yeah, I figure you and me can give Markos the backup he needs."

 

 "Okay, but should fill others in anyway," Jak pointed out.

 

 "Yeah, that's fair. Let's do it."

 

 As they made their way back to the ville, Mildred realized that her doubts about both J.B.—and by implication, the rest of the companions—and Markos had been proved wrong. Both were good men in their separate ways. Chan had obviously been her initial attacker. He was of a similar build to the Armorer and had adopted J.B.'s limp to aid his disguise. Both he and Elias had used their moralistic stances to hide their real selves until revealed this day—and then only to Millie and Jak. It may prove harder than she thought to convince the sec boss and to convince Ryan that she should handle this with so little manpower.

 

 Something that Markos and Ryan shared was their complete integrity. She knew the one-eyed man would understand why she and Jak would have to do this alone.

 

  

 

 Chapter Eleven

 

  

 

 "You want to what!" Ryan exclaimed when Mildred had outlined her plan.

 

 "I want it to just be me and Jak," she reiterated. "It can't be any other way."

 

 "But, Mildred, it's going to be—"

 

 "Are you saying that we can't handle it?" She bristled.

 

 Ryan sighed. "Of course I'm not saying that. You know better. But we always play the odds. That's why we're still here and the people we've had to come up against have mostly long ago bought the farm. Seven is better odds than two, that's all."

 

 Mildred paused. "Yeah, I know that's what you're saying. And you know, most of the time I'd agree with you. But this has to be different, and I've explained why."

 

 There was a long silence. The companions were grouped in their quarters, Mildred having dragged them away from their work—allegedly under the auspices of Sineta—in order to have this conference. They were all fully armed, having reclaimed their weapons from the armory that morning. That was why Jak had been carrying his Colt Python. The only exception was Ryan, who was incensed when Mildred and Jak revealed to him where his SIG-Sauer had found a new home. The rearming was part of final preparations as the armory was now crated ready for transportation. The loading was the task from which they had been pulled by Mildred.

 

 The late afternoon shadows were long over the street where they were housed and without any lamps the inside of the adobe hut was dark. Jak and Dean were acting lookouts at the front and back, still keeping an ear on the proceedings.

 

 Finally, Ryan said, "Okay, I'm with you on this, but I still don't like it that you're not playing the odds."

 

 "Mebbe there's a way that you could stack them a little," Krysty mused thoughtfully.

 

 "There is?" Mildred responded. "How?"

 

 Krysty shrugged. "You're planning to stop Elias and Chan and then present it as a fait accompli to Sineta and Markos, right?" She waited for Mildred to agree, then continued, "So why don't you let them see it going down? Take them with you."

 

 "But, Krysty, how the hell can I explain to Markos about his brother?" Mildred asked. "Sineta, I could handle. She'll understand why Barras didn't tell her, and trusted me to do it for her at this time. But Markos is too proud, too stubborn."

 

 "So don't tell him it's his brother who's involved. Just tell him about Elias, and say you didn't get a look at the other man involved as he was masked."

 

 "You really think he'll go for that?" Mildred asked skeptically.

 

 "Think about how much he dislikes Elias," Krysty pointed out.

 

 "I can understand that—look how he had us deceived," J.B. commented. "Markos was aware of how he was, but prove it when you're that blunt and he's Mister Nice Guy all the time."

 

 Mildred turned to the Armorer and smiled. Of course J.B. would understand Markos. "Yeah, maybe if I play on that, I won't have to let on about Chan until he can see for himself."

 

 "Markos good fighter," Jak chipped in quietly from his position near the window. "Night make hard for two on two. Could be better bet."

 

 "Okay," Mildred affirmed. "Let's do it."

 

 MARKOS LOOKED PUZZLED when he entered Sineta's quarters to find Mildred and Jak waiting for him, along with the baron's daughter.

 

 "You sent word that there was an urgent matter to be settled between ourselves," he began. "I fail to see—"

 

 "It is," the fine-boned woman interjected, "but as of yet, I have no idea as to its substance. That is what Mildred and Jak have to tell us."

 

 Markos sucked in his breath. "Why do I get bad feelings that the two of them are involved?" he murmured. "Particularly when I see another injury on you," he added, indicating the crease on Mildred's forehead. Although it had been dressed by Krysty, even under a bandage it suggested nothing but trouble.

 

 "Because it's not a pretty story," she said simply before going on to outline the attempt on her life, and how Jak had saved her at the side of the river.

 

 "There is one thing that is a mystery to me," Markos mused, interrupting her. "Why they did not chill you when they had the chance, and why they took you to the river."

 

 "Because they wanted to hide my corpse," Mildred explained. "And as for why they took me down to the river…" She turned to the baron's daughter. "Sineta, there's something I have to tell you. Something that happened between your father and me. And I need to tell you why he did what he did."

 

 And she began to tell her about the legend of the whitelands treasure and why the baron had entrusted her with the information. Sineta stayed silent and listened carefully, but Mildred could see that Markos was almost bursting with anger and indignation that the baron should trust Mildred and her friends and not his own people. A view he expressed when Mildred had finished.

 

 Sineta waited for him to finish before speaking.

 

 "Can you not see that my father was right? At such a time as this, when there is upheaval and the disparate elements that make a community have to be pulled together in both spirit and physical being, the gathering of the old treasure would be a distraction that would pull us apart. People like your brother would wish us to remain and not take this back to the ones from whom it was originally plundered. And yet, right now, they have acquiesced to the need to journey on and are working together with the rest of us. To have this treasure taken from hiding and presented once we are on the whitelands is the only way to proceed. Of course I am hurt that my father chose one other than myself to impart this knowledge, but my feelings do not matter when set against the needs of the community that I must serve. If I can live with that, cannot you?"

 

 Markos sighed. "You are right, of course. The post I hold, and of which I am proud, dictates that the community must come first, and that is how it should be."

 

 Let's hope that you still see it that way in a couple of hours, Mildred thought.

 

 Jak walked toward the door.

 

 "Dark falls. Mebbe should go."

 

 THE WOODLANDS along the river were in darkness by the time that Mildred, Jak, Sineta and Markos reached the riverbank. The night sky above was clear, the moon illuminating the woods enough for them to be able to find their way. Jak took the front, surefooted and able to see in the gloom. He returned at intervals to report that the way ahead was clear. Although there were paths scored through the woods by the activities of the tree fellers, Mildred guided them through thicker patches, wanting to keep the party as hidden as possible. As the rest of the companions had regained their weapons just that day, so Mildred had claimed her Czech-made ZKR target pistol, which she held loosely, feeling the familiar grain of the butt against her palm. Jak had his .357 Magnum Colt Python, and Markos his H&K, which he held across his body, loose but firm in his grip. Sineta was the only one who concerned Mildred when it came to weapons. The baron's daughter carried a Glock, which was gripped tightly in her fist. The tension in her grip revealed that she was unfamiliar and ill-at-ease with blasters.

 

 If it came to a firefight, as it undoubtedly would, could the woman look after herself? Mildred figured that she'd have to keep an eye out for the soon-to-be baron of Pilatu, otherwise she could find herself buying the farm before her father.

 

 Jak appeared through the trees like a wraith, seemingly able to wrap himself around the shadows cast by the trunks.

 

 "Clear ahead. No sign yet."

 

 "Are you sure they'll be there tonight?" Sineta whispered.

 

 Mildred affirmed. "They've got no choice, sweetie. They know I'm still alive, and they know how much I know. Even if I didn't go to you and Markos, then they'd figure that I'd get Ryan and the others to snatch the treasure tonight, before they had the opportunity to act. If they're going to get their hands on it, then they have to move tonight."

