“And then what?”
Kobol stopped in mid-prance. He stood uncertainly before the rough wooden table at which Alec sat. His smile of triumph began to crumble.
“What do you mean?”
Alec began to understand part of what Douglas had been telling him. “What then? What happens to the settlement after fifty years?”
Kobol shook his head, a short snap to either side, like a horse shaking off a gadfly. “They’ll find more, of course. Fifty years is a long time; we won’t be around to worry about it.”
“No,” Alec said. “I suppose not.”
“I’m ordering a pair of shuttles down to start loading the fissionables at first light tomorrow. They can land at the airfield right here.”
“All right.”
“And I want Douglas packed aboard too. They’ll be waiting for him back at the settlement.”
Alec pushed his unfinished plate away from him and got to his feet. “No.”
“Eh? What do you mean?”
“I mean no. You’re not taking Douglas back to the settlement. We’ll handle him right here. I’ll take care of it.”
“No you won’t.” Kobol’s tone hardened.
“You’ve been riding pretty high, but it’s time you realized that I’m a Council member and I have the final say in…”
Alec pulled his gun from its holster. “Martin, you can take the fissionables and yourself back to the settlement tomorrow. I’ll follow you there shortly. But Douglas stays here. He chose to live on Earth, he might as well be buried on Earth. If you want to be buried here too, just say one more word.” Alec’s voice was as soft as the purr of a leopard. “One more word, that’s all.”
Kobol’s mouth opened, but no sound came from it. He snapped it shut with an audible click of his horsy teeth. His face went white with anger and fear.
“Good,” Alec said. He pointed to the door with the gun. “Now get out of here and go about your work. Leave Douglas to me. And keep your hands off my mother until I return to the settlement. You can be killed there as easily as here. Remember that.”
Seething, Kobol turned and limped out of the house.
Alec holstered his gun and sat down to finish his meal. But he was no longer hungry. Suddenly he felt old, grayer than his father, weary and miserable and completely alone.
The guard peered around the door jamb. “Sir?”
“What is it?”
“We have a prisoner here… someone you said you wanted to see.”
“Will Russo?”
“That’s who he says he is, sir.”
“Send him in!” Alec rose again and came around the table.
Will strode in. He was caked with grime and his clothing was torn in several places, but when he stepped into the kitchen and saw Alec his big puppydog grin spread across his face.
“You weren’t fooling about a big army, were you?” he said.
Alec put his hand out and Will grabbed it.
“Are you all right?” Alec asked. “Have you eaten? Are you hurt?”
“I’m starving, but otherwise okay. Your boys had us pinned down for six hours. Never saw so many guns and lasers in my life.”
Alec sat him down at the table and ordered the guard to bring more food. He watched as Will wolfed down everything in sight and washed it down with a liter of fresh cow’s milk.
“Which village did Angela go to?” Alec asked as Will ate.
“Dunno,” Will said, his mouth bulging. “But she’ll be here. She’ll want to see Douglas, tend to him.”
Tend to him, Alec thought jealously.
“You took a lot of casualties?” he changed the subject.
Will nodded. “It was pretty heavy out there. You had us outgunned and outsmarted.”
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”
“So’m I!” Will said, with a laugh. But almost immediately, the laughter died away. “A lot of good men died out there today. A lot of good men.”
Alec agreed with a nod. “But at least it’s over now.”
“Over? Oh no! By golly, it’s really just beginning.”
“Begin… what do you mean?”
“Ask Douglas about it,” Will replied. “I’m surprised he hasn’t told you about it already.”
“Told me what?”
But all Will would say was, “Ask Douglas.”
“Dammit!” Alec snapped. “You know he’s under arrest for treason. Kobol wants to bring him back to the settlement and make a public exhibit out of him.”
“You won’t let them?”
“No, I won’t. But I can’t let him live, either.”
Will shrugged.
“Technically, you’re as guilty as he is,” Alec added. “You refused to return to the settlement, too. But it’s Douglas they want to punish. You won’t have to…”
“No,” Will said. There was iron in it.
Alec stared at him.
“I’m Douglas’s man. What happens to him happens to me. I’m as guilty as he is. We planned this thing together. Kill him and you’ve got to kill me, too. Or else.”
“Or else what?”
“Or else I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”
“Hell’s fire, Will! You’re talking like a medieval barbarian.”
“Maybe that’s what I am. Maybe that’s what we all are. I love you like my own son, Alec. I owe my life to you. But if you kill that man I won’t be able to rest until I’ve avenged him.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Exactly,” said Will Russo.
It was late when Alec walked down the lonely street to Douglas’s house. Late and dark. The spring night had turned cold; the stars glittered with winter hardness. The street was deserted except for the two guards lounging near the truck parked at the cul-de-sac end of the street. All of Douglas’s troops had been disarmed and penned into a few of the big barracks buildings. No women at all had been found in the base.
Tomorrow, Alec knew, the women would start returning from the outlying villages.
The guards straightened up when they recognized Alec. He saw that they had a small electric grill plugged into the truck’s generator, and they were warming themselves with it.
“Chilly night,” Alec said to them.
“Sure is.”
Inside Douglas’ house two more men were drowsing in the living room. They snapped to their feet when Alec let the front door bang shut.
“Everything quiet in here?” he asked.
“Yessir.” They were both embarrassed, even a touch fearful.
Without another word, Alec tiptoed up the steps and pushed at the door to Douglas’ room. The old man was sitting on the bed in almost exactly the same position that Alec had left him earlier. He was wearing glasses now, and reading a battered, well-thumbed book. Alec squinted at the cover but it was too worn to make out the title.
“Come on in,” Douglas said softly, barely looking up from the book. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Alec stepped into the room and took the chair, feeling oddly nervous, edgy. As he sat down, he realized that Douglas’ voice was no longer the booming, demanding, self-assured roar it had once been. He was quieter, his voice subdued. From defeat? Alec found that hard to believe.
Douglas waggled the book. “Found this in a city library, years ago. Hemingway. The Fifth Column and the First Forty-Nine, Forty-nine short stories, that is. Magnificent. You ought to read them.”
Alec shrugged.
“So.” Douglas put the book down on the table beside his bed. The radio equipment had been cleared away; nothing was left except the torn end of the cable still hanging from the room’s one window. “You’ve come to see if I’m comfortable and enjoyed my meal?”
“No.”
“Come to read me my death sentence?” He actually looked amused.
“Not that either,” Alec said. “I’ve come to find out what you meant when you said that your work’s nearly finished, but mine is just beginning. Will said something very much like it a couple of hours ago…”