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elf on an endless journey through an alien landscape, menaced

by shadowy pursuers and beset by problems of mind-blowing complexity

and importance whose solutions he knew but could not articulate. As a

consequence, he woke feeling as drained and exhausted as before.

Raising his head he saw daylight filtering down the angled stairway.

Christo! Time to get going. Easier said than done. His back was

still one solid slab of pain. With slow, jerky movements he levered

himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, and slumped

forward, head down. If he had not taken the precaution of resting his

elbows on his knees he would have hit the floor nose first. Come on,

Brickman, you can do better than this.

Move it I Responding to the resident drill instructor that lurked

within the inner recesses of his brain Steve straightened up and put

himself through a short aerobic routine to loosen his arm and leg

joints. He would go down to the stream, drink and freshen up, then try

and find some way to protect his feet. The Mutes used buffalo hide.

Any skin would do at a pinch but Malone's renegades had taken

everything. He picked up a length of cord and, after considering

various possibilities, wound it into a sausage-shaped coil. If the

strands could somehow be stitched together it would form the sole of a

primitive shoe. He could break down one of the cords into finer

threads but what could he use for a needle?

As he wrestled with the problem he heard a faint muffled shout. Then

other voices, indistinct but getting louder. Going to the bottom of

the steps, Steve heard more shouts mixed with the fainter whooping

cries of Mutes in hot pursuit. Then came what sounded like several

bodies crashing through the surrounding undergrowth. He shrank back

into the darkest corner.

What the heck was he going to do? He was trapped! And then he

remembered. Of course! The bolt-hole! The fur coverings had been

stripped away but the earth and wickerwork plug was still in place.

And the Mute crossbow with its bagful of bolts was in the small storage

space behind it!

Before Steve could move, a flash of daylight pierced the gloom as the

doorflap was thrust aside. Drawing his knife, Steve darted into a

corner where he could not be seen from the steps that led down into the

hide and crouched down, ready to spring at the throat of his unwelcome

visitor. The person that stumbled into view was someone he hadn't

expected to see again.

Yellow-Cap, weighed down by his backpack and air rifle, and very short

of breath.

But not slow to react.

Sensing a hostile presence, Yellow-Cap spun around with his rifle aimed

at Steve's chest and backed away from the raised knife. 'Freeze,

soldier!" Steve froze but held on to the knife.

'I'm not looking for trouble,' said Yellow-Cap. 'So ease off, set that

blade down, and everything'll be just dandy."

Jodi Kazan came crashing down the steps. She, too, was short of

breath. When she glimpsed Steve she sagged against the wall and let

the butt of her rifle fall to the floor. 'Christo! There you are!"

Her words were punctuated by a racking laugh. 'At least it wasn't a a

totally - wasted journey -' She broke off again to gulp down more air

and turned to Yellow-Cap. 'Have you told him?"

'Gimme a chance. Your pal here was about to stick it to me."

Jodi eyed Steve. 'Not surprising, considering what you guys did to

him."

'Just following orders, Kaz. Call him off."

'Okay, okay." She waved them both down. 'Cool it, Brickman. This is

no time to start fighting amongst ourselves." Jodi held out her hand

for the knife. 'Trust me."

Steve gave her the knife.

'Cover the stairs,' said Yellow-Cap. He laid his rifle across his

forearm and jerked a thumb towards Jodi as she moved into position.

'This guy here's a real good friend of yours. I don't know what it was

she said to the boss-man but he decided to give you a second chance.

Guess he didn't figure on you getting away on your own."

He gave Steve an admiring nod. 'Ain't never heard anyone ever do that

before. Yep... you are one real slippery sonofabitch." He offered

Steve his hand.

'Kelso's the name. Dave Kelso. Welcome aboard."

'Sounds like an offer I can't refuse,' said Steve.

Kelso's vice-like grip made him aware just how painfully stiff his

hands were.