Another runner panted in from the woods. The Cobs hadn’t changed direction. Ten minutes more, and they would be within sprayer range.

  Tass pulled at Janotek’s sleeve, her face drawn and her slanted eyes etched with fear. Nathan left them to their own decisions, and ran from shelter to shelter, gathering a small force to man the sprayers, ordering the rest of the camp to evacuate and head for town. The usually serene clearing became a jumble of darting figures as people collected what they could carry and disappeared into the trees, going south. Nathan hoped that another Cob force wouldn’t come from that direction to catch them in a snare.

  The grind of ground-car motors struggling against the underbrush floated with the wind, and Nathan’s body quickened, remembering its patterns of action from the many raids. He tore through the main cabin, piling papers into the stove as Abby built a hot fire. The motor noise became a roar, and he needed more time. He sent picked men out to hold the Cobs off, then made a fast check of each shelter to see that everyone was getting away.

  Rifle shots sprang up inside the trees, and the hiss of sprayers crackled the air. Nathan scrambled with Abby to get his clothes and some things for her, then Janotek’s deep voice swung him around.

  “Haven’t you gone?” Nathan cried. “I don’t want the death of a Councilor to my credit, too!”

  “We must have some plan.” Janotek was frightened, his breath coming hard. “I have to be able to find you when I need you.”

  “You’re right.” Nathan’s brain whirled in haste. “In front of the church in Corbella City—where they took Paul. At noon. That will be our meeting place.” “But how will you know my man?” Janotek still wouldn’t budge.

  More shots banged, echoing through the trees, and Nathan pushed him out of the cabin, toward his air-car. They ran together, and Nathan panted the first thing that came into his head. “Have him put his collar up. It’s summer, and I’ll know him by that. If there are Cobs around, and I can’t meet with him, I’ll go into the church. Tell him to leave me alone if I do.”

  “Very well. But see that you get through safely, Nathan Cory. I need you.”

  Nathan stopped by the air-car and gave the Councilor a hand up. “I’m glad you finally admitted it,” he said as Janotek settled inside. “Now get going!” He didn’t wait, racing for the cabin. The whirr of the car rose behind him, and he felt easier. But the vial was still in the cellar, and Abby was waiting for him.

  He dashed through the door and took the cellar steps three at a time. Harris sprang up before him, frantically searching for his virus. But Nathan had wisely moved it, soon after Harris relinquished it.

  He pushed Harris out of the way, “Run, you fool. I’ll take care of it. I promise!”

  Harris refused to go. Nathan grabbed up the vial, dodged his thin, grasping arms, and sprinted up the steps. He took Abby’s hand and they ran across the clearing. The shots were closer, but still coming from the sides. Nathan picked up a rifle, took careful aim, and hit the camp bell three times in close succession, the planned signal to cease fire and run. Then he shoved Abby into the brush, in the direction of the road and the check-point.

  The rifle reports stopped with the ring of the bell, but the noise of cars and shouting Cobs was still deafening. They ran swiftly, avoiding dead foliage and bushes. Abby kept good pace, but Harris fell back, his thin frame unable to stand the shocks. Nathan had one terrible moment when he didn’t know whether to wait for him or not, then decided against it. The vial jogged heavily in his pocket, and that was the more important of the two.

  They reached the road and Nathan crept along the edge, straining for sounds of movement. Nothing came. He edged slowly onto the road and searched it up and down, but it was deserted. Grabbing Abby’s hand, he sprinted the safe distance to within sight of the check-point, and took to the woods again as Cob guards appeared ahead of them. There was a ground car parked at the point.

  With quick decision, he opened his case, taking out the sprayer he had brought. Ordering Abby to stay put, he circled through the woods to come up on the check-point from the rear. The Cobs were nervously guarding the road in front of them, expecting any escaping Rebels to approach from that direction. Their guard wasn’t very complete, Nathan thought as he slithered through the trees. But it was undoubtedly planned that way. Kash wasn’t interested in killing them, just dispersing them.

