Trigger and Friends by James H. Schmitz

Trigger reflected. “Something you pick up in some sections of the Evalee tropics, isn’t it?”

Mihul nodded. “That’s what you did, child! Skipped your shots on that last trip we took—and six months later you’re still paying for it. You were in one of those typical Dykart fever comas when we brought you in last night.”

“Very clever!” Trigger commented acidly.

“Very.” Mihul pursed her lips. “The Dykart bug causes temporary derangements, you know—spells during which convalescents talk wildly, imagine things.”

Trigger popped another fragment of meat between her teeth and chewed thoughtfully, looking over at Mihul. “Very good duck or whatever!” she said. “Like imagining they’ve been more or less kidnapped, you mean?”

“Things like that,” Mihul agreed.

Trigger shook her head. “I wouldn’t anyway. You types are bound to have all the legal angles covered.”

“Sure,” said Mihul. “Just thought I’d mention it. Have you used the Denton much on game?”

“Not too often.” Trigger had been wondering whether they’d left the stunner compartment loaded. “But it’s a very fair gun for it.”

“I know. The other one’s a Yool. Good game gun, too. You’ll use that.”

Trigger swallowed. She met the calm eyes watching her. “I’ve never handled a Yool. Why the switch?”

“They’re easy to handle. The reason for the switch is that you can’t just stun someone with a Yool. It’s better if we both stay armed, though it isn’t really necessary—so much money comes to play around here they can afford to keep the Uplands very thoroughly policed, and they do. But an ace in the hole never hurts.” She considered. “Changed your mind about that parole business yet?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Trigger said.

“I’d let you carry your own gun then.”

Trigger looked reflective, then shook her head. “I’d rather not.”

“Suit yourself,” Mihul said agreeably. “In that case though, there should be something else understood.”

“What’s that?”

“We’ll have up to three-four days to spend here together before Whatzzit shows up.”

“Whatzzit?”

“For future reference,” Mihul said, “Whatzzit will be that which—or he or she who—wishes to have that interview with you and has arranged for it. That’s in case you want to talk about it. I might as well tell you that I’ll do very little talking about Whatzzit.”

“I thought,” Trigger suggested, “I was one of the gang.”

“I’ve got special instructions on the matter,” Mihul said. “Anyway, Whatzzit shows up. You have your interview. After that we do whatever Whatzzit says we’re to do. As you know.”

Trigger nodded.

“Meanwhile,” said Mihul, “we’re here. Very pleasant place to spend three-four days in my opinion and, I think, in yours.”

“Very pleasant,” Trigger agreed. “I’ve been suspecting it was you who suggested it would be a good place to wait in.”

“No,” Mihul said. “Though I might have, if anyone had asked me. But Whatzzit’s handling all the arrangements, it seems. Now we could have fun here—which, I suspect, would be the purpose as far as you’re concerned.”

“Fun?” Trigger said.

“To put you into a good frame of mind for that interview, might be the idea,” Mihul said. “I don’t know. Three days here should relax almost anyone. Get in a little shooting. Loaf around the pools. Go for rides. Things like that. The only trouble is I’m afraid you’re nourishing dark notions which are likely to take all the enjoyment out of it. Not to mention the possibility of really relaxing.”

“Like what?” Trigger asked.

“Oh,” Mihul said, “there’re all sorts of possibilities, of course.” She nodded her head at the guns. “Like yanking the Denton out of my holster and feeding me a dose of the stunner. Or picking up that coffee pot there and tapping me on the skull with it. It’s about the right weight.”

Trigger said thoughtfully, “I don’t think either of those would work.”

“They might,” Mihul said. “They just might! You’re fast. You’ve been taught to improvise. And there’s something eating you. You’re edgy as a cat.”

“So?” Trigger said.

“So,” Mihul said, “there are a number of alternatives. I’ll lay them out for you. You take your pick. For one, I could just keep you doped. Three days in dope won’t hurt you, and you’ll certainly be no problem then. Another way—I’ll let you stay awake, but we stay in our rooms. I can lock you in at night, and that window is escape-proof. I checked. It would be sort of boring, but we can have tapes and stuff brought up. I’d have the guns put away and I’d watch you like a hawk every minute of the day.”