 

 "If only we knew who the other party was," Markos mused. "Elias I can understand, and his motivation of greed. I make no secret of the fact that I have neither liked nor trusted him. But I cannot think who else would sink so low, particularly if, as you say, this is a man who is a separatist. They are motivated only by a burning sense of dignity. It just does not make sense."

 

 "Sometimes things people do just don't, Markos," Mildred answered, feeling uneasy about how he would take the revelation when the time came. "So let's just stop talking about it and get down to the bank, try to take up a position where we can see them. Okay?"

 

 Sineta and Markos agreed, and at an indication from Mildred, Jak led them through the trees and down to the river.

 

 It looked so calm under the wan silver light of the crescent moon above. The water flowed sluggish and slow and the crop of rocks coming out of the riverbed rose in relief against the trees beyond. The ground on the bank in front of them—the place where she had earlier fought for her life before Jak's timely intervention—looked serene and undisturbed, as though it had never seen human intrusion.

 

 "Not here yet, and not many places hide," Jak whispered, breaking her reverie. "I take rocks, find crevice to hide. You three stay together. Cover away from any paths. Elias not good woodsman, so take easiest path."

 

 "Can you be sure of that?" Markos queried. "What if they stumble on us from the rear?"

 

 "Trust him," Mildred said softly. "If Jak figures that's how Elias will come, then that's how he'll come."

 

 "Besides," the albino added with a sly grin, "signs there of where left earlier. Triple stupe even figure come back that way."

 

 Markos raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, I take your point. But how are you going to get out to the rocks without risking them seeing you as they approach?"

 

 "Two things—one, I find route there that not make water ripple, two—" he added with a sly grin "—I checked. Elias and other not anywhere around yet."

 

 Mildred uttered a short laugh. "Okay, Jak. You take up your position and we'll take up ours. Then I guess we'll just have to wait for however long it takes."

 

 The albino set off without another word, melting into the shadows of the woods. The remaining three moved toward their position of cover in order to take up observation. Markos kept glancing toward the river, but couldn't see or hear a sign of Jak.

 

 "Remarkable," he murmured. "I would not have thought…I suppose—"

 

 "Don't doubt it." Mildred sighed. "Look, if Jak says he's there, then he's there. Okay?"

 

 Markos shrugged, but said nothing further as they gained a secure position and settled down to wait.

 

 LEAVING THE OTHERS, Jak had skipped over the root systems that treacherously lined the floor of the woods and wrapped himself around the trunks of the trees until he was at the very edge, with only the bare stretch of ground between the woods and the river to traverse. To his left there was a patch of shrub that would provide cover. Jak dropped to his belly and slid across, moving fast and crablike to gain the cover of the shrub. In daylight, he could be spotted, but under the much dimmer moonlight he was able to use the cover of shadows to remain unseen.

 

 From the shrub to the water was a matter of a few feet. The real difficulty would be to gain the water without causing too much of a disturbance. At the same time, he had to make sure that his blaster stayed out of the water. Jak wrapped the Colt Python in a piece of plastic he had secreted in his pocket before they'd left, figuring that he would need to do this. He then stowed the blaster in an inside pocket of his camou jacket. He'd also thought long and hard about how he would tackle the problem of the river. To the left, just downstream, was a small clump of wood—-discarded branches and leaves overgrown with creeping vine. It would provide more shelter, especially in the gloom. He made the cover in quick time. From here he just had to slip down the bank and into the slow, sluggish current. Legs together, narrowing the angle of his body as much as possible to cause the least disturbance, he slid into the water, crouching into mud of the riverbed until only his shoulders and head were above water. Then, taking a deep breath and sighting the rocks to give him direction, Jak slipped under the water and struck out for the crop.

 

 It took him only a few strokes to come to the base of the rocks. He found a crevice that came up out of the water and broke the surface in a narrow inlet that was deep in shadow. He exhaled and gasped in two quick breaths before looking up to see where he had arrived. He was on the reverse side of the crop to the cave entrance. It was narrow, but it was simple for him to climb up and around, keeping close and on the far side of the bank where he was certain Elias and Chan would come: here he could move freely and with speed.

 

 As he reached the angle where he would, for a fraction of a second, be exposed before gaining the cover of the cave entrance, he paused and looked deep into the wood. Ceasing to breathe, and filtering out the familiar sounds of his own central nervous system and blood flow, he could hear nothing that would indicate their approach. He could see the slightest movement of the branches around the position where Mildred, Markos and Sineta were stationed. He could hear the occasional rasp of breath from one of them when the night sounds dipped. But he could hear nothing else apart. Chan and Elias weren't hunters, and even with their best efforts he would be able to hear them from some way off.

 

 He would have a wait ahead of him, but it meant that he could move with ease right now. His mouth curling into a grin of satisfaction, Jak slipped around the edge of the rocks and melted into the mouth of the cave. Once in the darkness, and with a good view of the area along the riverbank, he took the Colt Python from his inner pocket, unwrapped it before restoring the plastic to another pocket, lest it should prove useful, and checked the blaster. It was as dry as a bleacher bone. From habit, he checked that the blaster was fully armed. Satisfied, he holstered it before hunkering down to wait, eyes trained on the bank, the only sound his shallow breath. There was no movement at all.

 

 Over on the bank, Markos had been watching the whole while. Despite the fact that Jak had relaxed himself when moving around the rock, Markos hadn't seen him. All he'd noticed had been the slightest flicker of movement that may have been nothing more than the scuttling of a cloud across the moon.

 

 ELIAS AND CHAN HAD BEEN in hiding for most of the afternoon, bickering with each other. The giant couldn't resist goading the albino, and for his part Chan would always rise to the bait, unable to understand how the giant could be so casual when everything seemed to be going wrong.

 

 "Tell me something—would your brother believe two outsiders? Would Sineta be upset about her father saying nothing to her about the legends? Of course not, and of course, if you were paying attention. So listen to me. We go back tonight. Mebbe they'll be waiting for us and mebbe not. If that bitch has got her whitelander friends to get the treasure out, then we just chill them."

 

 "How the hell do we do that when we've only got one blaster between us?" Chan had demanded.

 

 Elias fixed him with a glare. The sardonic humor that always seemed to be in his eyes had suddenly faded. "We would have more than one blaster if you hadn't been so damned useless. And we'll do it because we have to. We have no choice now, no going back. I do not intend to travel to the whitelands knowing that Mildred and her little friends have that knowledge as power over me. Is that clear?"

 

 Chan had nodded, his throat too tight and dry to speak. As with many others on Pilatu, he had always thought of Elias as untrustworthy but harmless, too laid back to be of any danger.

 

 The look in the giant's eyes told him that he had been wrong. And the thought of being alone in the woods with this revelation was a more frightening prospect than taking on the companions.

 

 So now, as the night hit its stillest and darkest watch, he found himself stumbling after the giant as Elias made his way through the woods, from the copse where they had taken shelter to the riverbank by the outcrop and caves, where the whiteland treasure lay hidden.

 

 They followed the same path as they had taken that afternoon, only traveling in reverse. It wasn't long before they gained the riverbank, with the crop a few feet out into the water, rising to a peak with a cave beneath.

 

 "There it is, just sitting there waiting for us," Elias said with a chuckle. "See, my cowardly little friend. It's not that hard, is it?"

 

 "I CAN HEAR SOMETHING," Markos mouthed at Mildred and Sineta as the sound of the two men thrashing through the woods reached their hiding place.

 

 Mildred nodded and pointed in the general direction of the sound. Markos assented.

