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tles and spare magazines were slung

across their chests, and most carried machetes or combat knives. Their

weathered faces were unshaven, and their eyes were those of hunters and

fugitives who had learned how to survive the hard way.

'This is Brickman,' explained Jodi. 'He's okay. We shipped out

together last April aboard The Lady. He powered down in June."

'Same day as she went overboard,' added Steve.

'Where's Malone?"

'He's checking out the hide,' said Yellow-Cap. 'Okay, let's go join

him,' replied Jodi. 'Our friend here has kindly offered to share

what's in the larder."

As they made their way back to the hide, Steve counted a dozen more

armed renegades standing guard with varying degrees of watchfulness.

One of them went down the dirt steps to fetch Malone, the boss of the

outfit. Jodi pointed him out as he emerged. The five guys with him

fanned out on either side, cradled their rifles and gave Steve the

once-over. Yellow-Cap joined them.

The other guys closed in to form a half circle behind Steve.

Malone was a lean, mean-looking sonofabitch with pale piercing eyes

like the Assessors who had given Steve such a hard time. Unlike most

of the renegades, Malone was relatively dean-shaven. His long brown

hair was tied together on the nape of his neck with a strip of

camouflaged fabric and he wore a sweatband of the same material around

his high forehead. Somewhere along the line someone had tried to kick

his nose through the back of his head and, from the expression on his

square, deeply lined face, he was still sore about it.

Malone sat on a rock and listened in silence while Jodi said her piece

then waved her aside and switched his attention on Steve. 'Okay,

friend, what's your story?"

Steve launched into an account of his capture and escape from the

Mutes, omitting all mention of Clearwater and the fact that he had

taught Cadillac to fly. He described how the patched fabric of the

home-made hang-glider had started to unravel, forcing him to abandon

his original plan to return to the Federation.

Malone listened to his adventures with an expressionless face that made

it hard for Steve to gauge how well he was doing. He hesitated, hoping

to trigger some reaction but Malone merely nodded and gestured to him

to continue.

Steve went on with the story he had carefully rehearsed at Rio Lobo.

How he had hidden the glider then headed south on foot until sighting a

posse of Mutes. Deciding to work his way round their turf, he had

struck out eastwards, eventually reaching the junction of the North and

South Platte rivers. Once again he encountered Mute warriors from the

same clan and managed to escape, floating downstream past their

encampment during the night on a small raft of logs.

Gaining the southern shore he had set off south again determined to

reach the Federation - his only hope of survival. It was at this

point, close to collapse from exhaustion and hunger, he had had the

good fortune to stumble across this hide - where he had spent the

winter.

Malone glanced over his shoulder and signalled to one of his side-kicks

- a guy with a straggly blond beard. The renegade produced a portable

radio set and put it down between Steve and Malone. Steve had learned

how to use one like it at Rio Lobo. It was one of several

highly-sophisticated pieces of communications equipment manufactured

exclusively for AMEXICO.

Steve looked down at the radio then up at Malone.

'You want to tell me what this is doing here?"

'It belongs to the guy I found living here. Joe Tyson."

Malone nodded. 'Where is he?"

'I, uh - shot him." Steve paused but there was no reaction so he

continued as per the script. 'I thought he was okay. He offered to

share his food, let me rest up, then taught me to hunt and set traps.

We were getting along fine then, one day, towards the end of December

he sent me out hunting. I came back early 'cos my gun had iced up.

That's when I heard him talking. So I snuck up real quiet and found

him working that thing. The sonofabitch was giving somebody my name

and number!" Malone didn't look impressed. 'So what? Wasn't that

what you wanted - to get back to the Federation?"

'Yes, sir. That's what I set out to do but this Tyson had me figured

for a renegade and -'

'Aren't you?"

Steve gave it the old down home touch. 'No, sir!

Leastways I wasn't then. I'd escaped because I wanted to get back to

my outfit. I didn't know any other way to function - ask Jodi. And

here was this guy marking my card."

'How d'you mean?"