The Last Days of the Captain

                            By KATE WILHELM

                        Illustrated by GAUGHAN

                _There is much to be learned even under
               the worst of circumstances. For example,
               about men and women, and love and death._

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                    Amazing Stories November 1962.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Keith looked up scowling as the mayor entered his temporary office.
"Well?" he snapped.

"Captain Winters, there are problems. Some of the people don't wish to
leave.... Their crops, their homes...." Mayor Stebbins edged into the
room hesitantly. "If you'd talk to them...."

"Mayor Stebbins, don't you have any power over these people? Won't
they follow you?" Keith asked sharply.

"How can they adjust so fast, Captain? Only this morning they arose
with everything normal, and now they are told they have to leave what
they've worked for all their lives. How can I explain it to them?"

Keith's eyes filmed over as he stared at the little man. Slowly he
said, "I'll talk to them. In an hour. And, Mayor, three loads of your
people will leave tonight as Taros sets. You decide which ones. I'll
want the information as soon as possible."

The meeting was held in the church. Keith studied the uneasy, pale
faced congregation with an emotionless expression. They had silenced
their buzzing whispers at his approach with the mayor and now waited.
As Stebbins stepped forward to introduce him, he took his elbow and put
him to one side, standing solidly behind the dais himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he started, his voice authoritative and hard,
"you know who the Amories are and that they have literally burned up
three inhabited worlds. The Space Exploration Control has learned that
they plan to attack Kulane in sixteen days, and for that reason the
entire population is being evacuated. Following the evacuation there
will be a surprise counter attack. You will be put aboard a stellar
ship at Lanning and transferred to safety." He paused and regarded them
stonily, seeing not individuals but articles to be moved out. Here and
there audible sobs were heard, but for the most part they were stunned
and still.

Briskly he concluded, "Your mayor will sit in on a briefing shortly and
he will be able to answer your questions later. I cannot stress too
strongly how important it is to give the appearance of normalcy. We
have located alien scanners on Taros and there's another one in orbit
to coincide with the sun's motions. There may be others that we have
not found. They must not report any undue activity!"

He strode through the empty street with the sound of the congregation's
mass voice raised in hymns ringing in his ears. By the time he reached
his makeshift office in the mayor's house, a cynical grin had replaced
his earlier frown. Sheep!

       *       *       *       *       *

Seven days later he climbed a hill overlooking the village. He sat
watching until darkness came and one after another of the house lights
flicked on. Very faintly he could make out the figures that appeared
now and again in the streets, and he nodded his satisfaction. He
glanced once toward the glowing disk of a moon that hovered just above
the tops of the mammoth conifers that made up the terrain of the planet
Kulane. Very tiredly he pushed himself up from the ground and prepared
to return to the village. This last night, and then he'd leave with the
last truck load of settlers, mission accomplished. He stiffened and
pivoted to face the shadowy tree trunks.

"Who's there?" He had heard of the giant cats of Kulane and his tight
lips curled as his fingers became part of his smooth sonic gun.

"Oh, I didn't know you were up here. I'm sorry." It was a woman, her
face a pale blank in the faint light of the moon. She stopped at the
sight of the gun.

"What are you doing in the woods?" He didn't put the gun back in his
tunic.

"Captain, please...." She advanced toward him, her hands held out so
that he could see they were empty. "I'm Marilyn Roget. I came up here
to wait for my husband and son. They'll come this way. Every night I
come."

Stephan Roget, he remembered, was hunting the cats with his twelve year
old son. He stared at the woman for a moment and then sheathed his gun.
"You'd better be getting back," he said starting down the hill.

"Captain! I've tried to see you, but they said you were busy. Please
listen to me!"

"Waiting for your husband?" he said, but he stopped.

"Captain, I don't care what you think. You can't just go off and leave
them. Stevie is only twelve. What will happen to them?"

"There's nothing I can do. We have to have this village emptied by
tomorrow morning and if they aren't back by then, we'll have to leave
them." His tone was remote and again he turned to start back.