 

 "Wait till they are in the open," he said softly. "Wait until Jak moves," Mildred amended. Markos looked puzzled. "But surely—" Mildred shook her head. "Just do it." She looked around at Sineta. Even in the dim light of the half moon it was plain to see that the woman was anxious and hyped up in anticipation. Despite Sineta's willingness to be here, Mildred found it obvious that the woman had never been in a fighting situation before, and she was terrified, even though prepared to fight.

 

 Let's hope her nerve holds, Mildred thought, taking in the tight grip that Sineta had on her blaster.

 

 She looked back in the direction of the sound. They were nearing the clearing that delineated the riverbank and would soon come into view. Now was the moment of truth. Looking at Markos's face, intent but impassive, prepared for combat, she wondered how he would take it when his beloved brother came into view.

 

 The brush at the edge of the woods was swept aside and Elias strode out onto the riverbank, looking around him. His eyes—even at this distance—blazed, and Mildred sucked in her breath. It looked like the giant had cracked under the strain and was quite mad, which would make him completely unpredictable.

 

 His companion stayed hidden while the giant looked up and down the bank and across to the outcrop, where Jak remained silent and still in the shadows. Elias saw nothing and assumed that the cave was empty. He turned to the brush, where his companion stayed hidden, and laughed loud and harsh, gesturing with his blaster.

 

 "Come out, you cretin. She has done nothing as yet and we have all the time in the world."

 

 Mildred looked at Markos, whose eyes were intently trained on the scene.

 

 "Now we'll see who his accomplice is," the sec boss whispered, cradling his H&K.

 

 From the brush, peering out as though disbelieving of his compatriot, Chan cautiously emerged.

 

 Mildred braced herself, watching Markos's face. The sec boss appeared to pay the revelation no heed whatsoever—although if she could have seen in clearer light, Mildred would have noted a hardening and tightening around his jaw.

 

 "This is too easy," Chan said in a voice that, although not loud, carried across the space between himself and his brother in hiding. "She must have said something, if not to her pale friend then to that cretinous Sineta and my fool brother."

 

 "What? You dare to mock your wonderful brother?" Elias chided.

 

 Chan spit on the ground. "He pretends to love me, but he is like the others. He cannot see me as anything other than freak because of this. He is the hero, stupid as he is, because he has a black skin, and he is the one who would have a chance of marrying the baron's daughter, even though they would produce brainless cretins."

 

 "Markos, no!" Mildred hissed as she felt the sec boss brace beside her, his calf and thigh muscles propelling him upward, the catch on his H&K snapping off.

 

 "Let him," Sineta said, also scrambling to her feet, her tension unleashed by his action.

 

 "Shit, this is not good," Mildred muttered to herself as both Markos and Sineta broke cover, running for the riverbank.

 

 SILENT IN THE CAVE, Jak watched as Elias and Chan bickered on the bank and then Markos and Sineta— without Mildred—broke cover and walked openly toward the two bandits.

 

 Although no one could ever have told as much from his still-impassive expression, Jak was amazed at what was happening. Mildred hadn't broken cover, which suggested that the other two hadn't listened to her. That was their choice, but it was a choice that was likely to get them chilled. Jak couldn't see for sure, but it looked to him as though only Elias was armed. That cut down on the odds, but it still meant that both the sec boss and the baron's daughter were offering the giant a clear shot on either or both of them.

 

 Cursing inwardly, Jak uncoiled from his position and began to move toward the lip of the cave.

 

 It looked as if he'd have to make his move before he would have wished.

 

 MILDRED WATCHED them walk into the open in sheer disbelief. She, too, had moved out of cover, but was keeping low. Something that Markos and Sineta were failing to do. She would have expected this from the baron's daughter, but not from the sec boss.

 

 "Stop right there. Don't move a muscle or twitch an eyelid, unless you want to join our ancestors."

 

 Markos's voice was firm and carried over the distance despite not being loud. It made his brother turn and gasp, falling to his knees as the shock and his accumulated fear finally got the better of him. Elias, on the other hand, was made of sterner stuff.

 

 On hearing the voice, the giant whirled and fired. The shots echoed across the last few words uttered by the sec boss. He laughed maniacally as he fired, falling sideways to avoid being a sitting target for any return fire.

 

 One of the shots hit Markos in the shoulder, throwing him backward, his H&K falling from nerveless fingers. He stared wide-eyed at his shoulder, the shock of seeing his brother followed by his rash action and his injury throwing him into a paralyzed confusion.

 

 "Oh, fuck it," Mildred muttered under her breath as she moved forward, breaking into a run. The tableau in front of her eyes presented her with two distinct problems. First, Chan was scrambling toward where Markos's H&K had landed, with the intention of laying hands on it. That would make him a threat, which he hadn't been up to that point. Second, Elias was standing with a blaster in his hand, sizing up a shot at Sineta. For her part, the baron's daughter was facing the same dilemma as Mildred. She stood between the two threats, not knowing which one to go for. Her Glock was uselessly pointed somewhere between the two. Mildred could make a snap decision and act. In fact, if she had been standing in Sineta's position she would have had no hesitation in taking out Elias first, then pivoting and taking out Chan with a second shot. But she wasn't in that position. From where she was, running, there was no way she could do both. And Sineta, for all her raw courage, had no idea of which to go for first, and no experience to guarantee a good shot.

 

 Mildred could only take one of the options, and she knew which one it had to be when she glanced across toward the outcrop and saw Jak emerge.

 

 The albino hunter jumped nimbly from the mouth of the cave and into the river, hitting the bottom with a stride that already propelled him across nearly half the distance to the shore. As he jumped and landed, he unholstered his Colt Python and extended his arm, the heavy blaster dwarfing his small, scarred white hand. His arm was at full extension, rock-solid as he took another stride. He saw Elias bring the blaster up toward Sineta to get a clean shot.

 

 Jak didn't hesitate. In a fraction of a second he sighted along the barrel of the Colt as he strode forward and squeezed the trigger, almost with a caress. The recoil from the powerful blaster didn't even jolt the tensed muscles of his forearm and bicep, the arm remaining rock-solid.

 

 Elias didn't know what hit him. One second he was shaping to blast Sineta, whose hand he had once sought in the pursuit of power; the next he knew nothing as he was despatched to join his ancestors.

 

 Sineta saw Elias level the blaster and tried to turn to fire, but she knew she was too slow and was preparing to meet her forefathers when she saw the giant's head suddenly explode in front of her. One second his malevolent glaring eyes and vulpine grin framed her imminent demise, the next they had disappeared as his skull split open and a spray of blood, brain and bone splinters spewed out around his head, mostly to her left. The corpse, now with just half a head, tumbled sideways.

 

 Sineta screamed.

 

 Mildred had ignored the shot from Jak and the woman's scream, concentrating her attention instead on Chan. If she had stopped and taken aim, she could probably have chilled him before he reached the H&K, but her momentum was such that it would have taken a fraction of a second too long to actually come to a complete halt. Her best bet was to keep running and to throw herself at the albino, stopping him gaining the weapon.

 

 Chan was reaching for the H&K when he felt Mildred cannon into him. He hadn't looked up to see her coming, so had taken no evasive action when she threw herself across the last couple of yards. He was kneeling, but she pitched herself low and he was flung back—and away from the blaster—by her sudden appearance and impact. Unfortunately for Mildred, the momentum of her flight carried them back toward the woods. As they landed she hit the side of her head on an upraised tree root.

 

 Desperately, Mildred fought to cling to her faculties, even though stars exploded inside her head and the world turned upside down. She felt her limbs grow heavy and unresponsive, refusing to react and allowing Chan to squirm out from under her. Her ZKR slipped from her grasp and before she had a chance to drunkenly fumble for it, the albino had seized it and taken hold of her arm, twisting it up behind her and holding the blaster to her head, dragging her to her feet.

