"They kept me in their basement for three days. The first thing Densee did was clean and bandage my foot. I was sort of on a cloud from the painkiller then, and watched her. It was pretty gross."

Looking at me, she smiled. I was cringing. "The first night, a man came there who was apparently a doctor. He gave me another shot-the first one was wearing off-and repaired my foot. That I didn't watch."

She turned to dad then. "Klentis," she said-not Uncle Klent anymore-"why don't you and Aven tell them the rest? It's more your story than mine."

Dad stood up before he spoke, and rubbed his backside. "You'll just have to wait a minute. My bones aren't as young as yours."

I became aware then of just how sore my own backside was from silting on rocks. "Let's go sit in the Rebel Javelin," I suggested. Everyone seemed to think that was a good idea, so we went in and sat on soft, contoured seats. And at mom's suggestion, Moise went into one of the cabins and napped. So much of what he'd been hearing meant nothing at all to him that he'd gotten groggy, and was having a terrible time staying awake

Dad. it turned out, had gotten a pipeline to a warrant officer in naval operations at Jarfoss. The cutter had be paired by then, and the idea was for the WO to get information to dad, to help him decide when to try to get off Evdash. At the same time, Jom Jomber was looking for somewhere to send Jenoor. And the warrant officer, one of the few people who knew Jenoor was there, made a deal with dad. He'd provide him with information, if dad would take this young girl away.

So mom, in a borrowed utility floater, had gone the next night to pick up this young girl in a parking lot in Jarfoss. Each had almost come apart when they saw who the other was.

On the farm, dad asked Jenoor where we'd been headed. Naturally she told him Grinder. He knew it wouldn't be in the astrogation cube by that name, and when he questioned her about it, she didn't know the planet's official name. When he told her-Tagrith Four- she said she'd never heard it before.

And if she hadn't, it seemed probable that the rest of us hadn't either.

They'd talked it over then, trying to figure what we might have done, in the unlikely event that we had gotten out-system alive. And decided the likeliest place to look for us was on Fanglith. If they didn't find us here, they'd head for Tagrith Four and hope we were alive somewhere.

Dad told us frankly that he hadn't had much hope. But any at all was enough to follow up on.

Their own escape, a couple of weeks later, was a lot less hairy than ours. It involved a major solar flare and undoubtedly some deliberate "failures to notice" by patrol scouts. Failures that could be blamed on instrument and radio problems caused by the flare. The Imperial cruiser had left the system by then.

And Bubba told us then why he'd been so quiet and moody after we left Evdash. It was more than the food, and being separated from Lady and the pups. Most espwolves, by their emotional disposition, can handle that land of thing pretty well. His bigger problem was that he had a secret from us-a very heavy secret, from me especially.

"I knew Jenoor alive out there on ground," he said, "Alive, wounded. I also knew it suicide to try get her. So I said nothing." He looked at me, holding my eyes with his. "After that, I not tell. I know you. You go mad if you know we left her there like that. You tear your hair out. After you shoot me."

"No, Bubba," I said. "No way would I ever shoot you. No way! Tear my hair out, yes. And I might have said some terrible things to you, until I got my senses back."

His eyes never faltered. "Anyway," he went on, "I not tell. But it hard to have such a secret. I never felt like that before. Like guilt. Worse than grief."

Jenoor went to him and, kneeling, hugged him. "Bubba," she said, "you seem wiser and wiser to me all the time. You did the right thing, the only right thing." Her eyes were brimming when she stood up. "And look how it turned out."

Bubba grinned at her. "Espwolf live around people, get more and more like them. Even sentimental."

Which made me wonder, not for the first time, what it would be like to be an espwolf.

After Bubba's confession, we talked about what we'd do next. Mom and dad both considered that Fanglith was no place to try developing an anti-Imperial base. We'd keep it in mind as a last refuge, but that was all.

They got no argument from anyone, me least of all.

Now we would go to Grinder, just the way Piet had intended. It had at least one smuggler base, dad said, dug into a mountain. We could get the Jav's power transfer module rebuilt there.

Grinder had a false but carefully nurtured reputation as an abandoned world, in a system where the sun was supposed to be heating up. A planet with a worsening climate, where hardly anyone, if anyone at all, still lived. It was at the blurry edge of explored space, without commercial resources and far from any trade route. And with far too few people left to maintain technology, any human remnants would have degenerated to primitive survivalism.

So the story went. But Piet had been there, and knew what the real situation was. There actually weren't a lot of people on Grinder, but enough. They'd retained the technology that counted, and they taught it. They all belonged to a single culture that placed a high value on independence, they were resourceful, and they regarded themselves as one people.

And what they knew of the Glondisans, they didn't like at all.

What they were short on was organizational and military expertise. Dad was experienced at organization, and had made a study of military history. "You," he told me, "are the one with some experience."

I didn't consider my military experience to amount to much, and it didn't seem like the kind a rebel movement would find useful, but dad disagreed.

"Larn," he said, "I'm not trying to tell you that what you've gotten here on Fanglith amounts to a military education. It doesn't. But you've learned to adapt, innovate, and survive. And you've also proven yourself resourceful, able to face death, and a survivor.

"A formal military education probably only touches on the tactics we'll need, anyway-tactics well develop on our own. Mostly, any actual insurgency will have to be guerrilla warfare for years-probably lots of years- both on colony worlds and the urbanized central worlds. Chances are we'll never wage formal warfare against the Empire."

He grinned then. "You realize what you've done, don't you? You've recruited a couple of specialists in military thinking: Arno and Gunnlag must have an ingrained, almost instinctive feel for tactics. What they need is to be educated in technological weapons and equipment. And about the enemy.

"Meanwhile, with your education and having grown up in a technological culture, plus your experience now with warlike primitive cultures, you're the obvious person to work with them. To help translate Norman and Varangian wisdom into tactics and military organization that can work for us.

"So we'll call your a training operation and recruiting mission," he added, then stood. "And frankly, I can't think of a better place you could have gone for that than Fanglith." He turned to mom. "Aven, let's you and I take a hike on the beach. We've been penned up all too long."

That afternoon, Jenoor and I took a long hike into the hills and didn't return till nearly dark, getting to know one another again. We stayed six days on the island, giving Arno time to get the Varangians to Palermo and hired out as mercenaries-those who were interested. It also gave the Jaw's fuel cell time to fully decrystallize.

Then, power on, Deneen checked to make sure the scout's astrogation program included Tagrith Four. The plan now was that when we left Fanglith, Jenoor, Deneen, and I would fly the Rebel Javelin, taking Gunnlag, Moise, and the two pups. The Jav had quite a bit more room than our family cutter.