The Stones of Nomuru

XII – THE RANGERS

As the first day of Salazar's flight from Hetori drew to a close, he called Kara. She asked: "How did the battle go?"

"I left before it was decided, but I'll lay you a hundred to one that the Choshas won." He described the High Chief s charge. "It's Manzikert or Nicopolis all over again. What's Jidsho doing?"

"Getting ready to march."

"He hasn't left yet?" Salazar's voice rose.

"No. He's still packing up."

"Oh, hell! At that rate, the Choshas will overrun most of Shongosi. Tell him to hurry, and have Kange load his men into the trucks pronto and take off for Neruu. I shall meet him there. What will Jidsho do if the Shongorin win?"

"He'll say politely, he and his army just came to help. Then they'll march back to Feënzun."

"Has Jidsho any information on the Choshas' route?"

"I think he said that, according to Gariko's spies, they'll either come by way of Neruu or go up the Mozii past your ruins."

Salazar mused: "Sacking Neruu would be a more direct way to conquer Shongosi; but marching across my dig to the Sappari would cut Shongosi off from any possible intervention by the Terrans of Henderson. Although it's against Terran policy to interfere in native conflicts, in this case, without Terran help, the entire populations of Shongosi and Feënzun may be destroyed. How are you making out?"

"I'm still bunking with Kange. He's a dear when you get to know him."

"Getting a crush on him?"

"Be sensible, Keith! If you were pals with a female shaped like a man-sized octopus, would you call it a crush if you liked her?"

"Depends on how sexy an octopus she was. At least, she'd have eight arms to hug me with—"

"Good-night, silly!"

Next morning, as Salazar and Kono jogged towards Neruu, the Kook made a brave attempt at English: "S-sorjairs c-come!"

Salazar got out his binoculars and twisted in the saddle. Through the broken parkland among the copses wound a trio of juten riders, pushing their exhausted mounts. As the trio shortened the intervening distance, one Kook drew a pistol and waved it, shouting: "Halt!"

By their paint, the three belonged to Miyage's cavalry. They croaked and cawed among themselves: "This is the Terran who arrived in our camp ere the battle. It must be a Terran plot—"

"Nay, he is a spy for Feënzun. It is known that he sojourned with the Empress—"

"You are both mistook; he is the mad Terran who digs up ancient bricks and stones."

"Enough talk!" shouted the first. "I will settle the question at one blow!" He aimed the huge pistol and pulled the trigger.

Salazar had held his rifle pointing near but not at the Kooks. When the first one essayed a shot, by reflex the archaeologist whipped up his gun and fired before he realized that the attacker's pistol had merely clicked. The Kook whose gun had misfired gave a screech, toppled off his juten, thrashed about in the herbage, and at last lay still.

"This Terran," shouted Salazar, "is not too mad to shoot straight, and my gun shoots all day without reloading. I regret this witless death, since your comrade's pistol failed to fire. Now tell me what has happened!"

The Kooks exchanged glances before one replied: "The barbarians have prevailed. They surrounded us riders and cut us to pieces. Then the Choshas charged across the ford in the teeth of our fire. Many fell, but others reached the bank ere our musketeers could reload. There was fierce fighting all along the line. The Choshas rode in, shooting and spearing and swording, while our folk strove to pull them from their saddles to dispatch them on the ground. But in time the nomads' numbers told, and our people broke and ran."

"Will more fugitives follow you?"

"Aye. It was late in the day when our formations broke, and in the dark not even the Choshas could slay us all. We carry word—"

At that instant, the speaker's juten toppled over, spilling its rider, who scrambled to his feet. Salazar said: "You have evidently killed your beast."

"We know that, Terran!" snapped the remaining mounted Kook. The fallen one limped to where stood the beast whose rider had been shot. The dismounted soldier unsentimentally went through his dead comrade's pouches, appropriating articles. Then he mounted and rode off with the other, calling back:

"May you lead a tranquil life, Terran!"

Salazar returned the conventional response and spoke to his servant: "Kono, we must push on. The Choshas may be close behind."

Nightfall on the third day found the hard-pushed travelers in sight of the ruddy, cloud-reflected glow of the furnaces of Neruu. They camped amid the dense shrubbery beside the road. Arriving in Neruu the next morning, in the central square Salazar found a Shongo officer, an onnifa, trying to detain fugitive soldiers and organize them into a fighting force. She was croaking orders when the sound of steam engines struck her silent.