       *       *       *       *       *

She ran to his side and caught his arm. "But...." She let her hand fall
and raised her head very high. "Of course, you have to obey orders,
don't you. But I don't. I'll stay and wait. We can get out in one of
the flyers." At the look on his face she rushed on, "Not flying it.
We'll use it as a ground car. We do it when there's a high storm."

"And what if they don't get back in time to make Lanning?"

"I'll hide in the forest until the battle's over. Until the time
comes to hide, I could stay right down there and give it a real look
of authenticity. What if something goes wrong with the robots. What
if the generators fail? Someone should stay and make sure everything
looks real right up to the end. I'll do it, and then hide in the woods
later."

Savagely Keith swung around to blaze at her, "You fool! There will be
no battle! No fight! The Amories will bombard Kulane from out in space
and leave it a seething mass of radioactivity down to the deepest root
of the tallest tree! We don't intend to let them suspect that the
Control knows anything of it!"

Marilyn stared at him, incomprehension giving way to horror and fear.
"I don't believe you," she whispered. "I don't believe you! I DON'T
BELIEVE YOU!" She flung herself at him and beat at his face with hard,
tight fists.

Keith jerked away and slapped her angrily. "Come on," he said roughly
grasping her arm and forcing her ahead of him. Taros dipped behind a
swaying branch of needles and left them dark shadows that stumbled down
the hill.

He held her arm tightly as they walked among the robots dressed in
the villagers' clothes. She was weeping quietly now, making no sound,
not even shaking, just steady tears flowing down her cheeks. Keith
muttered a curse and shouted for Sorenson who was giving last minute
instructions to the few remaining villagers waiting for the setting of
the moon. The atom powered ground car stood loaded with supplies for
the journey.

"Sorenson, take care of her. Put her to bed in the mayor's house.
Change in plans. You take this group and I'll come out tomorrow with
her."

Sorenson looked from the woman back to Keith. "But how will you make it
out?" he blurted.

"We'll use a flyer on the ground. If her husband and son get back,
they'll come with us. Otherwise, I'll bring her alone."

       *       *       *       *       *

When Taros vanished Sorenson and the last of the villagers sped out of
sight toward the towering trees. Despite the cheerful lighting of the
houses, the village had an air of abandonment which deepened as one
by one the house lights blinked out. In the rear of the mayor's house
Marilyn slept fitfully under sedation, and finally Keith stretched out
on the lounge in his office and also slept.

He cooked their breakfast when he heard her moving about, and by the
time she appeared, he was ready to pour the coffee. She sat down
opposite him, her eyes fastened on the plate before her.

"Better eat," he said. "We have lots to do today. You'll have to help
get the flyer ready."

"Yes," she answered. When he finished his eggs, she rose and cleared
the table. Her food was untouched.

Keith stripped down the craft as Marilyn made up a list of supplies for
the trip. He noticed without comment that she prepared enough food for
four. Toward noon the flyer was packed and ready. There was nothing
more to be done until Taros set that night.

He studied his charts and calculated quickly the times for traveling
during the next eight nights. It would take every minute of time they
had. He frowned as he arrived at the figure one hundred ten miles per
hour for the sixty four and two-thirds hours when it would be dark and
Taros and its companion scanner would not be keeping watch.

The afternoon wore on and Keith put away his charts to prowl restlessly
about the mayor's house. Contemptuously he fingered the stuff that
covered the old fashioned lounge and glanced over the outdated books
and ornaments that cluttered the room. He had been in the Space
Exploration Control since his eighteenth birthday, seventeen years
earlier. This assignment had come as a blow to him, baby sitting a
bunch of colonists. Like most of the Control officers he had nothing
but scorn for the earthbound dirt grubbers and their petty, smug lives.
By God, he thought, if someone had come to him and told him he had
to leave his ship, he'd tell him to go to hell, and put him there if
necessary. But these people had crossed their hands and had sung a few
hymns and had moved without an argument. He shook his head angrily;
their psychology was as alien to him almost as that of the Amories. It
hadn't been worth the risk of discovery. He wheeled about as Marilyn
entered the room hesitantly. Like her, he thought, scared to death of
him. Ready to run like a rabbit.

"Captain, you should rest now if you're going to drive all night.
Lieutenant Sorenson gave me these capsules.... If you'd like one...."

