Part 41 (1/2)

The Dewdrop was making a break for it.

He watched the haze for a long minute, teeth clamped together as he tried not to cry. They were leaving. Without him. Without Cerenkov and Rynstadt, as well?

Probably. There was no way to know for sure; but Telek had counted on him to rescue them, and his failure probably meant they were all marooned.

Marooned.

Automatically, as if trying to insulate itself from the emotional shock, his mind began tracing out his options. He could escape into the forest, living off the wild game there, and hope he could hold out until the military expedition that would surely follow. Or he could try to find a village that would trade his

Cobra skills for sanctuary from the central authorities. Or-

Or he could just stay here in the gra.s.s until he died. It all amounted to that in the end.

It was only then that the realization broke through to him that the Dewdrop was moving too slowly.

Much too slowly. They crippled it, was his first, awful thought... but if the grav lifts had been damaged F'ahl should have kicked in the main drive by now to a.s.sist. No, something else was happening... and abruptly, he understood.

They were flying low and slow on purpose. Looking for him.

He'd rolled over on his back in an instant, glancing toward the city as he lifted his left leg, but not really caring if anyone there spotted his signal.

In a few minutes the Dewdrop would be here... and after his moments of despair the promise of rescue was flooding his mind and body with adrenaline-fueled determination. Let the Qasamans come for him now-let the whole city get in his way if they wanted to.

Targeting the Dewdrop, he fired his antiarmor laser three times.

Thirty kilometers away, the s.h.i.+p's hull would barely register the heat of those shots; but for the watchers aboard, the flashes of light should be impossible to miss. a.s.suming someone was watching.

And apparently they were. From the front-inside of the red oval the Dewdrop's landing lights flicked twice in acknowledgment. s.h.i.+fting to a crouch, Justin got ready to move, keeping alert for trouble from the city.

It took the Dewdrop a few minutes to come to ground-and it did so, inexplicably, a good kilometer north. Justin briefly considered signaling again, decided it would be safer to just go to it, and set off in a crouching run.

No one opened fire before he reached the s.h.i.+p. Link was waiting by the open hatchway as he came up, and favored the younger man with a tight smile. ”Welcome back,” he said, gripping Justin's hand briefly. He gave the other a fast once-over before returning his eyes to the city. ”You've never seen a group of people so happy as when we saw your signal.”

”I was happy enough for all of you put together,” Justin told him, following

Link's gaze. A half-dozen cars and a bus could be seen approaching from city's edge. ”Looks like a good time to get out of here.”

Link shook his head. ”They're bringing Yuri and Marck-Almo struck a deal for their release.”

”What kind of deal?” Justin frowned.

”A sort of promise not to tear up their industrial base before we go.” Link glanced at the other. ”Why don't you go inside, get any injuries seen to. I can handle this.”

”Well... all right.” Something about this felt wrong, but for the moment Justin couldn't figure out what. Turning, he stepped into the hatch and sprung the inner door-and walked straight into his brother's arms.

For a minute they just held each other-the man who'd done his job, Justin thought bitterly, and the man who hadn't.

But for the moment his shame was swallowed up in the relief of being safe again.

Joshua released him and stepped back, still gripping his brother's shoulders.