Hansen drew a long breath. “All right,” he said. “Sit down and wait a while. Will you help me with the girl, ma’am?”

  Kit ran up the stairs, almost falling in her urgency.

  It seemed a long time before they came down again. Hansen was smiling and nodding. “I’ve given her the first injections,” he said. “She’s resting easy and should start mending pretty quick.” His eyes swiveled around among us. “I daresay you could all use some supper. Come on into the kitchen and I’ll fix it.”

  While he prepared the meal, we outlined the story for him. I don’t imagine he, or any sane being, would have believed it without the sight of Radeef squatting on the floor. As it was, he became very still, only asking a few questions to clear up some points. At the end, he compressed his lips and shook his head.

  “It is a terrible thing to learn,” he said.

  “You needn’t fear, doctor,” said Radeef suddenly. “It happens not to be true. Actually—”

  “Go ahead,” I ordered her. “Change your form.”

  She grinned at me. “How can I? What you say is obviously impossible.” Turning to Hansen: “Doctor, the truth is, briefly, this. I am from Sirius, yes, belonging to a crew of explorers who arrived only a few months ago. We contacted the Martian government, since that was the only effective one left, and—”

  “She’s lying!” Kit’s voice was shrill and ragged. “She’ll make us out to be crazy, when we—we—”

  “Oh, no,” said Radeef. “They are fairly sane. But the political situation is—peculiar. Normally we would invite Mars to join the interstellar union which already comprises a dozen stars, and the Archon is, indeed, anxious to do so. However, a powerful group is in strong opposition to the surrender of sovereignty this would entail, so the Archon’s party has had to negotiate secretly, to present them with a fait accompli. Getting wind of this, the opposition tried to break it up and create ill will by murdering and kidnapping members of our crew. This is the only case in which they have succeeded.”

  Hansen looked steadily at all of us. “Why should Earthlings help them?” he asked.

  An owl somewhere outside hooted loudly, very loudly in the stillness.

  Radeef shrugged. “It is difficult to say, especially when one considers the benefits Earth would derive. You would not have to be kept subjugated, you know, since with the Solar System in our union Mars would have no reason to fear Earth. I imagine these people were bought by promises of rewards.”

  “Hansen,” I said, “I fought for Earth since I was sixteen years old.”

  “So he claims,” said Radeef. “And even if true, what of it? He was drafted, or would have been.”

  Nightmare. What to do, how to convince this old man, or force him, or—? We couldn’t stay here, guarding him, without being discovered; we couldn’t take him captive with us, for Alice’s sake—what to do?

  Regelin’s harsh laugh broke the waiting. “Aklan tubat!” he exclaimed. “I can admire you for that attempt, Radeef. However—” He leaned forward, hard and chill. “You say it is impossible for you to change your form as we claim?”

  “Of course,” said Radeef. “Dr. Hansen, as a medical man you—”

  Regelin lunged. One foot smacked her against the wall, holding her pinioned, while his left hand grabbed her arm and stretched it out. The right, in the same blurring motion, snatched a sizzling skillet off the stove and brought it savagely down against the captive arm.

  It happened so fast that her reaction was sheer reflex. The arm stretched itself, grew thin and long, jerking back from the pan. Regelin laughed again and let her go, banging the skillet back into place. Radeef snarled and restored herself. “Doctor,” she cried. “It’s true we can—”

  “Never mind,” said Hansen. “It was a nice try you made.”

  Afterward we went into the living room and sighed, our tired bodies seeming to melt into the chairs. Hansen paced up and down, hands behind his back, trying to think of a plan for us.

  “The ordinary police won’t do,” he said. “They’d almost certainly report the affair to Martian GHQ, like they’re supposed to, and then the invaders need only murder them as well as you people. Even if the cops keep the secret, how can anyone be contacted who matters?

  “If the Commandant himself is an invader, then the true Martian officer who believes your story will have to organize a coup—a mutiny. It’ll have to be done so smoothly that no other headquarters, on Earth or Luna or Mars, knows about it before something can be done against them. All that will need time.”

