Short.Stories.Pard.Analog.Magazine.Dec.1972 by Wilson F Paul

Author:Wilson, F Paul [Wilson, F Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0100-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

She was gone when he awakened the next morning but a little note on the night table wished him good luck.

(You should have prepared me for such a sensory jolt,) said the voice. (I was taken quite by surprise last night.)

"Oh, it's you again," Dalt groaned.

"I pushed you completely out of my mind last night, otherwise I'd have been impotent, no doubt."

(I hooked into your sensory input—very stimulating.)

Dalt experienced helpless annoyance. He would have to get used to his partner's presence at the most intimate moments, but how many people could make love knowing there's a peeping torn at the window with a completely unobstructed view?

(What are we going to do now?)

"Pard,” Dalt drawled, "we're gonna git ready to go below." He went to the closet and pulled from it a worn leather jerkin and a breastplate marked with an empty red circle, the mark of the mercenary. Stiff leather breeches followed, and broadsword and metal helm completed the picture. He then dyed his hair for Racso's sake.

"One more thing," he said and reached up to the far end of the closet shelf. His hand returned clutching an ornate dagger. "This is something new in Racso's armament."

(A dagger?)

"Not just a dagger. It's—"

(Oh, yes. It's also a blaster.)

"How did you know?"

(We're partners, Steve. What you know, I know. I even know why you had it made.)

"I'm listening."

(Because you're afraid you're not as fast as you used to be. You think your muscles may not have quite the tone they used to have when you first posed as Racso. And you're not willing to die looking for an artificial brain.)

"Looks like I'll never have a secret again," Dalt sighed.

(Not from me, at least.)

Dalt planned the time of his arrival in Bendelema Duchy for predawn. He concealed the shuttlecraft and was on the road toward the keep as the sky began to lighten. As he walked along in silence, a light saddle slung over his shoulder, he marveled at the full ripe fields of grains and greens to either side of him. Agriculture had always been a hit or miss affair on Kwashi and famines were not uncommon, but it looked as if there would be no famine in Bendelema this year. Even the serfs, already hard at work in the fields, looked well fed.

"What do you think, Pard?" Dalt asked.

(Well, Kwashi hasn't got much of a tilt on its axis. They could be on their way to the second bumper crop of the year.)

"With the available farming methods, two consecutive bumper crops are unheard of on Kwashi. I almost starved here once myself."

(I know that, but I have no explanation for these plump serfs.)

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