  When he calculated that he had gone beyond the check-point, he angled in for the road. It opened in front of him and the Cob backs were before his sprayer.

  He braced his firing arm and leaped onto the road with a yell, squeezing the trigger at the same moment. The Cobs had no more than whirled around when the blast cut into them and they toppled in unison, face down in the dust. They didn’t move again.

  “Abby!” he shouted.

  As she hobbled into sight, lugging the cases alone, he ran to the car and got it started, then took the cases and threw them inside, shoving her in with as little ceremony.

  He stepped on the power and wheeled the car onto the road, squealing the tires in the desperate dash for town. But the miles droned under them with no interruption. They were alone. He swung on the turn-off that would take them to the far side of Co-bella City, away from Cob Headquarters and its myriad guarded gates. Farm land grew up around them: fields with young grain, and cows munching contentedly on invisible cuds. Abby stared at it with an intense interest, and Nathan realized that this was the first time she had been outside the camp in fifteen years.

  He slowed to half-speed and approached the town, keeping a close look-out for Cobs. If he was seen in this car, he would be swallowed up again in Kash’s prison. But he couldn’t abandon it, yet; he had to get closer.

  Two blocks from the city limits, he swerved off the road and parked the car behind a big Cob propaganda sign. “We’ll walk from here,” he told Abby. “We’re going to be conspicuous as the very devil, but we’ll have to brazen it out. Not every Cob we meet is going to be looking for us, so don’t panic.”

  Her eyes were steady in response, and he knew he could count on her. They started out stiffly, the cases feeling like neon signs proclaiming their identity. They walked sedately, counting the rhythm of their strides. Luckily, the Cobs had softened their new orders and people were again allowed on the streets. Traffic thickened as they approached the center of town. Cobs passed them, but their green eyes held little more than curiosity. If they were expecting Rebels to trickle in, they weren’t expecting them so soon after the attack.

  “Where do we go?” Abby asked finally, her voice empty, afraid that there was no answer.

  “I only know one place, and if she won’t take us, we’re lost.”

  “Then she’ll take us.” Abby wouldn’t be daunted. “Where?”

  “Paul’s town house. His sister lives there, and I’m hoping she won’t hate us so much that she’ll refuse to hide us.”

  Abby didn’t answer that one.

  They turned right at the comer of Elm street and followed down the rows of big, ungainly houses that had stood there for years. Once mansions, now they decayed in ramshackle dignity. When they found the one marked, “Houseman,” it was in better condition than the rest. Paul, as leader of the sheep-people, had been allowed to keep it up. The porch was wide and clean-swept, shaded by two great elm trees. Nathan pressed the old buzzer and stood back to wait.

  A frail, gray-haired woman opened the door a crack, but it was enough for Nathan to see the resemblance. This had to be Paul’s sister. “What is it?” she asked. Her dress was black.

  “I’m Nathan Cory,” he said simply. “I was Paul’s friend.”

  “Come in. Paul spoke of you so often …” Her voice broke off.

  Nathan let Abby go first, passing into the foyer and then the living room. It was grand in an old-fashioned way, with stiff-backed furniture and a prim neatness. “The funeral is tomorrow,” the woman said. “Paul is at the funeral home now. You can go there any time.”

  “We’re intruding, Miss Houseman, and we know it.” Abby took up the right words. “But we can’t really help ourselves.” She explained quickly what had happened, and why they were there. “If you will hide us . .

  The woman was in a numb daze. Nathan understood that look from the memory of it in the past. But she said, “Of course, you can stay. Nathan and Abby—Paul thought of you as his own.”

  Maybe the hiding place was obvious, but it was the only one Nathan knew. He hoped the others from camp had fared as well. He and Abby took over the third floor of the house, keeping painfully quiet while people came and went below, offering condolences. With night, the house was silent amid its creaks and groans, as Miss Houseman spent the time at the funeral home.

  While she was gone, they crept downstairs, drew the curtains, and watched the news on the television set. Nathan wondered at the stop of progress. Fifteen years ago, everyone had known that soon TV would be solely in color and perhaps three-D. All of that had vanished with the Cobs. Humanity was not allowed to progress, and this world could be the same one that he had left.

