“How long you think until dark?” Steengo asked. “That pill you gave me is wearing off with a vengeance.”

I projected a holo of a watch. “I truly don’t know-because I don’t even know the length of the day here. This watch, like the computer, is on ship’s time. It’s been a good long time since they threw us out the gate.” I squinted at the sky. “And I don’t think that sun has moved very much at all. Time to ask for some advice.”

I bit down three times hard on the left side of my jaw, which should have triggered a signal on the jawbone radio.

“Tremearne here.” The words bounced around clearly inside my skull.

“I read you.”

“You read what?” Steengo asked.

“Please – I’m talking on the radio.”

“Sorry.”

“Reception clear at this end. Report.”

“We were less than charmed by the Machmen. We left town a couple of hours ago and are hiking out across the plain…”

“I have you on the chart, satellite location.”

“Any of the Fundamentaloid bands in sight as well?”

“A number of them.”

“Any of them close to this position?”

“Yes, one off to your left. Roughly the same distance you’ve walked already.”

“Sounds a winner. But one important question first. How long are the days here?”

“About one hundred standard hours.”

“No wonder we’re beginning to feel tired-and it’s still full daylight. With the total daylight at least four times longer than what we’re used to. Can you put your satellite to work looking back the way we came-to see if we are being followed?”

“I’ve already done that. No pursuers in sight.”

“That’s great news. Over and out.” I raised my voice. “Company-halt. Fall out. I’ll give you the other side of the conversation that you didn’t hear. We’re not being followed.” I waited until the ragged cheer had died away. “Which means we are stopping here for food, drink, sleep, the works.”

I slung my pack to the ground, stretched largely, then dropped down and leaned against it, pointed to the distant horizon. “The Fundamentaloid nomads are somewhere out in that direction. We are going to have to find them sooner or later-and I vote for later.”

“Vote seconded, motion passed.” They were all horizontal now. I took a good swig of water before I went on.

“The days here are four times as long as the ones that we are used to. I think that we have had enough of fighting, walking, everything for one day, or a quarter of a day, or whatever. Let’s sleep on it and go on when we are rested.”

My advice was unneeded since eyelids were already closing. I could do no less myself and was drifting off when I realized this was not the world’s greatest idea. I heaved myself, groaning, to my feet and walked away from the others so my voice would not disturb them.

“Come in Tremearne. Can you read me.”

“Sergeant Naenda here. The Captain is off duty this watch. Should I send for him?”

“Not if you are sitting in for him-and you have the satellite observations handy and up-to-date.”

“Affirmative.”

“Well keep looking at them. We’re taking a sleep break now and I would like it to be undisturbed. If you see anyone or anything creeping up on us-give a shout.”

“Will do. Nighty-night.”

Nighty-night! What were the armed forces coming to? I stumbled back to my companions and emulated their fine example. I had no trouble at all in falling asleep.

It was waking up that was difficult. Some hours had slipped by because when I blinked blearily up at the sky I saw that the sun had passed the meridian and was finally slipping down towards the horizon. What had wakened me?

“Attention, Jim diGriz, attention.”

I looked around for the speaker and it took long seconds before I realized that it was Captain Tremearne’s voice I was hearing.

“Wazza?” I said incoherently, still numbed with sleep.

“One of the Fundamentaloid bands is on the move-roughly in your direction. They should be close enough to see you in about an hour.”

“By which time we should be ready for visitors. Thanks, Cap-over and out.”

My stomach snarled at me and I realized that the concentrated rations had been a little too concentrated. I drank some water to wash the taste of sleep from my mouth, then poked Floyd with my toe. His eyes snapped open and I smiled sweetly.

“You have Just volunteered to go to those bushes over there and get some firewood. It is breakfast time.”

“Right, breakfast, wood, wonderful.” He climbed to his feet, yawned and stretched, scratched at his beard then went off on his mission. I gathered up enough dry grass to make a small pile, then dug the atomic battery out of my pack. It would power our musical equipment for at least a year, so it could spare a few volts now. I pulled the insulation off the ends of the wires on a short lead, shorted them to produce a fat snap of sparks, pushed it into the grass. In a moment the grass was burning nicely, crackling and smoking, and ready for the chunks of dry branches that Floyd brought back. When it was good and hot I dropped the polpettone into the glowing ashes.

The rest of the band stirred in their sleep when the smoke blew their way, but didn’t really wake up until I broke one of the fruits open. The skin was black so I hoped it was done. The rich seasoned fragrance of cooked meat wafted out and everyone was awake in an instant.

“Yum,” I said, chewing on a fragrant morsel. “My thanks to the genetic engineers who dreamed this one up. Gourmet food – and growing on trees. If it weren’t for the inhabitants this planet would be a paradise.”

After we had dined and were feeling relatively human I made my report to them.

“I’ve been in touch with the eye in the sky. A band of nomads is coming this way. I figured that we should let them do the walking instead of us. Are we now prepared for contact?”

There were quick nods and no hesitant looks I was happy to see. Steengo hefted his ax and glowered. “Ready as we’ll ever be. I just hope this lot is a bit more friendly than the first bunch.”

“Only one way to find out.” I bit down three times hard. “Where are the Fundamentaloids now?”

“Crossing a bit north of you-beyond those shrubs on the slight rise.”

“Then here we go. Packs on, weapons ready, fingers crossed. Forward!”

We walked slowly up the hill and through the shrubs-and stopped in our tracks and stared at the herd passing slowly by.

“Sheots,” I said. “The mutant cross between sheep and goats that they told us about.”

“Sheots,” Madonette agreed. “But they didn’t tell us they were so huge! I don’t even come up to their legpits.”

“Indeed,” I agreed. “Something else about them. They’re big enough to ride upon. And if I am not mistaken we have been seen and those three riders are galloping our way.”

“And waving weapons,” Steengo said grimly. “Here we go again.”

They thundered towards us, swords waving, sharp black hooves kicking up clouds of dust. The sheots had nasty little eyes, wicked, curved horns-and what looked very much like tusks. I couldn’t recall ever seeing a sheep or a goat with tusks, but there is always a first time.

“Stay in line, weapons ready,” I called out, swinging my own sword up. The nearest rider, draped in black, pulled hard on the reins and his woolly mount skidded to a stop. He frowned down on me from behind his great black beard, spoke in a deep and impressive voice.

“Those who live by the sword shall die by the sword. So it is written.”

“You talking about yourself?” I queried, blade still ready.

“We are men of peace, infidel, but defend our flocks against numberless rustlers.”

He could be telling the truth; I had to take the chance. I plunged my sword into the dirt and stepped back. But was ready to grab it in an instant.

“We are men of peace as well. But go armed for our own protection in this wicked world.”