The road beyond Kauchmaunliw continued to switchback, but the gradients were slightly steeper and the hills longer.  The average speed of the Starduster dropped; it was slow enough downhill but really crawled up the long reverse slopes.  In general, the speed was about a walking pace.  Certainly, the flock of Zarmaraians in our wake, injured though some of them were, had no trouble keeping up.  They were a hardy people, inured to the heat, and well used to walking these dusty roads.

But we worried about those refugees.  We'd discussed the need to provide them with food and Checnecaiel had told us that it would have to be gathered on the way.  But there were too many women carrying babies or helping toddlers, old men, and wounded of all ages.  It wasn't truly our responsibility but how else could we look on it?

As we got going Jira Gurferhaiel said, "If I sleep will you wake me in an hour, please?" and promptly did fall asleep, her head pillowed on Kesefadirrel's good arm.  I checked on the four Zarmarians behind me; two were asleep and the others stared with wary hazelnut eyes.  All were silent.

We traveled for nearly two hours, incredibly slowly, and the morning heat began to give way to the fierce sun of midday.  Kesefadirrel and I didn't talk much because we didn't want to wake the girl. Around us dust billows clouded the little groups of Zarmarians into soft focus, and here and there among them walked soldiers.  I began to worry about the car engine overheating.

Suddenly I realized that I was being the biggest jackass in creation; the heat must've fried my brains.  I tapped the horn, cut out of the column and nosed through the refugees who were walking ahead of Starduster to avoid the worst of the dust.  I caught up with Checnecaiel's command car at the head of the column and waved him down.  He had two Zarmarian women in the back of his car, but his sergeant was still up front beside him.

I said, "Captain, this is nuts.  Where is it written in stone that we all have to travel at the same speed as Starduster.  I could get up to Khentulga in under two hours, dump my lot at the hospital and come back for more.  What's more, so can Starduster and all the other faster transport.  We could get them organized up there, alert them to what's coming."

Checnecaiel shook his head. "No, Mr. Drake, that would not be a wise thing.'

"Why the hell not?!"

He looked up and for a moment I thought he was scanning the sky for aircraft.  Then I realized that he had actually looked at a telegraph pole, one of the endless lines that accompanied the road, and I again I cursed my slow brains.  "Dammit, you've got a handset, Checnecaiel.  We can telephone ahead from here."

"I tried that.  That's why I'm worried----there's isn't anything.  I can understand not being able to reach back to Kauchmaunliw, but the line to Khentulga is also dead."

"There'll be a lot of people dead if we keep this pace.  There seem to be a hell of a lot more than Dr. Mu reckoned on, and most of them aren't injured at all."

"I can't stop them, Mr. Drake.  They're simply going to have to come with us."

I felt nonplussed.  More mouths to feed?  Were we now obliged to lead the whole remaining population of Kauchmaunliw to safety?

"Well, how about some of us pushing on?  There's my car, the two trucks we found plus your four.  Even the tank can move faster than this, and there are six people aboard her.  The Land Rover has to stay with Starduster, but even you..."

"I stay with the convoy and my trucks," said Checnecaiel flatly.  "Mr. Drake, have you noticed that there is no traffic coming southwards?  Have you thought that Khentulga might be just like Kauchmaunliw?"

I had, and the thought was frightening.  "If that's the case, now is the time to find out," I said

"I am finding out.  I've sent a motorcycle patrol on ahead."  He checked his watch.  "They should be back soon with news, maybe help too."

I mentally apologized to Checnecaiel. I thought he'd been as stupid as me.  He went on, "If they're not back within the hour then I think it'll mean bad trouble at Khentulga.  They'll at least be able to warn us, though; they've got one of the radio sets."

I sighed. "Sorry.  You win on all points."

He acknowledged my apology with a grave nod.  "It is very difficult, sir.  I appreciate that you are doing all you can for my countrymen."

I returned to my car to find Kesefadirrel standing beside it and Jira Gurferhaiel stretching herself awake. "Captain Checnecaiel's on the ball," I said.  But he wasn't listening to me. Slowly, out of the dust and crowd, another car was pulling ahead to join us.  It was a battered Lada Niva.  I hadn't seen it before.

"Good God, Sighilda!" Kesefadirrel breathed.  The car stopped alongside us, and a woman climbed out stiffly. She was tall, fiftyish, and clad in workmanlike khaki shirt and pants.  Her gray hair was pulled back in a loose bun.  She looked as if she was ready to faint.

"Hilda, caraini, how did you get here?" Kesefadirrel asked.

"You're not hard to follow, Rauf." Her voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

"Hilda, this is Sam Drake....Drake, I'd like you to meet Dr. Melby," Kesefadirrel said formally.

There were deep wrinkles around her eyes and her skin was leathery; she had the look of a woman who'd had too much sun, too much Asia.  I turned and opened the passenger door of my car.

"Good morning, doctor. I think you'd better sit down."

She nodded faintly.  "Thank you. I think it will be better," she said. Her voice sounded Scandinavian.

