Guilt leaned on Jason and stifled his mouth. A fragment of an ancient legend cut across his mind, about the Jonas who wrecked the spacer so all in it died, yet he lived. Was that he? Had he wrecked a world? Could he dare admit to these people that he had taken the lifeboat only to save his own life?

The three Pyrrans leaned forward, waiting for his words. Jason closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see their faces. What could he tell them? If he admitted the truth, they would undoubtedly kill him on the spot, considering it only justice. He wasn’t fearful for his own life anymore, but if he died the other deaths would all have been in vain. And there still was a way to end this planetary war. All the facts were available now, it was just a matter of putting them together. If only he wasn’t so tired, he would see the solution. It was right there, lurking around a corner in his brain, waiting to be dragged out.

There was the sudden sound of heavy feet stamping outside the cabin, and a man’s muffled shouting. No one except Jason seemed to notice. They were too intent on his answer. He groped in his mind, but couldn’t find words to explain. Whatever he did, he couldn’t admit the truth now. If he died all hope died. He had to lie to gain time, then find the correct solution that seemed so tantalizingly near. Yet he was too tired even to phrase a plausible lie.

The sound of the door bursting open crashed through the stillness of the room. A gnarled, stubby man stood there, his anger-red face set off by a full white beard.

“Everyone deaf?” he snarled. “I ride all night and shout my lungs out and you just squat here like a bunch a’ egg-hatching birds. Get out! Quake! A big quake on the way!”

They were all standing now, shouting questions. Plies’s voice cut through the uproar. “Hananas! How much time do we have?”

“Time! Who knows about time!” the greybeard cursed. “Get out or you’re dead, s’all I know.”

No one stopped to argue now. There was a furious rush and within a minute Jason was being strapped into a litter on one of the doryms.

“What’s happening?” he asked the man who was tying him into place.

“Earthquake coming,” he answered, his fingers busy with the knots. “Hananas is the best quakeman we have. He always knows before a quake is going to happen. If the word can be passed quick enough we get away. Quakemen always know, say they can feel them coming.” He jerked the last knot tight and was gone.