Along the road from Shongoro rolled a column of belching, clattering steam trucks crowded with Kooks. In front, side by side on jutens, rode Kara and Major Kange.

"Kara!" yelled Salazar. He threw the lead strap of his juten to Kono and ran to her as she dismounted. They fell into an embrace; but when he tried to kiss her, she broke away.

"Thank the Universal Law you're safe!" she said. "We're the first unit to reach this area; the others will be straggling in. One of our trucks broke down, so some of our soldiers are walking. If they can fix the truck, it'll come by and pick them up."

"I hope General Jidsho can organize a decent defense before the Chosha horde gets here," said Salazar. He exchanged formal greetings with Kange; then said to Kara: "Want to move back to the pup tent?"

"I'd be glad. Poor Kange does stink. But what about you?"

"I can sleep outside as I did, or I can come in. But I won't promise not to crawl in my sleep."

"Then I'll stay with Kange."

Salazar sighed. "Damn! Why do we get ourselves into these fixes?"

"What do you mean, 'we'?" said Kara. But she spoke softly, with a smile that took the sting out of the remark.

"You're right, of course; but that only makes the predicament worse.

Stifling a giggle, Kara said: "Keith, you're incorrigible, tossing off funny little versicles about serious matters! I'll bet you compose one on your death bed."

"I might; why make a solemn fuss over something as commonplace as dying? But remember, you used to like my poking fun at serious things."

It was her turn to sigh. "I remember. It's too bad things changed. Now hadn't you better take over command of the Rangers?"

Salazar directed the Rangers to pitch camp on the outskirts of Neruu. He was inspecting this battalion and checking their equipment and supplies when General Jidsho appeared on the road from Shongaro at the head of a column of juten cavalry. Jidsho dismounted and approached Salazar abject with apologies:

"Honorable Sarasara, I withdraw the hurtful statements I have made against you. General Shta's mendacious letter to me did in time reach the Empress, whereupon she dismissed her faithless servant and appointed me commander-in-chief in his place. So, esteemed savant, I owe my elevation in part to you. To honor you and your Rangers, I shall post them at the place where the Choshas will mount their main assault, wherever it transpires that this will be."

To be posted at the most dangerous place on the battlefield was an honor that Salazar would cheerfully have forgone; but having talked himself into a position of military responsibility, he found no alternative to seeing it through. After the full ritual of good wishes, Jidsho withdrew to set up his own headquarters.

When Salazar reported to Jidsho the next day, the general had just finished interviewing a Shongo soldier, a fugitive from the battle at Hetori. According to this informant, he had seen a long Chosha column moving across the low ridge that separated the watershed of the Dzariki from that of the Mozii.

"Unless this be a feint," said Jidsho, "the invaders plan to take the Nomuru route and seize control of the south bank of the Sappari. Deploy your Rangers forthwith at the ruins of Nomuru; but hold yourself prepared to hasten back to Neruu if it transpire that the main attack will be toward the modern town. Now excuse me; I go to address the assembled Shongorin, informing them that they are now subjects of Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Gariko of Feënzun."

Salazar's Rangers settled into camp along the northern side of the Nomuru site, their numbers spilling out along both sides of the Nomuru-Henderson road. Under Salazar's watchful eye, the squads in turn patrolled the area and performed simple drills. They waited one day, two days, three days. At last Kara asked: "What's holding up the Choshas? From the look of my map, they should have been here on the heels of your Rangers."

Salazar shrugged. "Probably stopped to loot the towns along the way and kill the inhabitants. Jidsho's been questioning fugitives."

"A battle would be easier to bear than all this waiting!"

"You may think different when you see an actual battle. Anyway, the delay has given us time to position all the Frontier Force."

On the fourth day, Salazar was putting a squad of Rangers through a dummy rifle drill when the chug of a steam car brought him around. Approaching the Nomuru site, now serving as a drill field, came the black-browed Conrad Bergen, seated behind Pokrovskii and Bergen's Kook chauffeur. Salazar called to Kara, who was perched on a nearby Kookish mile-post writing in her notebook.

"Kara, look!" he said softly, jerking a thumb toward the approaching vehicle. He gave an order in Feënzuo to his squad: "Load your magazines, put one round in the chamber, and follow me. Protect me if I am attacked."

