Far Shore of Time by Frederik Pohl

Author:Frederik Pohl [Pohl, Frederik]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Adventure, Fantasy
ISBN: 9780812577839
Google: FhThyNpoZCcC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 367217
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1999-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Pirraghiz insisted that I eat, so I did.

Then she urged me to sleep, because there was no knowing when I might get the chance again, so I tried to do that, too. Sleep didn't come quickly, though. What made it difficult was my conscience.

The difficulty was that although this Beert was a weird-looking creature with a snaky neck and the face of a rattlesnake- not to mention that he was also a member of that race who had just finished murdering a whole bunch of my fellow humans, one of whom (or several of whom) had been me-in spite of all that, he was something else. He was one of the only two friends I had left, anywhere in this part of the universe. And I had put him in the deep shit, and had every prospect of getting him in deeper still.

You might ask how I could do something like that to a friend.

I guess the only proper answer would be "practice," because actually I had had plenty of experience along those lines. Betraying friends was basically the job description of what I did for the National Bureau of Investigation. We called it "infiltration." In order to get the goods on some gang of criminals or terrorists- or whatever-my first step was to make some new friends, who would remain my friends just as long as it took me to get the evidence that would put them in prison for most of their adult lives.

I had never had much of a problem with my conscience in those days, because those "friends" weren't friends at all. They were bad guys, and they needed to be put away. But Beert wasn't a bad guy. Neither was my other new friend, Pirraghiz. And I was definitely screwing up her life, too.

So I didn't get much sleep, hanging on to the webbing in my alien room in this alien thing called a "nexus." Neither did anyone else, because it wasn't long until one of the Christmas trees poked in on me and announced, "The channels for the Wet One have been accessed. It may proceed now to its transmission."

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