Hot black eyes turned to his. Burnt-out fires in a face with the young beard hardly full on its sharp jaw.
"Sit down, Wes, quick, and listen. Sawbones is no good—and why would I want to go on living anyway?"
He smiled. Kirk had never seen him smile like that, without bitterness or pain. He sat down, crouched on the body of a man who lived only two huts away from him. The blood made little red fountains between Randl's fingers.
"It's up to you, Wes. You're the only one that really knows about the Ship. You'll do better than I would, anyhow. You're a fighter. You carry it on, so the Hans can live. Promise."
Kirk nodded. He couldn't say anything. The heat was dying in Randl's eyes.
"Listen, Wes. I saw the secret way into Ship. Bend closer, and listen...."
Kirk bent. He didn't move for a long time. After a while Randl's voice stopped, and then the blood wasn't pumping any more, just oozing. Randl's hands slid away, so that Kirk could see the hole the stone had made. Everything seemed to be very quiet.
Kirk sat there, holding Randl in his arms.
Presently someone came up and shook Kirk's shoulder and said, "Hey, kid, are you deaf? We been yelling for you." He stopped, and then said more gently, "Oh. Jakk got it, did he?"
Kirk laid the body carefully on the stones and got up. "Yeah."