 

 Mildred's vision cleared with the sudden lurch of fear that greeted her realization of her position. In the brief moment that she had been knocked almost senseless by the tree root, she had enabled Chan to gain the upper hand, the very thing she had hoped to avoid.

 

 In front of her she could see the chilled Elias; Sineta, on her knees and gasping for breath; Jak emerging from the water, still holding the Colt Python, and Markos, one arm hanging uselessly to his side, the other grasping the recovered H&K.

 

 The sec boss scrambled to his feet and looked behind him.

 

 "Jak, no!" he exclaimed. "He's my brother—leave him to me."

 

 "Okay, but if Mildred chilled, you next," Jak said, letting the Colt drop to his side.

 

 Markos turned back toward Mildred and Chan, taking a slow step forward. Mildred felt Chan's grip tighten, the barrel of the ZKR press into her temple.

 

 "Don't think you can appeal to any familial sentiment," Chan blurted. "I cannot be swayed by that which I do not feel."

 

 "You mean that our lives were a sham? That they meant nothing? Do you really believe that I cared for you, protected you, for nothing?"

 

 "Yes, for something—to make you feel good, to make you feel big. The big, strong brother to look after the weakling freak. How good that makes you, my brother…and how small that makes me."

 

 "It is what you do now that makes you small," Markos replied sadly, leveling the H&K.

 

 "Think before you do that," Chan yelled. Mildred could almost smell the fear on the albino as his breath rasped in her ear. "Think, my beloved brother. You would have to be a fine shot to chill me before I could fire on the bitch…the bitch you want more than anything. You think I do not know that? And you think that does not disgust me more, to know that you would go with someone degraded by the whitelander? So think—fire on me and you will lose her, for if I do not chill her then your shooting will not be good enough to take me without going through her."

 

 "Are you willing to wager your life on that?" Markos asked quietly. The H&K was still raised and the sec boss was as still as a standing stone. His eyes were barely visible in the wan moonlight, but Mildred could see that there was a fire in them. He would not back down; did his brother know him well enough to realize that?

 

 Chan began to pressure the trigger on the ZKR.

 

 The shot was single and loud in the quietness of the night. Mildred closed her eyes and waited for her brain to explode as Chan pulled the trigger of the ZKR.

 

 It didn't happen. She felt his grip relax and heard the ZKR clatter on the roots at their feet. She let her jaw drop. She was so startled that there was nothing she could do. Hardly daring to turn, she slowly pivoted to see the albino at her feet, a hole in the middle of his forehead, a spreading dark pool at the back of his skull indicating the size of the exit wound. His eyes were wide, his mouth open in shock, much like her own. But unlike her, his were eyes that would see no more in this world.

 

 Turning back, she could see Markos calmly standing, his blaster still leveled.

 

 "He should have tried to appeal to me as a brother. That worked all our lives, and I never realized how he really felt. Fear and danger are strange things, are they not, in the manner of which they betray the truth."

 

 Jak rushed past the sec boss to Mildred.

 

 "You okay?" he asked, bending to retrieve the ZKR, which she took from him without thinking.

 

 "Yeah, at least I think so. Shit, Jak, I think I might actually be in shock," she said in amazement.

 

 Jak led her back to the edge of the riverbank, where Sineta now stood, shaking her head.

 

 "What do we do with this carnage?" the woman said quietly.

 

 "Figure we leave these for carrion, come back in daylight and get the treasure for your father," Jak said.

 

 Sineta nodded with an air of finality. "Yes. It should be done like that."

 

 Mildred walked back to where Markos was standing, looking down on the corpse of his brother. "You hear that?" she asked gently.

 

 "Yes…yes, I have no business here. Not now," he said softly.

 

 Mildred took his arm and they walked back to Jak and Sineta. The baron's daughter was trying not to look at Elias's mutilated corpse. Jak indicated that they should leave and gently guided her past the corpse. Markos didn't look back.

 

 The moon was beginning to wane, sunrise only an hour or less away.

 

 IN THE COLD LIGHT of morning, it was easier for both Sineta and Markos to return to the riverbank. Jak, Ryan and J.B. preceded them with three of the sec force to bury the corpses of Elias and Chan, which showed signs of investigation from the predators of the woods. By the time the main party had arrived, the bandits were beneath the soil. Markos didn't speak of them as he asked Mildred for all the information regarding access to the treasure that she had been told by Barras.

 

 Going across to the cave, Markos entered with two of his men and Ryan, J.B. and Jak. The wiry albino hunter was the one chosen to take the pothole route into the inner cave where the treasure had been secured. When he triggered the entrance mechanism and the party gained entrance, it was easy to see why the baron had wished the treasure to be recovered before the Pilatans left their island home. Carefully wrapped to provide as much protection as possible, there were precious metals and jewels both loose and in settings. There was also paper jack, which was now useless in a post-skydark world. In any case, the damp of the cave had permeated the coverings and the paper had rotted and mulched.

 

 It took little more than an hour to remove the treasure from the cave and to take it across the short distance to the shore, where Sineta and Mildred watched as it was unwrapped. Some of it would be useful on the mainland, but it seemed very little for Elias and Chan to risk—and lose—their lives over. And very little for Markos to lose much of his life over. For the sec boss had been subdued since the previous night. It was as though all he had believed had been proved to be false. His ideals had been fired by the words and ideas of his beloved brother, just as his actions had been directed toward the protection of Chan and all that he believed. Protection of a brother who he thought had loved him, but had used that belief as a mask behind which there was only loathing and manipulation.

 

 The see boss was subdued as they took the treasure back to the ville, where Sineta showed it to her father, and the treachery of Elias and Chan was revealed. Barras was dismissive of the now-chilled bandits, glad only to see the treasure recovered in time for the exodus.

 

 It was only a few hours before the baron flew to join his ancestors.

 

 IN THE DAYS that followed the death of the baron, the preparations for the journey to the whitelands were subdued. Sineta assumed the baron's role in total, and Markos backed her in a public address in which he condemned his brother for his hypocrisy. He also stated that he found it hard to agree wholeheartedly with leaving the island of Pilatu, but would back Sineta one hundred percent. His personal views could not come before the only viable future the Pilatans could have. As he spoke, Mildred could see that he was a troubled soul, but he had resisted all attempts she had made to see him and talk to him about what had happened, and about their relationship—such as it had been.

 

 Sineta and Mildred did, however, speak about marriage. The baron's daughter had met Markos to discuss her father's notion of marrying either the sec boss or the charismatic Elias.

 

 Before Sineta had a chance to speak, the sec boss had sardonically pointed out that the latter had been a very bad call, and as for the notion of his marrying her, well, that had been at the instigation of his brother, who had wished to use him as a political tool. The idea of marrying for the pursuit of power was one that he found distasteful and, with all respect to the new baron, he would be only too glad if the subject was never again raised.

 

 So work continued. The deaths of Elias and Chan had shown the divisions between the peoples of Pilatu as something of an artificial divide and even the most hardened of separatists had worked harder to prepare for the exodus. Their views remained unchanged, but they would fight for their beliefs when the Pilatans had gained a new homeland that was more fertile and able to support them.

 

 The boats were finished and loaded. The adobe homes were stripped of all but the barest last minute essentials. The animals were loaded during the final day, and the night was given to muted celebrations. Muted because of the arduous journey ahead. Muted because the islanders were sad to be leaving their home after so many generations. And yet there was a mood of optimism engendered by the gaining of the treasure—which would provide valuable jack and barter in the, to them, new world—and by the accession of a new baron who would prove to be strong. Barras had been a good man, but of necessity his long illness and decline had left the ville in limbo for some while.

