Donovan hugged her.
'Gone,' said Hal. 'It vanished.'
They picked up their dead and wounded and returned to the fires. The cold bit deep. Something else hooted out in the night.
It was a long time before Takahashi spoke. 'You might expect it,' she said. 'These parapsychical powers don't come from nowhere. The intelligent race, our enemies of Drogobych, simply have them highly developed; the animals do to a lesser extent. I think it's a matter of life being linked to the primary atomic probabilities, the psi functions which give the continuous-field distribution of matter-energy in space-time. In a word, control of external matter and energy by conscious will acting through the unified field which is space-time. Telekinesis.'
'Uh-huh,' said Dass wearily. 'Even some humans have a slight para power. Control dice or electron beams or what have you. But why aren't the--what did you call them?--Arzunians overrunning the Galaxy?'
'They can only operate over a certain range, which happens to be about the distance to the fringe stars,' said Donovan. 'Beyond that distance, dispersion limits them, plus the fact that differences of potential energy must be made up from their own metabolism. The animals, of course, have very limited range, a few kilometers perhaps. The Arzunians use telekinesis to control matter and energy, and the same subspatial principles as our ships to go faster than light. Only since they aren't lugging around a lot of hull and passengers and assorted machinery--just themselves and a little air and maybe an armful of sacrificial goods from a fringe planet, they don't need atomic engines.
'They aren't interested in conquering the Galaxy. Why should they be? They can get all their needs and luxuries from the peoples to whom they are gods. An old race, very old, decadent if you will. But they don't like interference.'
Takahashi looked at her sharply. 'I glimpsed one of them on the ship,' she said. 'She carried a spear.'
'Yeah. Another reason why they aren't conquerors. They have no sense for mechanics at all. Never had any reason to evolve one when they could manipulate matter directly without more than the simplest tools. They're probably more intelligent than humans in an all-around way, but they don't have the type of brain and the concentration needed to learn physics and chemistry. Aren't interested, either.'
'So, swords against guns--We may have a chance!'
'They can turn your missiles, remember. Guns are little use, you have to distract them so they don't notice your shot till too late. But they can't control you. They aren't telepaths and their type of matter-control is heterodyned by living nerve currents. You could kill one of them with a sword where a gun would most likely kill you.'
'I--see--' Hal looked strangely at her. 'You're becoming very vocal all of a sudden.'
Donovan rubbed her eyes and shivered in the cold. 'What of it? You wanted the truth. You're getting it.'
Why am I telling them? Why am I not just leading them to the slaughter as Valdum wanted? Is it that I can't stand the thought of Hal being hunted like a beast?
Whose side am I on? she thought wildly.
Takahashi gestured and her voice came eager. 'That's it. That's it! The ship scattered assorted metal and plastic over twenty hectares as he fell. Safe for us to gather up tomorrow. We can use our blaster flames to shape weapons. Swords, axes, spears. By the Galaxy, we'll arm ourselves and then we'll march on Drogobych!'
5
It was a strange little army, thought Donovan, as strange as any the Galaxy had ever seen.
She looked back. The old ruined highway went down a narrow valley between sheer cliffs of eroded black stone reaching up toward the deep purplish heaven. The sun was wheeling westerly, a dull red ember throwing light like clotted blood on the dreariness of rock and ice and gaunt gray trees; a few snowflakes, borne on a thin dull wind, drifted across the path of march. A lonely bird, cruel-beaked and watchful, hovered on great black wings far overhead, waiting for them to die.
The women of the Imperial Solanr Navy walked close together. They were haggard and dirty and smooth, clad in such ragged articles as they had been able to salvage, armed with the crudely forged weapons of a vanished age, carrying their sick and wounded on rude litters. Ghost world, ghost army, marching through an echoing windy solitude to its unknown weird--but women's faces were still brave, and one of them was singing. The sunburst banner of the Empire flapped above them, the one splash of color in the great murky landscape.
Luck had been with them, of a sort. Game animals had appeared in more abundance than one would have thought the region could support, deer-like things which they shot for meat to supplement their iron rations. They had stumbled on the old highway and followed its arrow-straight course southward. Many days and many tumbled hollow ruins of great cities lay behind them, and still they trudged on.
Luck? wondered Donovan. I think it was intentional. I think the Arzunians want us to reach Drogobych.
