I am Robin Hood, thy master good,

Killashandra wondered if the Inspectors euphoria would extend to lesser breeds, those without Guild affiliation, when he resumed his booth in Immigration. If you will step this way, Guildmember Ree. Thyrol made another of his graceful gestures. When she moved to walk beside him, he altered his stride to keep a deferential meter from her. The others fell in behind. Killashandra shrugged, accepting the protocol. Not having to chat with her escort gave her a chance to glance about the shuttle port. The facility was functional and decorated with murals of Life on Optheria: the main attraction of the Summer Festival the organ was not depicted. Nor did the vaulted arrivals hall appear to have any catering areas apart from one narrow bank for beverage dispensing. Conspicuous by their absence were curio and souvenir booths. Not even a ticket bank was to be seen. And only one lounge area. At the wide exit, the doors sighed aside for Killashandra and Thyrol, who quickly walked down the wide shallow steps to a broad, intricately patterned apron of flat stones. Beyond was the roadway where the crew had just finished stowing the three foam crates in a large ground effect machine. Suddenly an arc of light flashed on behind Killashandra and a muted alarm sounded. Guards materialized from inconspicuous booths on both sides of the main entrance and approached the three Optherians of the reception committee who were walking behind Killashandra and Thyrol. Please do not be disconcerted, Guildmember Ree. Thyrol waved to the guards and they retreated back into their stations. The arc of light disappeared. What was that all about? Merely a security precaution. For my leaving the shuttle port? Thyrol cleared his throat. Actually, for Optherians leaving the shuttle port. Leaving? This is our vehicle, Guildmember, Thyrol said, smoothly urging her across the flagstone plaza. She allowed herself to be diverted because it was obvious that, whoever left the Shuttle Port was first obliged to enter: the alarm would work in both directions. But how could the device distinguish Optherians from other humans? No mutation had been mentioned in her perusal of the Encyclopedia Galactica entry for the planet: most ingenious for a warning device to differentiate between residents and nonresidents. But surely it got a bit noisy and confusing when canon digital camera service manual Optherians were escorting tourists to the shuttle port. Or was that the reason for this broad flagstone area? She would have to check on FSP regulations about security measures restricting citizens of their planets. As her vehicle glided forward, the first of the shuttle passengers began to emerge. On cue, fat accommodation buses filed out of the parking area to the flagstone curb. Craning her neck slightly, Killashandra took due note of the fact that the security system did not respond to the foreigners exits. Already the vehicle was climbing out of the valley which contained the shuttle port and the clutter of maintenance buildings. The place looked bleakly ordered and preternaturally neat in comparison to what Killashandra recalled of Fuertes busy space port. Perhaps when the tourist season started Even the clumps of trees and bushes which softened the harder lines of the buildings had a regulated look. Killashandra wondered how often the plantings had to be replaced. Shuttle emanations had a disastrous effect on most vegetation. Are you comfortable, Guildmember? Mirbethan asked from her seat behind Killashandra. Of necessity the shuttle port was placed close to the City, Pirinio took up the conversation, but is screened by these hills which also absorb much of the noise and bustle. Noise and bustle, his tone of voice told Killashandra, were the unpleasant concomitants of space travel. How wise of you, Killashandra replied. Optherians founding fathers planned for every contingency, Thyrol said smugly. No effort has been spared to conserve our planets natural beauty. The vehicle had reached the top of the gap and Killashandra had an unimpeded view of the broader valley below them, in which nestled the felicitous arrangement of pastel colored buildings, domes, and round towers that comprised Optherias capital settlement, known as the City. From that height, the impressive view drew a surprised exclamation from Killashandra. It is breathtaking! Thyrol chose to interpret her response his way. Beautiful was a fair adjective, Killashandra thought, but breathtaking, no! Even at that distance something was too prim and proper about the City for her taste. None of the indigenous trees and bushes were removed, you see, Thyrol explained, gesturing with his whole hand rather than a single finger, when the City was constructed, so that the natural,