 

 On the morrow, the journey would begin: but before this there were still matters to be addressed.

 

 DEAN HAD BEEN keeping his head down and getting on with the work allotted to him, yet he had obviously been preoccupied. Ryan had tried to talk to him, but the youngster had been reticent to speak to his father. Doc had also tried. He had always been able to converse with the youth; even he could get little more from him than a vague admission that something had been troubling him.

 

 Krysty had been able to tell for some while that there was a matter weighing heavily on Dean's mind. Yet she could also tell that he wasn't yet ready to talk about it. Until now, that is…

 

 Dean was sitting at the back of the adobe dwelling they had called home for the past few weeks, staring out into the night. He had crept away from the celebrations in the center of the ville and was staring up at the sky, so preoccupied that he didn't hear Krysty approach. He started when she spoke.

 

 "You want to watch that. It could be dangerous," she commented, seating herself beside him.

 

  "Sorry…1 guess I was thinking," he replied.

 

 Krysty sucked in her breath. "Oh, that's dangerous, too much thinking. Especially when it cuts you off from everyone. Mebbe it's best then to share the thoughts, make them seem less heavy?"

 

 "I don't know," Dean said nervously, scraping the ground with his boot. "It sounds kind of stupe to me, so mebbe you'll think I've gone as crazy as Doc if I tell you."

 

 Krysty laughed. "I'm not sure if that's even possible, but tell me anyway. It won't go any further and it may just help."

 

 "Okay. Here goes…" With which he began to tell her about the dreams he'd had since the mat-trans jump. "They seem— Hot pipe, it seems like sometimes the dreams are real and this is the dream. And that feels really weird. And that's not all…"

 

 Krysty watched closely. Dean was on the verge of saying something important but was having trouble framing the right words. Finally they came, and they were profoundly shocking.

 

 "Sometimes it feels to me like Rona's still alive and that I have to find her. That it's some kind of message. And being here is a part of that, 'cause I've seen what it's like to have family and to belong."

 

 "And you don't feel that we're your family and that you belong with us?"

 

 "No, yes, I mean—" Dean stuttered. Pausing to take a deep breath, he began again. "You, Dad, Doc, Jak— all of you are family. But it's different with Rona. I was with her from when I was small. I didn't even know my dad until after I was taken from the Brody school. That time before I was only just getting to know him… all of you. But I don't belong, any more than any of us belong. Not like Mildred does with these people."

 

 "But, sweetheart, Mildred's chosen to go with us and to stay with us, once we reach the mainland. She's decided that she belongs more with us, despite any racial or cultural heritage."

 

 Dean, who had been watching closely, had a notion that Mildred's decision was based on something a little more personal than Krysty would have him believe, but said nothing of this. Instead he said, "Yeah, but she's had a chance to make that choice. Until I find out what happened to Rona, then I'll never know."

 

 Krysty chewed her lip. "I thought Sharona had rad sickness—cancer—and was buying the farm. That was why she entrusted you—"

 

 "I know, I know," Dean interrupted. "But I've just got this feeling that she's still alive. A feeling that I can't explain. But I know I've got to do something about it." Krysty frowned. "Okay. When you've got to do something like this, then you've just got to…but wait until we get over the water and promise me you'll talk about it with your father."

 

 Dean nodded. "Yeah. I know I've got to talk to him about it. And I promise I'll do it then."

 

 MILDRED WAS ALSO FACING a testing time in talk. During the evening's activity, Markos had approached her to ask if they could talk. She had arranged to meet him later at Sineta's quarters and was waiting with some apprehension when he arrived.

 

 "It is good of you to meet with me," he said stiffly as she admitted him to the house.

 

 "Is it really that hard to talk, especially as you're the one who asked?" she replied with warmth.

 

 He smiled wryly. "No and yes in equal measure. I feel as much of a fool as my brother called me for being sucked into his schemes, and yet I have no one now that I can turn to for advice."

 

 "And you want advice from me?"

 

 He shrugged. "Perhaps. I still feel uneasy about traveling to the whitelands and mixing with the pale ones…and yet I know this is foolish, as my own brother and Elias have shown that treachery and deceit are not endemic to color. I have also seen your friends, worked beside them now, and know them to be good people. But I cannot shake that feeling that is within me."

 

 Mildred took his hand and led him to the table in the corner of the room, seating him on one of the chairs while she took another.

 

 "You know, you shouldn't be too hard on yourself about this," she began. "You've had a lifetime of your brother telling you something, and you know, he wasn't without a point."

 

 "You can say this?" Markos asked, surprised.

 

 "Look, there are things about me that you can never know and would never understand…things that you would find hard to believe. But, for whatever reason, I know what it was like before skydark came across the world. And there were plenty of reasons for black people to feel the way that you and the other separatists feel about the whitelands. There was a time when we couldn't use the same restaurants, the same latrines, the same wags. Couldn't have equal housing or equal jack, and were treated like pieces of shit. Things began to change, but it was forced, and there were those who felt that it would always be that way. They wanted a separate land for blacks, a separate nation. They were right.

 

 It was forced. But the point is that with each generation it got a little less forced on each side, and eventually people would have seen no difference. Just because it doesn't happen in the span of your lifetime doesn't mean it'll never happen. You fight for your sons and daughters as much as yourself.

 

 "And things have changed since the nukecaust. Yeah, I've seen people get picked on because they're a different color, a different race, but also because they're from a different ville or are muties and so different. That's what it's all about—difference. It doesn't matter what they make that difference, it's still about fear of being something else. Just like you've got the fear of the pale ones being different. Makes you the same as them.

 

 "But now, it's about your ville rather than your color. People live together and pull together to survive. No one gives a damn that you're black if you're helping them bring in the harvest or pulling them out of a hole. As long as none of you buy the farm, that's all that matters."

 

 Markos pondered this. Finally he said, "I wish I could truly understand that. I can see the sense of your words, but there is a part of me that questions their veracity. These are different things."

 

 "Oh, yeah, they're that, all right," Mildred replied. "But you'll see and soon enough." She fell silent for a moment, thinking of J.B. and the rest of the companions, people she would pull with and chill for. "Yeah, you'll see soon enough," she reiterated.

 

  

 

 Chapter Twelve

 

  

 

 Exodus began shortly after daybreak with the Pilatans gathering the last of their belongings and moving away from their old homes and toward the inlet bay, where the boats lay waiting with their cargoes of animals and belongings, the former quietened by fear and a lack of understanding about what was about to occur. There was a subdued, melancholy air about the islanders as they loaded the boats and prepared to cast off.

 

 Sineta and Markos would be the last to board their vessels, the sec boss because he was determined to oversee the final moments of the exodus and make things run as smoothly as possible and the new baron because she felt a great sadness at departure and a sudden desire to stay, even if it was on her own.

 

 Krysty, on the same boat as Mildred, observed Sineta as she cast a last look around.

 

 "Perhaps you should go and be with her," she whispered to Mildred.

 

 Mildred shook her head. "No, she needs to be alone right now. I can understand that. After all, she'll go down in Pilatan history as the woman who led them away from their homeland. It must be kind of hard to know that posterity will label you that way, even if you had no choice."

 

 "It could be a good thing, in the long run as well as the short," Krysty countered.

 

 Mildred smiled. "Yeah, but would you think of that right now?"

 

 Meanwhile, on the shore, the last of the islanders had boarded their boats, which were moored off a wooden pier built out into the depths of the inlet. Everyone and every animal had walked the long, planked pier to board the boats, which were then anchored a short distance away to allow the next boat to tie up and finish loading. It was this changeover that took time, and so it was past noon by the time that all the boats were finally ready. The islanders had never had to deal with more than two boats at a time during the days spent fishing, and so were ill equipped for a mass exodus. The waiting had increased the air of melancholy that hung like a pall over the small fleet. As Sineta and Markos—the last two Pilatans on the island—took the walk down the wooden pier to board their boat, it was as though they were walking into a fog that threatened to envelop them.

