As Giles pulled ahead of the Starduster I saw with approval that two of Checnecaiel's motorcyclists shot past us and then slowed down, holding their distance ahead, one at about a quarter of a mile, one at half a mile.  Giles drove fairly slowly, carefully scrutinizing the road surface and checking the bends.  Once he spoke over the car phone to Starduster but otherwise we drove in silence for some time.  He was deeply preoccupied.

After we'd gone twelve or so miles he said, "I've been thinking."

The words had an ominous ring.

"Pull over and let's rap."

He asked me to flesh out the strategic situation and I added my speculations regarding the Shamaris and Checnecaiel's reliability.  I sensed his growing truculence, but when the reason for it finally surfaced, I was dismayed.  If I had thought of Brian Tipton as lacking in imagination he shrank into insignificance beside Giles.

"I don't think much of all this," he said. "There's not one solid piece of evidence that any of it is happening."

"A while ago back up the road there was a guy who wanted to blow up Starduster," I said.  "What do you call that?"

"All they did was threaten, get excited.  They may well have been on exercises.  The jets that came over---who knows why and who cares?  Personally, I'm not sure I believe any of this, Sam.  And that army detachment is way ahead of us by now."

"How do you know?  They may have stopped around the next corner.  And the next soldiers we might could easily be Shamaris."  I knew I wasn't getting through to him.  Something had set his opinions in concrete, and I had to find out what it was and chisel it out fast.

I said, "As soon as we get to Kauchmaunliw, I'm going to have a try at getting back to Dunin.  I may be able to get a plane, or at least an army escort.  I want to get the gen from headquarters, and not on the air.  Before I go, I'll want the names of every man you've got with you."  I took out a notebook and pen.  Giles looked at me as if I were going crazy.

"Why do you want to know that?"

I noticed he didn't query my intention to return to base.  Maybe he'd be pleased to see the back of me.  "Just tell me," I said.

"I insist on knowing why."

I thought it wise to be brutal.

"To tell their next of kin, and the company, if they get killed.  That goes for you too, of course."

"My God!  You're taking this seriously!"

"I have to.  It's goddamn serious and you know it.  Let's have those names, please."

He was reluctant but complied.  "There's Nick Spalding; the drivers are Duddy, Jenkins, Wheeler, and Hanchard.  Floyd Truss helps Nick with maintenance on Starduster.  Two boys on the satellite launcher, Gilbert and Hudson---both Charlie, by the way.  Giles, who came with you. Byrd and Needham.  The chefs are Patrick and young Harry Gue.  Fourteen with me.  I don't know their addresses."  This last was said sarcastically but I treated it as a straight fact.

"No, we can get those from head office if necessary.  You might want to write a message for me to take back to Herolutions---assuming I get back."

"You really mean to try?  It could be..."

"Dangerous?  But I thought you said there wasn't any danger?"

He fiddled with the car keys. "I'm not totally stupid, Drake.  Of course, I realize there could be trouble.  But your plan..."

At last, we were getting to the root of his problem.  Something about my hastily formulated escape plan had struck a nerve, and now I could guess what it was.  "I'll leave you a written letter too, if you like.  If there is danger and Starduster looks like holding up any chances of your all getting clear, you're to abandon it right away."

I had guessed right.  His face became set and stubborn.  "Hold on a minute.  That's the whole thing.  I'm not abandoning this job or Starduster just on your say-so, or for any damned border war.  It's got too much of our sweat in it."

I looked at him coldly, balefully.  "If you're the kind of guy who's willing to trade a piece of metal for human life you can consider yourself canned---as of right now!"

His face went pale.  "You can't do that!  Herolutions has contractual obligations."

"Can't I?  Go ahead and sue the company; you'll be stripped naked in public.  God Almighty, fella, the capsule is worth ten times as much as Starduster and yet I'm ready to drop it like a sack of stones if it hinders getting the men out alive.  I can order you to leave Starduster and I'm doing it.  In writing, if you want.  I'll take full responsibility."

