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would be no better than they were. And so I had left
Kharemough, instead. I had followed the law; I'd believed that I had done the right thing as I had always understood it. ... But it had only been an excuse for cowardice. Faced with the most important decision in my life, I had run away.
The rainbow streets of Carbuncle faded into the night.
With a kind of disbelief, I found myself back in the future, kneeling alone on the mountainside. I stared at the scars on my wrists, at the shriveled foot of a trapped beast that I held clenched in my fist.
I put the picture of Song, the trefoil, and the desiccated stump into my belt pouch, and got to my feet.
When I returned to the campsite, Ang and Spadrin
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were arguing over whose turn it was to clean the dishes.
Spadrin glowered and swore, but Ang's face was livid;
his own anger seemed to have him by the throat. I stood silently watching them, waiting for them to come to blows over meaningless inconsequence. But Spadrin glanced up suddenly and saw me. His face spasmed as though he'd seen a ghost. And then he sent the pile of dishes clanging into the cook unit with a kick, and said, "Your turn, Gedda."
I folded my arms. "I keep the rover running. I don't do dishes."
Spadrin grunted. "You eat, don't you? If you want to go on eating, you'll do what I want."
I looked at Ang, waiting for his support. Ang wiped his arm across his mouth. He looked back at me, flexing his hands. "Who asked you to go off like that, anyway?
You damn fool, I told you before we started that it was dangerous! You want to kill yourself?
Don't get out of sight of the rover again, unless you don't care if you ever 67
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JOAN D. VINGE
come back." He turned and followed Spadrin into the darkness.
I cleaned the dishes. And now I'll try to sleep--inside the rover, with the others, even though when I got here
I found Spadrin sleeping in my bunk. What choice do I
have . . . ?
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