 

 The last boat cast off from the pier and, under the direction of a Pilatan fisherman and the sec boss, took the lead as the other boats lifted their anchors and began to heave to and follow in the wake of the craft that was to take them away to a new life.

 

 Krysty, Mildred and Jak were on one boat. Ryan and Dean on another. J.B. and Doc traveled on the lead boat. They hadn't been split as a deliberate decision. Places on the boats were allocated according to a draw that had been made in the ville square the night before. Its purpose was to alleviate any possibility of argument among the islanders; the only exceptions had been the fishermen, who were to pilot the boats and so were exempt from any random process.

 

 Although a fair means in one way, it also divided families and friends who would have wished to face the perils of the sea together. The apprehension this lottery engendered did little to detract from the general air of depression that lay over the traveling party.

 

 The sea was calm as they headed out into the open water before turning to round the island and make their way toward the mainland. There was a strong breeze that caught in the patched sails of the crafts, billowing the material and driving the heavily laden boats through the water. Ryan peered over the side of his craft as he joined the ship's pilot, Orthos, at the tiller.

 

 "Moving low in the water," the one-eyed man commented in a neutral tone.

 

 The sailor fixed him with a stare that probed for any meaning, then spoke in an equally neutral tone.

 

 "It is true that we sail close to the waves, but there is yet enough buoyancy to keep us afloat."

 

 Ryan returned the sailor's stare. "I wasn't commenting on your people's abilities as seamen, but I'm on this ship, too, and it's not that long ago that my people were caught in the white water."

 

 Orthos was silent for a moment, pondering his answer. "Very well, I will agree with you that we are too low in the water for my liking. Nothing must be said, as panic would be a greater enemy, but I feel that we have too much in too few ships. If only they had given us more time…"

 

 Ryan nodded. "Do you reckon we'll be able to ride out the roughs?"

 

 Orthos gave a small shrug, his face still impassive. "Trust, hope and faith are all I can offer, but a helping hand from you and your son if things get rough would not go amiss. You have both experienced the waters and you could be of use."

 

 Ryan nodded; words were unnecessary. He turned to find Dean and to prepare him for what may lay ahead.

 

 However, not all the sailors were as forthcoming as Orthos. For on another boat, Doc had also drawn the matter to the attention of the Armorer.

 

 "John Barrymore, I feel it necessary that you should perhaps glance over the side of this craft," the old man said in passing. J.B. did so, whistling softly to himself when he saw how low in the water they sat. Glancing around, he could see that the sailor on the tiller was a man unknown to him.

 

 "Figure I should mention this, Doc?" The old man shrugged. "They would be poor sailors if they were not already aware of the matter. I fear they were given little choice in the matter, egged on by the exegeses of time."

 

 "Yeah," J.B. replied slowly. "I think I know what you mean and you're right. But no one else seems to be aware," he added, looking at his fellow passengers, who were either too wrapped in their own sadness at leaving their home or too busy being seasick to give the matter much thought. "I figure that at least some of us should be prepared for any trouble when we hit the rough sea. Let's go and have a few words with the guy on the tiller."

 

 "I would concur with that," Doc muttered, following the Armorer as he threaded his way through the crowded interior of the boat.

 

 As J.B. approached, he knew that it was going to be difficult. He now recognized the man as one of the hostile separatists who had been on the tree-felling parties with the companions.

 

 "What do you want, pale one?" the sailor asked, a malevolence in his voice that he barely disguised.

 

 J.B. held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, I only wanted to say that I've noticed that we're a little low on the waterline. If there's any problems, we want to help," he continued, indicating both Doc and himself.

 

 The sailor sneered. "We are able to handle our own problems without help from outsiders."

 

 J.B. was on the point of answering, but bit hard on his tongue. Perhaps things would be different if there was actually a crisis, but arguing now would achieve nothing on either side.

 

 "Okay, have it your way," he said simply, turning away.

 

 THE FIRST FEW HOURS of the voyage were little more than tedious as the convoy of Pilatan ships sailed out and around the island on a flat sea. Following the lead boat, which was piloted by Sineta and Markos under the direction of the island's most experienced sailor, the convoy proscribed an arc that took them out beyond any reefs that may lay in wait to snag a boat that sat lower than usual in the water. The heat of the afternoon sun and the glassy surface of the water made for a smooth passage, and the people on the boats were lulled into an almost comatose state by the calm.

 

 That changed with a shocking suddenness as the convoy rounded the island and hit the stretch of water that lay between Pilatu and the mainland.

 

 The calm, glassy surface suddenly gave way to white water that rose up as the crosscurrents of the channel churned the water and pulled beneath the surface.

 

 As the lead boat hit the first conflicting current, it was as though the prow had slammed into concrete. The timbers moaned and protested as the force of the water hit them; and the rigging moaned, wind dropping from sails that were suddenly flung out of alignment. All around the island, the rigging had been angled to catch the wind, but now it was proving impossible. The motors fitted to each boat would have to be brought into play. They had remained unused up to this point as each skipper had wanted to save the fuel and resultant horsepower until necessity dictated. That time had now arrived.

 

 "Fire the engine," Markos yelled. But there was no responding cry as the call had been lost amid the panic that the sudden impact had triggered. Shaken violently from their repose, the people on board the boat had responded by panicking, the very thing he had hoped to avoid.

 

 Cursing, the sec boss plunged into the throng below, only to find himself thrown off his feet as the next crosscurrent hit the boat, showering the inhabitants with cold salt spray as the boat was flung sideways with the impact. Regaining his balance, it was hard for the sec boss to fight his way through. He also noticed that the craft was beginning to ship water as it dipped over and under the riders, taking on water at the prow. More than ever, it was important to get the motor running so that they could cut through the crosscurrents as quickly as possible.

 

 Sineta came down and moved among her people, her presence alone reassuring them. Although the baron was trembling inside, she remained outwardly strong and calm, organizing the people so that they began to bale out the excess water the boat was shipping. The activity wasn't only necessary to keep the top heavy craft afloat, it also helped to focus the people aboard and to quell any panic in the need for action.

 

 By the time Markos had the engine fired and the boat began to cut through the water, headed for the peninsula, the Pilatans were baling as fast as they could.

 

 On the ships that followed, there were similar problems.

 

 "Brace yourselves, here it comes," Mildred yelled, keeping her eyes fixed on the boat in the lead and on the first indication of turbulence that broke the surface. Forewarned by the difficulties of the first craft, those behind had braced themselves for the impact, but there was still little chance of being truly prepared for the sudden shock of first impact.

 

 "Watch out above!" Krysty yelled over the noise— the crash of the waves on the boat, the groaning of the timbers, the yelling of frightened Pilatans and startled animals, and—most ominously—the squeal of rigging that had been torn loose.

 

 Above them, the mast had splintered under the conflicting stresses of sea and wind, and the heavy wood and sails toppled to plummet onto the deck below.

 

 Two Pilatan women and a man stood in the direct path. All were transfixed as the rigging fell, unable to move as a crippling terror paralyzed them. The man— much older—had to have been the father or uncle of the two women, who huddled into him. He spread his arms uselessly around them, in a feeble imitation of protection. It would serve to be of no use when the heavy rigging hit them.

 

 Mildred was out of range, but she saw Jak, surefooted even in the pitch and yaw of the wave tossed boat, head toward them. The albino moved swiftly, gathering speed and momentum as he slalomed around upright bodies and hurdled those who were prone. He seemed able to do this without looking at the deck, his gaze fixed on the rigging above as it fell toward the trio, seemingly in slow motion.