He couldn't find words for a moment.  He was outraged, but perhaps at himself as much as at me.  He had seen the chasm under his feet:  the moment when a man puts property before life in a crisis point, and as a normally ethical man he had realized it.

"Come on, Cliff," I softened.  "I understand, but you have to see reason.  Dammit, British Aerospace will have to make good if you abandon Starduster on my say-so.  You'd have your money back in spaces someday."

"Of course the chaps' lives come first---mine, too.  It's just that I....I can't get used to the idea of..."

"Leaving it to rot?  Of course not.  But war does funny things to men and equipment alike, assuming there is going to be a war.  And we can't assume otherwise.  Think again."

He sat silent, pale and shaken.  Then at last he said, "All right, if we have to do it, we will. But only if we have to, you hear me?"

"Right, right. In any case, you don't have to throw it off a mountain top you know.  You just have to park it in some nice layby, and you can come pick it up when the shooting's over."

He gave me a wan smile.

"I'd like to drive back to Starduster," he said.  "I want a word with Nick.  And we could do with something to eat."  It was a peace offering, and I accepted.

Starduster was crawling along into the growing heat of the day, moving so slowly that it disturbed relatively little dust.  Strung out ahead and behind were the military vehicles.  There was a timeless, almost lulling atmosphere to the whole scene, but I wondered how much of it I could take.  Starduster's drivers must be specially trained in patience and endurance.  

Giles signaled Starduster to stop and Patrick started a brew up and a dispensing of doorstep sandwiches.  My hired car had suddenly come into its own as a delivery wagon, to Giles pleasure freeing the Land Rover from that chore.  "We'll keep this car on," he said. "We should have had an extra one all along."

"I'm sure Avis will be delighted."

Checnecaiel reported that he had sent scouts ahead to find out how things were on the Kauchmaunliw road.  He had stationed a similar escort well behind the convoy lest anything else should come up from the direction of the bridge.  He was working hard and doing quite well despite the unexpected pressures.

Over tea and sandwiches Spalding and Giles had a long conversation that seemed to be entirely technical, something to do with Stardusteri's performance since the air bags had been removed.  It wasn't a major problem but one of those small hitches which enthrall the minds of technicians everywhere.  Presently Giles said that he wanted to drive alongside Starduster for a while, to watch her in action, and invited me to tag along.

Just as we were starting, we heard a whisper from the air and looked up to see the contrails of jets flying southeastwards high up. There were several of them, not an odd sight, and nobody mentioned it.  But our eyes followed them thoughtfully as they vanished from sight.

The rest of that morning moved as slowly as though the mainspring of time itself had weakened.   We were entering the foothills of the escarpment which separated the scrubland from the arid regions ahead, and there was a series of transverse ridges to cross so that the road rose and dipped like a giant roller coaster.  We would crawl up a rise to find a shallow valley with the next rise higher than the last.  At the crest of every rise the dim, blue-gray wall of the escarpment would become just that little more distinct.  Giles had to help Spalding reprogram Starduster's onboard computer to handle the climb on the hills and control her speed when navigating the downward slopes.

Curiously enough, the vegetation was a little lusher here and the country seemed more populous.  There was a village every mile or so and a scattering of single houses in between.  The houses were made of basalt, ragstone and raw bricks. The walls were seismically secured, and special wooden beams and flanges were present to serve as ties.  Special blocks had been made which could simply move horizontally in case of seismic activity.

The villagers grew rice, cucumbers, and potatoes.  Scrawny chickens pecked among the houses.  They herded little scraggy goats and cows not much bigger, and thin ribby dogs hung about looking for scraps.  The people were thin too, but cleanly clothed and with a certain solemn dignity.  They lined the route to watch our strange, futuristic vehicle go by, clearly awed and fascinated but not in a holiday mood.  In one village a delegation took Checnecaiel away to speak to their headman, and the men of the village seemed a little threatening towards the troops.  No women or children were to be seen which was unusual.

Checnecaiel returned with bad news.  "A Shamari tank division chugged through here at top speed and a child was crushed to death under the treads of the lead tank.  No one was here to stop them, and the people are all very angry."

