Retief whirled and fired. The guard rounded into sight and fell headlong. Above, an alarm bell jangled. Retief stepped on a stanchion, hauled himself into the open port. A yell rang, then the clatter of feet on the stair.
“Don’t shoot, Mister!” Chip shouted.
“All clear, Chip,” Retief called.
“Hang on. I’m comin’ with ya!”
Retief reached down, lifted the chef bodily through the port, slammed the lever home. The outer door whooshed, clanged shut.
“Take number two, tie in! I’ll blast her off,” Chip said. “Been through a hundred ’bandon ship drills….”
Retief watched as the chef flipped levers, pressed a fat red button. The deck trembled under the lifeboat.
“Blew the bay doors,” Chip said, smiling happily. “That’ll cool them jaspers down.” He punched a green button.
“Look out, Jorgensen’s!” With an ear-splitting blast, the stern rockets fired, a sustained agony of pressure….
Abruptly, there was silence. Weightlessness. Contracting metal pinged loudly. Chip’s breathing rasped in the stillness.
“Pulled nine G’s there for ten seconds,” he gasped. “I gave her full emergency kick-off.”
“Any armament aboard our late host?”
“A popgun. Time they get their wind, we’ll be clear. Now all we got to do is set tight till we pick up a R and D from Svea Tower. Maybe four, five hours.”
“Chip, you’re a wonder,” Retief said. “This looks like a good time to catch that nap.”
“Me too,” Chip said. “Mighty peaceful here, ain’t it?”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Durn!” Chip said softly.
Retief opened one eye. “Sorry you came, Chip?”
“Left my best carvin’ knife jammed up ’tween Marbles’ ribs,” the chef said. “Comes o’ doin’ things in a hurry.”
V
The blonde girl brushed her hair from her eyes and smiled at Retief.
“I’m the only one on duty,” she said. “I’m Anne-Marie.”
“It’s important that I talk to someone in your government, Miss,” Retief said.
The girl looked at Retief. “The men you want to see are Tove and Bo Bergman. They will be at the lodge by night-fall.”
“Then it looks like we go to the lodge,” Retief said. “Lead on, Anne-Marie.”
“What about the boat?” Chip asked.
“I’ll send someone to see to it tomorrow,” the girl said.
“You’re some gal,” Chip said admiringly. “Dern near six feet, ain’t ye? And built, too, what I mean.”
They stepped out of the door into a whipping wind.
“Let’s go across to the equipment shed and get parkas for you,” Anne-Marie said. “It will be cold on the slopes.”
“Yeah,” Chip said, shivering. “I’ve heard you folks don’t believe in ridin’ ever time you want to go a few miles uphill in a blizzard.”
“It will make us hungry,” Anne-Marie said. “Then Chip will cook a wonderful meal for us all.”
Chip blinked. “Been cookin’ too long,” he muttered. “Didn’t know it showed on me that way.”
Behind the sheds across the wind-scoured ramp abrupt peaks rose, snow-blanketed. A faint trail led across white slopes, disappearing into low clouds.
“The lodge is above the cloud layer,” Anne-Marie said. “Up there the sky is always clear.”
It was three hours later, and the sun was burning the peaks red, when Anne-Marie stopped, pulled off her woolen cap and waved at the vista below.
“There you see it,” she said. “Our valley.”
“It’s a mighty perty sight,” Chip gasped. “Anything this tough to get a look at ought to be.”
Anne-Marie pointed. “There,” she said. “The little red house by itself. Do you see it, Retief? It is my father’s home-acre.”
Retief looked across the valley. Gaily painted houses nestled together, a puddle of color in the bowl of the valley.
“I think you’ve led a good life there,” he said.
Anne-Marie smiled brilliantly. “And this day, too, is good.”
Relief smiled back. “Yes,” he said. “This day is good.”
“It’ll be a durn sight better when I got my feet up to that big fire you was talking about, Annie,” Chip said.
They climbed on, crossed a shoulder of broken rock, reached the final slope. Above, the lodge sprawled, a long low structure of heavy logs, outlined against the deep-blue twilight sky. Smoke billowed from stone chimneys at either end, and yellow light gleamed from the narrow windows, reflected on the snow. Men and women stood in groups of three or four, skis over their shoulders. Their voices and laughter rang in the icy air.
Anne-Marie whistled shrilly. Someone waved.
“Come,” she said. “Meet all my friends.”
A man separated himself from the group, walked down the slope to meet them.
“Anne-Marie,” he called. “Welcome. It was a long day without you.” He came up to them, hugged Anne-Marie, smiled at Retief.
“Welcome,” he said. “Come inside and be warm.”
They crossed the trampled snow to the lodge and pushed through a heavy door into a vast low-beamed hall, crowded with people, talking, singing, some sitting at long plank tables, others ringed around an eight-foot fireplace at the far side of the room. Anne-Marie led the way to a bench near the fire. She made introductions and found a stool to prop Chip’s feet near the blaze.
Chip looked around.
“I never seen so many perty gals before,” he said delightedly.
“Poor Chip,” one girl said. “His feet are cold.” She knelt to pull off his boots. “Let me rub them,” she said.
A brunette with blue eyes raked a chestnut from the fire, cracked it and offered it to Retief. A tall man with arms like oak roots passed heavy beer tankards to the two guests.
“Tell us about the places you’ve seen,” someone called. Chip emerged from a long pull at the mug, heaving a sigh.
“Well,”
