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moment be telling Alban ship about an assault boat full of Hunzza.
He imagined invisible weapons reaching out from hidden with ghostly
precision to lock on his small craft as it hurried to the mother ship.
He pictured some nameless Alban eagerly making ready to extract revenge
for his murdered Thargos felt very much like a target. He didn't like
the at all.
The object of Thargos's worried conjectures popped the the candy bars
into his mouth as he slumped in a huddle on window seat of the empty
gray-train car. Swathed in Jim's he did somewhat resemble a
large--very large--dog, if one look closely..
"Any more?" He was beginning to feel better. His broken felt as if
they were knitting nicely, and he'd been able to most of the pain with
self-generated hormones that acted on the appropriate nerve centers.
"That's it. When we stop we can get more." '
"When are we stopping?."
"The end of the line. Then we transfer to a long-distance train."
HANDS
"Oh? Where are we going?."
"A place." Korkal thought about that a moment. "Can I assume you
don't trust me?"
Jim glanced at him, smiled faintly, and looked away.
"That's only sensible, I suppose, but I want to explain something. You
don't know much about my people, do you?"
jim shook his head. "Just a little from school. Exoanthropology isn't
a large field of study yet."
Korkal nodded. "You don't know it, but you have a man you never heard
of to thank for that."
"Oh?"
"A man named Delta."
Jim gave a tiny start. Korkal noted it and wondered. But he let it
pass because he had more personal skribbets to grill.
"We aren't what you might call a warrior culture, but we do know how to
fight. And when the Great Pack makes war it has traditions that
predate our recorded history. By Terran standards it is a very old
history."
Jim stared straight ahead, but Korkal thought he was listening.
"You saved my life, and you didn't have to. Moreover, you risked your
own life to do it. And I have acknowledged that to you. Among our
people that places me under an enormous debt to you, and not just me.
The debt is owned by my family, my pack, and even, to some extent, the
Great Pack itself--the entire Alban race. Do you understand what that
means?"
"Among some of the old Asian cultures on Terra, supposedly if you saved
a man's life you were responsible for him forever."
Korkal mulled it. "No, I'd say it's the opposite. That's a strange
way of looking at things. Why did they do that?"
Jim's lips quirked. "I think the idea was that if fate had decreed it
was time for someone to die and somebody else thwarted that fate, then
the original victim was no longer a charge of fate but of the one who
rescued him. You could sort of call it the revenge of fate."
"The revenge of fate? Yes, I suppose that makes sense. You humans
never cease to surprise me."
"Do you know the meaning of the word condescension?"
Korkal thought about that and decided to change the subject. Jim, what
I'm trying to tell you is that I owe you. My family and Pack owe you.
Even my race is in your debt."
"A man once told me that races don't have morals or only interests. How
much does your race owe me?"
Korkal found himself even more impressed. And he that almost against
his will what he felt for this boy had from simple gratitude to growing
respect. He decided to this new feeling with honesty.
"It's a debt, Jim. But not a suicide pact. Alba owes you thing, but
not everything."
Jim turned to face him. "Do you believe the ends justify means?"
Korkal didn't know everything about humans, but even he the ethical
mine field hedging the simple question. "Jim, afraid to answer that
question. For several reasons. Can change the subject?"
"That's an answer. I guess. Sure. What else do you want to about?"
"You said you called somebody. Who was it? Wh."
"Korkal, I'm afraid to answer that question. For several sons. Can we
change the subject?"
Game and set, Korkal thought. But maybe not match. He learned to
enjoy the Terrie game of tennis.
"Hypothetically, if you called that person because you for them and
wanted to warn them, I may be able to help. To some protection."
"Alban protection?"
"No. Terran."
"Oh? What would that be?"
"Would Serena Half Moon, the Confed chairman, do?" Jim's eyes slowly
widened. "You can do that?" "Maybe. Probably. You want to find
out?"
"It might make a difference," Jim said. "In how I feel you."
Match to me, Korkal thought.
 The night stars glittered in the chill mountain air like emeralds
scattered carelessly on velvet, hard and uncaring. The tube station, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]