"Kill it!" Talion came toward him, stave lifted. "Kill the damned thing!"

"No." Dumarest glanced at the ruined cage. "I'll bind it with some of that mesh. Keep watch while I do it."

For moments he worked with a desperate urgency, cutting, tying, wrapping net around the folded wings. As he finished the ugly sound of shots came from the vessel, a yammer which rose above the screams and shouting.

"Hurry, Earl!" Talion swore as a string of lights was torn free to smash against the ground. "If they decide to land we'll be wiped out!"

Easy victims in the darkness and only cover could give protection. Dumarest stooped and with an effort heaved the bound angel to his shoulder. Though large the hollow bones reduced its weight but even so it was as heavy as a fully grown man.

"A prisoner?" Talion was impatient. "Kill it and let's run."

"It'll give protection." Dumarest headed toward the ship. "They won't want to attack their own."

That gamble paid off. Three times the air above them drummed with the passage of wings and twice shapes came at them from the shadows to fall back leaving them untouched. At the foot of the ramp a crowd of Ypsheim milled, Farnham among them.

He said, "Earl! You've got to let us aboard. We're helpless!"

"Get under the ramp. Get under the ship. You've staves and spears-defend yourself."

"Let us aboard." Farnham snarled his anger. "Give us protection or you'll die out here with the rest of us."

A threat though empty. A scatter of Ypsheim lay huddled in death but more angels lay still than men. Fire from the hatch had swept the air above and the creatures had learned to keep away. As more shots blasted from the opening Dumarest headed toward the ramp, Farnham staggering backwards as the engineer thrust him aside.

Ysanne smiled her relief as she saw Dumarest then frowned at what he was carrying.

"We don't need that, Earl. Dump it outside and we'll seal the hull."

"Later." Dumarest set down his burden and reached for the intercom. "How's the situation, Andre?"

"Not good." Batrun was precise. "Most of the Ypsheim managed to get to cover but there are a lot of bodies lying around. Some dead or injured angels too, but others are carrying them away. Now they seem intent on wrecking what was built." He grunted. "More lights just hit the dirt. The roof of the main building is in tatters and the kitchens are a mess."

"Sound the alarm again," said Dumarest. "Tell everyone to freeze. Action invites retaliation. Make them understand that."

To Urich he said, "Take that angel I brought in to a cabin. Make sure it can't get free. Help him, Lyle."

The engineer nodded. "And then?"

"Check all doors leading from the hold. I want this place tight. Stand guard in the corridor. Ysanne, back off and cover me."

She said, with sudden understanding, "You're letting them into the ship, Earl-why be such a fool?"

"You heard what Andre said. The angels are collecting their dead and they won't leave without them." Dumarest gestured toward the hatch, the ramp, the bodies lying on the dirt. "It's easier to give them what they want than argue about it."

"So we give shelter to that bunch of cowards down there. Hell, Earl, it's all their fault to begin with." Then, as he made no answer, she sighed and added, "So much for plans. I figured that we-well, it's going to be a long night."

Chapter Twelve

Dawn came with a scud of rain, misting the ground and beading the structures, accentuating the desolation of the area. The roofs were nothing more than shredded plastic, the windows ripped into jagged openings, wires down, lights smashed, equipment and supplies scattered all over. Among them, moving in vague indecision, the Ypsheim seemed stunned.

"Eighteen dead," said Belkner. "As many injured; most seriously. I didn't bother to count superficial wounds."

Scratches, bruises, lacerations caused as much by blind panic as the attacking angels. Their targets now lay in silent stillness or moaned as they writhed on crude beds.

Dumarest said, "The price of colonization. Did you think it would be easy?"

"It was a massacre." Belkner looked at his hands. A claw had ripped open his scalp and the bandage gave him a peculiar lopsided appearance. Other lacerations marked his cheeks, the backs of his hands and, when he walked, he limped a little. "We didn't have a chance. They caught us in the open and most were down before we knew what was happening."

"A lesson." Dumarest looked over the settlement from where he stood with Belkner at the head of the ramp. "You should profit by it." Then, as he saw the other's face, he added, tersely, "You came to take-didn't it ever occur to you that others might have been here first? If you hope to survive you have to learn how to fight. Look at those people! They should be in salvage teams while others repair the buildings. And what are you doing about guards? Food? The injured?"

"The ship," said Belkner. "I thought you'd give them shelter in the Erce."

"No."

"But-"

"You must learn to stand on your own," said Dumarest. "I took Farnham and his bunch in last night because it solved a problem. It won't happen again." As he'd made clear when they'd been driven from the vessel at gunpoint. "Anyway, I doubt if there'll be more attacks."

"One was enough." Belkner straightened, wincing. Weariness had traced his features with a pattern of transient age. "And we started it," he said bitterly. "If we hadn't gone to the hills, used that gun-" He broke off, shaking his head. "So beautiful," he said wonderingly. "They look so lovely. Who could have guessed they could be so ruthless."

Another lesson: life was never kind and too often beauty was the mask for cruelty.

Dumarest said, "Forget it. The past is dead-but if you want some advice stay well away from the angels."

"You're thinking of Farnham and his plan to sell their wings and-"

"They're human," snapped Dumarest. "Or as near as makes no difference. You heard what Ava said. Do as Farnham suggests and how long will it be before the women stop being field-slaves and become something more intimate? And the males-would your women be proof against their attraction?"

A question he left hanging as he led the way down the ramp.

A raft glided toward him as he trod on dirt, Ysanne leaning over the side, smiling. She wore her beaded leather and the thick braids of her hair gleamed as if coated in oil. Urich was behind her together with the driver. Both climbed from the vehicle as it landed.

Belkner said, dubiously, "You're going alone, Earl? Just you and Ysanne?"

"We'll manage. It's only a reconnaissance." Dumarest mounted the raft and took his place at the controls. "If anything goes wrong well radio an alarm. Urich, spell Lyle and keep an eye on our guest. Andre knows what to do." He glanced back into the body of the vehicle, noting the small bale of supplies, the guns wrapped in fabric. Ysanne had done the loading and knew what they needed. "I'll report if we find anything of importance."

Ysanne sighed as they rose and came to sit close to him.

"Freedom, Earl! God, I'm glad to get out of that ship. Gladder still to get away from those creeps. Pioneers-they make me laugh. Already they're talking of quitting."

"Going back?"

"Moving on. Trying another world." She turned to look back at the settlement. "It takes time to grow guts and they aren't willing to spend the time. Well, to hell with them. It isn't our worry." She turned again, drawing air into her lungs to expel it through her flared nostrils. "Find somewhere nice to land, Earl. I want to strip and run until I drop. Just feel the air on my skin and the dirt beneath my feet. Look for a field with a river and let's have a holiday."