As Kara hastened toward him, he said: "Don't you think you'd better go hide somewhere?"

Head up, she replied: "I'll stick with you."

The car drew to a halt in a cloud of vapor, and the two passengers clambered out. Bergen reached into the vehicle and heaved out a large gun, which Salazar recognized as the developer's big-game rifle.

"Well?" said Salazar quietly, as his eight Rangers clustered behind him.

"Whaddya mean, well!" snorted Bergen. "I see you two have been off in the boonies again. You can't tell me there hasn't been any monkey business between you! And I've told you, she's my woman!"

"I'm not your woman, and you know it!" snapped Kara with a steely glare.

Salazar, more evenly, added: "And it's none of your affair, whether there's been any monkey business, as you call it, or not. We're going to have a battle here at any time; so take your buggy and head back for Henderson, before you're caught in the cross fire!"

Bergen's voice rose: "Goddamn it, you can't order me around! If—"

"Oh, yes I can! I've got the firepower."

"Gentlemen!" said Pokrovskii soothingly. "Please! Pozhaluista! We must not make a spectacle in front of natives. Why not walk out on site for talking, where half de Kook army can't hear?"

"Okay, but I'll take my soldiers," said Salazar. He chose four Rangers to stay with him.

"If you're going to talk about me," said Kara determinedly, "I want to be there, too."

Bergen and his construction supervisor, Salazar, Kara, and the four Rangers strode out across the neglected site. Pointing to the useless tractor, Bergen growled: "Look at that goddam thing! I'll sue you for destroying my property!"

Salazar looked surprised. "Neither I nor any of my people ran the tractor into that hole."

"But you goddam well hid the hole with a sheet."

"The tarpaulin was placed there to protect the stratigraphy of the test pit. A heavy storm would have washed down the sides and raised hell with my dating."

"But you didn't have to sprinkle dirt and plants over the top! You goddam intellectuals are all alike; no grasp of economic reality. You'd spoil a perfectly legitimate business enterprise and kill the jobs it would provide, just to preserve some old stone wall nobody gives a shit about. Just so you can argue among yourselves about your useless theories! And to rub it in, here you are out in the backwoods fucking my dame—"

"Conrad!" cried Kara furiously. "I'm not your dame! So shut up about it!"

"All right," snarled Bergen, "but I still got opinions. Now tell me, what's this about the Empress sending an army into Shongosi and what'll that do to my agreement with Miyage?"

"I think Miyage is dead," said Salazar. "Shongosi is now a province of the Empire. About your resort project, you'll have to ask the Empress or her ministers."

"And you futzed that up when you were in Machura—"

"Please!" said Pokrovskii. "We getting nowhere. If enemy soldiers coming, we better get out of de way."

Bergen flushed a dangerous crimson. "Now look here! I'm not afraid of any two-legged lizards riding featherless ostriches—"

At that moment, the report of a musket nearby made Bergen and his supervisor start. Kettledrums struck up a complex rhythm. Looking round, Salazar exclaimed: "My God, look at that!"

The eastern end of the site was suddenly alive with Chosha warriors, charging on juten-back. A rattle of shots came from the advancing force, with great puffs of smoke. A bullet whistled close by the Terrans' heads. Salazar yelled: "Back to the road, behind the Rangers—no, too late!" The group had, in the course of their argument, wandered far out on the site. Now, even if they ran, the onrushing nomads would catch them before they reached the line of Rangers, lying on their bellies and checking their magazines.

"In there!" shouted Salazar, pointing to a meter-deep test pit. "Duck down, all of you!" He repeated the command to the four Rangers, indicating another pit. "Lie low and don't show your faces!"

The four Terrans piled into the first pit. Salazar peered over the edge, silently cursing himself for having been distracted by a silly argument when he should have been scanning the far end of the site with his glasses.

On came the Choshas, waving sabers, lances, pistols, and carbines. As the first ones passed the pit in which the Terrans huddled, Salazar heard Major Kange's croak: "Open fire!"

