Free New America by Poul Anderson

amok. Suppose someone injected you with an overdose of any important hormone!”
    “It’s an interesting guess. Are you certain, though?”
    “The biochemists will have to check out the details. But, yes, I am certain in a general way. You see, I flitted back to the site, where they were still rampaging. I ignited the spilled fuel with a thermite bomb. It went up fast, in this atmosphere. Almost immediately, the herd started to calm down. By the time I left, the survivors had returned to their calves.”
    “M-m-m—”
    “I know why you’re glum, Ralph. Your family business is getting set to produce oil-fired motors. And now it’ll have to do a lofrmore research first. What’s at stake isn’t merely the terasaur, you realize. It’s every related species, maybe the entire lowland ecology.”
    “That’s why you were so anxious to save the herd,” Mary said low. “Eva’s told us how you insisted.”
    “Oh, I didn’t have any definite ideas at that time,” Dan replied. “Only a—general principle.” His mood drooped. Trying to lift it, he said, “This doesn’t mean your father’s project has to be cancelled. Once the chemicals have been identified, I’m sure they can be taken out of the fuel.”
    “Indeed.” Ralph forced a smile. “You’ve done us a considerable favor, actually. Besides the rescue, you’ve saved us a number of further losses like this.”
    “But you didn’t know!” tore from Mary.
    Dan started half out of his seat. “What’s that?”
    “You didn’t know—then—and anyway, even if you had known, there are other herds—” She began to weep.
    Appalled, he went to her, knelt by her bunk, and gripped her hand. It lay cold and moveless in his. “Mary, what’s wrong?”
    “I was afraid of this … what Ralph and Eva were getting at … before you came … don’t you see? You, you care so greatly about this land … that to save a part of it … you’d risk—”
    “Not your life, ever!” he exclaimed.
    “No, I s-s-suppose not … but your own!”
    “Why shouldn’t I, if I want to?” he asked in his bewilderment.
    Her look was desperate upon him. “I thought—I hoped—All the years we might have had! You risked those!”
    “But … but Mary, my duty—”
    In long, shuddering breaths, she mastered herself enough to say, with even the ghost of a smile: ” ‘I could not love thee (Dear) so much, Lov’d I not honour more.’ Dan, I never really sympathized with that attitude. Or, at least, I think two people have to share the same, well, the same honor, if they really want to, to share each other. We belong to different countries, you and I. Can you understand?”
    He shook his head as he spoke, harshly. “No. I’m afraid I don’t.” He rose to go. “But you’re still exhausted, Mary. I’d better not keep after you about this, or anything. Let’s talk later, shall we?”
    He stooped above her bed, and their lips touched, carefully, as if they were strangers.
     

    Though the air outside was hot and damp, a rising wind roared in treetops; and over the lake came striding the blue-black wall of a rainstorm that would cleanse and cool.
    Nobody else was in sight when Dan and Eva left the guesthouse. Nonetheless they did not continue on among the neighbor buildings, but went down to the shore. The water chopped at their feet. Afar, lightning flashes were reflected off its steeliness, and thunder rolled around heaven.
    “Well,” he said at last, into the wind, “I guess that’s that.”
    “You’ll get over it,” said Eva, no louder or livelier than he. “You both will, and be friends when you happen to meet.”
    “Except why couldn’t she see—?”
    “She could, Dan. That’s precisely the trouble, or the salvation. She sees far too clearly.”
    “You mean, because I care about the land, she doesn’t imagine I care about her? No! She’s not that petty.”
    “I didn’t say she is, Dan. In fact, she’s very large, > very wise and kind. Look, she can