“I’m used to dealing with you, Philip. I went on a whole trip with you, and you constantly screwed me over by lying and pulling fast ones. I don’t trust you to tell me the truth. I don’t trust you not to spin tales that are full of lies.”

  “Then why should I say anything to you?”

  I held up the knife again. “I don’t have to shove this in your guts. I could cut out your tongue so you can’t lie anymore.”

  Philip scowled. “You would do that to me, Bayard?”

  “If I have to. This is my precious my life. You have your ways to keep alive. I have mine.”

  “You really are a bloodthirsty savage. It makes more sense to me now. I have the memories of your last trip with Philip, but I didn’t see how you could murder a chamber full of us the way you did. Now, I can see the Accelerationists made a grave mistake in dealing with you. They didn’t take you seriously enough. They should have sent their killer teams to hunt you down the minute you arrived in the Chaunt System.”

  “That’s enough commentary,” I said. “I want you to answer my questions truthfully. Gruum wants to know—”

  “Gruum?” Philip asked with glee, interrupting me. “Who is Gruum? Oh, I suppose you mean the Old One, the Wise One. His true name is Gruum?”

  Brakka stopped, facing Philip.

  Skarl and Zog, who’d been walking several paces behind, also halted.

  Rage mottled Brakka’s features. Would he throttle Philip with his bare hands? I didn’t know why the faux pas of saying Gruum’s name was important… Maybe on Garm, there were magical properties to true names—at least the Neanderthals would believe that.

  I hadn’t known.

  Philip, of course, would have intimately known Neanderthal mores and customs. He’d know what was acceptable and what was not. He’d try to lead me into making more faux pas. This one had been my fault. I needed to fix this, and fast.

  “Philip may not survive the talk,” I told Brakka. “Philip might have an accident once we’re done talking.”

  Brakka looked at me. Understanding swirled in his single eye. He nodded sharply and turned away. The hunch of his shoulders told me he was suppressing his rage.

  I glanced at Philip. A smile threatened to break out on his apish, hominid lips.

  “You know,” I said. Quick as a snake, I drew my knife and pricked his chest.

  Philip hooted with pain more than what the prick should have caused.

  “Does it occur to you,” I said, “that you’re threading a thin line. You may survive this or you may die. Which would you prefer?”

  “Of course I want to live.” Philip rubbed the spot I’d pricked, looking at his fingertips. If he found a spot of blood, I’d be surprised. “But all this talk of throttling me and gutting me and cutting out my tongue isn’t giving me much hope. If I’m going to die, yeah, then with all my might, I want to dupe you. I want to trick you and see you fall into some horrible calamity. If you’re going to kill me, I want to get payback—big payback. Thus, I’m going to need assurances, ironclad assurances. We’re going to have to set up a situation where I can trust what you say.”

  I pricked him again.

  “Ow!” Philip said. “Don’t do that!”

  “You misunderstand the situation,” I said. “You’re at our disposal. You have to make us happy, not we you.”

  “Us?” Philip said. “Or you? Are you really in charge of the expedition? Did you create the Neanderthal army?”

  “You know,” I said, “I’ve made a decision. Each time I prick you with the knife, I’m going to stab a little deeper.”

  Philip looked into my eyes. “All right, I get it. I’ll give you the truth, nothing but the truth. I’ll tell you the situation on Garm. Does that make you happy?”

  “The words do, but it’s the deeds that count.”

  Philip made a suave gesture, indicating he understood.

  “To start,” I said, “how many saucers do you have left?”

  Philip looked up into the swirling sky, around at the mammoths marching with the Neanderthals prodding them—it wasn’t snowing as hard now. He eyed the columns of warriors and looked back at Skarl and Zog. I could feel his eyes linger on the lances.

  “Those look more like tubes than lances,” Philip said.

  “Mm-hmm,” I said.

  “Do the lances fire missiles?”