  Paul held the first line of news. The world was alive with demonstrations for him, and word of the attacks on Rebel encampments had brought scattered riots of protest. Two days ago, this would have been impossible. Nathan admitted doggedly that Janotek had been right, after all.

  On the galaxy side of the news, the information was all black and menacing. Threatening notes were being hurled back and forth across space from one planet to another. The Federation was teetering on the edge of total confusion and war, and the special session could not be far in the future.

  The night passed in fitful sleep. Then, near noon, with many cautions from Abby, Nathan went into town, keeping to sidestreets until the location of the church forced him to enter heavier traffic. He pulled his hat low and averted his face to peer into shop windows. The sheep-people might be friendly now, but he didn’t want to be recognized. People bumped him, and Cobs waddled by, but no one paid him special attention. He was glad he had chosen noon as the time for meeting. The stores let out for lunch and the sidewalks swarmed with pedestrians. He could lose himself.

  He paced before the church as long as he could, then crossed the street and checked it from there.

  But no one came. No one with his collar turned up in the heat of the day. When the clock struck one, he headed back to Elm street and one more span of safe hours.

  The next day, as he wound his way toward the church, he noticed familiar faces in the crowds. The Rebels were beginning to enter Corbella City. He kept his hands firmly in his pockets to keep from calling to them.

  He came abreast of the church just as the tower clock struck twelve, his eyes searching the streaming lines of people. A figure separated itself from the rest and went up the steps of the church, pausing to light a cigarette. The man wore a blue sports shirt, and the collar was up.

  Nathan crossed the street in the midst of the crowd, checking for Cobs. The few within sight were innocently going about their own business. The man on the steps had now gone to stare at the place where Jenson had said Paul was lain in state. Nathan approached to stand beside him, saying for stranger’s ears, “So this is where he was? There should be a marker here.”

  The man turned and Nathan was startled as he recognized the patrician features of a Marikan. The sloppy clothes had disguised his tall slimness until he looked like any one of a dozen men in Earth’s assorted populace.

  “The Councilor hoped you’d be able to make contact,” he whispered. “The session has been called for four days from now.”

  “I’ll never get a ship,” Nathan said under his breath, maintaining his stance of curiosity. “I don’t really know that Kash is after me, but I can’t take the chance.”

  “The Councilor is aware of that. His information is that they are looking for you. Kash wants you—to give him information and to keep you out of circulation.”

  “Does Janotek have a plan?”

  “You can’t get out of Corbella City,” the Marikan said, “so we’ll come to you. Tell me where you’re staying, and tomorrow night, after curfew, an air-car will get to you. Once you’re aboard, you’ll be under the official protection of the Marikan government, and no Cobellan would dare take you from us.”

  “But I live right here in town,” Nathan protested softly. “An air-car would be seen.”

  “We’ll take precautions. We’ll use a Cobellan car. There may be trouble, but it will have to be risked.” Nathan moved off a little to break up the appearance of a conversation as he thought over the consequences of the plan. When he came back, he said, “No, we’ll do it this way. I’ll get to the park on Maple street and Grand, and meet your car there. Say at midnight.”

  “But that is adding more risk,” the Marikan argued.

  “I don’t think so, and anyway, it can’t be helped. If you came for me where I’m hiding, I’d be putting my hostess in danger, plus exposing the best hiding place in town. It has to be the park.”

  “I must get instructions. Meet me at the church tonight before curfew.”

  Nathan was anxious to break the talk. The noon rush was thinning. “I’ll see you tonight.” He went down the steps without another word, hurrying to safer streets.

  He didn’t anticipate any trouble in reaching the Marikan car, if he could get his own way. It was simply a matter of crossing through the back yards of the dark residential section for four blocks, and dodging Cob patrols on the streets. The park offered any number of concealing places—bushes and trees, such things as he was used to using. It wouldn’t really be much of a risk.