"My God, that's awful."  Suddenly Giles looked much more as if he believed in our talk of a border war.  I thought of what Napoleon had said about eggs and omelets, but people weren't eggs to be cracked.  If there were much of this kind of thing going on there would be scant support from the rural populace for either side, not that local people had any say in went on.

Giles asked if we could do anything to help but was told that it would be best to keep going. "They know it wasn't you," Checnecaiel said. '"They have no quarrel with you, but they do not want you here all the same.  You must try to understand their grief."

We moved out again to catch up with Starduster and I asked to ride with Checnecaiel.  I had some more questions to ask him, and this seemed like a good time.  As we pulled away, I began with an innocuous question.  "How come there are so many people living here?  There seem to be a lot more here than in Dunin."

'It is healthier country, less illness, less heat. And the land is good, when the rains come."

Then the radio squawked and Checnecaiel snatched up the headphones and turned up the gain.  He listened intently, replied and then said to me, "An incident is taking place up the road.  Not good.  I'm going to investigate.  Wil you come with me?"

"You bet."  I hadn't the slightest desire to go hurtling into danger, but the more I could learn the better.

He eased out of the line and barreled up the rear.  Behind us his sergeant crouched over the headphones though I doubt that he could have heard anything. Several miles ahead of the place where Giles and I had previously stopped and turned back, we came across one of Checnecaiel's troop trucks parked just below the top of a rise; the motorcyclists were there too.  The corporal who headed the detachment pointed along the road, towards a haze of smoke that came from the next valley or the one beyond.

"Is that a forest fire?" I asked.  But I didn't think so.

"Maybe.  My corporal said he heard thunder in the hills an hour ago.  He is a fool; he said he thought the rains were coming early."

"There aren't any clouds."

"He should know better; he was in my command back in the last war."

"If it wasn't thunder, then what was it?" I asked. 

"Hopefully it's not Kauchmaunliw," he said softly.  "I think it's too close for that.  We will go and see."  He didn't mention the planes we'd seen earlier.

We went off with the cyclists about one mile ahead and the truck rattling along behind.  There was nothing abnormal in the next valley but as we climbed the hill a cyclist came roaring back.  Checnecaiel heard what he had to say and then stopped below the crest of the hill.  He went back to the truck and the men bailed out, fanning into a line.

He signaled to me, and I followed him as he angled off the road, running through the thick scrub.  At the top of the ridge he bent double and then dropped flat on his belly.  As I joined him I asked, "What is it?"

"There are tanks on the other side.  Possibly the same ones that ran that poor child down back there.  I'll need to know who they really are before I go down."

He snaked forward and fumbled his binoculars out of their case.  He did a fast scan and then stared in one direction for some time.  At last, he motioned me to come forward and handed me the glasses.  

There were indeed four tanks in the road.  One was still burning, another was upside down, its tracks pointing skyward.  A third had run off the road and into a ditch.  There didn't seem to be much the matter with the fourth, it just sat there.  There were three bodies visible, and the road was pitted with small, deep craters and strewn with debris.

I'd seen things like that before.  I handed him back the glasses and said, "An air strike with missiles.  Shamaris?"

"Their tanks, yes.  They bear their country's insignia.  I see no command car."

He looked around to where his corporal waited, made a wide sweeping motion with one hand and then patted the top of his own head.  That didn't need much interpretation:  go around the flank and keep your head down.

In the event there was no need for caution; there were no living things on the road except the first inquisitive blackbirds.  Checnecaiel had the vehicles brought up and then we examined the mess.  The 3 bodies in the road had come out of the burning tank.  They were all badly charred with their uniforms burned off, but we assumed they'd been killed by machine-gun fire.  The tank that seemed intact had a hole the size of an old British penny in the turret around which the paint had been scorched off until the metal showed.  That damage had been done by a shaped charge in the head of a stabilized missile.  I knew what they'd find in the tank, and I didn't feel inclined to look for myself.  Anyone still inside would be spread out on the walls.

Checnecaiel gave orders to extinguish the fire in the burning tank, and the dead bodies were collected together under a tarpaulin.  There was no sign of the rest of the men except for some bloodstains leading off into the woods.  They had scarpered, wounded or not.

