he shouted. He used English, the second tongue of them both. He hugged the ground,
body flattened. Then he checked. Unharmed. The enemy dead too. And he _was_ old. He was twenty-nine. Treb thumbed off
the safety and waited. He held his fire. "Try again. And then I'm
coming after you." Especially if he was wounded now. Then we'll marry." "Yet I married. And we
were happy. Treb broke off. "Sure. And I wish I were as poor as before. Treb moved a few feet deeper into a
thicket. "That's a promise, Treb." Killing. That's what war was. So you had to kill. Or you volunteered to
kill. It was fairer,
too, for those involved. Neilson kidded, his voice coming from
a changed direction again. "So I can see you." He laughed hoarsely. "If we weren't where we are, I'd mean that." "I know. He scented a trap. He knew. So he was
sleeping. He
sat up. Hunger was his salt. If he could capture him, very good. It would be difficult. But regretfully. Now it was night again. Time to check on his traps. He was approaching the net. He saw Neilson--it could only be Neilson. It was finished. "Yes." "You win again. If she is good, she will
come to you." He laughed bitterly. But she is beautiful and I love her. Prestige. Honor. "I know. But it is like
a disease. An incurable disease. Think about it." Treb moved off into the darkness. "Get down to the lake," he ordered. "Just a scratch." "Start talking, Treb." "Sure. "Hear me out. Your friends and
comrades dying--my friends dead and wounded? "We could help, Harl. Neilson snorted. You won. "I don't get it. You're a prince, Treb. "But I couldn't do it. Jane would turn against me. "We'd ride it out. "It means losing Jane. I can't do it." Clark blind. snarled Neilson. So that was the way it was to be. Then he went down to rejoin Neilson. Neilson laughed. "Yes, Harl. Your friend." Neilson did not turn. Neilson shouted, turning. Treb jabbed. And he relaxed inwardly. It was tough going for the kid. He raised it. Treb lifted his hands. "The guards will be here in no more than a minute, Harl. Study your history." Neilson flinched. Treb wrenched at
the gun. Neilson kicked him in the crotch. He tore off the bloody knife. But the offer still stands.