"I have heard a rumor," Sekma said, "that Johnny Kettrick is back in the Cl.u.s.ter." Now his blue gaze flashed like light-ning from Boker to Flay.

"Johnny Kettrick?" said Boker.

"Johnny?" said Flay. "Is he indeed? I should like to see him again. He can hunt and he can drink, he leaves my women alone, and he gives me the best barter of any trader. Boker is all right, Boker is good, but there was never another one like Johnny. You should not have driven him away."

"Ah huh," said Sekma. "I have heard that tune sung before. Of course, then, you haven't seen him?"

"Not I," said Flay, "Not here."

"And you, Boker? Not here, of course, but say, at Ree Darva? There was word that he had been seen there, in the Out-Quarter."

"That may be," said Boker, "but it must have been after I left."

Sekma pinned him with that sharp gaze. "Why do you say it must have been? Do you know that he's back?"

Of course, thought Kettrick, Sekma couldn't be sure that he had ever reached Tananaru. He might have gone anywhere from Aldebaran. He might have died there from sickness, or been killed by some squalid idiot with a share-the-wealth plan, or perished of an accident.

Boker said, "You know we shipped together, you know we were friends. He'd have come to see me. That's why I say he must have come after I left, if he came at all, and that I can't tell. This is the first I've heard of it."

Admirable liar, Boker. Convincing liar. Kettrick knew how he must be suffering. He found himself starting to laugh hysterically, and pulled hard on the bottle to stop it. Here for the first time in their lives he and Boker wanted to level with Sekma, and they couldn't. All because the Doomstar was true.

He crouched in the close bed, peering through the c.h.i.n.k and shivering with cold and frustration, until the men left. Before they did they had eaten a great deal, and drunk a good bit, and some of Flay's many sons had joined in, and somewhere along the line Flay asked Sekma where he had come from, and Sekma said, "Kirnanoc."

"Ah," said Flay. 'Then you will go south across the Clus-ter?"

Sekma nodded. "To Gurra. That was another of Kettrick's favorite haunts. They may have heard of him there."

"There was no word of him on Pellin," Boker said. "If there had been, I'd have heard it. Everyone remembers that we were friends."

"It is possible," said Flay carelessly, "that your rumor about Johnny is like most rumors, mere wind blowing from one empty s.p.a.ce to another."

They went away, leaving the room dark and silent. Leaving Kettrick, on the other side of the wall, to lie and think. To pray that Boker or Hurth or Gievan might find a time when he could speak to Sekma alone. Surely such a time would come...it only needed a moment. During the inspection of the ship, perhaps...

But Flay's sons would be there. They did not speak Darvan, and it would be easy for Boker to talkto Sekma in a lan-guage they could not understand. Except that a name is a name in any language, and so is a word like Doomstar. And in any case, the Firgals were no fools. Even if Boker were ac-tually only telling Sekma the latest dirty story, they would be instantly suspicious, wondering what was being said that the speaker wished to hide from them. The fate of their world hung on it. If they had to make a mistake, it would be at the expense of the outworlders, not their own.

He hoped that Boker and the others would think of that.

Unable to lie any longer in the stifling bed, Kettrick rose and stood looking out the tiny window into the freezing night, with the snow drifting gently down in the lee of the house. The confinement of the little room was almost more than he could bear.

14.

He bore it for two days, largely with the help of the clay bottles that the broad girl kept him supplied with.

Even so it was not easy. He waited with leaping nerves for the sound of feet on the stairs, the sudden angry crashing of the door.

Each night in the next room Sekma and Boker and Flay and such of Flay's sons as were not on duty elsewhere ate and drank and danced delicately around the truth, while Kettrick listened with what finally became impatience for the one in-evitable wrong word. Sometimes he was tempted to shout it out himself, just to get the thing over with.

Other times he slept uneasily, pa.s.sing from the first blank slumber induced by the bottle to a succession of bad dreams wherein he strove endlessly to catch up with Seri and was end-lessly balked.

The number and variety of frustration dreams his mind could produce on this subject were simply astounding.