Mixed with the crackle of rifle fire came the whip-snap of bullets passing overhead. On the masses of Choshas, the effects were devastating. Some jutens pitched forward with earthshaking thuds, spilling their riders. Other Choshas toppled off their mounts, which ran in circles cawing excitedly, sometimes attacking one another. Some dismounted Choshas tried to charge the defense line on foot and were shot down. Others fired their flintlocks, struggled to reload, and were felled as they worked. On the Rangers' right, a Feënzuo muzzle-loading cannon boomed, hurling a charge of grape shot.

Soon the charge dwindled to a few survivors who fled back, mounted or afoot, the way they had come. The site of the ancient city was littered with the bodies of jutens and Choshas, some writhing, twitching, and squawking amid those that lay still.

Presently Pokrovskii ventured: "Think we can make dash for de car now; attack over."

"No; here comes another charge." Salazar's quiet voice rose to a shout. "Wait, you damned fool!"

Heedless, Pokrovskii hoisted himself out of the test pit and waddled ponderously towards the steam car. As he did so, the earth vibrated with the rumble of hundreds of jutens, charging the line of Rangers again. Salazar strained his lungs to scream: "Come back, Oleg!" Then he ducked down as the leaders of the second charge swept past.

One nomad caught Pokrovskii thirty meters from the pit and speared him with a lance. Salazar did not dare to shoot the Chosha lancer for fear of drawing fire from the barbarians swarming around them, thus dooming all those huddled in the pit.

Bergen, who had watched his friend go down, shouted in a strangled voice: "Those—fucking—animals, killing a human being—I'll show 'em!"

Red-faced and panting with fury, Bergen gathered his forces, laid his heavy rifle on the ground outside the pit, and sprang out. A few seconds later, a Chosha rider pointed a pistol at him. Bergen whipped up his gun and fired, catapulting the Kook over the tail of his mount.

Salazar opened his mouth to shout: "Come back, you idiot!" but checked the impulse. If the man whom he most hated, who had beaten Kara and had beaten, betrayed, and tried to murder him, wished to invite death at the hands of the Choshas, why should the archaeologist interfere?

As several Choshas converged upon him, Bergen, screaming an inarticulate war cry, swung his rifle right and left, firing and yelling as each Chosha or juten fell. When he had emptied his magazine, he began pulling cartridges from his bandoleer and shoving them into his gun. Then a Chosha rode up close, fired a carbine at him, and knocked him down. Other mounted nomads clustered around the fallen man, swinging sabers. A moment later, a Chosha rode off with Bergen's bloody head impaled on the point of his lance. Then the Rangers' borrowed rifles opened up again, and sheets of bullets felled Choshas and their mounts.

When the charge petered out, Salazar whispered to Kara: "Before they strike again, I must get back to my troops. Follow me, then crouch down behind that car!"

He boosted Kara out of the pit. Then, vaulting out, he ran back with her to his Rangers. Three of his Kookish bodyguards followed; the fourth lay in the pit, dying of a gunshot.

Arriving behind the line of riflemen, Salazar asked Kange: "How many casualties?"

"Sixteen or twenty; some dead, more merely wounded. Here they come again!"

On came another wave of nomads; but they came more slowly now as they picked their way among the bodies that littered the site. When Kange gave the order to fire, Salazar went down the line of Rangers, nudging each and shouting over the din: "You shoot too high! Keep your eye level with the rear sight ... You shoot too fast. Take careful aim, picking your targets ... You flinch when you fire. Pull the butt back harder against your shoulder ...Your gun is jammed from overheating. Let it cool down before you shoot again ..."

In general, the Rangers did better than Salazar expected, squeezing off shots one by one as he had taught them and stopping to replace clips of cartridges. The Kooks' stolid inexcitability made them excellent soldiers when properly led.

Glancing toward the steam car, Salazar saw Kara crouched behind it, holding her pistol in both hands and methodically firing across the vehicle. Salazar used his own rifle only once. Kara had emptied her magazine and was inserting a new clip when a saber-waving Chosha charged towards her afoot. Salazar shouted to the nearest Rangers to shoot the attacker; but the nomad survived the fusillade. When the Kook was within a few meters of the woman, Salazar brought him down with a single rifle shot.

Once more the nomad charge fragmented and fell back like a receding wave. Here and there a dismounted Chosha took cover behind his juten's body to harass the defenders with fire from flintlocks, but with little success. The greater accuracy of the Terran firearms took such a toll of these snipers that the survivors, bent low among the dead and dying, zigzagged back across the site to safety.