  “Yueth dzu Talazan,” said Regelin. “He is our main hope. I am quite sure he is a true Martian, for he is not high-ranking enough to call for a substitute; and at the same time he is a bold, able officer. If he could be convinced—”

  “Well,” said Hansen, “I can try and get a message to him. You write something that’ll bring him to you alone, or with only a few trusted friends—and secretly, of course. Then you can show him this—Radeef. After that, he may be able to shelter you somewhere while he goes to work against the enemy.”

  “If you expect me to be fooled again,” snapped Radeef, “I feel sorry for all of you!”

  “Oh, there are other ways,” said Hansen evenly. “Your metabolism is obviously much like ours, apart from the cell-control characteristics. I’m pretty sure scopolamine or some similar drug would work on you. Or a good husky insulin shock would probably make you go into form-changing convulsions.”

  She didn’t glare this time. There was a sudden forlornness about her. I wouldn’t have liked to be a prisoner of desperate alien enemies.

  “Well—” Regelin rubbed his forehead; above antennae that drooped with weariness. “Well, I can write Yueth a letter, telling him the story and begging him in the name of our old friendship to come see for himself. I think he would, even if he did not believe. He is that sort. But how to get the message to him, secretly—?”

  “I’m needed here,” said Hansen, “but I could arrange to have the letter delivered. There’s a smart young kid here who sometimes works for me and would love a chance to go to the cities. I could tell him some story about having heard, from a Martian passing through town tonight in the search for you—that’d explain the car as well, if anyone’s noticed it—I could tell him of having heard that this Yueth can arrange for penicillin distribution and that I’m appealing for a little. God knows I could use it!”

  An eagerness lifted within me, but I had to fight it down: “The Martians will know that’s ridiculous. Yueth is in Intelligence.”

  “But they don’t have to know. That’s just the story I tell the kid, and I’ll ask him to keep mum. As far as the Martians will know, it’ll only be a personal message to Yueth. I daresay their officers get quite a few from humans, begging for this or that.”

  “Unven!” Regelin’s eyes blazed. “I think you have the answer, doctor. I think we can do it!”

  “All right, then. There’s my desk. Write your letter.”

  While Regelin’s tall form folded itself awkwardly around the human furniture, Hansen turned to me. “You can’t stay here, of course,” he said. “I couldn’t possibly conceal you, and there are people in this village who’d cheerfully betray you for the reward. Let’s arrange a hiding place where you can go. Yueth can come to me, and I can direct him further.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Where?”

  He smiled. “You look like you could use a little rest and food yourself, son. Why not take a few days off and go fishing? I have a cabin about a hundred miles from here, up in the Arrowhead country. I’ll bet nobody else is closer than twenty miles. Good place to hide.”

  “Alice—” began Kit.

  “She’ll have to stay here. It’ll be safer for her anyway. I can hide one child all right. She’ll be taken care of and get well, I promise you.”

  Kit nodded, slowly and mutely.

  “And you’ll need food, too,” said Hansen. “I got a lot of canned goods and vegetables and stuff down in the cellar. Help me load it in your car.”

  “But you have to eat, too—” I said.

  “I’ll make out. Come on, now, hop to it.”

  We got several cases into the vehicle, moving with immense quiet not to wake the sleeping homes around us. “That’ll do for a couple of weeks,” said Hansen finally. “You ought to catch enough fish to stretch it out, too. Never saw such a lake for northerns.”

  We returned to the house and he drew me a map. I folded it up and said: “Doctor, I’ve no good way of saying thanks.”

  “Then don’t,” he grunted.

  Regelin finished his letter, sealed it in an envelope, and addressed it to Yueth at his private quarters. Kit rose and started up the stairs. “Come along, Dave, will you?” she asked.

  We stood for a while over Alice. The girl was sleeping peacefully now, and I thought she looked less feverish. Kit stooped over and kissed her. “So long, brat,” she whispered. “I love you very much.”