Again, he paced the floor in a rage of impatience. Grellah would be ready now. They ought to be taking off. How long was Sekma going to stay? Was Flay going to try and hold him here "until it was over," as he thought he was holding Kettrick?

Several times he heard Flay, in his shrewd manner, ques-tion Sekma about his route. Each time it was the same. Out of Kirnanoc, bound for Gurra.

Kettrick wondered how Sekma, who must have left Tananaru after Grellah did, had managed to get to Kirnanoc so far ahead of them. He supposed it could be done. A long jump ship could certainly do it, by going clear out of the Cl.u.s.ter and then in again; the longest way, but the quickest. Or a relay of the fast I-C ships, taking a more direct route than Grellah's and wasting no time on stopovers.

Why would he bother? Mere accident? Or had Sekma seen the posting of Grellah's itinerary and decided to intercept her in the hope of catching the missing Kettrick?

Maybe. Only then why hadn't Sekma challenged Boker's a.s.sertion that he had come by way of Pellin?

Kettrick's head ached, and from more than the fumes of the whiskey. And he felt like weeping when he thought how close Sekma must have come to meeting Seri at Kirnanoc, all unaware.

I am the h.e.l.l and all of a s.p.a.ceman, Kettrick thought, a great success as a trader, and loved by all with fur, skin, or feathers. But as a man entrusted with a vital mission which all these qualities uniquely fit him to perform, I am a Cl.u.s.ter-wide disaster.

Sekma must know that by now. Then why was he looking for Kettrick when the Doomstar was so much more, so in-finitely more, important?Perhaps he wasn't, really...

Kettrick held and nursed this little flicker of hope, afraid to blow on it and let it grow, afraid to let it die. Because if he were wrong and Sekma really was looking for him, there could only be one reason; it was too late to keep the Doomstar from shining, and Sekma desired to give his thanks to the man who had failed him so abysmally.

He would not blame Sekma one little bit.

Just before dawn of the third day he was brought up out of a thin sleep by the thunder of a ship's rockets firing for lift-off. He rushed to the window and saw a streak of flame van-ishing across the sky beyond the hills. And he had a moment of sheer panic, wondering if Boker had decided to sacrifice him to the common good.

A short time after that Flay came in and said, "They're gone, Johnny, those busy I-C men. Gone to pester the Gurrans, looking for you." He pushed Kettrick jovially toward the door. "Come out, breathe the air. Your friend looks as though she would enjoy a run. Let us hunt today."

Kettrick went down the steep stairs carefully because his legs were shaky. "Hadn't we better get on with the trading, Flay?"

"There's no hurry. The bar is not done yet, and we can trade when the weather's bad. Today is a good day for hunting."

"All right," said Kettrick. "Fine. We'll ask Boker to go with us." He looked down at himself and scratched his stubbled jaw. "I've got to get clean clothes, and a shave. You can wait that long?"

"I'll wait for you." Flay laughed and shook his head. "Why does a man wish to go with a naked face like a wom-an's? Let your beard grow, Johnny. It was given you to keep you warm."

"Other worlds," said Kettrick, "are not so cold as this one." He held out his hand. "I'm grateful to you, Flay."

"But Johnny, we are friends! Go on, make yourself pretty, only be quick about it. I'll be after you as soon as my hounds are out of the kennel."

Kettrick smiled and nodded, closing his coverall tight against the outside cold. He tweaked the broad girl's braid and kissed her, and promised her a present from the ship, and she laughed, and Flay began to bawl out orders for the hunt to get under way.

There were already saddled animals waiting, and the boy was bringing up more. Kettrick took one of them and rode leisurely out of the city, with Chai padding beside him in the trampled snow.

When they were in the hills he kicked the beast into a lum-bering run, pulling it down only when they came in sight of the ship. The huge red sun slid up the eastern sky, staining the snow with a b.l.o.o.d.y light, turning the clouds to sullen fire. The mounts of Flay's sons were tethered to the tripod gear, standing patiently with their backs to the wind. Kettrick tied his beast beside them and went up the ladder to the hatch. He met Boker just inside, with two of Flay's big red sons behind him.

