Reenlistment. Out to Lalande 21,185; for Centauri was in peace. Battle after hellborn battle until that lesser and nearer Lalande had found a newbirth of freedom.
But Andres had not embarked upon the twelve-year journey across the 8.4 light years to Sirius in the Legion's stellatomics. He had told Frederix that the day might come when Sol would need him more. And so he remained with the Solarian Defense, clinging to that ancient estate—his Rendezvous where he held communion with his memories and with the ghosts of those who had fallen beside and before his blazing guns—haunting it when on Mars and off duty....
Far to the south Frederix caught the fierce glare of disrupters, of jets flaming in the black, starshot night as furious combat raged. Del, too, was probably there, deep in the bloody game which was his life now—
Onward, onward.
Dawn shot up, breaking with all the suddenness of Martian day. To his right Frederix glimpsed a ship bearing down upon him—a Certagarni ship, named doubtless by a Vron-minded Martian.
Suddenly the savage whine of other atomics crescendoed from above. From the corner of his eye Frederix caught the crimson splurge of a master disrupter from the nose of an insanely-plunging blue ship—a Kaa ship!
A red finger burned across his right wing, tearing it cleanly free; the ship whipstalled, hung like a stricken, one-winged bird and whirled into a dizzy, whipping spin. Grimly he wrestled with the useless controls, tried to avert the crash, flung his eyes upwards towards the victor, and a scream sundered his lips:
"DEL!" A useless scream, killed by the higher keening of wind and unleashed jets.
The craft careened erratically into the swamp, down through infinitely intermeshed trees which broke the velocity of its fall, and crashed sickeningly into the frozen mire.