Keith's mouth curled in an unpleasant smile and he said coolly, "Keep
them. Just call me at 1030." She turned to leave and he added icily,
"And, Mrs. Roget, don't leave. I've made all the flyers inoperative and
I set the lock for the one we're to use."

The woman turned sharply. "I'm not going with you, Captain!" she cried
fiercely. "I demand one of the flyers to use to look for them! What
harm can that do? We use the flyers all the time, and I'd be going away
from Lanning, not toward it."

"Those scanners aren't to pick up a single flyer, nothing to make them
look twice."

"I'll walk then," she cried. "Don't you understand? I can't just leave
them here to die! I can't!"

Keith shrugged and turned from her taking a paper from the desk and
handing it to her. "Read it, Mrs. Roget. It gives specific directions
for your husband to follow if he returns before take-off time. If he
does get back and does follow those instructions, he'll beat us to
Lanning. But flying is strictly forbidden until on the very last day;
he'll wait until then for the time lock to be released. Now stop being
a child." He pulled off his boots as he spoke and sat on the side of
the lounge.

"You're not lying?" Marilyn asked, wanting to believe.

"Read the instructions," he said brusquely and lay down. He listened to
her footsteps as she replaced the paper on the desk and left.

       *       *       *       *       *

The roads through the forest were merely wide, cleared thoroughfares
between the giant trees, held as nearly as possible to straight lines.
Since the ground cars and trucks actually never touched the ground
except when at rest, the trailing vines that covered the forest floor
were allowed to grow undisturbed. Skimming eighteen inches above it,
it took on the appearance of smooth, oiled concrete, and would feel
just as hard if they should hit an obstruction at the speed Keith held.
Marilyn sat motionless beside him oblivious to the streak of trees and
vines they passed at speeds that often hit one hundred thirty. Keith's
face set in lines of intense concentration as he gazed steadily into
the opening among the trees and with part of his mind listened to the
roar of the jet streams of air. After three hours without slowing once,
he brought the flyer to a dead stop, braking in quickly and smoothly.

"What's wrong?" Marilyn asked almost disinterestedly.

"Trees are having a hypnotic effect," he said shortly. They were
thinner here and he adjusted the light downward. Marilyn handed him
coffee and he drank it quickly. Five minutes later they were racing
along the forest road again.

They traveled for nine hours and sixteen minutes that first night, and
when dawn brought the second scanner into play, Keith slumped over the
wheel of the flyer letting his muscles jerk and twitch as they found
relaxation. They ate wordlessly and slept encased in air mattresses.

When he awakened, he thought she had gone. He was alone by the flyer
and the forest was noisy with birds. The plastic mattress cover was now
too warm as the sun advanced across the sky. He got up and repacked his
bed and cover in the flyer and munched on a biscuit. He didn't hear her
return until she was nearly up to the flyer and then he stared. She was
dressed in a green, two-piece knit suit that covered her entirely from
her wrists to her ankles. She was delicately slender and well formed.
He realized he was staring at her only when she flushed slightly and
turned away. With a disturbing sensation that he had made a mistake in
not letting her wait for her husband he jerked his chart from the flyer
and walked to the trees to sit down and mark off one night. Later in
the afternoon he strapped on his sonic gun and hoped one of the cats
would make an appearance that day.

       *       *       *       *       *

The third night they came upon the first of a series of boulders that
jutted out into the clearing. By day, or even by night, at a reasonable
speed, it would have been simple to avoid them. As it was he had to
cut his speed in half, and then some more, to keep the flyer above
them, and out of the trees. Left to itself it would try to maintain
the eighteen inches he had set, but in doing so, it would veer upward
and meet disaster against the branches of the trees. Four hours after
starting he called a halt for coffee.

"How did they find out an attack was coming?" Marilyn asked, holding
her cup in both hands to warm them.