  “I’m sure you already know. Or, oh, you didn’t get to see when we killed a massive sabertooth assault, did you?”

  Philip’s eyes widened minutely for just a moment. “When did that happen?”

  I gave him an edited version of the incident.

  “How many sabertooths did you say?” Philip asked.

  “Twelve,” I said. “Is the number significant?”

  He looked up at the sky again.

  I could feel the wheels turning in Philip’s mind. The First Folk were as devious as anyone I’d ever met, as Machiavellian. They could lie and spin a story on the spot. Therefore, how did one believe what a Homo habilis said?

  “I’ve made a decision,” Philip said. “It’ll make you happy, too. I’ve decided to tell you the exact situation on Garm.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “Why did you suddenly decide that?”

  “To save myself pain,” Philip said. “That will also save us an endless back and forth. The more we have to do this—” He shook his head. “—The more I doubt you’re going to believe me. So I’m going to tell it to you straight. Then you can ask me about it. What do you think?”

  I thought quickly. “Brakka, what do you think?”

  The one-eyed Neanderthal turned to me with surprise. He glanced at Philip, glanced at me, and nodded sharply.

  We were marching again after the one stop. It was better to walk anyway, as the motion kept up one’s heat better than if he just stood in the middle of the tundra as the wind howled.

  “Before you begin,” I said, “how many Philips are on Garm?”

  “Just me,” he said.

  “You’re the same Philip I spoke to via the holographic projection?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Start talking,” I said, “and remember, I’ve told them about Traveling and the Institute. They know many things they didn’t before because I’ve told them.”

  “You’re such a pain in the rear, Bayard. Whoever dug you up and threw you into the star lanes—you’re a plague on the Institute. You’re a plague on the First Folk.”

  “Now, now,” I said, “you’re making me blush. I’m beginning to get suspicious, too. Tell your story. Tell us the situation, as you said, and then the questioning will begin.”

  Philip sighed. Did he pretend to limp a little bit more? Maybe.

  “Bayard,” he said, “this is probably going to surprise you, but Garm is no longer a going concern. The Institute is in chaos after your actions in the Chaunt System. The First Folk are scrambling. They’re trying to secure their remaining resources and figure out how to deal with the fallout. There are a few saucers left on Garm, but their numbers here—Garm is no longer a going proposition for the Institute.

  “Is that a fact?” I said.

  “Please don’t interrupt,” Philip said. “I want to finish this while I can. I feel horrible about telling Institute secrets, but my life is worth more to me than anything. It’s the only life I have.” He gave me a hominid grin. “What I’m saying—I’m willing to sell out the Institute to gain my survival.”

  My suspicions were aroused more than ever. I was certain lies were about to flow, if they hadn’t already.

  “The mines have been running out,” Philip said, hanging his head. “The Institute has saved excess alibite to last it many decades, perhaps a century or even two. Therefore, we no longer need to stretch ourselves by continuing the Garm Operation. It has been a difficult one. The terrain is hard, the weather atrocious, while the Neanderthals are surly and bloodthirsty, easily given to rioting.”

  “You mean slave rebellions.”

  Philip shrugged. “Use whatever words you like. The Institute tried to bring civilization to Garm. The Neanderthals didn’t want or appreciate it. The Institute thus used them to do what they could.”

  “Slave as miners?” I asked.

  “It suited their temperament and comprehension levels.”

  “Why did the Institute indenture their women?”

  Philip sighed. “I hate to point out the obvious, Bayard, mainly because I don’t want Brakka to strike me.”

  I glanced at Brakka.

  “He can say what he wants,” Brakka growled. “I’ve learned to hear harsh truths.”

  Philip glanced at me.

  “You heard him,” I said. “Tell us the obvious.”

  “I’m speaking reluctantly,” Philip said.

  “Answer the question,” I said. “Why indenture their women?”