With Death doomed to grapple,

enough to recruit such soft-bellied cowards! Lars grinned. Well, I could put you ashore with the crystal singer. Something increased his mirth out of proportion to the joke, though Hauness grinned and Nahia tried to control unseemly mirth at Erutowns expense. The islands big enough and she might even be grateful for company. I would be easier in mind about her safety if Erutown and Theach were there, Nahia said. The hurricane will have frightened her badly. I dont like the idea, Erutown said. Actually, if she thinks youve also been kidnapped Hauness suggested, then gestured to dismiss his notion at Erutowns negative response. I wouldnt object, Theach said. One doesnt know much about crystal singers, except that they heal quickly and indulge in an unusual profession. You? Erutown snorted contemptuously. Youd probably drown yourself thinking up more theories. When I initiate a session of theoretical thinking, I take the precaution of seating myself in some secure and secluded spot, Theach said in amiable reprimand. An island would suit me very well indeed. Youd starve! No one can starve on a polly island. Theach turned for confirmation to Lars, who nodded. You have to work at it, though, Lars amended. For at least a few hours every day. Despite a misapprehension current about my absent-mindedness, I have found that intense thought stimulates an incredible appetite. Since eating replenishes both body and the mechanics of thought, I do pause now and again in my meditations to eat! If I have to gather the food myself, I shall also have had that beneficial exercise. Yes, Lars, and Theach smiled at the islander, I begin to think that an island residence would provide me with all I require: seclusion, sustenance, and sanctuary! He sat back in the chair, beaming at his circle of friends. How many know you and Erutown are in the islands? Lars asked seriously. Nahia has been working very hard lately, Lars, Hauness said. She was granted a leave of absence: I took my annual holiday and announced our intention of cruising the coast. There are friends who will vouch for our presence in mainland waters. Besides, who would expect us to brave a hurricane? We boarded the jet from the seaside without being seen the night before she sailed, Erutown added. What Elder would suspect Nahias involvement with renegades? If they had any sense whatever, Nahia said in a crisp tone that cool pix digital camera surprised Killashandra with its suppressed anger, how could they fail to realize that I sympathize deeply with repressions, frustrations, and despairs which I cannot avoid feeling! With injustices not all the empathy in the world will ease. A moment of silence followed. Is your woman to be trusted with any of this, Lars? Hauness asked quietly. Suppressing a flare of guilt at her duplicity, Killashandra decided that it was time to join the group before Lars perjured himself. Here, this should satisfy, Lars, she said, approaching the others with a purposeful stride. She set before him a generous plate of sandwiches and hot tidbits which she had found in the food storage. Youre sure I cant get anything for you? she asked the others as she began to gather up the used plates and cups. Erutown gave her a sour glance, then turned to watch the rolling cloud formations of the approaching storm. Theach smiled absently, Hauness shook his head and settled back next to Nahia who had leaned back in the couch, eyes closed, her beautiful face relaxed. When Killashandra returned with her own serving, Lars and Hauness were absorbed by the satellite picture of the approaching hurricane, displayed on the vdr. It would be a substantial blow, Killashandra had to admit, but not a patch on what Ballybran could brew. Storm watching could be mesmerizing, certainly engrossing. Theach was the first to break from the fascination. He reseated himself at a small terminal and began to call up equations on the tiny screen. There was a tension to the line of his back, the occasional rattle of the keys that proved he was still conscious, but there were long intervals of total silence from his corner during the next few hours. Its not going to be a long one at its current rate, Lars remarked when he had finished eating. The eyell be on us by night. Is it likely to make the mainland? No. That is, after all, eight thousand kilos off. Itll blow itself out over the ocean as usual. You only get our storms when they make up in the Broad, not from this far south. So, Killashandra thought, she was in the southern hemisphere of Optheria, which explained the switch in seasons. And it explained why this group felt themselves secure from Mainland intervention and searches. Even with the primitive jet vehicles, an enormous

