Myth conceptions by Robert Asprin

Actually, it had been the second assignment. I had a sudden flash recollection of Ajax drawing and firing in a smooth, fluid motion, cutting down a signal standard so distant it was barely visible.

“My advice would be to send him back,” Aahz was saying. “If you want to soothe your conscience, give him partial payment and a good recommendation, but the way he is, he’s no good to anybody.”

Perhaps it was because of Tanda’s lecture, but I was suddenly aware that Aahz had specifically stated his suggestion as “advice,” not an order.

“Heads up, boss,” Brockhurst murmured.

“We’ve got company.”

Following his gaze, I saw Ajax stumbling toward us, his ghostlike paleness flickering in the darkness like:.. well, like a ghost. It occurred to me that what had started out as a moment of solitude was becoming awfully crowded.

“Evenin’, youngster,” he saluted. “Didn’t mean to interrupt nothin! Didn’t know you folks was havin’ a meetin’.”

“We … ah … we were just talking,” I explained, suddenly embarrassed.

“I kin guess about what, too,” Ajax sighed. “Well, I was goin’ to do this private-like, but I suppose the rest o’ you might as well hear it, too.”

“Do what, Ajax?” I asked.

“Resign,” he said. “Seems to me to be the only decent thing to do after what happened today.”

“It could have happened to anyone,” I shrugged.

“Nice of you to say so, youngster,” Ajax smiled, “but I kin see the handwriting on the wall. I’m just too old to be any good to anybody anymore. ‘Bout time I admitted it to myself.”

I found myself noticing the droop in his shoulders and a listlessness that hadn’t been there when we first met on Deva.