A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part three

bones in a few minutes. By departure date, you ought to be completely

yourself again.”

She frowned, shook her head in a puzzled way, tried to sit up. “Hoy, not

yet,” he said, laying hands on the bare slight shoulders. “I prescribe

lots of bed rest. When you’re strong enough to find that boring, I’ll

arrange for entertainment tapes to be projected. The computer says

there’re a few left. Ought to be interesting, a show that old.”

Still she struggled feebly. The chemical-smelling air fluttered fast, in

and out of her lungs. Alarm struck him. “What’s the trouble, Djana?”

“I … don’t know. Dizzy–”

“Oh, well. After what you’ve been through.”

Cold fingers clutched his arm. “Nicky. This moon. Is it … worth …

anything?”

“Huh?”

“Money!” she shrieked like an insect. “Is it worth money?”

Why should that make that much difference, right now? flashed through

him. Her past life’s made her fanatical on the subject, I suppose,

and–“Sure.”

“You’re certain?” she gasped.

“My dear,” he said, “Leon Ammon will have to work hard at it if he does

not want to become one of the richest men in the Empire.”

Her eyes rolled back till he saw only whiteness. She sagged in his

embrace.

“Fainted,” he muttered, and eased her down. Rising, scratching his

scalp: “Computer, what kind of medical knowledge do you keep in your

data banks?”

Reviving after a while, Djana sobbed. She wouldn’t tell him why.

Presently she was as near hysteria as her condition permitted. The

computer found a sedative which Flandry administered.

Or her next awakening she was calm, at any rate on the surface, but

somehow remote from him. She answered his remarks so curtly as to make

it clear she didn’t want to talk. She did take nourishment, though.

Afterward she lay frowning upward, fists clenched at her sides. He left

her alone.

She was more cheerful by the following watch, and gradually reverted to

her usual self.

But they saw scant of each other until they were again in space, bound

back to the assigned round that was to end on Irumclaw where it began.

She had spent most of the time previous in bed, waited on by robots

while she recovered. He, vigor regained sooner, was preoccupied with

setting matters on the moon to rights and supervising the repair of

Jake. The latter job was complicated by the requirement that no clue

remain to what had really taken place. He didn’t want his superiors

disbelieving his entries in the log concerning a malfunction of the

hyperdrive oscillator which it had taken him three weeks to fix by

himself.

Stark Wayland fell aft, and mighty Regin, and lurid Mimir; and the boat

moved alone amidst a glory of stars. Flandry sat with Djana in the conn,

which was the single halfway comfortable area to sit. Rested, clean,

depilated, fed, liquored, in crisp coverall, breathing ample air,

feeling the tug of a steady Terran g and the faint throb of the power

that drove him toward his destination, he inhaled of a cigarette, patted

Djana’s hand, and grinned at her freshborn comeliness. “Mission

accomplished,” he said. “I shall expect you to show your gratitude in

the ways you know best.”

“Well-l-l,” she purred. After a moment: “How could you tell, Nicky?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t yet understand what went wrong. You tried to explain before,

but I was too dazed, I guess.”

“Most simple,” he said, entirely willing to parade his cleverness anew.

“Once I saw we were caught in a chess game, everything else made sense.

For instance, I remembered those radio masts being erected in the wilds.

An impossible job unless the construction robots were free from attack.

Therefore the ferocity of the roving machines was limited to their own

kind. Another game, you see, with more potentialities and less

predictability than chess, even the chess-cum-combat that had been

developed when the regular sort got boring. New types of killer were

produced at intervals and sent forth to see how they’d do against the

older models. Our boat, and later we ourselves, were naturally taken for

such newcomers; the robots weren’t supplied with information about

humans, and line-of-sight radio often had them out of touch with the big

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