Through his binoculars, Salazar spotted small groups of Choshas still moving among the bushes and stunted trees at the far end of Nomuru; but they evinced no desire to attack again in the face of their devastating losses. Presently even these remnants vanished as squadrons of Feënzuo cavalry trotted across the site in pursuit. Salazar saw Pokrovskii crawling toward him trailing a pair of useless legs in bloodsoaked trousers.

As Salazar stood up to go to the Suvarovian's rescue, a flintlock, fired from behind a nearby juten's carcass, sent out a puff of sulfurous smoke. A heavy blow struck Salazar in the ribs, spun him around, and sent him sprawling. He was vaguely aware of a crackle of rifle fire around him and of willing claws carrying him. His side began to hurt abominably, and his daylight faded into dark.

In the hospital at Henderson, Doctor Hajari told Salazar that he might exercise by walking, and that twenty lengths of the main hospital corridor equaled one kilometer. Returning to his room after his first kilometer, he found that, while he walked, Pokrovskii had been moved into the other bed in his room. Pokrovskii said:

"Zdra'stvuitye, Keit'! How you feel now?"

"Pretty good, if I don't take a deep breath and split my ribs again. How about you?"

"I be all right in sixtnight; just a little poke with spear in yagoditsa—what Americans call de donkey." He parted a bandaged buttock. "Few centimeters higher, and good-bye me! They tell me Conrad dead."

"Yep; I saw his head on the point of a lance. Now, suppose you tell me what really happened to Derek Travers."

"Why, Conrad himself tell your people at dig—"

"I know, but I don't believe that story. Come on, out with it!"

Under Salazar's stern regard, Pokrovskii wilted. "Conrad dead, so is no reason not. We camped, night after Miss Sheffield run away. Next morning, Kook guide say: 'Here come big hungry fyunga! Everybody mount and get a hell out!' Fyunga was half a kilometer away but coming fast. Conrad say: 'Hell, I won't run from featherless chicken! Besides, we need meat, since de bitch stole our food.' He grab rifle and get ready to shoot. Guide tell Conrad he foolish; Derek translated. Conrad get mad; call me coward because I mount juten. Everybody yell. Jutens get scared and begin to dance around. Guide start off with me after him. Fyunga get closer; gun go off, one-two-three. Fyunga stagger but keep coming."

"He was no great marksman," said Salazar. "Go on."

"At last minute, Derek start running after guide and me. Fyunga run after Derek. Conrad yell, call Derek yellow. Gun bang again, twice. Derek scream. Fyunga bellow and go off, staggering like he drunk. We came back, guide and me. Derek is lying dead with bullet in him; Conrad sitting on ground crying, saying it his fault his friend was killed. Make me promise not to tell true story. Since he was boss, I did like he said."

"Did Bergen shoot Travers accidentally or on purpose?"

Pokrovskii spread his hands. "How I know? Was looking other way at time. Could be accident, Derek and fyunga being in line; but Conrad once killed another man in one of his mad fits. Had to use money and influence to keep from being tried for murder."

"The son of a bitch deserved everything he got."

"Conrad not really bad; just difficult, with terrible temper."

"Don't try to whitewash a lump of coal!"

"Not all black, Keit! Did some good things. Gave money for art museum; helped some poor people ... Oh, hello, Kara!" Salazar echoed the greeting.

After a quarter-hour of amiable chitchat, Kara dug a sheaf of manuscript out of her handbag. "Here's my story on the Battle of Nomuru. It doesn't mention automatic rifles; just the well-drilled Feënzuo musketeers."

After, reading in silence, Salazar handed back the manuscript.

"Looks okay." Seeing Kara's look of disappointment, he added: "Excellent reporting, in fact." Then he turned to his roommate. "Oleg, I'd like a promise from you, not to tell anyone about the Terran guns."

Pokrovskii remained silent for a minute, then nodded. "Hokay, if you promise never to repeat story about Conrad and Derek."

"You mean to let Conrad's official version stand?"

"Yes."

"But why? He's dead and can't mind; and Derek's family deserves to know the truth."

"Just say I sentimental fool. You keep my secret, I keep yours. Otherwise not."

"Oh, all right." Salazar turned. "Kara, will you walk me down the hall? The doc wants me to exercise."

