Frederik Pohl - O Pioneer!

But, on the other hand, who had ever described Hoak Hagbarth as sensible?

A sudden twitch of alarm from Mrs. Threewhiteboots made Giyt open his eyes. That was a strange sensation, for what he saw was no different either way. Eyes closed, eyes open, there was only blackness. Was this what blindness felt like?

But it wasn’t his eyes that were at fault. “Is power out,” Mrs. Threewhiteboots said worriedly. “Power never out. Is bad thing. You stay here inside lek where no one can see, Large Male Giyt, I look.”

That was an order he could not obey. As she peered out of the door Giyt was shoulder to shoulder with her. Power was out, all right. The principal illumination in the corridor was from one distant, palely glowing panel of green emergency lighting on the ceiling. He could see the plenum at the end of the hall, but the brilliant readout displays were gone, leaving only one fast-moving line of symbols on one wall. There were brighter moving lights just beyond there, too. Someone—no, several someones—were there with pocket torches. And he heard voices.

One of the voices was raised in anger, and it belonged to Hoak Hagbarth.

Mrs. Threewhiteboots moaned something, then reared upright to peer down the hall. Something small was skittering rapidly toward them. It turned out to be her mate, who leaped into the fur of her back, chattering at her. She listened for a moment, then turned and shoved Giyt back inside. “They coming, maybe! Go in! Close door!”

The power was out, and so were communications. Mr. Threewhiteboots (his mate explained to Giyt) had gone to the communicator; but that was when the power went—shut off, most likely, by Hagbarth himself to make things even tougher for Giyt. While Mr. Threewhiteboots was trying to get the emergency circuits working to sound the alarm, two large Earth-human males had come in. “They asking you. Large Male Giyt,” the female reported. “My husband hear you name, but nothing else; he not have translator. They talk at him, but he not understand nothing. Then they point stinky gun at him. He run.”

“ Hell ,” Giyt said. Communications dead, access to the rocket blocked: Was there any way out of this? He thought rapidly. “Are they still there?”

“Think not. Don’t want to look. You want?”

“No. Well, maybe I do, but not right away. They won’t stay around. Then maybe I can—”

But he stopped there, because he knew, before he said it, that they would never let him get to the rest of the complex. They would let no one in or out until they had made sure Giyt was not still inside.

Then he remembered what was parked by the outside door.

He took a deep breath, then opened the door a crack, listening. The Centaurian pups were whining softly, but he heard nothing else, and it was dark outside. When he poked his head out there were no lights.

There would be no better chance than this. “Mrs. Threewhiteboots,” he said, “do you have a key card for the hover? If I could get around the outside to the rocket pad—”

She made a snuffling sound that might have been amusement, “What you do with keycard? You think you driving Centaurian hover?”

“Maybe you could tell me how to do it.”

“Maybe you being very ridiculous, Large Male Giyt. Never happening; driving instruments quite complicated. Also what you think those large males do, they finding us here and you gone? No, not giving keycard. Driving vehicle own self, most fearfully.”

Mrs. Threewhiteboots delayed only to scrabble in a compartment for a body-shawl and a set of flat disks like snow-shoes. When she had strapped them to her little feet she muttered to her husband, and the two of them led Giyt to the door.

The hovercraft started quickly and moved easily over the drifts. It took only a few minutes to reach the rocket launch pad.

And then they stopped, looking at each other, looking back at the dome they had left. There were more of those handheld lights moving around outside that door. They undoubtedly belonged to some of Hagbarth’s people, searching for them. If they went back there, they would be caught.

But there wouldn’t be much point in trying to do that, anyway. The pad was empty. The suborbital rocket itself was gone.

When Rina was awakened from a restless sleep with the word that Giyt was missing and presumed dead, she didn’t believe a word of it. Wouldn’t believe it, because it was just too unexpected and far too awful for her to accept. And then, when she accessed the Earth-colony news channel, she had no choice but to believe it, because the scenes of destruction from the Pole were too terribly convincing to be denied. In the view from outside, the Earth autofactory dome was split completely open, oozing black smoke into the dark polar sky. In the view from inside, everything was simply wrecked. Rina sat quietly in front of the screen, sometimes remembering to eat a bit of the breakfast she had absently made for herself, sometimes simply sitting motionless, not even thinking. When the news items began to repeat themselves she switched randomly to other files, her lessons, her household reminders, sometimes Giyt’s own files . . . but that was painful; because he wasn’t there. She was a practical woman. She always did her best to be prepared for whatever future needs and problems might arise well in advance, so that she could deal with them when they came. But she had not envisaged any future for herself that did not include Evesham Giyt there to share it.

Lupe was the first to arrive at the house. “Oh, Rina, hon,” she said, her voice as mournful as her face, and stopped there because she had nothing to add. She sat quietly next to Rina, holding her hand. Then it was Matya, with the younger children, the others busy getting themselves off to school. Matya was more businesslike, and full of news. The six-planet meeting was convening early to discuss the accident. The loss of life, at least, had been small—two eeties missing and supposed to have been caught somehow in the blast. And Giyt. The suborbital rocket had made an emergency flight to the Pole, bringing twelve Earth firemen to help control the damage, and was already on its way back for more. The economic consequences for the Earth community were worrisome; until the autofactory could be rebuilt everything would have to come by portal from the home planet. As would everything needed for the rebuilding; the Earth delegation had already sent a message back to Earth to say what had happened and that emergency help was needed.

Rina listened politely to everything Matya had to say—having, of course, already heard it all for herself on her screen—until Lupe finally gave up trying to force food on her and Matya insisted that she go back to sleep. It was easier to pretend to obey than to argue, but Rina knew that sleep was impossible.

Well, not quite impossible.

Rina had taken it as given that she would He wakeful in the bed that still bore traces of Evesham Giyt’s friendly male odor, while horrid thoughts recirculated through her brain. However horrid, they needed to be thought anyway: Should she stay on Tupelo? Go back to Earth? Bear the child that was just beginning to stir inside her? Abort it?