Keith leaned back, grudgingly grateful to her, and forced his mind off
the boulders he knew lay ahead of them. He demanded obedience from
his muscles and nerves, compelling himself to un-tense. "One of your
teachers from Lanning had a group of boys on Taros for a holiday and
geology trip and he came across the scanner. He had enough sense not
to disturb it and reported it immediately to the Control. From his
description they decided it was probably a heat-sensing device and this
plan fit. There were several alternative plans already drawn up, if the
opportunity ever came to use them. The fleet was dispatched to maneuver
in this sector for cover and then ostensibly withdraw again. When they
leave, every person on Kulane is to be aboard the ships ready to take
off. That will give us two days or more to finish setting the trap;
it'll take them at least that long to gather in the sector, but this
time it will be different."

"But you said there'd be no battle," she said quickly, a note of hope
making her voice husky.

"There won't be. They'll think they've done it again. Hit and run. But
we'll have a fix on them and follow them to home base."

"I see." Her voice went flat again. "Kulane will be destroyed as the
other worlds were. Why didn't you tell them the truth?"

"This was the only way," Keith said coldly. "As it is, this mass
evacuation is a calculated risk, and if there had been four thousand
more inhabitants, it wouldn't have been attempted." He started the
motor again, remembering the look on her face when he set the lock on
the two seater flyer that was fast enough to get from the village to
Lanning in a single night.

In eight and a half hours they made only five-hundred fifty miles.
Keith drank his coffee quickly and stalked away. He walked several
miles scouting the road that lay ahead of them and returned in a
vicious mood. Marilyn avoided his eyes as she handed him the rest of
his breakfast.

"Do you think the others are having trouble?" she asked after a long
silence.

"It'll be easier for them. Those trucks, cars, or whatever you call
them, are made for skimming. The flyer isn't." He didn't add that there
were also enough men to drive in shifts.

She nodded gravely and prepared her bed.

He wondered if she slept and knew she must sometime despite the growing
hollows beneath her eyes and the darkness of the hollows.

       *       *       *       *       *

That afternoon he unloaded some of the food and replaced it with
boulders. Marilyn helped, rearranging the remaining food, straining to
help lift the heavy stones into the flyer. "Might do some good," Keith
grunted wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"Do you think we'll make it to Lanning in time?" she asked quietly.

"Not if we have many nights like last night. Afraid?" He could feel
the sweat trickling down his back where his tunic didn't touch and he
hunched his shoulders letting the material soak it up.

"There's a stream about a quarter of a mile down there," Marilyn said
pointing. She was perspiring and moist and her hair had begun to curl
about her face where little stray ends worked loose from the roll high
on her head.

"Are you afraid?" he repeated.

"I don't know," she answered simply as if she hadn't considered it. "I
keep praying Stephan and Stevie have got the message and will be there
waiting for us. Perhaps I am afraid." Her eyes met his and she added,
"But not of dying."

Keith turned sharply snatching his clean uniform from the flyer. "I'll
go wash first and get dried. We'll freeze when the sun goes down," he
said in the same voice he used with his sergeant.

That night they drove for eight hours and fifteen minutes and covered
five-hundred twenty miles.

"I can't believe one lone flyer in the sky would be disastrous,"
Marilyn exclaimed, breaking into his monotonous swearing. "You can't
stand many more nights like that and you know it."

"We can't take that risk!" he shot back at her. "One object in the sky
might draw attention that would make this whole trek stand out. We
don't even know for sure what kind of scanners they are using."

"Then be sensible and stop cursing those rocks. That isn't going to
move them!" She slapped the can she was holding to the ground angrily,
"What's happened to that perfect Control training, Captain? Are you
afraid you'll be stuck here in the forest when the Amories attack?"

"Goddam it! Shut up! I've got a squadron to lead on a battleship!
That's where I belong, not out here in a wilderness leading a bunch of
moon faced settlers home to safety. This shouldn't have been tried in
the first place! We'll give it all away and the Amories will bypass
Kulane and hit somewhere else while we're playing nursemaid. Our first
chance at them and some big brass has to louse it up with a stunt like
this!"

"You would have voted against us, wouldn't you?" she asked softly, a
look of repugnance crossing her face. "Captain Winters, just what are
you fighting for?"

Keith felt his hands become fists and involuntarily he took a step
toward her. Abruptly he turned and stalked off, conscious of her
following stare until he passed from her sight.