  But the proof that Janotek had mentioned, that was the hard one. There was no proof. Only the one vial was real, and he would never surrender that to the Council. And proof that the Cobs had used the disease? They wouldn’t have kept records of it, and he couldn’t get them if they had.

  He strode under the arch of old trees, his feet calm, but his mind racing. It seemed that there was some-

  thing he should remember, some ghost from the past that pressed close, but wouldn’t reveal itself. It was tied up with pictures and death in his mind. When he thought of one, he thought of the other.

  He went to Abby and pushed her thoughts back fifteen years and tried to make her remember for him. She thought hard, then her face brightened. “You must mean those movies Paul and the scientists had. They showed them in camp once, but it upset everyone and they never brought them out again.”

  “Movies! Yes!” Nathan cried. “Moving pictures of people falling dead in the streets, close-ups of the fever, and the Cobs dragging them off to the fire. Movies from all over the world! That’s proof, Abby. That’s what we need.”

  “But where are they?” Abby was doubtful. “That was years ago.”

  “I carried those movies to the Lab, myself. Nick Talmer and I. They were put in the lowest level of storage rooms.”

  “Then the Cobs have them. They ransacked the whole place.”

  “Maybe not.” He rode high on the new enthusiasm. “They were small, remember? Just home movies—eight millimeter. The Cobs could very well have overlooked them. They may still be at the Lab.”

  He thought for a moment. “And I think I can get help finding them.”

  Chapter fourteen

  The Marikan was visibly disgruntled when Nathan met him that night. “The Councilor said that you might be stubborn, and to let you have your own way. He expects trouble at this session and asks that you be prepared to back him with all the ingenuity and proof you have.”

  “Fine,” said Nathan. “Then you’ll have to help me get back to camp tomorrow morning, because there is one bit of vital evidence I have to search for. You’ll have to see to it that I get there and back here safely.” The Marikan was far from pleased, but as Nathan Cory pointed out, Janotek had given clear instructions. Thus, Nathan was a passenger on a Marikan air-car which flew over the territory under diplomatic immunity, its passenger concealed. They landed neatly at the site of the old Rebel camp.

  “Give me twelve hours,” Nathan said, “and then come back. That will make it dusk. And listen—pray that I find what I’m after.”

  He scrambled down the ladder to the ground and the air-car rose immediately, disappearing over the trees. The camp was a ghost of itself. The buildings still squatted, hunched, under the trees, but the usual beehive atmosphere was gone. There were no shadows and no humming voices. Squirrels scurried in and out of the cabins carrying stolen provisions, their tails twitching in defiance of anyone who would dare to tell them, “No.”

  Seeing the place brought back the sharp image of Paul Houseman. This was his—he had created it, built it, and finally died for it. Nathan entered the woods quickly, heading for the Lab at an easy lope. Paul’s fight was still unfinished, and time pressed too tightly to waste.

  The trees and bushes slid by as he ran; all familiar things, friendly in their silence. These were pure lines, God’s lines, and not the grotesque shapes men created. Soon the Lab clearing thrust itself before him and the serenity shattered. It was just as he had left it, a still turmoil of rock and dirt and debris. The rocket parts were gone, and the other pieces of equipment, but the logs which had held the underground framework were split and poking up from piles of rubble, and the hill was cratered. Clothing lay about; shoes and torn shirts—the last of the scientists, save for Harris. He wondered briefly what had become of Harris.

  Nathan crouched, peering about to be sure there were no guards left by the Cobs. But the clearing was as lonesome as it had been fifteen years before, when there was no Lab. They could have landed the air-car here safely, after all.

  He went down into the dirt and edged up to the old opening. It was shrunken by fallen timbers, but he could squeeze through. But was there a clear way inside any more? And would the abused shoring hold? He had to risk it. He drew out the light the Marikan had given him, turned it on, and wiggled through the opening.

  It was deathly dark as he moved away from the hole, and the light illuminated only what was in front of him. The shadows closed in upon his back immediately, making him want to turn around. He ignored the urge and crept to the place where the stairs led to the lower levels.

 

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