She looked at Trigger inquiringly. “Like either of those?”

“Not much,” Trigger said.

“They’re safe,” Mihul said. “Quite safe. Maybe I should. Well, the heat’s off, and it’s just a matter now of holding you for Whatzzit. There’re a couple of other choices. One of them has an angle you won’t like much either. On the other hand, it could give you a sporting chance to take off if you’re really wild about it. And it’s entirely in line with my instructions. I warned them you’re tricky.”

Trigger stopped eating. “Let’s hear that one.”

Mihul tilted the chair back a little farther and studied her a moment. “Pretty much like I said before. Everything friendly and casual. Gun a bit, swim a bit. Go for a ride or soar. Lie around in the sun. But because of those notions of yours, there’d be one thing added. An un-incentive.”

“An un-incentive?” Trigger repeated.

“Exactly,” said Mihul. “That isn’t at all in line with my instructions. But you’re a pretty dignified little character, and I think it should work.”

“Just what does this un-incentive consist of?” Trigger inquired warily.

“If you make a break and get away,” Mihul said, “that’s one thing. Something’s eating you, and I’m not sure I like the way this matter’s been handled. In fact, I don’t like it. So I’ll try to stop you from leaving, but if it turns out I couldn’t, I won’t hold any grudges. Even if I wake up with lumps.”

She paused. “On the other hand,” she said, “there we are—together for three-four days. I don’t want to spend them fighting off attempts to clobber me every thirty seconds. So any time you try and miss, Comteen, mama is going to pin you down fast and hot up your seat with whatever is handiest.”

Trigger stared at her.

She cleared her throat.

“While I’m carrying a gun?” she said shakily. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mihul!”

“You’re not going to gun me for keeps to get out of a licking,” Mihul said. “And that’s all the Yool can do. How else will you stop me?”

Trigger’s fingernails drummed the tabletop briefly. She wet her lips. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Of course,” said Mihul, “all this unpleasantness can be avoided very easily. There’s always the fourth method.”

“What’s that?”

“Just give parole.”

“No parole,” Trigger said thinly.

“All right. Which of the other ways will it be?”

Trigger didn’t hesitate. “The sporting chance,” she said. “The others aren’t choices.”

“Fair enough,” said Mihul. She stood up and went over to the wall. She selected a holster belt from the pair hanging there and fastened it around her. “I rather thought you’d pick it,” she said. She gave Trigger a brief grin. “Just make sure it’s a good opening!”

“I will,” Trigger said.

Mihul moved to the side table, took up the Denton, looked at it, and slid it into her holster. She turned to gaze out the window. “Nice country!” she said. “If you’re done with breakfast, how about going out right now for a first try at the birds?”

Trigger hefted the coffee pot gently. It was about the right weight at that. But the range was a little more than she liked, considering the un-incentive.

Besides, it might crack the monster’s skull.

She set the pot gently down again.

“Great idea!” she said. “And I’m all finished eating.”

10

Half an hour later there still hadn’t been any decent openings. Trigger was maintaining a somewhat broody silence at the moment. Mihul, beside her, in the driver’s seat of the tiny sports hopper, chatted pleasantly about this and that. But she didn’t appear to expect any answers.

There weren’t many half-hours left to be wasted.

Trigger stared thoughtfully out through the telescopic ground-view plate before her, while the hopper soared at a thousand feet toward the two-mile square of preserve area which had been assigned to them to hunt over that morning. Dimly reflected in the view plate, she could see the head of the gun-pup who went with that particular area lifted above the seat-back behind her. He was gazing straight ahead between the two humans, absorbed in canine reflections.

There was plenty of bird life down there. Some were original Terran forms, maintained unchanged in the U-League’s genetic banks. Probably many more were inspired modifications produced on Grand Commerce game ranches. At any other time, Trigger would have found herself enjoying the outing almost as much as Mihul.