Out in the corridor, he said: "Oleg's a bit of an ass, but one can't help liking him."

Kara asked: "What was the story about Conrad and Derek?"

"You'll have to ask Oleg. I think he's wrong to suppress it; but a promise is a promise."

"Too bad you didn't think of that on that other—"

Salazar interrupted her caustic remark. "Please, Kara! I want to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"I know I've been a louse; but even a louse can learn. Kara, I love you. Will you marry me again?"

She took her time. At last she said: "Keith, I've seen this coming, and I've given the matter a lot of thought. You're a fine man, and I tremendously admire the things you've accomplished. I'm proud to be your friend. And you're the man who thought he could never be a general!

"But a successful marriage needs not only the combination of attraction and attachment we call love; it also needs trust. The main reason for marrying nowadays is for mutual support and protection—for someone on whom one can always rely."

Kara sighed. "You're a very attractive man, my dear. At times during our travels, it was all I could do to keep my guard up. It hurt to fend off your advances when I wanted you as much as you did me; but I felt that to give in would only lead us down the road to another disaster.

"I'm deeply attached to you, as one is to anybody one's lived with for years. I guess one never completely gets over a former spouse. But the other necessary element, trust, is missing."

"Haven't I been straightforward with you?"

Close to tears, Kara said: "Yes; you have, all through this dreadful war. But that doesn't turn the clock back. After you killed my trust, the feeling just isn't there any more." She gave his arm a squeeze. "I really am sorry, Keith; but that's how things stand."

"Even after all we've been through together?"

"Even after that."

After a bleak silence, Kara added: "Don't look so downcast, Keith. There are other women, even on this world."

Salazar's tone was fretful. "How do you expect me to look when the great love of my life slams the door in my face?"

Kara smiled a bitter little smile. "I know how it feels. I've been through it."

"Oh. You're right. I deserved that crack."

"I shouldn't have come out to your dig for that story and then gone on the hunt with you. All that bumming around together was bound to awaken old passions. Despite what you did, I'm sorry to put you through this. Hereafter we'd better keep our distance."

After another silence, Salazar looked up with a sly grin. "But we did have some pretty lively adventures, didn't we? We can dine out on those for years!"

She said: "The nurse will be bringing in your dinner soon, so I'll say good-night." Head up, she turned and walked away.

After his discharge, Salazar had dinner with his friend Cabot Firestone. Over drinks, Firestone said, "Keith, you've done the Museum and archaeology proud. We ought to play Handel's 'See, the Conquering Hero Comes!' when you appear."

Salazar laughed. "It would make me feel pretty damned silly." More seriously, he continued: "You know, I used to think myself a fairly truthful, upright fellow; but in recent months I've told a lot of outrageous lies. I've lured Skanda into compromising acts so I could blackmail him into running the Museum the way I want. Kara and I have bamboozled the Empire with a phony séance. I've meddled in Kookish affairs, which I condemn when others like Ragnarsen do it. I've killed several Kooks, something I always resolved never to do. I've engineered the imperialistic conquest of a country by the Feënzurin. I've commanded in a battle that was really a massacre, like Omdurman or Ulundi, because of the discrepancy in weapons; so I don't deserve credit for the victory. And all so I can go on digging up an ancient Kookish city, which damned few of my fellow primates care anything about. I wonder if I've been on the right track?"

"Nonsense!" cried Firestone. "We've always agreed on the long-term importance of basic knowledge. Without it, we'd be back on Terra, living in caves and eating nuts and worms. You deserve every bit of the acclaim you'll get."

"But I seem to be such a damned hypocrite ..."

"Remember what I said: hypocrisy, like religion and liquor, is one of the lubricants that make it possible for men to live together in vastly greater numbers than the species was designed for."

Salazar sighed and made a small gesture of dismissal. "Good of you to say so, Cabot. Now I shall have to work like a fiend on Nomuru to justify my existence." He paused. "But I'd give the whole thing up if ..."

"If what?"

"If I could have Kara back. I had the best, and like an idiot I threw it away. She even used to correct examination papers and tabulate grades for me."

Firestone: "And greater love hath no professor's wife! Have you tried ..."

Salazar shook his head. "I've tried, but she won't have me at fire-sale prices. I thought there was a chance; but I was kidding myself. It's over."