 

 When he was about seven feet from the three Pilatans, the albino tensed his muscles, the cords standing out on his thighs and calves, blood pumping in his ears, and threw himself through the air, spreading his arms wide to encompass the width of all three bodies.

 

 He didn't see them as he hit the obstacle of unmoving flesh. His head was tucked down into his right shoulder to offer his neck some protection from the impact that he knew was inevitable. He felt himself hammer into them, the momentum he had built up almost stopped dead by their frozen terror. But not quite. The force of Jak's weight—as slender as he was—going at top speed was enough to drive all three of the terrified Pilatans backward, stumbling steps halting and falling into a heap.

 

 The rigging hit the deck with a splintering crash, smashing deck planking where they had stood but a fraction of a second before. The impact seemed to galvanize everyone on board.

 

 "Get that engine running!" the lead seaman screamed over the sound of the whiplash waves. The engine throbbed and roared, battling against the currents as the ship's tiller was turned to direct it toward the shore and the peninsula.

 

 "Hot pipe! Did you see that!" Dean exclaimed to his father as they watched the rigging fall on the ship in front.

 

 "Let's hope it doesn't do that here," Ryan commented, casting his eye over the rigging above.

 

 "Hey, you wanted to help? Then give me a hand with this," yelled Orthos, who had left the tiller to come down to the main body of the boat. "We need to gather the sails in while the engine's fired—that'll stop it going."

 

 Dean and Ryan joined the sailor and other fellow travelers in pulling down the ropes and sails from the rigging, letting them rest on the deck once the billowing air had been pushed from beneath them.

 

 "Engine won't fire," yelled a seaman, running to them.

 

 Orthos swore. "So long since I've used the engine, I don't know if I could fix it."

 

 "Let me try," Dean said quickly, pushing to the rear of the boat where another seaman was struggling with the ignition. Without a word he stood aside as Dean hunkered over the machinery, studying it. He tried the self-starter again; it refused to fire. Pulling the wires from the switch, he tried again, this time by hot wiring. The engine fired.

 

 "Good job it was just a screwed-up switch. Don't know what I would have tried next." He laughed.

 

 "Long as it works, don't worry about it." Orthos grinned. "Come on. We're shipping water and need to bale. No rest for any of us until we're through this."

 

 Unfortunately for J.B. and Doc, the cooperation of the other boats wasn't to be echoed on their own vessel. It was shipping water faster than many of the others, as it was weighed down heavily with much of the livestock. Although the engine had fired and the rigging was secured, the boat was still slow because of its weight and was struggling across the white water.

 

 The Armorer and Doc had both moved to help bale water, but were stopped by the sailor who had been on the tiller.

 

 "Don't move," he said, holding a Glock.

 

 "We only want to help," Doc said calmly.

 

 "Think I trust pale ones to be helping? This is our ship, our journey. Leave it to us."

 

 "For God's sake, man, what do you think we are likely to do?" Doc countered. "Why should we do any harm? If this ship goes, we go with it. We are all in this together."

 

 The separatist sneered. "You're in nothing with us, you stupe old man. I—"

 

 But his attempt at justification was cut short by another wave that swept across the deck. It caught him off balance and threw him toward the rail. Losing his grip on the Glock, which fell to the deck, he toppled over the rail and just managed to catch hold as he fell toward the waves. He screamed with pain as the jolt almost pulled his arm from its socket.

 

 At the same moment the damage from the battering waves caused the ropes on one of the livestock cages to snap; three terrified and enraged bulls stumbled from their captivity and onto the deck.

 

 "I'll get him. You try to keep them away," J.B. yelled to Doc.

 

 The old man nodded, understanding immediately that it was a necessity to keep the frightened beasts from the rail near the struggling man. Moving toward them, Doc tried to cut off their progress, shooing them back toward the opposite rail. He beckoned to others to help, and soon there were several Pilatans helping him to round up the cattle and direct them back toward their cage. As the frightened creatures entered what had to have seemed like a secure haven, Doc took a length of rope proffered by a sailor and secured the cage.

 

 Meanwhile, J.B. rushed to the rail and reached over for the separatist's other arm, which flailed by his side. He knew that to grab the already strained arm would possibly cause dislocation. He had to take the strain from that limb if he was to save the man.

 

 "Give it to me," the Armorer yelled, reaching for the free hand.

 

 With a look of disbelief and incomprehension etched on his face, the separatist took J.B.'s proffered hand and the Armorer locked on to his wrist, using his other hand to reach over as far as he dare to grab beneath the man's elbow. Heaving with all his strength, he pulled at the heavy body, tugging it up. The deck was slippery, and he was only too well aware that the boat was still pitching. But he ignored it as he heaved the man upward.

 

 The separatist got his other hand on the rail and J.B. released his grip, reaching over to the man's belt and pulling him onto the deck.

 

 J.B. collapsed beside the gasping man, his own strength temporarily drained by the rescue.

 

 "I—I thought…" panted the separatist.

 

 "Leave it," the Armorer breathed through bursting lungs. "Let's just get out of this channel."

 

 Even as he spoke, the last of the boats breached the reaches of the white water and was gaining calmer seas as, battered but still in one piece, the Pilatan convoy struck out for the peninsula leading to the mainland.

 

 ALTHOUGH THE WATERS were now calm, there was still the matter of passing the jagged shards of rock that jutted from the still waters as they approached the peninsula.

 

 Looking up from their boats, the companions could all see the green hillside and the barely concealed entrance to the redoubt where they had arrived a few weeks earlier. And, beyond the swollen bulb of land formed by the green sward, there was the narrow strip of slate rock that formed the eroded peninsula that linked the hillside to the mainland, with the break in the central section where the slate had given way and crumbled down to the sea below. All along the cliff side that stretched on each side of the peninsula were sheer slate faces, with no way of gaining the lip of the mainland. For all of them, it recalled the reason they had headed for the island.

 

 But, approaching it from this angle, there was perhaps a way in which they could gain the top of the cliff and so attain the mainland.

 

 Where the narrow strip of slate and rock had tumbled into the sea, there was a scree now covered with moss and sea slime. It wasn't a particularly steep incline, although it would be slippery, and they would have to take great care. If they anchored the boats at low tide and then unloaded into the shallows, it would be possible to climb this incline and reach the remains of the peninsula bridge that took them onto the mainland. The obstacle that had prevented the companions from previously using this route was now eliminated. Prior to this, they would have had to scale down one side, then up another, risking the tide. Now, with boats that were anchored in the shallows, they could make their way from ship to shore with a haven at each end when the tide began to rise.

 

 It still wasn't going to be easy. But at least it would be less of a risk than to be caught by the incoming tide.

 

 Markos and Sineta anchored their boat, directing the seamen on the best position. That was something that the sec boss and the baron had determined on maps of the area in consultation with Mildred before leaving. Following the lead of their baron, the other boats took up anchor positions, forming a crescent that bridged the gap between the two sides of the rock bridge.

 

 Jak looked up at the sky. "Sun low—not get everyone out by nightfall," he commented.

 

 Mildred followed his gaze. The late afternoon was turning into early evening, and she reckoned they had two, maybe three, hours at most of a reasonable light left to them. There was little chance of discharging all the boats by that time. Some would have to spend a night on the water, as attempting the climb by moonlight would be an invitation to disaster. The notion of having the islanders divided by night wasn't appealing. No one was sure how far it was to the nearest ville, and so any possible attack; neither did they know what kind of predatory wildlife stalked the hillsides.

