Doomstar

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 inevitable wrong word. Sometimes he was tempted to shout it out himself, just to get the thing over with.

Other times he slept uneasily, passing 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 endlessly 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, question 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 Cluster 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 assertion 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 hell and all of a spaceman, 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 Cluster-wide disaster.

Sekma must know that by now. Then why was he looking for Kettrick when the Doomstar was so much more, so infinitely 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 liftoff. He rushed to the window and saw a streak of flame vanishing 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 woman'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 lumbering 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 bloody 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 felt one brief sharp pressure 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 purpose 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 disemboweling 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 darkness 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 confusion 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 bloody faces, while Chai stood over two unconscious 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 space.

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 window. 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 shells 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 the heat 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 shells 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 remaining men worked hard to get the fallen out of range. The two red-haired men below were now bent in an unmistakable attitude 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. Kettrick 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 the automatic control to close. The hatch clicked shut and sealed itself for space. 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 breathing 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.