He went down beside Randl, putting his arms around him, trying to see. Randl shook him off. "Don't move me, you fool! Just listen." His voice was harsh and rapid. He was holding both hands over the left side of his neck, where it joined the shoulder. Kirk could see the bright blood beating up through his fingers. He said, "Jakk, I'll get the sawbones...." Hot black eyes turned to his. Burnt-out fires in a face with the young beard hardly full on its sharp jaw. "Sit down, Wes, quick, and listen. Sawbones is no good--and why would I want to go on living anyway?" He smiled. Kirk had never seen him smile like that, without bitterness or pain. He sat down, crouched on the body of a man who lived only two huts away from him. The blood made little red fountains between Randl's fingers. "It's up to you, Wes. You're the only one that really knows about the Ship. You'll do better than I would, anyhow. You're a fighter. You carry it on, so the Hans can live. Promise." Kirk nodded. He couldn't say anything. The heat was dying in Randl's eyes. "Listen, Wes. I saw the secret way into Ship. Bend closer, and listen...." Kirk bent. He didn't move for a long time. After a while Randl's voice stopped, and then the blood wasn't pumping any more, just oozing. Randl's hands slid away, so that Kirk could see the hole the stone had made. Everything seemed to be very quiet. Kirk sat there, holding Randl in his arms. Presently someone came up and shook Kirk's shoulder and said, "Hey, kid, are you deaf? We been yelling for you." He stopped, and then said more gently, "Oh. Jakk got it, did he?" Kirk laid the body carefully on the stones and got up. "Yeah." "Kind of a pal of yours, wasn't he?" "He wasn't very strong. He needed someone to cover him." "Too bad." The man shook his head, and then shrugged. "Maybe it's better, at that. He was headed for trouble, that one. Kinda leading you that way, too, I heard. Always talking." He looked at Kirk's face and shut up suddenly. He turned away and grunted over his shoulders, "The O.D.'s looking for you." Kirk followed. The wind was cold, howling up from the outer gullies. * * * * * The Officer of the Day was waiting at the north end of the wall. There was a ladder dropped over it now, and men were climbing up and down with bodies and sheaves of recovered spears. More were busy down below, rolling the dead Piruts and the shags down into the deep gullies for the scavenger rats and the living shags who didn't mind turning cannibal. That ladder made Kirk think of Pa. It was the only way for a man to get into the outer gullies from the west escarpment of the colony. He shook some of the queer heaviness out of his head, touched his forelock and said: "I'm Wes Kirk, sir. You wanted me?" "Yes." The O.D. was also the Third Officer. Taller than Kirk, thinner, with the hair going grey on his body and exhausted eyes sunk deep under his horny overlids. He said quietly: