Destiny's Road

He felt queasy, looking at the spectre. Its torso was chopped half through, raggedly, as if a big dull ripsaw had been used on it while it wiggled.

Warm breath in both ears: he jumped. Voices whispered:

"Trusty?"

"Could be a long wait."

The twins had him bracketed. Jemmy said, "Sorry. If I had a key we could wait in the toolhouse, but then I'd be a probe, so maybe I wouldn't give a shit."

"What we sometimes do-"

"-We go around the other side of the barracks."

"The corner? For shelter?"

The women brushed gently against him on both sides. Even through the poncho that felt nice, and practiced. One said, "Not everyone, just us. The rest, they know not to bother us because you're a trusty. And it's a corner-"

"Of course it's still wet, but it's not so cold."

"You could think of it as slippery." That twin had to be Dolores.

It was tempting. Jemmy's arms had reflexively moved around their waists; at worst they warded off some rain. Dolores meant it, he thought, but anger still smoldered in Rita's eyes. So what was going on?

He said, "You know they'll do a count."

He felt Rita go rigid. Dolores said quickly, "They'll want to know what spectres were doing there in the fields where there's no prey. So they won't be right behind us."

"But we might want to hurry, or just fool around now and then stay in tomorrow." Rita Dolores: "Have you seen the big baths?"

"There's the packs and there's us," Jemmy said firmly. "Three of us in the barracks, that hasn't changed. Andrew's gone but I'm here. I count eighteen of us out here including Shimon. But that should be nineteen."

Rita snapped, "He'll be back!"

Who? Jemmy asked, "And the pack? Piling them up is good, but he took a pack. I counted those too."

Rita touched Dolores's hand and they both faded back. Amnon Kaczinski asked, "You got a problem, Trusty?"

Willametta was standing beside the looming giant, and Jemmy spoke to both. "You tell me. A missing man, a missing pack, and a pair of probes coming closer every second. Those guns are like hoses. Then again, I don't have a problem, Amnon. 'Sure I know we're one gatherer short, man, and he stole a pack of speckles too, but I can't chase him because there's just me to watch all of these other gatherers, including that big dangerous-looking one-'"

Willametta spoke. "Yes~ all right, Rafik took Shimon's pack and he'll take a handful of speckles for the stash!"

Amnon said, "Willametta-"

"-And the Parole Board won't notice that little, all right? And you should have stopped him, Amnon! He's crazy-"

"We need the speckles, Willya!"

"We've got two man-years' weight of speckles stashed and what did we ever do with it? But now we've got something to wear, finally we've got clothes! What if Rafik gets caught now?"

Jemmy suggested, "Send someone for him?"

"We can't have two missing! He'll be back," Willametta assured herself.

"Good. I've got a few questions."

"Talk to Andrew-"

"The probes are going to ask me questions. We didn't know there'd be a dead man, so I wasn't told any answers. Why did the birds attack Shimon?"

"How would I know that?"

''Amnon?"

"Birds." Amnon shrugged massively. "You never know."

"But am I supposed to know?-No? Good. Will they ask me to guess? Willametta? Amnon?"

"Shut up, you!" The big man was going into a rage.

Willametta said, "Go away, Amnon."

"But, Willya-"

"Amnon, what do they do to you when you hurt a trusty? Go away! Go wait for Rafik."

"He's not- Oh." The big man went.

"Wilbametta? Just give me a guess that doesn't sound totally stupid." She was silent.

"Mating season makes them twitchy?"

"What? Windbirds don't have a mating season."

"He cut himself? No, that's-"

"Human blood? It'd drive birds away!" She was laughing at him. "Try this then." Jemmy hesitated. The bird struck, then Shimon turned the probe was sure it couldn't happen that way... so Jemmy knew that Shimon had been murdered. But how?

Did he dare to guess right? But Willametta was looking at him, waiting. "Suppose one poncho out of all our ponchos wasn't the right color.

Not quite the color of a firebird. There must be animals or plants that don't secrete potassium but that show colors, maybe a little off."

She was shaking her head. He persisted. "Is there a paint source? In the toolhouse?"

"That thing in the toolhouse used to make survival biscuits out of Earthlife garbage. Trusty, any trusty would know that."

"Well, that's why I'm asking, Willametta!"

She nodded.

"Let's see, you brought a bird home for di

Her hands gripped his arms hard. "Don't say that!"

"-with the blood of a windbird all over it. If some of those horrors whiffed Destiny blood-"

'Don't tell them that!"

"Was he a spy?"

Willametta's mouth stayed open.

Jemmy said, "The probes have to know what's going on in the barracks. They need a spy. They can tell a spy they'll make him the next trusty. Barda and Andrew, they're trusties now, but were they spies before?"

"Andrew was."

"So he knows how a spy gets picked. Did Shimon know you've stashed some speckles?"

She pulled him close and whispered in his ear. She was scared right through. "They haven't touched it. Yes, he knew, but he didn't know where. How could you know all this, Jemmy?"

"I guess I was waiting for someone to die. Barda and Andrew have to know who the spy is, or they can't hide anything. When the birds tore into Shimon, it all just fit, except the paint, I guess. Who gave him his poncho this morning? Barda?"

They were hood to hood, arms bracing each other against the wind. An approaching probe would see only lovers. Jemmy said, "Willametta, I need a story to tell the probes. They know something. They waited for us in the rain. This morning they stayed to search for something else before they caught up with us."

She said, "They'll search the barracks. Did Andrew tell you-" She looked into his eyes. "Damn him. When the probes search, you open every door and drawer. Don't close any of it. They do that. You go around the room-"

"Clockwise?"

"I don't know. Sure! Or watch their hands. If one points to something, you open it or move it or lift it. Try not to talk too much." The rain slacked and she looked around; they all seemed to do that. She said, "Rafik's back-" Her breath caught oddly.

Jemmy could see past huddled gatherers, far down the Road to where two rainbow birds walked bike men. Two.

Willametta's hands closed like claws and she pushed her cheek against his and keened in terror. He whispered, "Not Rafik?"

"They're too soon! Where did they come from?"

"Isn't the Parole Board in that direction? No way could a ru

"Quick, around the side!" Willametta ducked and lifted the hem of Jemmy's poncho nearly to his chin. He guessed what she had in mind. The rain was back, a waterfall now, and he had to shout into her ear.

"We can't do that."

"It's a distraction!" Her hand found the waistband of his shorts and dipped in to cup his genitals, and squeezed gently.

He stopped her, hand on wrist. "Now listen. There's a man dead and proles coming to look into it. 'Andrew Dowd' is alert and scared and waiting. He can't be around to the side rubbing up against a lovely woman when he could be having her all day tomorrow in dry comfort! It'd be suspicious as hell."

Her hand stopped moving. He had her attention. He had an erection too, so he'd best talk fast. "Rafik went that way? Then the probes passed him, right? He's behind them!"

"Yes. Yes."