Firestone frowned in puzzlement. "I'm not sure she made the wise decision. As an old couple watcher, I should think, since you two have knocked around together so much lately, that you'd have reestablished some permanent relationship."

"You think we spent our time screwing? No; not a single poke."

"If it were anyone but you, Keith, I might doubt that. It's almost incredible that a healthy, personable pair like you, who'd been intimate before and then were thrown together that way ..." Firestone shrugged. "Everyone at the university assumes that it's no longer a case of just friends.

"Then everyone's wrong."

"Aren't you giving up too easily? You were never one to abandon a goal you'd set yourself."

"She convinced me, that's all. Some mistakes you have to live with."

"Why is she so dead set? You're a damned good catch."

"My girl has a spine of steel, and when she makes up her mind ... Cabot, tell me, what ought I to have done?"

"It's useless advice at this stage, but I should have told you: When you've got a good marriage but feel an itch for another woman, get the hell out with no ifs, ands, or buts. Break all contacts with the new amorosa, politely but firmly. Back off. The itch will go away." Firestone looked speculatively at his friend. "If Kara's gone for good, how about that tall redhead, Penny something? Wasn't she in your class?"

"Yep. Got an A, and honestly."

"Well, if you wanted a bed warmer—"

Salazar held up a hand. "Diane cured me of playing house with children. As for Penny, I told her I was impotent."

"Good God! Why?"

"To escape being raped. But you've given me food for thought. Now, must be off. I've got six men's work to do in the coming month: to get the dig started again, first clearing the carcasses off the site; to lay out Gariko's national park; to sneak those rifles back into the Museum while Patel's on vacation. Gariko wants to start her own archaeology department, so I'm to interview some young Kooks as prospective students. Besides, the last ship from Terra brought a new instrument for subsurface mapping—an echo vibratometer. I can't wait to try it out on what may be King Bembogu's library."

"Don't kill yourself!"

"Hard work agrees with me, and it'll take my mind off other things. Come out to the dig soon. Uwangi's cooking is getting cosmopolitan. At least, it won't leave you writhing on the floor!"

"Thanks. By the way, what happened to Prophet Kampai, who started the war?"

"Mutiny. Some of his own Kooks killed him. Good-bye!"

At the Museum, Salazar prepared for the resumption of the summer's field work in the few days left before the start of the fall term at the university. He was in his office, packing papers and instruments, when his poignette buzzed. Kara's voice came from the instrument: "Keith?"

"Yep." His heart gave a jump, but he sternly reined in his emotions.

"Are you alone?"

"Yep. Alone in the office."

"I've been thinking and thinking, and—well—I don't know quite how to say it, but—maybe I was wrong to turn you down so—so—irrevocably."

"You mean—"

"Yes. In spite of everything, I'm awfully fond of you. And, while you make mistakes like the rest of us, I've never known you to make the same mistake twice. So ..."

Her voice trailed off uncertainly. Salazar threw back his head and uttered a yell like that of a porondu in the mating season.

"Keith!" She sounded concerned. "Are you hurt?"

"No darling. Exuberant. Let's get married this afternoon! Then where? How about a couple of days at the Spaceport Hotel? They've got an excellent Terran chef—"

"Keith, please! Not so fast! We have a lot of plans to make. I sent you back my engagement ring. Have you still got it?"

"Yep."

"I thought you might have given it to Diane." Salazar almost blurted out that he had offered the ring to Diane, but she had insisted on something showier. Remembering Firestone's words about the benefits of hypocrisy, he said: "No, dearest; I've kept it safe. Shall I bring it around at dinnertime?"

"That would be wonderful. Take care, darling; I—Oh, here comes my editor-in-chief. Good-bye!"

The poignette clicked off. Salazar's secretary knocked and hurried in. "Doctor Salazar, what was that dreadful sound I heard, like a terrible yell?"

Salazar straightened up his desktop as he thought of an answer. At last he said: "Just a tape I made of some animal noises."

"I'd have come in sooner, but just then a woman called you on the Museum's frequency." She glanced at the memo in her hand. "It's a Mrs. Diane Morrow Salazar. I put her on hold. Will you take the call now?"

"No. Tell her I'm living with a Kook at the dig—an insanely jealous Kook."

"Heavens! Male or female Kook?"

"Female, of course. I'm not so eccentric as all that!"