Dumarest 33 - Child of Earth Read Online Free PDF

know?”
    “You’re talking about murder.”
    “I’m talking about survival.” Dumarest was blunt. “We’ve already waited too long, We’re low on provisions, missiles, everything. The weather could worsen. If we stay cooped up there will be fights, duels, murder and suicide.There is the possibility of disease. We can’t count on rescue. We’ve got to pick a direction and get going. Carry what we can and move as fast as we can. That cuts out litters and bearers and slow progress. We can’t afford to waste strength and resources on those as good as dead. And we can’t waste any more time.”
    “Logic,” said Chagal bleakly. “Damn it, Earl, I know you’re right but I wish to hell you weren’t.”
    He swore as they entered the shelter. Someone had daubed crude designs on a bulkhead; a skull, an hourglass, a wrecked vessel, the figure of a man wearing grey. Symbols Dumarest found easy to understand. The wreck was the shelter, the man himself, the hourglass and skull a clear warning that, for him, time was running out.
    “This is wrong!” Chagal voiced his anger. “What’s the matter with the fools? Are they all as bad as Hiam? You didn’t cause the crash. It wasn’t your fault. All you did was to guide us to Earth as you promised.”
    To where the Cyclan had been waiting, their vessel, their missiles, the death which had decimated the compliment and wrecked the ship. The landing had taken further toll.
    “I’ll take care of this,” said Chagal. “It’s time this stupidity was put to rest.”
    “No.” Dumarest caught the doctor’s arm. His only ally and one he couldn’t afford to lose and those inside had to be faced on their own terms. Persuaded in their own language. The only one they understood. “Leave this to me.”
    Deliberately he kicked open the door and stepped into the compartment. The air was in sharp contrast to that outside bearing the stench of sweat, urine, feces, blood, pus from suppurating wounds, dirt from unwashed flesh and clothing. To one side figures lay on trestles. Others sat at crude tables, some mending their garments, others playing dice or cards. The glowing grill of a heater provided warmth.
    A haven fashioned from the wreck of the ship that had once traversed the void between the stars. Now the home of those who had hoped for so much and ended with so little.
    Dumarest stared at them, conscious of watching eyes, the hostility that added to the taint of the air as did hate and fear. They were of the Kaldari. He was with them but not of them. An outsider. Alone. An easy target on which to vent their frustration.
    He said, “In case you are interested Tazima Osborn died in the night. Her friends are burying her.”
    A man shrugged from where he sat at a table. “So?”
    “I understood the Kaldari honored their dead. I thought you’d like to salute her passing.” Dumarest paused. “One other thing. Someone’s decorated the bulkhead. I’d like to know who is responsible?”
    “Does it matter?” The same man sneered. Losh Gorin, a troublemaker. A flamboyant bully with a hard face bearing a livid scar who should have been on duty at the exit but had been absent. “We all agree on the way we feel. You cheated us. Sold us a lying story so as to get your own way. You and that harlot you slept with. You deserve all you get.”
    “Is that why you deserted your post at the portal? Ice had jammed it. How did you expect those outside to get into the shelter without help from inside?” Dumarest stepped forward, grabbed the man’s hand, turned it so as to display the smears of color on the fingers. “So you were the artist. Haven’t you the guts to challenge me? Then I challenge you!”
    The Kaldari way. If Gorin backed down he would be branded a coward and lose all respect. Dumarest had beaten him at his own game.
    “Damn you!” Gorin tore free his hand and reared to his feet. “No one cheats the Kaldari. It’s time you learned that.”
    He lunged forward,