Who's right, who's wrong, 'twill be all one to us;

suggestions. Both came from Nick Corazzini. "Look, Doc, about this diet Mr Mahler must have. Maybe we can't balance it, but we can at least make sure that he gets a fair number of caloriesnot that I know how you count the damn' things. Why don't we double his rationsno, even that wouldn't keep a decent sparrow alive. What say each of the rest of us docks a quarter of his rations and hands them over? That way Mr Mahler would have about four times his normal" "No, no!" Mahler protested. "Thank you, Mr Corazzini, but I cannot permit" "An excellent idea," I interrupted. "I was thinking along the same lines myself." "Good," Corazzini grinned. "Carried unanimously. I also suggest we'd get along farther and faster if, say, Mr Zagero and I were to spell you two on the tractor." He held up a hand as if to forestall protest. "Either of us may be the man you want, in fact, we might be the two men you wantif it is two men. But if I'm one of the killers, and I know nothing about the Arctic, navigation, the maintenance of this damned Citroen and wouldn't as much as recognise a crevasse if I fell down one, it's as plain as the nose on your face that I'm not going to make a break for it until I'm within shouting distance of the coast. Agreed?" "Agreed," I said. Even as I spoke, there came a coughing clattering roar as Jackstraw coaxed the still-warm Citroen back into life, and I looked up at Corazzini. "All right," I went on. "Come on down. You can have your first driving lesson now." We left at half-past seven that morning, in driving conditions that were just about perfect. Not the slightest breath of air stirred. across the ice-cap and the deep blue-black vault of the sky was unmarred by even the tiniest wisp of cloud. The stars were strangely remote, pale and shimmering and unreal through the gossamer gauze of the glittering ice needles that filled the sky and sifted soundlessly down on the frozen snow, but even so visibility was all that could have been desired: the powerful headlights of the Citroen, striking a million sparkling diamond points of light off the ice spicules, reached a clear three hundred yards ahead into the darkness, leaving the ground to either side of the twin interlocking beams shrouded in impenetrable darkness. The cold was intense, and deepening by the hour: but the Citroen seemed to thrive on it that morning. Luck was with us almost right away. Within fifteen minutes of starting off, Balto, ranging free as always, appeared out of the darkness to the south-west and ran comparing shutter speeds in digital cameras alongside the dog-sledge, barking to attract Jackstraw's attention. Jackstraw gave us the signal to stopa rapid flickering of the red and green lights on the tractor dashboardand in two or three minutes appeared out of the darkness, grinning, to tell us that Balto had picked up a standing trail flag. That was good news in itself, in that it meant that our navigation the previous night had been all that could have been wished for and that we were almost exactly on course: even more important, however, was the fact that if this flag was the first of a series we could dispense with the navigator on the dog-sledge and that Jackstraw and I could have some sleepif sleep were possible in that miserably cold and lurching tractor body. And, indeed, that flag proved to the first of an almost unbroken series that was to guide us all the length of that interminable day, so that from eight o'clock onwards Jackstraw, Zagero, Corazzini and I took it in turns to drive, with the Senator, the Reverend Smallwood or Solly Levin up front as lookout. Theirs was probably the coldest, certainly the most unwelcome job of all: but all three bore up uncomplainingly, even to the extent of thawing out in silent agony at the end of their hour on duty. Shortly after eight o'clock I left an obviously competent Corazzini to his own devices, dropped back to the shelter of the tractor body and asked the Senator to go up front. I then set about breaking the strictest rule of all, where these old tractors were concernedthat no fire should ever be lit inside when they were in motion. But even the most stringent rules are to be observed only until such time as the need for breaking them is paramount: and now both the need and the time were here. My concern was not for the warmth and comfort of the passengers, or even for the cooking of the foodwe had little enough of that, heaven knew, though a constant supply of warm water would come in useful for dealing with the inevitable cases of frostbitebut purely and simply for the life of Theodore Mahler. Even following Corazzini's suggestion we couldn't give him enough food, and what we could didn't, and wouldn't, even begin to resemble a balanced diet. His best chance of survival, and that was slender enough, lay in conserving his body reserves and his energy as far as lay within our power. To achieve that, work, or exercise of even the lightest kind, was out: he had to remain as immobile as possible,

Calld him, and bid him stay.

