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her report would be to the Commonality, if it didn't arrive until twenty years
from now.
* * *
Holm was waiting for her when she reached the cabin. "Poor Gweanny," he
murmured, taking her in his arms and kissing her.
"You look exhausted."
"I can believe it. Did you . . . have any luck?"
"Yes, I brought a recharger back with me," he replied, surprisingly. "It's
inside."
"Wow! That's a relief! From what I was told in High Pines, I wondered if there
was one this side of
Bernswa."
"At least one," he smiled, giving her a squeeze, "and you've got it."
"Golly! I don't know how to thank you, Holm!"
He grinned. "Maybe I'll think of some way."
"I get the impression you're not as beat as I am," she laughed.
"I shouldn't be. I got back three days ago. Been taking it easy ever since."
"How did you manage that?"
"I was given a lift by a fellow in Lopat, the man who loaned me the recharger.
He wanted to know where I was taking it, anyway, so he flew out here with me
riding on his back."
She thought about it for a moment. "Doesn't that compromise the location of
our little love-nest?"
"Not really. I know that guy. He won't talk to any Lontastan agents about us."
"Had any agents been in Lopat?"
"I don't think so. Of course I didn't ask, but someone would have been likely
to mention such unusual visitors."
Gweanvin nodded, and asked no further questions. Holm hadn't been as discreet
as she would have preferred, but then he wasn't a frontliner, experienced at
disclosing not one datum more than he wished to disclose. Considering his
backwater background, so far away from the econo-war, he had done very well
indeed.
They entered the cabin and he brought the recharger out of a closet. It was a
large clumsy device, in a plastic block. It weighed at least twenty pounds,
typical of the comparatively unpolished technology of the Independency of a
century ago.
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But it worked. It generated energy. Gweanvin punched its probe-needles through
her skin to the contacts of her power pack rather gingerly because the needles
were painfully dull and thirty minutes later she had her recharge.
"When are you leaving?" Holm asked.
"Soon . . . tomorrow morning. I really must, Holm."
"Okay. I'll hate to see you go but you know that."
"Returning will be more pleasure for me than leaving," she said. "And Holm, I
don't want you to see me go. It would be best if you were far away from the
cabin before I go on power."
"Oh . . . in case the Lontastans spot you leaving and follow your backtrail?"
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"Yes. My light weight makes it possible for me to outwarp any agent I ever
met, so the chances of my being caught are slight. But there's nothing to stop
the agents from coming here and questioning you."
He laughed. "A lot I'd tell them!"
"You could wind up telling them more than you intended," she said grimly. "You
know no more of their tricky games than I knew of woodsmanship and if they
find out I'm coming back . . . well, you can kiss our plans for a long and
happy mating season goodbye."
After a moment, he said slowly, "I'll leave around midnight, Gweanny, just as
I did the first night. When you go, I'll be more than twenty miles away."
* * *
He was gone the next morning. Gweanvin prepared a large breakfast and ate it
slowly. She was in no hurry to lift off, since each moment of delay now would
put Holm farther away. Of course it was not really likely that she would be
backtracked, but she did not want to take even a slight risk of bringing
Holm and Marvis together.
She was not, she realized, being completely reasonable on that score. But
neither would Marvis be, if their roles were reversed. Had she and Marvis been
devoted sisters, perhaps they would willingly share the only available male of
their species. But they were not. The expediencies of the econo-war could not
be left out of the picture. She and Marvis were competitors, and frontline
competitors at that, which meant they were among the relatively small group of
econo-warriors who might, on occasion, carry the conflict to the point of
shooting at each other.
Sharing the available male would be reasonable. It would be the surest way to
give their new species a toehold on continued existence. But circumstances did
not really allow her to be reasonable . . .
. . . Not even if she wanted to, which she didn't. She grinned. It was such
fun to outdo Marvis of the big bust!
Not that Holm was . . . well, was her ideal.
Gosh, he was close to sixty Standard Years, old enough to be her father! Even
though, by the homo sap norm, he only looked thirty. Of course he doted on
her; he made that all too obvious. Letting her have her way about everything,
instead of forcefully taking charge. For instance, letting her leave for three
years, or maybe even longer, without the least ruckus, although he plainly
hated the idea.
Oh, well. It was too much to expect the one available male would be someone
she could fall madly in love with. At least she found him attractive enough
for all practical purposes. And he would make a terrific father, here on
Arbora. She had sized his woodsmanship up wrong earlier, because he had
trouble teaching it to her. But that was because he hadn't ever bothered to
verbalize a lot of what he knew before.
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The things that man could do . . . the success he had had scrounging equipment
for her trek to High
Pines . . . and that bow he had made for her, as good or better than any
wooden bow that could be bought in a Primgran sporting goods shop . . . and
these lovely breakfast eggs she was eating. Despite his instructions, she
hadn't yet been able to find a wild chicken nest, but when Holm went
egg-gathering he always came back with a sack of beauties.
And if he was lacking somewhat in youthfulness and forcefulness, he was
nevertheless plenty masculine. And with him sex could have a purpose beyond
play. She suspected that difference alone would hereafter make dalliance with
homo sap males too trivial to bother with.
What was that quote she had noticed in that ancient treatise on the
experimental crossing of donkeys and horses to produce mules? Oh, yes:
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" . . . it is a curious fact that once a male donkey has served a female
donkey, it is often reluctant to transfer its attentions to a female horse."
A "curious" fact, indeed. Seemingly even donkeys have an intuitive preference
for producing a viable strain of offspring . . .
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Contents
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6
She rose from the table and prepared to leave. That consisted mainly of
removing the warm velveen clothing which would no longer be needed when she
went on power. She walked through the cabin and paused, looking at the bow
Holm had made her. It was a handsome piece of work, and she was tempted to
take it and a few arrows along as mementos.
Well, why not? If Marvis Jans were still around, she wanted to lead her away,
didn't she? The extra mass of the bow ought to slow her just enough to keep
Marvis from growing quickly discouraged. She slung it across her shoulder and
tied the quiver of six arrows to her belt.
Gweanvin stepped outside, took a final glance around, then semi-inerted and
activated her propulsion field. Rapidly she soared up into the clear morning
sky, lifting directly away from the planet, enjoying the physical comfort of
having all her life-support systems going again and the freedom of motion
which could come no other way.
Her detectors showed a spot of activity off to the southeast . . . the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