       *       *       *       *       *

He walked unthinking until his legs throbbed and only then did he turn
back. She was standing before the flyer and without raising her voice
she said urgently, "There's a cat to my left! It's ready to spring."

Keith faded back several steps to get a view of the rear of the flyer,
but he didn't dare risk hitting the ship. He could see the great beast
moving, agonizingly slow, between the ten foot tree trunks. It was
cat-like only in its tawny color and its crouching, ready-to-spring
stalking. Its hairless head was long with a mouth that could open a
foot wide; the rest of it, covered with stubby yellowish hair, seemed
to be mostly long powerful legs built for leaping.

"I'll attract it over here," Keith called and stepped in front of the
flyer.

"It won't change its prey," Marilyn answered. "Walk around behind me.
As soon as I start to move it will jump. It will make two leaps; one to
snatch me up and the next back to the trees. You'll have to be fast. If
it misses me it will keep going and try again before you know it. I'll
count three, take two steps away from the flyer and dive back under at
three."

"Marilyn, stand still!" Keith shouted and was furious with himself.
"I'll circle it."

"They're never alone," she said. She glanced at him then and said
steadily, "one." She took a step away from the ship. "Two." Another
step. "Three." She whirled and dived and the beast was in the air
higher than Keith's head. It landed without stopping its forward
momentum, its claws raking the spot where she had been the second
before. Keith's gun fired and the creature crashed to the ground and
moved no more. He ran to Marilyn and they climbed into the flyer before
the cat's mate appeared at the edge of the woods. It sniffed their
presence, hesitated momentarily, then seized its partner and dragged it
off through the trees.

"It won't be back," Marilyn said calmly as it disappeared.

"Is that what your ... your people hunt?" Keith asked. He knew he
wouldn't choose hunting the beasts for sport.

       *       *       *       *       *

The boulders were left behind them that night and when they stopped
they had crossed off another eight hundred fifty-one miles.

       *       *       *       *       *

The weather was growing steadily colder and they slept in the flyer.
He was acutely aware of her breathing as his legs jerked and muscles
untied. The strain of following that one bright, low light among the
tree trunks, of being alert to changes in the terrain and anticipating
curves and turns was telling on his nervous system.

He listened to her sigh in her sleep and he wondered vaguely what it
would be like to live with her, go hunting with her, see her in his
bed, feel her at his side, share the breakfast table with her day by
day. He wondered if she dimpled when she laughed, what it took to make
her laugh. He let the fantasies loose and drifted off into sleep.

He wakened hearing her scream. Just the one scream of terror. He
slipped from his seat and groped for her.

She fell against him shaking, unable to speak and he stroked her hair
until she was still. He hadn't known she took her hair down when she
slept. It was long, nearly to her waist, and incredibly soft. He held
her and stroked her hair and remembered the thoughts he'd had while
falling asleep. He pushed her from him and asked self-consciously, "Are
you all right?"

"I'm sorry," she said weakly, fighting for control again. "I must have
dreamed."

He knew she was weeping although her voice didn't break. "Try to rest
some more," he said. "I'll see about coffee."

Nine hundred miles and they both took the sleeping medicine and huddled
under their covers. He was groggy and heavy when he woke up, his
appetite dulled and a bitter taste in his mouth. Marilyn was walking
back and forth beside the flyer, a heavy tunic pulled over her green
suit. There was no sign of the sun high over the trees.

Let it rain, he thought viciously. That was all he needed, to drive
through a rain storm. It didn't however. They talked in a desultory
manner, and regularly they got out and stamped up and down along the
clearing. Neither of them mentioned the dream.

Night after night their traveling time had grown shorter as Taros set
later. Kulane had thirty-two hour days and by the sixth night they were
using only seven and three quarters hours of it for their journey. The
day dragged interminably, and after sunset they still had eight hours
to wait for Taros to go down. Keith sat stoically trying to ignore the
cold that numbed his fingers. "You should have gone with the others,"
he said. "They'll be warmer inside the trucks."

Her voice floated back from the rear seat of the ship. "I'm all right.
Why did you wait?"

"It was the least I could do."

