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Authors: Gordon R. Dickson
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desperately. “The gates were closed at sundown!”
“Well, they’ll be opened up again, if Bone Breaker says so—ask him!” snapped Anita. “Then go back to the village tonight and stay there and start organizing the villagers to defend themselves against the outlaws! That’s not a suggestion I’m giving you, it’s an order —from me as your superior! Now go do it, and good night, Mr. Pickham—I mean, Mr. Billham—I mean—oh, good night!”
There was a feminine snort of rage almost Dilbian in its intensity, and Bill heard the sound of shod human feet stamping off across the turf away from him in the blackness.
Bill stood where he was, stunned. It was part and parcel of the ridiculously unorthodox way in which things had been going ever since he had landed on Dilbia that he should find himself at the orders of a female trainee-assistant who apparently was stark, raving unreasonable on the subject of the local natives. Now what? Should he follow Anita’s orders, organize the Dilbians of Muddy Nose—even if he was able to accomplish that—into a fighting force, and end up being tried under out-space law for unwarranted interference with natives’ affairs on Dilbia? Or should he go back to the village, instruct the locals in the uses of picks and shovels, and end up being tried under out-space law for refusing to obey an order of his immediate superior?
Chapter 7
It was too much to figure out now. Bill gave up. Tomorrow, he would think the whole matter through. Meanwhile, there was the business of getting back to the village tonight—and into a human-style bed at the Residency, which he was far from unwilling to do. Maybe Anita was right about his only having to ask Bone Breaker to let himself and the Bluffer out after hours.
He turned about uncertainly, peering through the night, and to his relief, discovered the lights shining out of the windows of the outlaw buildings like beacons, a little way off. He went toward them, and as he got close, he discovered that he was coming up on the rear of the main building. He swung out around the closer end of it and headed toward the front entrance.
As Bill approached, he saw a number of Dilbian figures standing in front of the entrance steps—among them, standing a little apart, was the obese-looking figure of one who could only be the Hemnoid, Mula- ay , and with him two unusually tall Dilbians, one taller and thinner than the other, who should be Bone Breaker and the Hill Bluffer. Bill went up to them. As he got close, the large moon poked itself farther and farther above the mountain peak, and the silvery illumination in the fortified valley increased—so that by the time he stopped before all three of them, he was able to see their expressions clearly.
“Well, well, here he is,” chuckled Mula- ay richly. “Did you find your little female, Pick-and-Shovel?”
“I spoke to her,” replied Bill shortly. He turned toward the outlaw chief. “She suggested I could ask you whether you wouldn’t let the Hill Bluffer and myself out of the gate, even if it has been dosed for the night. I’d like to get back to the village before morning.”
“She did?” answered Bone Breaker, with that same deceptive mildness of tone. It was impossible for Bill to tell whether the Dilbian was intending to agree or refuse to let Bill and the Bluffer leave. The Hill Bluffer chuckled—for no reason apparent to Bill. Mula- ay chuckled again, also.
“You mean,” Mula- ay said, “you’re going to go off and leave the little creature here, after all?”
Bill felt his ears beginning to grow hot.
“For the moment,” he said, “yes. But I’ll be back, if necessary.”
“There you are!” said the Hill Bluffer happily. “Didn’t I say it? He’ll be back. And I’ll bring him!”
“Anytime, Pick-and-Shovel,” rumbled Bone Breaker mildly. “Just so it’s in the daytime.”
“Of course I’ll come in the daytime,” he said. “I wouldn’t be leaving now, but
“Well, they’ll be opened up again, if Bone Breaker says so—ask him!” snapped Anita. “Then go back to the village tonight and stay there and start organizing the villagers to defend themselves against the outlaws! That’s not a suggestion I’m giving you, it’s an order —from me as your superior! Now go do it, and good night, Mr. Pickham—I mean, Mr. Billham—I mean—oh, good night!”
There was a feminine snort of rage almost Dilbian in its intensity, and Bill heard the sound of shod human feet stamping off across the turf away from him in the blackness.
Bill stood where he was, stunned. It was part and parcel of the ridiculously unorthodox way in which things had been going ever since he had landed on Dilbia that he should find himself at the orders of a female trainee-assistant who apparently was stark, raving unreasonable on the subject of the local natives. Now what? Should he follow Anita’s orders, organize the Dilbians of Muddy Nose—even if he was able to accomplish that—into a fighting force, and end up being tried under out-space law for unwarranted interference with natives’ affairs on Dilbia? Or should he go back to the village, instruct the locals in the uses of picks and shovels, and end up being tried under out-space law for refusing to obey an order of his immediate superior?
Chapter 7
It was too much to figure out now. Bill gave up. Tomorrow, he would think the whole matter through. Meanwhile, there was the business of getting back to the village tonight—and into a human-style bed at the Residency, which he was far from unwilling to do. Maybe Anita was right about his only having to ask Bone Breaker to let himself and the Bluffer out after hours.
He turned about uncertainly, peering through the night, and to his relief, discovered the lights shining out of the windows of the outlaw buildings like beacons, a little way off. He went toward them, and as he got close, he discovered that he was coming up on the rear of the main building. He swung out around the closer end of it and headed toward the front entrance.
As Bill approached, he saw a number of Dilbian figures standing in front of the entrance steps—among them, standing a little apart, was the obese-looking figure of one who could only be the Hemnoid, Mula- ay , and with him two unusually tall Dilbians, one taller and thinner than the other, who should be Bone Breaker and the Hill Bluffer. Bill went up to them. As he got close, the large moon poked itself farther and farther above the mountain peak, and the silvery illumination in the fortified valley increased—so that by the time he stopped before all three of them, he was able to see their expressions clearly.
“Well, well, here he is,” chuckled Mula- ay richly. “Did you find your little female, Pick-and-Shovel?”
“I spoke to her,” replied Bill shortly. He turned toward the outlaw chief. “She suggested I could ask you whether you wouldn’t let the Hill Bluffer and myself out of the gate, even if it has been dosed for the night. I’d like to get back to the village before morning.”
“She did?” answered Bone Breaker, with that same deceptive mildness of tone. It was impossible for Bill to tell whether the Dilbian was intending to agree or refuse to let Bill and the Bluffer leave. The Hill Bluffer chuckled—for no reason apparent to Bill. Mula- ay chuckled again, also.
“You mean,” Mula- ay said, “you’re going to go off and leave the little creature here, after all?”
Bill felt his ears beginning to grow hot.
“For the moment,” he said, “yes. But I’ll be back, if necessary.”
“There you are!” said the Hill Bluffer happily. “Didn’t I say it? He’ll be back. And I’ll bring him!”
“Anytime, Pick-and-Shovel,” rumbled Bone Breaker mildly. “Just so it’s in the daytime.”
“Of course I’ll come in the daytime,” he said. “I wouldn’t be leaving now, but
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