low power, traveling slowly, until he was almost a kilometer away, then went to normal power and sped up. This part of the mountains was honeycombed with caves, so he decided their best bet would probably be to find a nice one and hole up until the Marines finally landed. Dave was confident they would; whatever had kept them from showing up right away surely couldn't keep them from starting to search when the Ranger didn't return when he should!

It took him almost an hour, but he found a cave that would serve them as a decent shelter. It had a fairly level floor, as far as he dared take time to explore, with enough turns and side passages to keep the wind out and maybe provide them with emergency hiding places or a stronghold—if he could get the Ranger to them. And, best of all, one of the side passages had a small spring overflowing into a stream that led deeper into the cave. Yes, he decided, it would do nicely.

He brought the car to the entrance and turned on the visible-light headlights long enough to unload his gear, arrange a makeshift bed for the Ranger, and finally half-carry and half-drag the man inside and settle him. Then he started to program the car to take it away from them, but hesitated, thinking. He'd gotten what he could carry from the aidvan, but there was a better than even chance the car itself held something useful, this far from any settlements. He checked, finding more blankets and rations, a military-issue medikit—and the jackpot, a fusion lamp/stove combination. He grinned, lighting the lamp and stacking his fresh loot inside the cave entrance, then finished programming the car and sent it on its way.

It lifted off, climbing to well above treetop height, then oriented itself to a heading that would take it—if it didn't blow itself up or get shot down first—to the Planetary Palace an hour or so after dawn. Dave listened until it was out of hearing range, then carried his finds further into the cave and braced himself to check the Ranger's condition. First he cleaned his patient's face, recognizing him as soon as he'd washed the blood off: Esteban Tarlac, newest and youngest of the Emperor's personal representatives and troubleshooters. Then he started pulling Tarlac's uniform shirt off, trying not to get sick as the wounds were exposed. When he had it about halfway off, the Ranger stirred.

Tarlac woke slowly, aware at first only that he was laying on something hard and that he hurt all over. He shifted, trying to get comfortable, but a hand on his shoulder restrained him. He opened his eyes, to see a young man—not much more than a boy, really—bending over him. "What—"

"We're in a cave in the Webster Mountains, sir," Dave told him. "I'm Dave Scanlon. I was a prisoner too, but when they brought you in, my guard let me go so I wouldn't be involved." He went on to describe their escape and present circumstances. "I'm afraid it was the best I could think of," he finished apologetically.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Tarlac assured him. The youngster had probably saved his life; he wasn't in any mood to quibble about details. "You might not believe how much I hate to ask this—but just how bad is it?"

"Uh…" Dave hesitated.

"That bad?"

"Well—not good, so far, and I've only checked your front. I haven't even cleaned that yet, since the water's still cold." Dave swallowed. "I'm no corpsman, obviously, and you need qualified medical attention, but I'll do the best I can for you."

"I'm sure you will." Tarlac tried to sit up, unsuccessfully; Dave caught him as he fell back, groaning. "Is there any painkiller in what you brought along?"

"I think so." Dave rummaged through the medical supplies, brought out an injector of quidine. "Uh, what's your mass?"

"Call it seventy kilos, that's close enough."

"Yes, sir." Dave read the instructions, set the injector for the weight he'd been told, and triggered it into the side of the Ranger's neck. "I hope that's right—there's only enough here for another couple of doses."

After a few minutes, Tarlac sighed in relief. "That's fine, Dave—a lot better. Would you help me sit up?"

"Of course, sir." Dave piled up some of the blankets he'd collected, helped the Ranger to sit up, and shoved the blankets into position to serve as a backrest. "I'm not really sure you should be putting weight on your back—but I don't really think you should be putting it on your front, either, and you have to rest somehow." He hesitated, then went on. "I ought to check your back now, if you don't mind."

"Whether I mind or not doesn't matter very much," Tarlac said. "It needs to be done, and at the moment you're the closest to a doctor I've got. Plus if I'm in as bad shape as it feels like I am, there's a good chance that I'll be unconscious a lot of the time—and when I am awake, I won't know what's been going on, and I could very well not be in any shape to make good decisions. Which puts you in charge, until we're rescued. What do you want me to do?"

Dave stared at the Ranger in bewilderment. "But—I can't give a Ranger orders!" he finally managed to get out. Granted that almost everything he knew about Rangers came from the holo, news and dramas, he was positive that they gave orders, they didn't take them … well, except from the Sovereign, of course.

Tarlac grinned, reasonably sure what the youngster was thinking. "We do take advice, suggestions, and sometimes orders, from anyone who knows more about a given situation than we do, or who's in a position to handle it better. Right now, that's you—and you had the initiative and resourcefulness to pull me out of the middle of a rebel camp; I'm satisfied to have you go on with the job."

"The kids at school will never believe this," Dave said, as much to himself as to the Ranger. "But okay, if that's what you want. Uh . . . I can ask you for advice, can't I?"

"Sure, but you'll have to decide if it's worth taking or not."

"I promise." Dave shook his head, still not quite believing what he'd gotten himself into. He knelt beside his patient, spreading out more blankets and grateful that he'd been able to find so many. "If you'll roll over, then, I should check your back."

"Okay." It took effort—he was weak from the combination of pain, shock, and loss of blood—but he made it.

Dave cut away the rest of the Ranger's uniform shirt, then checked the water he'd put on the lamp. It was warm enough now, so he used it to clean the caked blood away from the whip-inflicted wounds. He didn't want to believe what he saw as he worked—you didn't use stingweed for any reason!—but the yellowish edges of the wounds were proof that couldn't be denied, and he used a swear-word he'd seen embarrass his mother once.

Tarlac wasn't sure whether he should get worried or laugh at the boy's virulent language, but on the whole it didn't sound promising. "What's wrong, Dave?"

"The blankers soaked the whip in stingweed sap," Dave told him, trying to control his anger. "It can't have taken full effect yet, or not even quidine could kill the pain—and it carries something like a cross between a fungus and a bacterium that nothing in a standard medikit will touch. How long till your rescue party arrives?"

Tarlac frowned; this sounded serious. "Is this Tuesday, or was I unconscious longer than I think?"

Dave checked his chrono, then nodded. "2243, Tuesday night."

"They should be landing in about two and a half days, then; Colonel Korda had orders to give me three days, then come looking for me."

"But we're not at the camp any more, and I don't dare use anything much more obvious than the fusion lamp, or the rebels will find us first." Dave brightened. "Unless they blew up the car I used, when they found out it was missing; then they'd think we were dead."

"True, but we can't count on that; it'd be best to assume they landed it, and are looking for us."

"Yeah, I guess so." Dave hid his disappointment; the Ranger was counting on him! "We've got