  “When dealing with a subspecies like the Neanderthals, the simple pain-pleasure methods have proven the most effective. The Neanderthals love their women, possibly more than you humans do yours. Thus, depriving them of the women made them work harder. One of the Rogers developed a grading system, rewarding merit by strict schedules with the women.”

  “Enough,” I said.

  “Was that too honest?” asked Philip.

  “If you’re trying to needle Brakka…that’s a bad idea. Forget about the women. Tell me more about…closing down Garm. That is what you’re talking about, right?”

  Philip nodded. “As I said, Garm is a losing proposition. You probably already figured it out, but we lost too many good people and more equipment because the Accelerationists wanted everything in the Chaunt System. They stripped equipment from other places, including Garm. Until you showed up, dealing with the freedom fighters here was easy. The sabertooth were more effective than anything else.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’ve already said it. The Institute is pulling out of Garm. We’re in the process. If you want to stop that, you’re going to have to strike before everything is gone.”

  I eyed the lying, scheming, devious hominid. I would have liked to offer him a cigarette to see him smoke it as the chimp did in Montana back in my childhood.

  “Why do I feel like you’re spinning a load of BS?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Why do you?”

  “I’ll tell you,” I said. “You want us to charge in so we get ourselves killed.”

  “No. I’m telling you the truth. You’re the one spinning scenarios that aren’t real.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, thinking back to various incidents in the Chaunt System. He’d even lied about the archaeological findings regarding the underwater portal in the Persian Gulf, the one nuked by the Poseidon torpedo.

  “Krull told me there’s a transfer machine in the mines,” I said. “You’re dismantling the machine?”

  Philip rolled his eyes. “This is the straight scoop. My throat is sore. My foot hurts. If you’re going to kill me, kill me. If you’re going to let me go, let me go.”

  “We’re not letting you go, Philip, not yet anyway. But we may give you good internment rather than a bad one. You might forgo the whippings and beatings, and you might get enough food and water. It can be much worse, if you get my meaning.”

  “Say no more, I get it. This is the truth. The Institute only has a few saucers on Garm. You’ve shot most of them up. Now, I don’t think the others are going to fly the last ones. That they sent massed sabertooths tells me they’re worried about your army. There hasn’t been new…altered sabertooths on Garm for years. These are all old ones who should have known better, should have been able to kill you without bringing the dire wolves on them. The point is, the Institute is leaving and taking our machinery with us. We’ll close the path between worlds. As you suggested, the others hope to move the transfer machine onto…the Institute planet. It’s an ancient machine that can link two planets…if one knows how to do it. I happen to know.”

  I laughed. “Yeah you do. You’re super important, Philip. That was why you were out flying a saucer, probably the most dangerous assignment on Garm. Given that, it tells me you’re low on the totem pole around here.”

  Philip eyed me, glanced at Brakka and possibly reconsidered the situation. “Okay, so you caught me in an untruth. It was the only one. Roger is in charge. The Roger Original hates the Philip Original, and that, of course, has always worked in our disfavor. Roger is higher ranked than Philip.”

  “You’re speaking about the Originals?”

  “What did I just say, Bayard? Can’t you pay attention?”

  I have to admit, Philip was a nervy little bastard to talk to me like that, given his position. I almost admired it. Then I realized he knew that about me, and that was why he took this method. It wasn’t that he was particularly brave; it was that these little hominids, these little five-foot creeps, were smart as nails and cunning like you couldn’t believe.

  Could they really be pulling out of Garm?

  Brakka was looking at Philip once again.

  “Before the last First Folk leaves,” I said, “will they free the slaves?”

  Philip shook his head.

  “What does that mean?” I demanded.

  “It means we’re taking all our property with us,” Philip said. “We’re taking the Neanderthals. We’re taking the whole kit and caboodle, as the Institute needs some hard-workers on our planet.”

  “What about the women?” Brakka said hoarsely.

  “The Institute is taking the women,” Philip said. “They’re not leaving them for you. Do you think we’re crazy? You guys have been a pain in our collective ass for a long time.”