"Saw you coming, Johnny." Boker threw his arms around Kettrick and pounded him, laughing. "We did it, didn't we? Sent the I-C packing off like puppies on a false trail. Flay was tremendous. I wish you could have seen him..."

"I did," said Kettrick. "I was on the other side of the wall." And he brayed with laughter, looking at Flay's sons. "Your father is a great man, listen to him and learn." The sons beamed happily. Kettrick spoke again to Boker. "He wants us to hunt with him today. I have to hurry and wash up. He's on his way."

"Go ahead, then," Boker said, and pushed Kettrick ahead down the companionway. Kettrick feltone brief sharp pres-sure of his fingers and that was all the warning he had.

Boker hit the nearest son.

He hit him hard and clean and with such concentrated pur-pose that Kettrick heard the jawbone crack. The second son, reacting with the swiftness of a man whose life depends on his reflexes, hit Kettrick, but Kettrick was already moving and the blow glanced like a piledriver off his hip instead of disem-boweling him. Kettrick dug his own knee into the man's groin and battered him as hard as he could around the head. He seemed to be battering a rock. The man grunted and appeared to withdraw into himself like a turtle, and with the hand that was not busy fending off Kettrick he reached for the pistol in his belt. The first son had sunk to one knee. He was shaking his head dazedly, but he was by no means out. He too was pawing for his gun.

Kettrick caught a mighty smash in the face that drove him back against the wall. His ears sang and his nose gushed blood. It had become suddenly very dark. Through the dark-ness he saw the red-haired man, apparently quite slowly and leisurely, draw the clumsy pistol from his belt.

Kettrick lurched forward and caught the man's wrist with both hands. The wrist was like an iron bar.

It flung him to and fro and another iron bar was pounding him over the head. He was blind mad now and he hung on. There was great con-fusion beside him in the companionway, a roaring and a lumbering of shapes. It quieted abruptly and one of the shapes, very large and gray, flung itself toward Kettrick. There was a growl and a grunt and the iron arm went limp and fell away. Kettrick and Boker stood panting, staring at each other out of b.l.o.o.d.y faces, while Chai stood over two uncon-scious sons and licked her fingers reflectively.

Kettrick pointed to the hatch. "Out," he said.

Chai leaned over and picked up one man by his collar. From inside the ship came an outcry of voices and then the crashing roar of a gun going off in an enclosed s.p.a.ce.

Boker said, "The bridgeroom."

They ran down the companionway and up the ladder into the bridge. Glevan was standing over the third son, who lay on his face on the floor. Hurth also lay on the floor. The pistol lay between them. The heavy steel pin in Glevan's hand was covered with blood.

"He was trying to smash the controls," Glevan said. "I think I killed him." He dropped the pin and kneeled beside Hurth, touching him gently. "Hurth tried to stop him. Hurth?"

There was no answer. Boker bent over the red-haired man. "He's dead, all right. Help me get him out . . ."

He broke off as Kettrick pointed through the bridge win-dow. Flay's hunt was coming from the hills, and coming fast. Much too fast.

"They must have seen my tracks in the snow," Kettrick said, "and wondered why I started running as soon as I was out of sight."

Boker said, "We've got to have fifteen minutes to ship that link bar. See that we have it, Johnny." He pulled Glevan to his feet. "Come on."

Glevan shook his head and stumbled out after Boker. Hurth still had not moved.

Kettrick opened the arms locker and took two of the bell-mouthed rifles. He stuffed his shirt with extra clips of the gas sh.e.l.ls and went down the ladder.

At the foot of it he met Chai. "Men come, John-nee."

"I know." The companionway was clear. Chai had tumbled the two red sons out into the snow. He sent her up after the third one and walked onto the hatch opening, oddly calm now, quite cold. All theheat had run out of him at the sight of the two men lying on the floor of the bridge. His hands were perfectly steady as he loaded the rifles without haste and leaned one against the wall beside him. All the time he could see Flay and a dozen riders coming at a pounding run across the field.

He fired, laying the sh.e.l.ls carefully across the front of their advance.

