words.
Flandry could form Merseian speech better if not perfectly. “Tor
ychwei.” With both hands he extended his glass so that the other might
take the first sip.
Tachwyr followed it with half of his own in a single gulp. “Arrach!”
Relaxed a little, he cocked his head and smiled; but under the shelf of
brow ridge, his glance held very steady on the human. “Well,” he said,
“what brings you here?”
“I was assigned. For a Terran year, worse luck. And you?”
“The same, to my present ship. I see you are now in the Intelligence
Corps.”
“Like yourself.”
Tachwyr the Dark–his skin was a slightly deeper green than is usual
around the Wilwidh Ocean–could not altogether suppress a scowl. “I
started in that branch,” he said. “You were a flyer when you came to
Merseia.” He paused. “Were you not?”
“Oh, yes,” Flandry said. “I transferred later.”
“At Commander Abrams’ instigation?”
Flandry nodded. “Mostly. He’s a captain now, by the way.”
“So I have heard. We … take an interest in him.”
After the Starkad affair, Flandry thought, you would. Between us, Max
Abrams and I wrecked a scheme concocted by none less than Brechdan
Ironrede, Protector of the Roidhun’s Grand Council.
How much do you know about that, Tachwyr? You were only put to showing
me around and trying to pump me, when Abrams and I were on your world as
part of the Hauksberg mission. And the truth about Starkad was never
made public; no one concerned could afford to let it come out.
You do remember us, though, Tachwyr. If nothing else, you must have
gathered that we were instrumental in causing Merseia quite a bit of
trouble. It bothers you to have found me here.
Better get off the subject. “You remain through tomorrow? I admit
Irumclaw has less to offer than Merseia, but I’d like to return part of
the courtesy you gave me.”
Again Tachwyr was slow to speak. “Thank you, negative. I have already
arranged to tour the area with shipmates.” The Eriau phrasing implied a
commitment which no honorable male would break.
Flandry reflected that a male would not ordinarily bind himself so
strongly to something so minor.
What the devil? the human thought. Maybe they aim to sample our
well-known Terran decadence and he doesn’t want me to realize their
well-known Merseian virtue can slack off that much. “Stay in a party,”
he warned. “Some of those bars are almost as dangerous as the stuff they
serve.”
Tachwyr uttered the throaty laugh of his species, settled down on the
tripod of feet and tail, and started yarning. Flandry matched him. They
enjoyed themselves until the man was called away to interpret a tedious
conversation between two engineer officers.
II
—
Such was the prologue. He had practically forgotten it when the
adventure began. That was on a certain night about eight months later.
Soon after the red-orange sun had set, he left the naval compound and
walked downhill. No one paid him any heed. A former commandant had tried
to discourage his young men from seeking the occasionally lethal
corruptions of Old Town. He had declared a large part of it off limits.
Meeting considerable of the expense out of his own pocket, he had
started an on-base recreation center which was to include facilities for
sports, arts, and crafts as well as honest gambling and medically
certified girls! But the bosses below knew how to use money and
influence. The commandant was transferred to a still more bleak and
insignificant outpost. His successor dismantled what had been built,
informed the men jovially that what they did off duty was their
business, and was said to be drawing a nice extra income.
Flandry sauntered in elegance. The comet gleaming on either shoulder was
so new that you might have looked for diffidence from him. But his
bonnet was tilted more rakishly on his seal-brown hair than a strict
interpretation of rules would have allowed; his frame was draped in a
fantastic glittergold version of dress tunic and snowy trousers tucked
into handmade beefleather half-boots; the cloak that fluttered behind
him glowed with phosphorescent patterns through the chill dusk; and
while he strolled, he sang a folk ballad concerning the improbable