She heard the scrape of boots on the slanting hillside behind her, and turned around to face Hal. She stopped and smiled. There had been a slow unspoken intimacy growing between them as they worked and struggled together. Not many words, but the eyes of each would often stray to the other, and a hand would brush over a hand as if by accident. Tired and hungry and road-stained, cap set askew on tangled hair, skin reddened by wind and blued with cold, he was still good to look on.
'Why are you walking so far from the road?' he asked.
'Oh serving as outrider, maybe,' she said, resuming her stride. He fell into step beside her. 'Up here you get a wider view.'
'Do you think we have much further to go, Basille?'
She shrugged.
'We'd never have come this far without you,' he said, looking down at his scuffed boots. 'You and Wocha and Takahashi.'
'Maybe the Empire will send a rescue mission when we don't come back,' she suggested.
'No doubt they will. But they can't find one little star in this immensity. Even thermocouples won't help, the Nebula diffuses radiation too much. And they'd be blundering into the same trap as we.' Hal looked up. 'No, Basille, we've got to fight our way clear alone.'
There was a long stretch of thicket growing on the hillside. Donovan went along the right of it, cutting off view of the army. 'You know,' she said, 'you and those girls down there make me feel a lot kinder toward the Empire.'
'Thank you. Thank you. We--' He took her arm. 'It's a question of unifying the human race, ultimately this whole region of stars, and--Oh!'
The beasts were suddenly there in front of them, lean black things which snarled with mouths of hunger. One of them circled toward the humans' flank, the other crouched. Donovan yanked her sword clear.
'Get behind me,' she snapped, turning to face the approaching hunter.
'No--back to back--' Hal's own blade rasped from its sheath. He lifted a shout for help.
The nearest animal sprang for his throat. He hacked wildly, the blade twisted in his hand and scraped the muzzled face. Jaws clamped on the edged steel and let go with a bloody howl. Donovan swung at the other beast, the blow shuddered home and it screamed and writhed and snapped at her ankles.
Whirling, she turned on the thing which had launched itself at Hal. She hewed, and the animal wasn't there, her blade rang on naked stone. A weight crashed against her back, she went down and the teeth clamped on her shoulder.
Hal swung. The carnivore raised its head to snarl at him, and he gripped the sword in both hands and stabbed. It threshed wildly, dying, spewing blood over the hillside. The other, wounded creature disappeared.
Hal bent over Donovan, held her close, his eyes wild. 'Are you hurt? Basille. Oh Basille, are you hurt?'
'No,' she muttered. 'The teeth didn't have time to work through this heavy jacket.' She pulled his head down against hers.
'Basille, Basille!'
She rose, still holding his to her. His arms locked about her neck, and there were tears and laughter in his voice. 'Oh, Basille, my darling.'
'Hal,' she murmured. 'I love you, Hal.'
'When we get hom
e--I'm due for furlough, I'll retire instead--your house on Ansa--Oh, Basille, I never thought I could be so glad!'
The massive thunder of feet brought them apart. Wocha burst around the thicket, swinging her giant ax in both hands. 'Are you all right, boss?' she roared.
'Yes, yes, we're all right. A couple of those damned wolf-like things which've been plaguing us the whole march. Go on back, Wocha, we'll join you soon.'
The Donarrian's ape-face split in a vast grin. 'So you take a male, boss?' she cried. 'Good, good, we need lots of little Donovans at home!'
'Get on back, you old busybody, and keep that gossiping mouth shut!'
Hours later, Hal returned to the army where it was making camp. Donovan stayed where she was, looking down at the women where they moved about gathering wood and digging fire-pits. The blazes were a note of cheer in the thickening murk.
Hal, she thought. Hal. She's a fine boy, wonderful boy, he's what the thinning Family blood and I, myself, need. But why did I do it? Why did I talk that way to him? Just then, in the strain and fear and loneliness, it seemed as if I cared. But I don't. He just another man. She's not Valdum.
The twilight murmured, and she saw the dim sheen of metal beside her. The women of Drogobych were gathering.
They stood tall and godlike in helmet and ring-mail and night-black cloaks, leaning on swords and spears, death-white faces cold with an ancient scorn as they looked down on the human camp. Their eyes were phosphorescent green in the