And Ric did go back to the fields. For him it was the same routine day. Those deadly spores needed harvesting, to go into the bombs that were still being assembled. He worked as usual, but stayed near the man Yarnith, awaiting his chance.
At last it came. He managed to get Yarnith apart from the others.
"I have something for you!" Ric reached into his pocket, brought out one of the eishn stems. Just one.
Yarnith seized it, placed it in his mouth. His hands trembled in eagerness, his dulling eyes came to life. "Earthman! where did you—I thought—"
"Yes, you thought there were no more of them! Yarnith, you are no longer men, you are slaves, all of you are slaves! Do you suppose Gorak cares about you? He and the others live in luxury in the city, while the rest of you work out here and die and kill—"
Yarnith wasn't listening, he had become as the others. He no longer cared. Ric looked at the man in disgust, then fury swept over him. He seized Yarnith's arm, whirled him around roughly. Yarnith cowered, whimpering.
"Listen to me! Listen! There are more eishn stems, enough for all of you. All you have to do is take them! Do you understand that?"
Yarnith understood that. It was all he understood, all he cared. He nodded eagerly. "More of them?"
"Yes, in the city! Gorak has them!"
Yarnith slumped in despair. "The city. We can never go there again. None of us have ever—"