I said, "Nothing's going to get past here until this lot is shifted.  Looks like we'll need the power of Starduster to accomplish that.  Shall I go back and tell him what's happened?"

"Yes, you can ride on the back of one of the motorcycles.  I don't think there's any danger---now."  But we both scanned the sky as he spoke.  There wasn't much that needed discussion, but it seemed evident to me that a new border war had finally erupted, and the cease-fire was clearly history.  I felt a wave of sickness rise in my throat at the thought of what the future was likely to hold.

We returned to Starduster and the cyclist dropped me without ceremony at Giles's car, then shot off to pass orders to the rest of the military escort.  Giles stared and I realized that for the second time in that long day he was seeing me dusty and scratched from a trip through the woods.

"That war you didn't like to think about is just a piece of the road," I told him.  "We can't get through for wrecked tanks.  There are four of them,  all Zarmarian.  All kaput.  The only vehicle that can clear them away is Starduster and I need Duddy on the job.  And two other guys. And you, too; you do haul military equipment, don't you?"

I may have sounded just a touch hysterical.  Giles certainly looked at me as though I were.  

"You're not kidding me?"

"Jesus! What do you want me to do?  Bring one of the bodies back here for evidence."

"Bodies?"

"They happen in a war."

I looked along the road.  Starduster was crawling towards us, clearly now under the control of Dara Duddy.  I waved him down and he stopped alongside, alive with curiosity.  Everyone had seen the sudden activity of our military escort and knew something was up.

"Cliff, get Starduster stopped.  Better here than too close," I said.

Giles looked from me to Starduster, then slowly unhooked the microphone from the dashboard of the Land Rover.  Stopping Starduster was serious business, not as easy as putting on a set of car brakes, more like stopping a space shuttle.  For one thing, the hardware and software had to act in concert: for another the rig man, usually either Spalding or Charlie Hudson, had to judge the right moment for setting the brakes, especially on a hill.  Although Starduster's functions were all tied together by microprocessor chips, they were also directed by a flag waved from the control car, a primitive but entirely practical device.  Now Giles poked the flag out of the car window and followed his action with a spate of orders order the mike.  Duddy climbed down out of Starduster's cab and strode over.  "What's happening, Mr. Drake?"

"A war."

"What does it look like over there?"

"Like any old war.  The Zarmarians got shot up from the air and lost four tanks.  One of them should be no problem to move, but three are blocking the road.  We need your help to clear the way.

By now several of the men were milling around talking.  Duddy overrode the gaggle of conversation.

"Is there any shooting up there now, Mr. Drake?"

"No, and I don't think there will be.  We think that both sides will leave us alone. Starduster's precious to them."

Duddy said, "Any bad corners on the way there?"

"None that matter.  It's pretty easy going."

"Very well, then.  I'll take Charlie from the cab.  Lonnie, you whip a team together and follow us up.  Tell the battery watchers to stay back and leave the airlift operators behind too.  We could use your car, Mr. Drake.  OK.  Harry, go and send Floyd to me, then you stay up there and tell Mr. Spalding what's going on."

He issued this flood of orders with calm decision, then strode off back to the Starduster.  I was impressed.  He'd taken the initiative in fine style and seemed to be reliable.  It'd be interesting to see him in action if things got rough, as they were almost certain to.

Giles rejoined me and I briefed him and saw that he approved.  "He's a good organizer, Dara is.  A bit hot-headed but then what Irishman isn't?  Nick will stay with the Starduster and the rest of her crew.  I'm coming with you.  Get in."

He made no apology for doubting that this might happen.  The tension that had gripped him in Dunin was returning, and I realized with something between horror and exasperation that what was bothering him wasn't the prospect of an entire territory devastated by a border war, but the sheer logistic annoyances of any delays or upsets to his precious transportation plans.  He was a very single-minded man, that Giles.

As we pulled out to overtake Starduster Giles said, "You mentioned bodies.  How man?"

"I saw three, but I'm sure there'll be more in the tanks."

