her. “And never mind Ydwyr,” he warbled. “We’re going to celebrate the
whole way back!”
XX
—
Standing in the cramped, thrumming space between bulkheads, beyond reach
of him who sat chained, the Terran said: “You appreciate that the whole
truth about what happened would embarrass me. I want your solemn promise
you’ll support my account and drop no hint concerning Wayland.”
“Why should I agree?” the Merseian asked blandly.
“Because if you don’t,” Djana told him–venom seethed in each
word–“I’ll have the pleasure of killing you.”
“No, no, spare the dramatics,” Flandry said. “Especially since he too
considers an oath under duress is worthless. Ydwyr, the pilot’s data
list various planets where I could let you off. You can survive. A few
have intelligent natives to study. Their main drawback is that no one
has found any particular reason to revisit them, so you may have a
slight problem in publishing your findings. But if you don’t mind, I
don’t.”
“Is that not a threat?” the prisoner rumbled.
“No more than your threat to expose my, ah, sideline financial
interests. Talwin’s bound to lose its military value whatever becomes of
you or me. Suppose I throw in that I’ll do what I can to help keep your
scientific station alive. Under the circumstances, does that bargain
sound fair?”
“Done!” Ydwyr said. He swore to the terms by the formulas of honor.
Afterward he extended a hand. “And for your part, let us shake on it.”
Flandry did. Djana watched, gripping a stunner. “You’re not figuring to
turn him loose now, are you?” she demanded.
“No, I’m afraid that can’t be included in the deal,” Flandry said.
“Unless you’ll give me your parole, Ydwyr.”
The girl looked hurt and puzzled, then relieved when the Merseian
answered:
“I will not. You are too competent. My duty is to kill you if I can.” He
smiled. “With that made clear, would you like a game of chess?”
Mining continued here and there in the system to which Irumclaw
belonged. Hence small human colonies persisted, with mostly floating
populations that weren’t given to inconvenient curiosity or to gossiping
with officialdom about what they might have seen.
Jake put briefly down in a spaceport on the fourth world out. It was a
spot of shabbiness set in the middle of an immense rusty desert. The
atmosphere was not breathable, and barely thick enough to blow dust
clouds into a purple sky. A gangtube reached forth to connect airlock
with airdome. Flandry escorted Djana to the exit.
“You’ll be through soon?” she asked wistfully. For a moment the small
slender form in the modest gown, the fine-boned features, eyes like blue
lakes, lips slightly parted and aquiver, made him forget what had passed
between them and think of her as a child. He had always been a sucker
for little girls.
“Soon’s I can,” he answered. “Probably under a week. But do lie doggo
till you hear from me. It’s essential we report jointly to Leon Ammon.
Those credits you brought with you ought to stretch. Check the general
message office daily. When my ‘gram comes, go ahead and shoot him word
to have somebody fetch you. I’ll be standing by.” He kissed her more
lightly than had been his wont. “Cheers, partner.”
Her response was feverish. “Partners, yes!” she said afterward, in an
unsteady tone. A tear broke away. She turned and walked fast from the
airlock. Flandry went back to the conn and requested immediate clearance
for takeoff.
Above his gorgeous tunic, Admiral Julius wore the least memorable face
that Flandry had ever seen. “Well!” he said. “Quite a story, Lieutenant.
Quite a story.”
“Yes, sir,” Flandry responded. He stood beside Ydwyr, who tail-sat at
ease–if with ill-concealed contempt for the ornate office–in a robe
that had been hastily improvised for him. His winter garb being
unsuitable for shipboard, he had traveled nude and debarked thus on
Irumclaw; and you don’t receive princes of the blood in their nakedness.
“Ah … indeed.” Julius shuffled some papers on his desk. “As I
understand your–your supervisor’s verbal redaction of what you told
him–you are writing a report in proper form, are you not?–as I
understand it … well, why don’t you tell me yourself?”