"Are you a medical doctor?" I asked.

"Medical missionaries, from outside Kauchmaunliw," Kesefadirrel said.  He bent over her and said gently, "Where's Fred, Hilda? We all thought you two were in Dunin."

Which explained why nobody had mentioned them before.  She spoke to Kesefadirrel for some time in a low voice, and then started crying softly.   Jira Gurferhaiel got out of the car and came around to stay with Dr. Melby while I drew Kesefadirrel aside.

"What is it, Rauf?"

"Pretty bloody, I'm afraid.  They drove up from Dunin to Kauchmaunliw just when the air strike hit us.  Fred, her husband, was killed outright.  She must have been in shock for over a day, you know.  She came out of the hospital and found Sister Anna still there and insisted on catching up with us."

"Christ, that's a lousy deal."  We turned back to her.

"You look as if you could use a drink, ma'am.  How about a lukewarm Scotch?" I spoke.

"It wouldn't be unwelcomed."

I got a bottle from the trunk and poured a measure into a dusty glass. Kesefadirrel glanced wistfully at the bottle but made no comment as I screwed the cap firmly back on. From now on this was strictly a medical reserve.

"I have come to help Dr. Mu," she said after downing the Scotch in strong swallows.  "The Sister says he will need all the help he can get, and we have often worked together.  Where is he, please?"

"Never mind where he is.  Right now, you need some sleep.  Jira, tell her how much better she'll feel for it."

Jira smiled shyly. "Indeed, the gentleman is right, Dr. Melby.  Sleep for an hour, then Dr. Mu will be most happy to have you with him.  I'm going to help him now." She gently lowered the doctor's head onto the back of the seat.

"How's your leg?" I asked her.

"I'll be all right up there," she said, pointing towards Starduster. "I'll wait here until it comes."

In the car Dr. Melby was already sagging into sleep.

"Hop in, Rauf.  We'll move on slowly.  At least moving creates a draught," i said.  The crawling pace was more frustrating than ever, but I had to content myself with the thought that Captain Checnecaiel was coping very efficiently, better than I had done, and that in Dr. Sighilda Melby we had a useful addition to our staff.  The Starduster Traveling Hospital ground on through the hot Asian day.  The sooner we got to Khentulga, the better.

Half an hour later the whole pattern changed again.  We seemed to be living inside a kaleidoscope which was being shaken by some gigantic hand.  A motorcyclist, one of Checnecaiel's outflankers, roared up and said that Captain Checnecaiel would like to see me.  I pulled out of line hoping not to disturb Dr. Melby, though I doubted if anything short of an earthquake would waken her.

Giles and Spalding were already with Checnecaiel, talking to two Westerners, more strangers.  Behind them was a big dreamboat of an American car which looked as out of place in that setting as an aircraft carrier would on Lake Geneva. Kesefadirrel  and I got out and joined them.

One of the men was tall, loose-limbed and rangy, wearing denim Levis and a sweat-stained checked shirt, and unbelievably he was crowned by a ten-gallon hat pushed well back on his head.  I looked at his feet; no spurs, but he did wear hand-stitched high-heeled boots.  He looked like Clint Eastwood.  I expected him to produce a pack of Marlboros or (at least) a sack of Bull Durham tobacco.

By comparison the other guy was conventional. He was shorter, broad-shouldered and paunchy, and dressed in a manner more suitable for Asia, khaki pants and a bush jacket.  Both looked dusty and weary, the norm for all of us.

I said: "Hello there.  Where did you spring from?"

The tall man turned around.  "Oh, hi.  Up the road a way.  You guys got the same trouble we have."

Giles's face was more strained than usual.

"Sam, there's a bridge down further along the road."

"Christ!  The one you were worried about, way back?"

Giles nodded.  "Yes.  It's utterly destroyed, they've told us.  It spans a ravine.  And it's this side of Khentulga.  It would be."

Spalding looked more alert than worried, ready to hurl himself at the next challenge.  He was a hard man to faze.

I said, "I'm Sam Drake, British Aerospace.  I guess it's nice to meet you, but I'm not sure yet."

The tall man laughed. "Likewise.  I'm Leo Foreman and this is Harvey Justice.  We're both with Northstar Oil.  There are some other guys up the road too, by the way---not our lot; a Turk and two Russki truckers."

"What happened?  Did you see the bridge go down?"

Foreman shook his head. "We were halfway to the bridge when the Shamari jets hit Kauchmaunliw.  Mind you, we didn't know for sure what the hell was happening, but we could guess.  We'd seen a lot of troop movement a few days before, and there were stories going around about a new border war.  We couldn't see the town itself, but we heard the bombing and saw the smoke.  Then we saw the planes going over."

His hand went to his shirt pocket. "We didn't know what to do, Harv and me.  Decided to push on 'cause we didn't fancy turning back into all that, whatever it was. Then we met up with the Russkies."

