“Most interesting,” I said, and tried the radio frequencies.

“If you don’t enlighten me quick, I’ll never save your life again.”

“You have to because you love me with an undying passion. I get two sources, one weak and very distant. The other can’t be too far and is putting out on a number of frequencies, including atomic radiation and energy transmission, as well as a lot of radio. And something of more pressing urgency. Get out the sunburn cream—solar ultraviolet radiation is right up at the top of the scale. You can bet I’ve been well cooked already.”

We creamed and, despite the heat, put on enough clothing to shield us from the invisible radiation that was pouring out of the clouded sky.

“Strange things have happened to the Earth,” I said. “The radiation, this soggy climate, the wildlife in this river. I wonder—”

“I don’t. After completing the mission, you can do your paleo-geologic research. Let’s kill He first.”

“Spoken like a pro. I hope you don’t mind if I rig a harness so we can share the benefit of the grav-chute equally this time?”

“Sounds like fun,” she said, loosening the straps.

The airborne Siamese twin arrangement lifted and took us low over the sea of gunk in the direction of all the activity. Mud and swamp continued for a boringly long time, and I was beginning to chafe in the straps and worry about the power supply when the higher land finally appeared. First some rocks sticking up out of the water, then sheer cliffs. It took more juice to lift us up the side of these, and the indicator on the power pack dropped quickly.

“We are going to have to walk soon,” I said, “which is at least better than swimming.”

“Not if the land animals match those in the water.”

Ever optimistic my Angelina. As I was phrasing a witty and scathing reply, there was a flash of light from the rampart of rocks ahead, followed instantly by an intense pain in my leg.

“I’ve been shot!” I shouted, more in surprise than pain, reaching for the grav-chute controls and finding that Angelina had already killed the power.

We dropped toward a wicked jumble of rocks, slowing and stopping only at the last minute. I hopped on one leg to the shelter of an overhanging slab and was thinking of digging out my medikit when Angelina sprayed antiseptic on the wound, tore my pants leg half away, injected instant painkiller in my thigh, and probed the gory opening. She was ahead of me with everything, and I didn’t mind in the slightest.

“A neat penetrating wound,” she announced, spraying on surgifoam. “Should heal quickly, no problems, keep your weight off it; now I have to kill whoever did it.”

All the drugs had slowed me down, and before I could answer, she had her gun in her hand and had faded silently into the rocky landscape. There is nothing like having a loving and tender wife who is a cool and accomplished killer. Maybe I wore the pants in the family—but we both wore guns.

Not too long after this there was the sound of explosions, a great clattering in the rocks above and, soon after that, some hoarse screams that soon ended in silence. It is a tribute to Angelina’s prowess that I never for a second was concerned about her safety. In fact, I dozed off under the assault of the drugs coursing through my bloodstream and woke only when I was aware of tugging on the grav-chute harness. I yawned and blinked at her as she buckled in beside me.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” I said. She frowned.

“Just one man up there; I couldn’t find any others. There is a farm building of sorts, some machinery, crops growing. I must be slipping. I knocked him out, then could not bring myself to shoot him while he was lying there unconscious.”

I kissed her as we rose.

“A conscience, my sweet. Some of us are born with them; yours was surgically implanted. The results are the same.”

“I’m not really sure I like it. There was a certain freedom in the old days.”

“We all have to be civilized some time.” She sighed and nodded, then gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

“I suppose that you are right. But it would have been so satisfying to blow him into small pieces.”

We were over the last of the tumbled scree now and ascending a small cliff. There was a plateau here on top of which was a low building made of cemented-together stones. The door was open, and I hobbled through it, leaning on Angelina’s shoulder. Inside, the dim light through the small windows revealed a large and cluttered room with two bunks against the far wall. On one of them a bound man lay twisting and turning, mumbling and growling into the gag that sealed his mouth.

“You get into the other bed,” Angelina said, “while I see if I can get any intelligence out of this awful creature.”

I had actually taken the first steps toward the bunk before reason penetrated my soggy thoughts and I stopped dead.

“Beds. Two of them? There must be someone else around the place.”

Whatever answer was on her lips was never spoken because a man appeared in the doorway behind us, shouting noisily and firing an even noisier weapon.

Chapter 18

He was shouting mainly because the weapon was blown from his hands even as he triggered it, and an instant later he was blown back out of the doorway. I saw all this as I dived and rolled and had my gun out just as Angelina was putting hers away.

“Now that is more like it,” she said, apparently addressing the silent pair of boots in the doorway. “Civilized conscience or no, I find that shooting in self-defense still comes easily. I saw this one out among the rocks, stalking us as we came in, but I never had a clear shot. Everything should be quieter now. I’ll make some nice warm soup and you take a nice nap….”

“No.” I doubt if a firmer “no” had ever been spoken. I popped out a pair of stimtabs and chewed them as I continued my monologue in the same tone of voice. “There is a certain retrogressive pleasure in being cared for and treated like an idiot child—but I think I have had enough of it. I have tackled He before this and chased him out of two of his lairs and I intend to finish him off now. I know his ways. I’m in charge of this expedition, so you will follow, not lead, and will obey orders.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered with lowered eyelids and bowed head. Did this cover a mocking smile? I did not care. Me boss.

“Me boss.” It sounded even better said aloud in a firm and declaratory tone.

“Yes, boss,” she said and giggled prettily while the man on the bed writhed and chomped and the boots in the doorway were silent.

We went to work. Our prisoner slavered noisily in an unknown tongue when I took out the gag and tried to bite my fingers when I restored it. There was a rough-looking radio on a shelf that produced only grating broadcasts in the same language when I turned it on. Angelina’s outdoor investigations were far more productive than mine, and she pulled up by the door in an impossibly ugly conveyance that looked like a scratched, purple, plastic bathtub slung between four sets of wheels. It burbled and hissed at me when I hobbled up to examine it.

“Very simple to operate, “Angelina said, showing off her technical skill. “There is only one switch and that turns it on. And two handles, one for the bank of wheels on each side. Forward to speed them up, back to brake them…”

“And neutral in the middle,” I said to demonstrate my technical skill, as well as the fact that I was a male chauvinist pig and this was my show. “And this lead-covered lump in the rear must be a nuclear generator. Unshield a chunk of radioactive material, heat up the surrounding liquid, a heat exchanger here, secondary liquid to turn this electric generator, motors in each wheel, ugly and crude but practical. Where do we go in it?”

She pointed. “There seems to be a road or trail of sorts going off through that cultivated field there. And unless memory fails—and I know you will be quick to correct me—that seems to be the same direction as the radio signals you detected earlier.”