overlooking the massive, reinforced ferro-concrete control tower that controlled the two great guns below. Mallory suddenly stopped, picked up a handful of dirt, rubbed it on his face and told Miller to do the same. "Disguise," he explained. "The experts would consider it a bit on the elementary side, but it'll have to do. The lighting's apt to be a bit brighter inside this place." He went up the steps to the officers' quarters at a dead run, crashed through the swing doors with a force that almost took them off their hinges. The sentry at the keyboard looked at him in astonishment, the barrel of his sub-machine-gun lining up on the New Zealander's chest. "Put that thing down, you damned idiot!" Mallory snapped furiously. "Where's the commandant? Quickly, you oaf! It's life or death!" "HerrHerr Kominandant?" the sentry stuttered. "He's leftthey are all gone, just a minute ago." "What? All gone?" Mallory was staring at him with narrowed, dangerous eyes. "Did you say 'all gone'?" he asked softly. "Yes. II'm sure they're . . ." He broke off abruptly as Mallory's eyes shifted to a point behind his shoulder. "Then who the hell is that?" Mallory demanded savagely. The sentry would have been less than human not to fall for it. Even as he was swinging round to look, the vicious judo cut took him just below the ear. Mallory had smashed open the glass of the keyboard before the unfortunate guard bad bit the floor, swept all the keysabout a dozen in alloff their rings and into his pocket. It took them another twenty seconds to tape the man's mouth and hands and lock him in a convenient cupboard; then they were on their way again, still running. One more obstacle to overcome, Mallory thought as they pounded along in the darkness, the last of the triple defences. He did not know how many men would be guarding the locked door to the magazine, and in that moment of fierce exaltation he didn't particularly care. Neither, he felt sure, did Miller. There were no worries now, no taut-nerved tensions or nameless anxieties. Mallory would have been the last man in the world to admit it, or even believe it, but this was what men like Miller and himself had been born for. They had their hand-torches out now, the powerful beams swinging in the wild arcs as they plunged along, skirting the massed batteries of A.A. guns. To anyone observing their approach from the front, there could have been nothing more calculated to disarm suspicion than the sight and sound of the two men canon 6d digital camera running towards them without any attempt at concealment, one of them shouting to the other in German, both with lit torches whose beams lifted and fell, lifted and fell as the men's arms windmilled by their sides. But these same torches were deeply hooded, and only a very alert observer indeed would have noticed that the downward arc of the lights never passed backwards beyond the runners' feet. Suddenly Mallory saw two shadows detaching themselves from the darker shadow of the magazine entrance, steadied his torch for a brief second to check. He slackened speed. "Right!" he said softly. "Here they comeonly two of them. One eachget as close as possible first. Quick and quieta shout, a shot, and we're finished. And for God's sake don't start clubbing 'em with your torch. There'll be no lights on in that magazine and I'm not going to start crawling around there with a box of bloody matches in my hand!" He transferred his torch to his left hand, pulled out his Navy Colt, reversed it, caught it by the barrel, brought up sharply only inches away from the guards now running to meet them. "Are you all right?" Mallory gasped. "Anyone been here? Quickly, man, quickly!" "Yes, yes, we're all right." The man was off guard, apprehensive. "What in the name of God is all that noise" "Those damned English saboteurs!" Mallory swore viciously. "They've killed the guards and they're inside! Are you sure no one's been here? Come, let me see." He pushed his way past the guard, probed his torch at the massive padlock, then straightened his back. "Thank heaven for that anyway!" He turned round, let the dazzling beam of his torch catch the man square in the eyes, muttered an apology and switched off the light, the sound of the sharp click lost in the hollow, soggy thud of the heel of his Colt catching the man behind the ear, just below the helmet. The sentry was still on his feet, just beginning to crumple, when Mallory staggered as the second guard reeled into him, staggered, recovered, clouted him with the Colt for good measure, then stiffened in sudden dismay as he heard the vicious, hissing plop of Miller's automatic, twice in rapid succession. "What the hell" "Wily birds, boss," Miller murmured. "Very wily indeed, There was a third character in the shadows at the side. Only way to stop him." Automatic cocked in his ready hand, he stooped over the