Ylana's reddened eyes met his. "Jarl—! Where are you going?"
He shrugged; made himself ignore the new panic in her voice. "You can guess that, can't you?"
"No, Jarl! No—!" Eyes wide, lips quivering and parted, she came up, clutching at his tunic.
He pushed her hands away, not daring to let the tenderness he felt show in face or action. His words came raw and harsh, in a voice he could hardly recognize as his own: "What else is there to do? The ships are gone. There's no other way that we can get in touch with Venus, fleet headquarters."
"No, Jarl...."
"But your father's got a ship." He bit his words off, clipped and hard. "He's got the robots, too, it seems—may the gods of the void protect us all! But if he should die...."
He let his voice trail off; stared out across the crags and desert wastes.
"Then I'll go, too—"
"No." He pushed her back again—grim, unrelenting. "A few of Bor Legat's men didn't get aboard the ship. Some may still live. Go stay with them till I come." And then, bleakly: "If I come...."
Turning without a backward glance, he plodded off through the scorching sand, following the course of the giant robot—