the crewmen were more than curious.

"who the hell's the girl?"

"got me. never heard of such a thing."

"well, i suppose a raider has a right to pick up a little booty now and then," another laughed. "they don't have the easiest job in the world."

"bet she's going to be mad when she wakes up."

"yeah. looks like the raider might be worrying a little about that right now."

wolf stood at the forward screen, silently watching the shape of the mother-ship grow larger and larger until the screen held nothing but the great black hull.

the crewmen were wrong, he wasn't worried about daimya's waking. he could take care of that when the time came.

he was thinking about other things, the things that came to him when he slept, the faces, the names, the actions, the right and wrong of living according to what you think is right, no matter what the cost.

but the cost, the cost....

it was so high sometimes, so terribly high.

this trip, he thought. a shuttle crew. five good men, probably the whole village, eventually. those who did escape into the hills would lead a life of fear and pursuit, foraging as they went until finally they were caught. and worst of all, this was worst of all, and mentally he saw the list, the list of his responsibilities, the list for which he would someday have to account.

the bright name of mayne landing: victim.

his mind shied away from it.

can that be forgiven? can such a thing ever be forgiven?

gray landing, called wolf in the underground, turned away from the forward screen and began to prepare to board the mother-ship.