"I don't see why I should."
"Binder," said Mac.
"Mmm... yes, Mac. See here, brother, think it over. Just let us have a binder that you won't sign with anybody else. You can still stick us for anything your conscience will let you. Just a binder, with a thousand plutons on the side."
"I'm not going to sign with anybody else."
"Got that, Mac?"
"Canned."
Evans turned to Rod. "You don't object to answering questions in the meantime, do you? And maybe a few pictures?"
"Uh, I don't care." Rod was finding them puzzling and a little annoying, but they were company and he was bitterly lonely.
"Fine!" Evans drew him out with speed and great skill. Rod found himself telling more than he realized he knew. At one point Evans asked about dangerous animals. "I understand they are pretty rough here. Much trouble?"
"Why, no," Rod answered with sincerity. "We never had real trouble with animals. What trouble we had was with people... and not much of that."
"You figure this will be a premium colony?"
"Of course. The others were fools to leave. This place is like Terra, only safer and richer and plenty of land. In a few years- say!"
"Say what?"
"How did it happen that they left us here? We were only supposed to be here ten days."
"Didn't they tell you?"
"Well... maybe the others were told. I never heard."
"It was the supernova, of course. Delta, uh-"
"Delta Gamma one thirteen," supplied Mac.
"That's it. Space-time distortion, but I'm no mathematician."
"Fluxion," said Mac.
"Whatever that is. They've been fishing for you ever since. As I understand it, the wave front messed up their figures for this whole region. Incidentally, brother, when you go back-"
''I'm not going back."
"Well, even on a visit. Don't sign a waiver. The Board is trying to call it an 'Act of God' and duck responsibility. So let me put a bug in your ear: don't sign away your rights. A friendly hint, huh?"
"Thanks. I won't- well, thanks anyhow."
"Now how about action pix for the lead stories?"
"Well... okay."
"Spear," said Mac.
"Yeah, I believe you had some sort of spear. Mind holding it?"
Rod got it as the great Ellie joined them. "Wonderful!" she breathed. "I can feel it. It shows how thin the line is between man and beast. A hundred cultured boys and girls slipping back to illiteracy, back to the stone age, the veneer sloughing away... reverting to savagery. Glorious!"
"Look here!" Rod said angrily. "Cowpertown wasn't that way at all! We had laws, we had a constitution, we kept clean. We-" He stopped; Miss Ellens wasn't listening.
"Savage ceremonies," she said dreamily. "A village witch doctor pitting ignorance and superstition against nature. Primitive fertility rites-" She stopped and said to Mac in a businesslike voice, "We'll shoot the dances three times. Cover 'em a little for 'A' list; cover 'em up a lot for the family list-and peel them down for the 'B' list. Got it?"
"Got it," agreed Mac.
"I'll do three commentaries she added. "It will be worth the trouble." She reverted to her trance.
"Wait a minute!" Rod protested. "If she means what
I think she means, there won't be any pictures, with or without actors."
"Take it easy," Evans advised. "I said you would be technical supervisor, didn't I? Or would you rather we did it without you? Ellie is all right, brother. What you don't know- and she does- is that you have to shade the truth to get at the real truth, the underlying truth. You'll see.
"But-"
Mac stepped up to him. "Hold still."
Rod did so, as Mac raised his hand. Rod felt the cool touch of an air brush.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"Make up." Mac returned to his gear.
"Just a little war paint," Evans explained. "The pic needs color. It will wash off."
Rod opened his mouth and eyes in utter indignation; without knowing it he raised his spear. "Get it, Mac!" Evans ordered.
"Got it," Mac answered calmly.
Rod fought to bring his anger down to where he could talk. "Take that tape out," he said softly. "Throw it on the ground. Then get out."
"Slow down," Evans advised. "You'll like that pic. We'll send you one.
"Take it out. Or I'll bust the box and anybody who gets in my way!" He aimed his spear at the multiple lens.
Mac slipped in front, protected it with his body. Evans called out, "Better look at this."
Evans had him covered with a small but businesslike gun. "We go a lot of funny places, brother, but we go prepared. You damage that recorder, or hurt one of us, and you'll be sued from here to breakfast. It's a serious matter to interfere with a news service, brother. The public has rights, you know." He raised his voice. "Ellie! We're leaving."
"Not yet," she answered dreamily. "I must steep my-self in-"
"Right now! It's an 'eight-six' with the Reuben Steuben!"
"Okay!" she snapped in her other voice.
Rod let them go. Once they were over the wall he went;back to the city hall, sat down, held his knees and shook.
Later he climbed the stile and looked around. A guard was on duty below him; the guard looked up but said nothing. The gate was relaxed to a mere control hole but a loading platform had been set up and a power fence surrounded it and joined the wall. Someone was working at a control board set up on a flatbed truck; Rod decided that they must be getting ready for major immigration. He went back and prepared a solitary meal, the poorest he had eaten in more than a year. Then he went to bed and listened to the jungle "Grand Opera" until he went to sleep.
"Anybody home?"
Rod came awake instant!y, realized that it was morning- and that not all nightmares were dreams. "Who's there?"
"Friend of yours." B. P. Matson stuck his head in the door. "Put that whittler away. I'm harmless."
Rod bounced up. "Deacon! I mean 'Doctor.'"
"'Deacon,'" Matson corrected. "I've got a visitor for you." He stepped aside and Rod saw his sister.
Some moments later Matson said mildly, "If you two can unwind and blow your noses, we might get this on a coherent basis."
Rod backed off and looked at his sister. "My, you look wondeful, Helen." She was in mufti, dressed in a gay tabard and briefs. "You've lost weight."
"Not much. Better distributed, maybe. You've gained, Rod. My baby brother is a man."
"How did you-" Rod stopped, struck by suspicion. "You didn't come here to talk me into going back? If you did, you can save your breath."
Matson answered hastily. "No, no, no! Farthest thought from our minds. But we heard about your decision and we wanted to see you-s o I did a little politickmg and got us a pass." He added, "Nominally I'm a temporary field agent for the service.
"Oh. Well, I'm certainly glad to see you... as long as that is understood."
"Sure, sure!" Matson took out a pipe, stoked and fired it. "I admire your choice, Rod. First time I've been on Tangaroa."
"On what?"
"Huh? Oh. Tangaroa. Polynesian goddess, I believe. Did you folks give it another name?"
Rod considered it. "To tell the truth, we never got around to it. It... well, it just was."
Matson nodded. "Takes two of anything before you need names. But it's lovely, Rod. I can see you made a lot of progress.
"We would have done all right," Rod said bitterly, "if they hadn't jerked the rug out." He shrugged. "Like to look around?"
"I surely would."
"All right. Come on, Sis. Wait a minute- I haven't had breakfast; how about you?"
"Well, when we left the Gap is was pushing lunch time. I could do with a bite. Helen?"
"Yes, indeed."
Rod scrounged in Margery's supplies. The haunch on which he had supped was not at its best. He passed it to Matson. "Too high?"