  We went back downstairs. Regelin was waiting. He bowed formally to Hansen, giving him the Martian salute of respect, and Kit and I shook his hand. Then we herded Radeef out into the car and started our journey again.

  -10-

  A couple of times we lost our way, and there was a bad moment when a jet swooped low overhead—Regelin heard it from far away, and we pulled off the road under some trees and crouched there to wait; but it flashed on by. Still, we reached the cabin well before sunrise, with about two drops left in the fuel tank. “There can be no more running for us,” said Regelin.

  Kit stood under tall windy trees and drew a lungful of the air that blew in from the lake. “I’m not sorry,” she answered.

  There was a woodshed in which we could hide the car. The keys let us into a four-room cottage, neat and compact and gracefully furnished. Regelin and I stood watch over Radeef till dawn, while Kit slept like a tired child.

  Sunrise came in a shout of light. The long grass outside was one glitter from dew, and the lake rippled and flashed beyond a screen of spruce and beech and sumac. It smelled of growth here, green leaves, needles and forest mould, water and sunlight.

  After breakfast, I studied the woodshed again. It was as sturdy as the cottage against which it was built, a ram would be needed to break it down, and it had a concrete floor. I took the car out again, standing it by the house and chopping branches to conceal it; then I moved a cot and a few other necessities into the shed, and made Radeef enter.

  She sat down on the cot and changed her face so it could smile. I suppose she meant it well, though it was frightening to watch. “If I must be imprisoned,” she said, “it could be worse.”

  “We can’t hold a gun on you all the time,” I said. “We’ll keep you in food and so on till Yueth gets here—that’ll take a week or so, I guess, since Hansen’s messenger will have to go on horseback. Want some books? There’s a small library in the cabin.”

  “No,” she said. “We Tahowwa don’t mind just sitting and thinking. But thank you.”

  “I wish you hadn’t been so—conquest-minded,” I said awkwardly. “You probably aren’t a bad race. If you’d come to us openly, we’d have provided something for you.”

  Bitterly: “Yes—a charity ward.”

  “Well,” I said, “I imagine a few of you will survive anyway. Most of you, even, if you surrender once the game is up.”

  “Which it isn’t, yet.”

  “No, I’m afraid it isn’t. Want to tell me anything more about yourself and your people, Radeef?”

  “No. Please go away.”

  I padlocked the door and returned to the cabin. I wanted to sleep, but my nerves were still drawn too thin. Regelin was more resilient, he was already stretched out with his legs reaching over the end of the bunk. Kit and I made the cabin shipshape and then went for a swim.

  “I’ll take this side of the point,” I said, “and you can have the other.”

  She cocked her head at me. “Dave,” she said, “you’re an awful prude at heart, you know that?”

  The water was cold, transparent as glass, sliding sensuously along the skin and tingling in the blood. We came out laughing, for the first time in a long while, and lay down on the grassy bank and let the sun have us. It felt strange not to be skulking about after dark.

  “I wonder how Alice is,” said Kit presently.

  “She’s okay,” I answered. “She’ll miss you, of course, but Hansen is a nice old codger. And with luck, you should see her again inside a couple of weeks.”

  “Or never—No!” She shook her head till the blonde hair flew. “I won’t think about it.”

  I laid my hand on hers, and then I kissed her. She responded with a sudden wild hunger.

  In the afternoon Regelin and I hunted up the boat, where it lay under a lean-to, and took the doctor’s fishing tackle out on the lake. It was wide and empty there, ringed in with forest and roofed with sky, everywhere was quietness. We brought in a pike and some smaller fish, and Kit had found a blueberry patch, so that was a cheerful supper.

  Kit said, next morning, that she’d slept poorly—nightmares plagued her, now that the pressure was off but the danger not over. I took her for a long walk, clear around the lake. We passed a few other cabins, but they were all deserted; this place was too far from civilization to be accessible nowadays. We talked of many things, there under the dappled shadows, and I need not repeat them, except that at the end Kit whispered to me: “Why wait, Dave? We may be dead tomorrow. Why should we wait?”