"Goddamn it! As if we didn't have enough problems of our own without getting mixed up in a bloody war," he grumbled.

"It could be worse."

"How the hell can it be worse?"

"The planes could have shot up Starduster," I said dryly.

He didn't answer and I let him drive in silence.  I was grateful enough myself to sit quietly for a while.  I felt drained and battered and knew that I needed to recharge my batteries in a hurry against the next looming crisis.

The scene of the air strike hadn't changed much except that the bodies had been moved off the road and the fire was extinguished.  Checnecaiel was waiting impatiently.  "How long to clear it, sir?" he asked at once.

Giles looked dazed.

"I asked you how long!" Checnecaiel thundered.

Giles pulled himself together.  "Once Starduster gets here, we'll have the tanks off the road in an hour or so.  We don't have to be too gentle with them, I take it."

I wasn't listening.  I was looking at the ridge of hills ahead of us and watching the thick black haze of smoke, several plumes, mingling as they rose, writhing upwards in the middle distance.  Checnecaiel followed my gaze.

"My scouts have reported back, Mr. Drake.  Kauchmauliw is in flames."

"Still planning to buy fresh veggies there?"  I couldn't resist asking Giles.  He shook his head heavily.  The war had happened, and we were right in the thick of it.

Duddy and Jenkins were experts in their field and knowledgeable about moving heavy awkward objects.  They estimated angles, discussed the terrain, and then set about connecting shackles and heavy wire ropes.  Presently Duddy shifted the first of the stricken tanks off the road as if it were a child's toy.  The rest of us, soldiers and all, watched in fascination as the tank ploughed to a halt deep in the dust at the roadside, and the team set about tackling the next one.

Checnecaiel went off in his command car as soon as he was satisfied that Starduster was up to the job, heading towards Kauchmauliw with a cycle escort.  The work of clearing the road went on into the late afternoon, and Giles then drove back to the convoy to report progress and to bring Starduster forward.  He had decided that we would stop for the night, a wise choice in the aftermath of an exhausting and disturbing day, but he wanted to cover as much ground as possible before total nightfall.

Duddy and Jenkins were resting after moving the upturned tank, which had been a tricky exercise, and gulping down the inevitable mugs of hot tea which Harry had brought along for everybody.  I went over to them and said, "Got a spade?"

"Ever see a workman without one?  We use them for leaning on.   It's a well-known fact.  There's two aboard the Starduster.

Jenkins, less ebullient, said quietly, "Will you be wanting a burial detail, Mr. Drake?"

We buried the bodies after giving the soldiers' identity tags to Checnecaiel's corporal.  Afterwards everyone sat around quietly, each immersed in his own thoughts.  Duddy had vanished, but presently I heard him calling.

"Mr. Drake!  Floyd!"

I looked around but I couldn't see him.  "Where are you?" 

"Over here."  His voice was muffled and the direction baffling.  I still couldn't see him, and then Floyd pointed and Duddy's head appeared out of the turret of the tank that he hadn't needed to shift, the one that had run into the ditch.  He said cheerily, "I don't think there's anything wrong with this one."

"What do you know about tanks?"

"Hey, Herolutions is a defense contractor, and I learned working for them.  There isn't anything on wheels I don't know," he said with simple egotism.  Jenkins, alongside me, nodded in his grave fashion.

I said, "Can you drive it out?"

"I'm pretty sure I can.  This thing never took a hit.  The crew just bailed out and she piled herself in the dust here.  Want me to try?"

"Why not?"

His head bobbed down and after a lot of metallic noises the engine of the tank burst into noisy song.  It moved, at first forward and digging itself deeper into the ditch, and then in reverse.  With a clatter of tracks and spattered applause it heaved itself out of the gully and onto the road.  There was a pause and then the turret started to move.  The gun traversed around and depressed, pointing right at us.

"Stick 'em up, pal!" yelled Duddy, reappearing and howling with laughter.

"Watch where you point that thing, dude!" I yelled.  "Once a day is enough.  Well, it looks like Starduster has an armored boyfriend to hold hands with her.  Captain Checnecaiel will be delighted!"