"You were glad," she said with a note of finality. "You didn't want to
be confined with them for so long."

"Why don't you try to sleep. It's going to be rough when we do get
started."

"Why don't you answer me? I could sense it every time I saw you, how
you hated us all. You came so cold and hard, despising us, seeing us
as things that stood in your way." Her voice was low and meditative,
as if she were thinking aloud. "They all knew exactly how the Amories
left the other worlds they found. What good could they have done on the
ground? You'll never know how much strength it took for them to leave."

Keith turned on his side and pretended to sleep. She was a stupid,
ignorant peasant, he thought. All she knew was farming and hunting in
the deep forests and how to keep her son and husband fed and content.
Like animals all they had was acceptance for whatever came along.
Strength! Were sheep strong? He dozed fitfully and the vision of her
standing beside a slightly smaller version of her, a boy version of
her, smiling, kept intruding in his dreams.

       *       *       *       *       *

That night he got the speed up to a hundred quickly. One ten, fifteen,
twenty, thirty. The trees were a blur as they raced by them and only
the opening before him was real and straight. The small craft edged
past one thirty and the gauge needle reached for the one forty mark and
held there. His arms ached after the first hour, and his eyes burned
as if he had a fever as he stared ahead watching for a sudden curve or
dip that could send them hurtling up into the trees. The way was ruler
straight and the inclines long and rolling. The needle crept past the
forty mark and held the fifty indicator. The trees were a solid wall,
dark and impenetrable, gleaming back at him the reflection from the
stabbing light.

Suddenly a boulder loomed ahead, and before he could react to it, the
flyer arced up. It missed the first branch of the tree and climbed
higher as he struggled to regain control. He headed the craft upward
through the branches, reducing speed, hearing the snapping of branches
as the nose of the flyer cut through them. Then they were above the
trees and in the sky.

Without a moment's hesitation Keith turned the light downward and
hovered above the branches looking for a way back in. Finally, very
cautiously, he began to lower it, maneuvering it carefully among the
tree limbs, feeling pain every time he heard the inevitable scraping.
At last they were back on the ground and he turned for the first time
to look at Marilyn.

"Are you all right?"

A long shudder passed over her and she nodded. She pressed both hands
into her face and shook but made no sound. Keith frowned helplessly,
feeling the same need for release from tension. He started to reach for
the coffee, but instead found himself gathering her into his arms.

"It's all right, Marilyn. It's all right now. I'm sorry." He held her
murmuring quietly, his eyes closed, until she pushed back, calmed
again. He tightened his arm about her shoulders.

"Please," she whispered tightly, "leave me alone."

Abruptly he pulled away and got the coffee out. He avoided looking at
her, staring into the blackness outside instead. After swallowing the
hot coffee he fingered the starter again. "I'm going to see if it will
go," he said. "Ready?"

"Yes," she said steadily.

There were no more of the boulders and he held the speed on one forty
almost hoping they would crash into one of the trees. It would be
quick and painless, but the tunnel was smooth and he followed the wide
curves without slackening speed until the sky was starting to lighten
in streaks barely visible through the covering of the needles above.
When he brought the flyer to a halt and felt the faint bump as it met
the ground, he let his head fall forward cradled in his arms over the
control panel. Wearily he noted that they had made one thousand miles.
He slept.

       *       *       *       *       *

Something awakened him. He shifted his cramped position slightly
without opening his eyes and a nearly inaudible gasp brought him to
complete alertness. He didn't move, but tried to hear, and there was
nothing else. Very deliberately he inched his hand across the seat to
his gun, and he could have cursed. It wasn't there. Then he did open
his eyes, just enough to see in the edge of his field of vision that
Marilyn had the gun and she was watching him. The gun was pointed at
his head.

He let his eyes close and waited. Do it now, kid, he thought. Do it! Do
it! Take the flyer and go look for them. You have that much coming to
you. Do it!

He couldn't hold the position after several more minutes; his legs
were sending cramping pains up through his hips, and his hand was
asleep on the seat where his gun had been. Keeping his eyes closed he
shifted again. Damn her! She was a coward after all! She couldn't do
it. Gradually he untensed and fatigue dulled his thoughts. Coward, the
word kept parading through his mind, and it was not clear whether he
meant her for not shooting, or himself for wanting her to shoot.