  We came back toward sunset. Regelin sat on the porch reading a book. He regarded us gravely and shrewdly, as we approached hand in hand. Finally he smiled.

  “Earth,” he said, clearing his throat, “is now under Martian law, and there is one item in the code of which you may not have heard. A military officer is empowered to perform marriages. Does that interest you?”

  “Does it?” I whooped, and Kit ran to kiss him.

  None of us could remember just how the Christian ceremony went, but we stumbled through it as well as we could. Then Regelin said the Martian words, translating them for us afterward—strange to hear them under the sky and in the bowers of Earth, but they had an austere pagan beauty I cannot forget. Afterward we had a wedding supper, opening the bottle of cheap wine which Hansen had thrown into one of his boxes, and then Regelin said he’d always wanted to try moonlight fishing and this was his chance.

  It was a strange honeymoon, but we didn’t think much about that. Perhaps the fact of our having it on the edge of darkness made it sweeter for us, though that hardly seems possible. I am afraid that Regelin was rather neglected, though it was partly his own fault—he was so seldom around.

  Kit, my dearest, if you should ever read this, remember those days and nights. Remember that I will always love you.

  I found other things to do, now and then. For one, I investigated the Sirian weapon as much as I dared. It seemed to be what I had theorized, a super-powerful and compact version of the Colson resonator with a projector for the generated forcefield. Its charge was a coil of some wire which fed into the firing chamber an inch at a time and disappeared on my shooting the gun; I suspect it was an alloy in an abnormal energy state, though how produced and maintained in its metastable condition I cannot say. There was also an adjustment stud which could regulate the width of the force-beam—broad for a lesser effect over a wider area, to kill a man noiselessly by disrupting cell nuclei, without leaving much outward mark on him; narrow for a hard, cracking discharge which would blow a thin section almost to atoms at longer range, without disturbing anything beyond that circle of destruction. A lovely, versatile weapon! And the principle would have innumerable uses for peacetime industry, I thought with a stinging regret.

  From time to time, also, we worried about Hansen’s message. There was so much which could go wrong and bring death down on our heads. We arranged defenses for the house, to give a decent account of ourselves if it should come to that.

  We took the heavy machine-gun off our stolen car and mounted it in the front door, behind a barricade of earth-filled sacks and boxes. The windows all had burglarproof shutters, closing from the inside, through which we drilled loopholes—except in the kitchen window. Our theory was that if we were attacked, one of us at the machine-gun could hold the lake entrance, and one in the rear of the house defend the two bedrooms; the third would be off duty in the kitchen, prepare food or sleep, and could give warning of any funny business in that sector.

  I also dug up a permapen and this old notebook (did it belong to a child of Hansen’s once? I do not know. Perhaps I will never know.), and spent a few hours each day recording everything which has led up to this moment. If we should, after all our striving, fail, I can perhaps hide the book; it might give a clue to someone in the future who chances across it, and he might resume our work. A silly thing to do, I suppose, but—

  I have just added a foreword. It is my time off watch, and I should sleep, but I cannot. For us, now, the end is close, and I have written that fact in bitterness. Now let me go back and finish our story.

  It was nine days after our arrival. I was sitting on the lakeshore, enjoying the afternoon sunlight, when Regelin’s long shadow fell athwart me. “Hullo, old chap,” he said. “Where’s the wife?”

  “You’ve been reading too many English novels,” I answered. “As a matter of fact, she shooed me out of the house; said her hair was a mess and she wasn’t ready yet to spring anything so unglamorous on me as whatever it is she does to it.”

  He stretched out on the grass beside me.

  “I wonder what is delaying Yueth?” he asked.

  “No telling. But he couldn’t just up and leave, I imagine. If he’s to come secretly, he has to arrange things so he can go away on some ostensible business.” I scowled, not wanting to think about the realities.