  He was needling Brakka. I wondered why.

  “The Institute wants to be rid of you Neanderthals. The best way to do it—” Philip looked at me, “is to take the women. That means the Neanderthals die out in a generation.”

  Brakka’s face began to turn red.

  “I’m not for the idea,” Philip said hastily. “It’s a Roger idea, not a Philip idea.”

  “Roger’s an Accelerationist?” I asked.

  “No. He wouldn’t be here on this lousy winter planet with its huge beasts and its shaggy Neanderthals—” Philip threw his hands into the air.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “What’s the use?” Philip said. “You don’t believe me.”

  He glanced at me even as he looked away, the kind of glance to see how one’s words were working.

  Despite it being Philip, I did believe him, sort of. It fit with my preconceptions of what had happened after the Chaunt System. It fit with their low numbers.

  Here was the thing. Was Philip telling us all this so we’d rush to the attack? Would that allow the remaining First Folk to ambush and annihilate us? Or was he saying this, knowing we’d think he was lying, and thus we’d become cautious? That might buy their exit game more time to complete whatever they needed to do. Philip was devious, able to go both ways. I wasn’t sure which way to jump on what he’d told me. So what was the point of his having told me, us?

  I thought about it as we crunched across snow.

  Brakka stared at me as if demanding an answer.

  “I’m thinking,” I said.

  Philip noticed our exchange. I could see the wheels turning in his eyes for the few brief moments I looked at him.

  Could the First Folk really be pulling off Garm? Would they take the lady Neanderthals and their most docile slaves with them? If they did, they’d probably kill the rest. The free Neanderthals would be it, unless the Yellow Knives truly existed. Was that a First Folk tale they’d engineered, or was it the truth?

  This was a dilemma. Even so, I was starting to think Philip had been telling the truth. They only had a few saucers, taking risks with them. The pilots would be the misfits or those on the outs with the others. That might cause Philip to tell some because he hated the Roger clone in charge.

  “Any more questions, Bayard?” Philip asked.

  “Not yet,” I said.

  Brakka raised his bony eyebrow at me, that single horrid eyebrow across his eyes. “Do you believe him?” he asked quietly.

  “I need to talk to the Old One about this,” I said. I wanted Gruum’s insights before I made my final decision.

  “I’ll tell him,” Zog said, hurrying for the main company.

  -32-

  I spoke with Gruum and told him in the presence of Brakka my thoughts. “I don’t know if Philip is telling the truth to draw us in or to keep us back, or if it’s a half-truth. But given what has happened, sir, I think he could be telling the truth.”

  “If you’re right,” Gruum said, “we need to move fast.”

  “Yes,” I said. “But we ought to do this military style.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “As the company heads for the mines, the runners fan out and race ahead. Each group designates a runner to race back with any news, particularly if they spot the enemy.”

  Gruum stroked his scraggly beard. “What if the First Folk use saucers to pick off runners?”

  “That right there gives us more information,” I said.

  “Provided a runner makes it back to us with the news,” Brakka said.

  “True,” I said.

  Gruum thought about that, finally asking, “You think even if they use saucers against the runners that would be a good way to do it?”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking, sir. We have three hundred or almost three hundred free Neanderthals. They’ve been hunters for years. That means they’re in better shape than any miners or slave guards. They’re used to committing mayhem and armed with weapons of their choice.”

  “You haven’t answered about the runners and saucers.”

  “I don’t think they have many saucers. You heard Philip. If a few show up, the runners will have to zigzag back to us. Once the runners know a saucer is there—a single alerted man on foot it probably difficult to hit.”

  “The slave guards will likely have better weapons than our main mass, as you say,” Gruum said.

  “That’s where the Nine and I come in. We’re going to soften up their main force. Given our present situation, Brakka should arm himself with a lance or two and stay with you at all times. Once we meet their main force, once we slaughter however many we can with the lances, we charge them with the mammoths.”