 

 "I'd feel a whole lot better if some of us were first up," she said. "Markos is a good sec chief, but he's never been on the mainland in his life. They've never— any of them—-fired a shot in anger at real human opponents."

 

 "Nothing can do. Just chance." Jak shrugged.

 

 As they spoke, the first party of Pilatans left the leading boat and began the ascent. Markos and Sineta took the lead and, as she watched them, Mildred reflected that the death of Barras and also the chilling of Chan had drawn the two closer together—not in the sense of a marriage of convenience that the two dead men had wanted, but that a mutual sense of loss had driven them to work harder in a time of adversity.

 

 The ascent was difficult. The slime and moss that covered the scree was soft and slippery underfoot, making it hard to get a grip on the rocks. And the small stones that lay beneath the slime were apt to fall away suddenly in showers of gravel that covered those following and made a foothold all the harder. Both Markos and Sineta took the slope virtually on all fours, testing each hold as they went, despite the shallow angle. It was the only way that they could insure a safe grip. It took them nearly half an hour to reach the top of the rocks, during which time they were virtually defenseless should there be an attack from above. The sec men on the boats, and Ryan and J.B. with their longer range blasters, provided the possibility of covering fire. However, at that distance, it would be hard to provide an effective defense, even though the bare rock-slate peninsula offered little cover of its own and would make an attacking force of any kind an open target in its own right.

 

 When Markos and Sineta attained the flat of the rock, they lay panting.

 

 "If it is this hard for us, then how will the animals and the old cope?" the baron gasped eventually.

 

 "As with all endeavor—because they have to," Markos replied when he had caught his breath. As he spoke, they were joined by the next wave of Pilatans from the first boat. These carried ropes coiled around them. Markos allowed them only a short while to recover before instructing them to proceed with the plans they had been given.

 

 The Pilatans threw the ropes down to the rocks below, past another wave of ascending men and women. The older, more infirm Pilatans were being assisted by those who were stronger, and at times the ascent was reduced to a crawl—but still it continued, never actually grinding to a halt.

 

 At the bottom of the scree, there were those who had helped to unload crates and packages from the boat.

 

 They waited patiently, then took the proffered ropes and attached them securely to the crates. Each one had been designed and packed specifically so that it would be of a suitable weight for what next occurred. While the man down with the crate pushed from behind, grasping the tied rope firmly as he pushed, the man above pulled and acted as an anchor, taking the strain of the crate's weight and also acting as a counterweight for the man behind the crate, lest he should slip. Depending on the comparative strengths of the two men, it actually speeded up the process of ascent.

 

 When the first boat was empty, it was turned by the last seaman aboard, the tiller tied so that it headed out toward the sheer cliff face, away from the semicircle of companion craft. The seaman left his boat, letting it scupper itself on the rocks and leaving a gap where the next boat in line could come in to land its crew and cargo. The loss of the boats was regrettable, as they had taken such resources to put together. But they were now of little use, and to leave them as empty and soon to be rotting hulks would only make it harder for the other craft to maneuver into shore.

 

 Up on the smooth surface of the peninsula's rock bridge, there were now enough Pilatans for Markos to form a sec patrol that ventured to the point where the rock ran seamlessly into the green of the mainland, establishing a bridgehead that would enable the landings to continue with a greater sense of security.

 

 Mildred, Krysty and Jak were on the next vessel to land. Descending from the boat into the shallow water, and feeling the cold drag at their feet, they were surprised at how hard the climb truly was. The angle might have been shallow, but the shale, moss and slime made it treacherous. Jak ascended the quickest, as surefooted as ever over the surface, barely seeming to touch it as his hands and feet found secure holds where it seemed none could exist. When he reached the top, he took one of the lengths of rope that was now lying idle—there being no crates to be hauled up as yet—and threw it down.

 

 "Krysty!" he yelled to the red-haired beauty below. She and Mildred were helping the ascent of the three Pilatans who had nearly been chilled by the falling rigging. They were still in shock, and also had minor injuries from the landing they had made when Jak had cannoned into them, deflecting them from a certain chilling. Their ascent had been slow, and both Mildred and Krysty had doubled back to assist them.

 

 Krysty looked up and saw the rope fall toward her. She grabbed at the end as it reached her, knowing what Jak wanted her to do. She took the rope and pulled down a long length of slack, Jak feeding it to her. While she was doing this, Mildred—having also guessed Jak's plan—explained to the distressed Pilatans what she wanted them to do.

 

 The redhead wove the rope around the three Pilatans, tying each one securely into place. She also included herself and Mildred in the equation, so that there were five people tied into the rope, two of whom would provide motive power. Signaling to Jak, she and Mildred continued their ascent, with the albino anchoring and pulling at the top of the scree. It was much easier for them to help the Pilatans in this manner and they soon gained the ridge.

 

 "Nice work, Jak," Mildred said in thanks.

 

 The albino shrugged. "Pity save one chill then see fall so near."

 

 Meanwhile, below, another ship was scuppered and another moved in to take its place. The unloading continued, but the sun had started to sink and the light was becoming dim, making it dangerous to continue. When the current ship had discharged its load, Markos strode to the lip of the incline and discharged his blaster three times into the air.

 

 It was the prearranged signal in case of such an occurrence. There were two ships left at sea, and these would have to wait until the morrow before they could unload. Meanwhile, up on the rock of the peninsula bridge, the Pilatans built a fire and makeshift shelters from crates to protect themselves from the biting wind that came with the dark, settling to an uncomfortable but necessary night on the rocks.

 

 On board the two remaining ships were Ryan and Dean, and Doc and J.B. For the former pair, it would be an easy night. They were among those who would work with them, and who didn't see them as enemies. For the latter two, this was still not the case. Despite the fact that J.B. had saved the life of the separatist who would have chilled both Doc and himself, the general atmosphere was still against them. Added to this, the livestock on board were still disturbed by the events of the voyage and prowled their cages, making it hard for anyone to rest. Tempers were frayed and getting worse in such an atmosphere.

 

 "Truly, I would never have been so pleased to partake of an invigorating scramble in such unseemly circumstances," Doc remarked to the Armorer, with no lack of wit as they took turns to keep watch while the other tried to sleep.

 

 On the mainland peninsula, the night winds howled and swept along the bare rock, making it hard for those in the makeshift shelters to rest.

 

 "It is not perhaps how I would have envisaged our first night in a new land," Sineta said to Mildred, Krysty and Markos as they huddled around the fire.

 

 "In truth, it could hardly have been any different, if one chose to reflect," Markos considered at length. "Whatever happened, we could not establish a comfortable and even semipermanent camp immediately."

 

 "That's true, but it doesn't stop it being so damn cold," Mildred countered.

 

 Farther up, at the point where the stone and slate gave way to topsoil and grass, Jak joined the sec men who were keeping watch on the land beyond, taking his turn with the rest of them. It was gesture that was appreciated by sec men who had no experience of the mainland.

 

 And so the night passed. Dawn broke and the first of the remaining ships moved into position as soon as the light was sufficient. It unloaded with ease, and it wasn't long before Ryan and Dean were reunited with their companions. The ship was sent off to join the others, now little more than matchwood against the rocks.

 

 The tide had receded during the hours of darkness and it would be a race against time to bring the final ship into position and unload it—including the livestock—before the waters began to deepen once more. Only if it was unavoidable did anyone wish to wait the hours until the tide went out once more.

 

 On board, J.B. and Doc helped to prepare the animals for unloading. They were released from their cages one at a time and led down a gangplank into the shallow waters. Once at the bottom of the incline, they were roped with the lengths thrown down from the top of the slope and were then guided up. Here they were put in the charge of Pilatans who were ready for them, penned in crates until they were all on the level.