"A caravan, like ours?" I watched with fascination as he took out a pack of cigarettes.  By God, they were Marlboros.  He even lit one the way they used to do on TV, with a long appreciative draw on the first smoke.  He didn't hand them around.

"Nah.  Just one big truck.  The Turk's driving a truck too.  He had a buddy he'd dropped off in Kauchmaunliw.  I guess he must've got caught in the raid.  You didn't see him?"

Nobody had. Write off one Turkish trucker, just like that.

"I was shoving my foot through the floorboards the first 10 miles after that raid," Foreman said, "even though I knew we couldn't outrun a jet.  Maybe 30 miles from here we turned a corner and damn near ran into this pipe truck.  The Russians.  They hadn't seen or heard anything.  Then the Turk guy turned up and a Zarmarian assistant."  He glanced at Checnecaiel as he said this.

Justice spoke for the first time.  "We four camped together that night, and the next day we pushed on in our car with one of the Russians. I speak a little Russian."  He said this almost apologetically. "Ten miles on there's this bridge."

"Was this bridge.  By God, it's just rubble at the bottom of that ravine now.  Took a real hammering."

"Bombed?" I asked.

"Yeah, I reckon so.  We could see the wreckage, five hundred feet down the hillside."

"Any chance of getting across?" I asked, even though I could already guess the answer.

"None at all.  Not for a truck.  Not for a one-wheel circus bicycle.  There's a gap of more than 200 feet!"

Foreman inhaled deeply. "We all just stuck around that day.  Nobody wanted to make a decision.  Our radios only picked up shit.  We couldn't go on, and we didn't feel like coming back into the middle of a shootout between Zarmaria and Shamajar..  The Russians had quite a store of food and the Turk had some too. All we had to put in the pool was some beer, and that didn't last long, I'm here to tell you.  Then this morning we decided we'd go two ways; the Turk was to have a try at Kauchmaunliw with the two Russians, and Harv ad me said we'd try to get through the gorge on foot and make for Khentulga."

"Can't say I was hankering for the experience," put in Harvey.

"Then just as we were about to get going, up comes these two guys."  Foreman indicated Checnecaiel's riders.  "We thought at first that the Shamaris had caught up with us.  Hell of a note, and us with just a couple of popguns between us.  Then they told us what was going down back here.  It didn't sound real, you know that?"

I made a mental note.  They had weapons.

"Traveling circus," Giles muttered.

"Buddy, I wish it was.  Elephants now, they'd be some use."

Anyway, we changed our plans, left the truckers to wait up ahead, and Nick and me came back to see for ourselves."

I asked, "Is it possible to cross on foot?"

"I reckon so, if you're agile."

I looked at Checnecaiel.  "So?"

Spalding said, "What's the use, Sam? We can't send the wounded and sick that way and even if the Khentulga hospital is still in business they can't send help to us now.  You know what we have to do."

I nodded. One problem out of a thousand raised its head.

"Cliff," I said, "how do you turn Starduster around?"

"We don't need to," Giles said.  "It'll go either way.  She's agile enough to make wide turns if she needs to." His mind was shifting up through the gears and his face looked less strained as he began calculating.  There was nothing better for Cliff Giles than giving him a set of solid logistics to chew on.

Checnecaiel said, "What will you do now, Mr. Drake?" He looked as if the ground had been pulled from under his feet.

I studied out two new arrivals.  "What we're going to do first is get these two gentlemen a beer and a meal apiece.  And we have a lady who joined us recently who'd also be glad of something to eat.  Lonnie, could you get Patrick to organize that?  As long as the caravan's stopped, we may as well all stoke up.  We'll have a conference afterwards.  Captain Checnecaiel, could you pass the word around that we are no longer going towards Khentulga? Everyone must rest, eat if they can, and then be ready to move."

Spalding said, "Who's the lady?"

"She's a medical doctor. She was widowed in the raid on Kauchmaunliw, and right now she's sleeping in my car.  I'm going to have a word with Dr. Mu, and I'll take her along.  As a matter of fact, Rauf knows her quite well."

I tailed off.  Behind us, standing quietly, Rauf Kesefadirrel looked pasty gray over his tan.  During our briefing from the Northstar Oil men Kesefadirrel had been listening and their news touched him more closely than any of us.  His wife was waiting for him, somewhere beyond Khentulga.  He was cut off from his home.

"Rauf..."

"It's Ok.  Hilda's going to be perfectly safe, I know. You're quite right, though, you can't get the patients across the gorge.  But I know a way over, a few miles downstream.  Maybe you'll lend me an escort, Captain, and take me there?"  He spoke in a flat, controlled voice.

"Don't worry, Rauf.  We'll get you across," I said, hoping like hell I could keep my word.  "Come on, you guys, let's get you outside that beer and hear the rest of it."  We got back into my car and turned back towards Starduster, Giles following with the two newcomers.  As we drove past the stream of refugees the little huddled groups were preparing for the long drowsy wait. The meadowland telegraph was way ahead of modern communication.