"Sam," said Andrews, "if you can reason with these creatures, do it. We got too much to lose as it is."
Merritt put his hand on Sazhje's shoulder and she turned from facing the humans and looked up at him, her eyes all pupil.
"Ssam?" she questioned.
"Sazhje—say to Sazhje's people go, go home. Sam has enough trouble."
Her spidery arm went about him briefly, and dropped. Still she looked up at him. "Ssam ahhrht?"
“Go home, Sazhje. Sam's people might kill Sazhje. Go, go home now."
Her odd little face contracted in an expression of distress. She touched his hurt, frowned up at him. Ears flicked. "Sazhje people no make kill tarn. Wa come, Ssam.
Ssam people kill. Ssam come Sazhje people, go ‘igh, ‘igh.”
He caressed her silk-smooth cheek, shook his head. "No, Sazhje. Sam can't. Sam can't come. Sam's people are here, this place, Sam's place?"
"Ssam stay?"
"Yes. Go on, go on, Sazhje. Go home while you can."
She stepped back from him and started away, looked back once as she was crossing the ground between and once as she had nearly rejoined her own. Then she stopped… in a visible agony of decision, slammed her fists against her thighs and screamed something at the one of her kind who held the rifle: Otrekh, surely Otrekh. Her voice pleaded, scolded, so impassioned an oration that there was no stir from either side.
"Sam," said Andrews from close on Merrill's left. "Can you understand any of that?"
Merrill shook his head. "I can talk to her in our language, but not in hers. She said she thought the flood would come on us soon. She doesn't think we have much of a chance."
"Why did you go to them?"
"Are you only now asking that?" Merritt returned, and did not bother to answer; it was too much effort.
Otrekh cut off Sazhje's appeal with a brusque move of the rifle he held; and she hesitated, then ran anxiously back to the very edge of the human group, stopped, leaned forward and shouted.
"Otrekh say no make kill Ssam people. Ssam people ahhrht, Ssam. Ah! Sazhje people no kill. No make tam, no tam—Sazhje people ahhrht. Ssam people go 'igh, ah, ah, Ssam! Sazhje come 'morrow. Sazhje make ahhrhl Ssam people. Ssam-Zhim-Ssam people come 'morrow, 'igh, Mgh."
"Can you undersland that?" Andrews asked him. "Is that human talk she's using now?"
Merritt nodded, looked back at the others. "She says," he shouted in his strained voice, "that it wasn't her tribe that blew up the dam, that she's talked with the head man and he's willing to let humans into the uplands if there's no dam. They know we're desperate. And this time you'd better listen."
"They'll massacre us," someone shouted.
"Then stay in the lowlands and drown! No one can help you then. This is the only chance you have."
"No," someone else cried, and Merritt saw Porter snatch a rifle from a man near him—he shouted a warning to Sazhje in the same instant that others moved, struck the rifle up. It discharged helplessly into the air and several men combined to wrench it from Porter's grasp. One of them was one of the Miller boys, who came up with the rifle.
"We've had a belly full of advice that's lost us lives and lost us the dam. We haven't got any more to lose, Sam. Is that creature telling the truth?"
"To the best I know, she is," Merritt answered, "and it's the best and only thing we've got. We'll go out in the valley, we'll gather families here at the station, behind walls; and with them safe, some of us can trust ourselves to the People's word and go into the high hills. The station rock will hold, whatever comes downriver, and we'll build again where it's suitable to them and us. We aren't done yet."
"He's right," said one of the Burns men. "It's by far the best we've got. Get cleared away behind walls, the lot of you, and we'll sort this out when we've got things settled down again, by daylight."
Men began to mill backward, slowly, mistrustfully—but some of the men with Andrews still remained.
"George," said Merritt, "go on, get the rest of them out of here. And keep an eye on Porter."
"Will you be all right out here?"
Merritt nodded, waited, holding his side, until Andrews and all the rest had gone. There was Sazhje, still standing and waiting for his answer. He held out his hand to her and she came to take it.
"It's all right Sazhje, when the water comes, men's places will go. We'll need food, understand—food, food. Many Sam's people come here, stay—understand?"
"Ah," said Sazhje. "Sazhje say Otrekn."
"Otrekh won't kill the people."
"No kill, Ssam. Otrekh say no kill." Her slim strange hands pressed on his. "Ssam come Sazhje. Come Sazhje."
He shook his head sadly. "That's not going to work at all, Sazhje. No—no, Sam can't, can't stay with Sazhje."
She seemed to have expected that answer. She glanced past at something behind him and then up into his face very sadly. Her hands slipped from his and then she moved off quickly to join Otrekh and the others. Once more she looked back.
"Ssam," she said as an afterthought. "Gairh kill tam— tarn kill Gairh, Gairh people. No Gairh." And her face broke into a satisfied smile. With a swinging, cheerful step she crossed the final distance and joined her people in their retreat.
Merritt watched them go, and then feeling the misery of his injuries once more, he turned with a careful move and started for the gate, stopped again as he saw Meg standing in his path.
She waited for him and took his arm as they entered the yard. "Come on," she said gently. "Come on, Sam."
Chapter 16
Merritt looked the papers over, glanced across the table at the governor's desk, signed them one after the other, passed them to Lee under the witness of the silver-suited officer from Pilgrim. The governor signed; the officer affixed his own signature, gathered up the papers.
"A formality," Merritt said. "There'll be a man on Pele, or somewhere along the way; went out on Adam Jones. Don't know if the money will ever catch up to him; but it's his if he wants his half. Mine's to the account of the colony."
The officer looked uncomfortable, regarded the governor, and the silver-suited men who had come with him stood by the door, unmoving through the entire exchange.
Merritt read the looks; they were not that difficult. "I'll walk you downstairs," he said. "The governor won't object. My business here is finished."
"The contract is settled," the governor said, offering an anxious look, a conciliatory gesture. "It's quit, so far as we're concerned."
The officer from Pilgrim looked him up and down, signaled his men, who opened the door. Merritt walked with them, hands in pockets; the door closed after them as they started down the unpainted board stairs.
"We'll get you out of here," the man from the ships said. "We've leave to do it, and the weapons. Don't refuse from fear of losing. We have the beacon-message. That's on file. Whatever force we need—we'll break this colony up if we have to."
Merritt shook his head. "You've got the papers with you. See my partners up ahead somewhere, that's all." He opened the unpainted door, walked out with them into the rain, his own homespun absorbing what their silver shed. He offered his hand. "Goodbye, sir. And thanks. I'll hope you have those supplies set off. A wagon will move them. We're going to appreciate the help we get in that regard. It's been short, this year."
"You're sure. No help needed."
"I'm sure." He pocketed his hand again, turned from them, walked up the street past the open shops. The silver shape of the starship shuttle showed over the brown roofs. It was festival… a subdued one, for Pilgrim had sent her shuttle down armed; but things would begin to ease: there would be new Hestians come summer.