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?"