melon.
Mara eyed Standback narrowly and slammed her foot
against the bare floor. Nothing happened. She stamped
again, harder. Still nothing. She took a running start and
stamped with both feet, hard enough to hurt her ankles.
Nothing. She gave up and leaned on the wall.
Huge leather balloons popped out of the floor. Filling
instantly with compressed air, the balloons smashed the
new furniture to kindling.
Mara sidled around the edge of the room, squeezing
between the wall and the balloons. “That’s pretty
impressive, Standback – hello?” She squeaked a balloon
with her thumb. “Standback?”
Mara heard an answering squeak. She leapt onto one
of the balloons, poised there like a cat, and saw a hand
struggling upward in the crack where all the balloons met.
Mara rolled down to the hand and planted her feet
against balloon, her right shoulder against another.
Gradually, the two moved apart. She heard a gasping
inhale below her, then a thump as something hit the floor.
“Thank you so very much,” Standback said feebly.
“The Thudbaggers are nearly perfect – I don’t have a bruise
on me – but I couldn’t really breathe in there.”
“You could make a snorkel,” Mara said sarcastically.
She had grown up near the sea, ” – a short breathing tube.”
There was a hiss, then another. The balloons were
deflating. Standback appeared among them, stuffing them
back below floor level. He said dubiously, “That’s an
awfully simplistic answer. You should leave design
questions to the specialists. On the other hand,” he added
thoughtfully, “if it had reserve tanks – and an air pump –
and free-swinging gimbals to keep it upright. . .” He
sketched it all out on the only clear portion of his shirt.
Mara, who needed a rest, sat beside him, her chin in
her hand. “I see why you’re having problems getting
promoted. Do you have to get these all working to win
approval?”
“Oh, my goodness, no.” Standback caught himself and
added, almost defensively, “Besides, they all work
wonderfully!” He stared out at the smashed furniture
wistfully. “No, it’s simply a matter of getting the
Committee’s stamp of approval. Unfortunately, I can’t
even get their attention. They completely ignore me.”
“Do you do everything by committee?”
“Some humans think we invented the committee.”
“And until you get their approval, poor Watchout can’t
be betrothed to you?”
“Nor should she be,” Standback said glumly. “After
all, would you agree to marry a gnome with no
credentials?”
Mara didn’t think she would marry a gnome at all, but
decided it wouldn’t be polite to point that out. “You’re very
nice just for yourself, credentials or no. And now,” she
said firmly, “what about the weapons?”
“A bargain’s a bargain.” Standback, making a final
note on his shirt, opened the rear door of the Thudbagger
room, and Mara found herself in a branch of the main
tunnel again. They walked back toward the place where
the tunnel split in two. Mara looked interestedly at the
piles of debris and the bulky inventions half hidden under
canvas or in shadow. Several of them were labeled, but
life’s too short to spend reading gnome labels.
“Wait.” Mara had noticed a device carelessly tossed to
one side on the tunnel floor.
It had a shiny black hand-grip butt and stock that
supported a shining tube-and-yoke arrangement of blue
steel and black wire, which was topped by a small sighting
tube and a tiny ring with crossed hairs in it. The whole
effect was remarkably menacing.
“What is it?” she asked, staring at it in awe.
“What? Oh, that.” Standback nudged it with his foot
disdainfully. “A co-worker made it.”
“You disapprove of him?” Mara hazarded.
Standback nodded, his beard whipping up and down
rapidly. “It was to be his Life Quest, and he abandoned it.
Can you imagine, abandoning your Life Quest? He’s
always sworn that he’d fix it some day, but I doubt if he
can; it has too few parts, it’s far too small, and it can’t even
carry itself.” He finished indignantly, “It doesn’t even have
a place for the operator to sit!”
Mara bent over it. “It fits in your hand.”
“You see what I mean?”