Marilyn's voice roused him and he had no awareness of passage of time.
"Keith," she said again, "you should eat and lie down. You'll be so
cramped."

He pulled himself away from the seat reluctantly. He was aching all
over, from both cold and cramped muscles. The gun was once more by him.
Had he dreamed it then? Quickly he looked out at her. "Did I sleep
long?" he asked.

"Several hours." She had her cover draped about her and her face was
pinched and very cold looking.

He ate before he went out to inspect the damage the tree had done. It
was surprisingly little. The sharp nosed, wingless craft was sturdy
with no protuberances to catch and break. Apparently it had slid
between the woody limbs with little more than scratching to show it.

From behind him she said, "It would have been so easy once you were up
there to open up and cover five or six hundred miles during that lost
hour. Didn't it occur to you?"

"I thought of it," he admitted tiredly arranging his cover on the front
seat.

"But you wouldn't do it, would you? Not even for yourself."

He turned to look at her and her eyes were very bright and remote,
almost glassy. "Not even for you," he said distinctly.

She turned her curiously bright eyes to his and took a step toward him.
"I'm so cold," she said faintly.

Her face was ashen, but her eyes burned into him. He went to her,
taking her in his arms gently. She was stiff and cold in his arms. He
felt nearly unendurable pain as her soft fingers that were so strong
clutched at his back.

When she slept he carefully covered her and crawled into the other seat
where he lay watching her for a long time until he too slept.

       *       *       *       *       *

The moon was shining when they awoke and it lighted them as they ate.
Afterward they sat inside the flyer, she in the rear seat and he up
front. The trees shadowed the flyer and the dark grew deeper until he
could see nothing and their voices when they spoke came from a void and
sounded briefly and left nothingness behind.

"The ships will be uncomfortable," he said. "It would have been too
risky sending regular passenger cruisers, so they stripped down cargo
ships. Nothing left inside but the engine rooms and floors. You'll be
crowded and uncomfortable."

"That doesn't matter," she replied after a pause. "Just so they all get
out."

They were silent a very long time and finally Keith said, "I'll get
coffee. We should be eating, I suppose."

They ate little, however, but sipped the hot drink slowly savoring the
warmth and strength of it.

"Marilyn, I want you to take one of those pills Sorenson gave you."

In the dim light he could see her wide, luminous eyes still burning
with an unnatural light. "I'm all right," she said. "I can take it as
long as you can drive."

"I know you can. I don't want you to have to."

"Keith," Marilyn said in a low voice, "I understand. Sometimes a woman
knows things that aren't said and mustn't be said. I'm not afraid."

"And sometime, a long time from now, can I see you?"

She ducked her head not answering and he reached for the controls.

It was a nightmare in which there was no let-up of speed, no curve to
break the monotony of the abyss that drew them along. As the miles were
left behind with totals changing at dizzying speeds he kept thinking
of Stevie, almost as big as she. Her son. Her husband. How could she
see him again? He didn't stop for a break although his arms ached and
dragged leadenly at his commands and a numbness crept upward through
his legs. They were entering Lanning when dawn was still several hours
away.

       *       *       *       *       *

Lt. Sorenson met them jubilantly. "I knew you'd make it, sir. Mrs.
Roget, you're to go to room A-3 in the administration building. They'll
direct you."

Keith ignored the man and helped Marilyn from the flyer. She started
to walk toward the building, but turned and said, "Make it a very long
time, Captain." The fierce brightness of her eyes was gone and there
was only a deep, dull hurt there.

"What's that mean?" Sorenson asked and not waiting for a reply added,
"You sure can't figure these colonists, can you? Wouldn't you have
thought she'd at least ask about her husband and son?"

"Sorenson, shut your mouth!" Keith's voice was ominous. "These people
are the only reason we have for even existing." He wheeled about
and strode away remembering to hold himself as erect and proud as
she had done. The pain in his own eyes, deep where it wasn't easily
discernible, very nearly matched hers.


                                THE END