Robert Sheckley - The Victim from Space

'Close call, old man,' he said.

'Meddler!' Kataga said. He spat at Hadwell and stalked off.

Hadwell stared after him scratching his head. 'Must have affected his brain,' he said. 'Well, shall we get on with the Ultimate?'

The villagers drew close to him, their faces menacing.

'Hah! The Ultimate he wants!'

'A man like that.'

'After dragging poor Kataga out of the river, he has the nerve ...'

'His own father-in-law and he saves his life!'

'A man like that,' Vassi, the merchant, summed up, 'damned well doesn't even deserve to die!'

Hadwell wondered if they had all gone temporarily insane. He stood up, a bit shakily, and appealed to the priest.

'What is all this?' Hadwell asked.

Lag, with mournful eyes and pale, set lips, stared at him and did not answer.

'Can't I have the Ultimate ceremony?' Hadwell asked, a plaintive note in his voice.

'You do deserve it,' the priest said. 'If any man has ever deserved the Ultimate, you do, Hadwell. I feel you should have it, as a matter of abstract justice. But there is more involved here than abstract justice. There are principles of mercy and human pity which are dear to Thangookari. By these principles, Hadwell, you did a terrible and inhuman thing when you rescued poor Kataga from the river. I am afraid the action is unforgivable.'

Hadwell didn't know what to say. Apparently there was some taboo against rescuing men who had fallen into the river. But how could they expect him to know about it? How could they let this one little thing outweigh all he had done for them?

'Isn't there some ceremony you can give me?' he begged. 'I like you people, I want to live here. Surely there's something you can do.'

The old priest's eyes misted with compassion. He gripped his mace, started to lift it.

He was stopped by an ominous roar from the crowd.

'There is nothing I can do,' he said. 'Leave us, false emissary. Leave us, oh Hadwell - who does not deserve to die!'

'All right!' Hadwell shouted, his temper suddenly snapping. 'To hell with you bunch of dirty savages. I wouldn't stay here if you begged me. I'm going. Are you with me, Mele?'

The girl blinked convulsively, looked at Hadwell, then at the priest. There was a long moment of silence. Then the priest murmured, 'Remember your father, Mele. Remember the beliefs of your people.'

Mele's proud little chin came up. 'I know where my duty lies,' she said. 'Let's go, Richard dear.'

'Right,' said Hadwell. He stalked off to his spaceship, followed by Mele.

In despair, the old priest watched. He cried, 'Mele!' once, in a heartbroken voice. But Mele did not turn back. He saw her enter the ship, and the port slide shut.

Within minutes, red and blue flames bathed the silver sphere. The sphere lifted, gained speed, dwindled to a speck, and vanished.

Tears rolled down the old priest's cheeks as he watched it

go-

Hours later, Hadwell said, 'Darling, I'm taking you to Earth, the planet I come from. You'll like it there.'

'I know I will,' Mele murmured, staring out of a porthole at the brilliant spear points of the stars.

Somewhere among them was her home, lost to her for ever. She was homesick already. But there had been no other choice. Not for her. A woman goes with the man she loves. And a woman who loves truly and well never loses faith in her man.

Mele hadn't lost faith in Hadwell.

She fingered a tiny sheathed dagger concealed in her clothing. The dagger was tipped with a peculiarly painful and slow-acting poison. It was a family heirloom to be used when there was no priest around, and only on those one loved most dearly.

'I'm through wasting my time,' Hadwell said. 'With your help I'm going to do great things. You'll be proud of me, sweetheart.'

Mele knew he meant it. Some day, she thought, Hadwell would atone for the sin against her father. He would do perhaps next year. And then she would give him the most precious thing a woman can give to a man.

A painful death.