The dark puffs of vapor blossomed, obscuring the riders. Some of them reappeared, carried onward by their forward momentum. They did not go far before the mounts stumbled and went down and the riders fell out of the saddle.

Chai appeared behind him, carrying the dead Firgal over her shoulder. She pitched him out through the hatchway. A heavy slug rang off the metal beside her. Rifles began to bang as the vapor blew away and revealed seven or eight men who had escaped the first volley. Flay was among them. Kettrick pulled Chai back and spun the manual control wheel beside the hatch. The thick steel door slid almost shut. A rattling sound came from the other side of it like hail on a tin roof. Kettrick fired through the slit.

The men, who had bunched together again to rush the hatchway, broke apart and when the gas-cloud cleared only Flay and three others were still able to sit on their mounts.

There was a bullhorn beside the hatch, useful on occasion for directing too large and eager crowds at a trading. Kettrick took it down and spoke into it.

"Throw down your rifles. You have five minutes to get your people out of blast range. Flay, come and get your sons."

He repeated the message three times, his voice thrown huge and metallic against the bitter morning.

Below him he saw one of the red-haired men get up and steady himself against the ladder, and then help the second one, who lurched up holding his broken jaw. The third lay awkwardly where he had fallen, his legs and arms all askew. By the end of the second message the riders had begun to drop their rifles. By the beginning of the third, Flay was coming.

Kettrick held the bell-mouthed rifle pointed down, his own body sheltered behind the door. Out on the field the three re-maining men worked hard to get the fallen out of range. The two red-haired men below were now bent in an unmis-takable att.i.tude over the body of their brother.

Flay came up beneath the hatch. He looked first at his sons and then at Kettrick.

"You lied to me, Johnny."

"And you to me, Flay."

"I spared you, and my son is dead."

"Hurth is dead also."

Flay's broad dark face glistened as though with sweat, although the frost of his breathing whitened his beard.

"Why, Johnny?"

"What did Seri promise you, Flay? That your old red sun would live his time out undisturbed?" He saw that this was true and he shook his head, remembering the little people of Gurra and the words he had said to Nillaine. "Others love their worlds, Flay. Others wish to live." The two brothers were lifting the body of the third to lie across his saddle. Ket-trick nodded toward them. "So much the Doomstar has done for you. Now get them out of here."

Flay looked at him a moment longer and then he turned and lifted his gaze to the red sun. His shoulders bent and the straightness left his spine. He moved to help his sons and in a minute or two they rode away, leading the dead man's beast. None of them spoke again, nor looked again at Kettrick.

Grellah sprang suddenly to life with a hum and whit of systems cutting in. Kettrick pushed theautomatic control to close. The hatch clicked shut and sealed itself for s.p.a.ce. The ladder retracted into its slot with a hollow grinding sound. Kettrick motioned to Chai and they walked back along the companionway, past the safety door that closed and sealed in its turn behind them, forming one of Grellah's two airlocks. The warning hooter began. Kettrick climbed the ladder to the bridge.

Boker was already at the controls. Hurth had been lifted onto one of the seats and Glevan was holding him. Kettrick sent Chai to help, noticing that Hurth was at least still breath-ing and able to groan.

His skin was a hideous drowned color, but the blood on his shirt was bright enough. Kettrick sat down in Hurth's accustomed place beside Boker. Through the window they could see Flay's people getting the last of their comrades to safety. Kettrick watched them until the erupting flame and smoke of ignition blotted them from view. Then he said, "This is another place I can never come back to." Grellah rose up slowly past the huge red sun.

15.

Hurth lived. That was one good, fine, happy thing. The slug had plowed along his heart ribs, knocking him un-conscious and losing him a considerable amount of blood, but he lived.

Otherwise, there was nothing to cheer about.

"I did not get one minute alone with Sekma," Boker said furiously. "None of us did. Those three red apes, or their brothers, were with us every breath we drew. They wanted to be sure, I guess...in case there was any collusion, they wanted to know about it. And I didn't dare take a chance. None of us was armed, and they were set on a hair trigger, waiting to pounce on the first wrong move."

"Also," said Kettrick, "there was me."