technicians on Humus. For different purposes, of course. Cost me a pretty credit, not to mention faking hospital credentials for the purchaser and a host of other details! But I have few hobbies and can indulge. If you look closely, you can make out the imprint of the noted Elvor laboratories on each instrument. See how they catch the light!”
Kitten was trying to look anywhere but at the objects of Rose’s adoration. One glance had been more than sufficient. Where Rose saw beauty, she saw only a nightmare of piercing points and fine-honed edges. Things for gripping, things for slicing, things for scraping.
She shuddered for the first time. Even the most experienced operatives had only so much control.
“I understand,” she continued drily, “that the sublimation of normal desires through the use of such devices is positive proof of the wielder’s impotence.”
“Such well-honed insults! Such delicately practiced invective!” Rose clapped his hands boyishly. “I’ve read formal psychology, my dear. That is true in a few cases. Only a few. Anyway, as you can see, I’ve turned the actual operation—pardon the pun—over to this fine young friend of mine. It is him you should be trying to dissuade. He requested most firmly that he be permitted to perform as my surrogate. I agreed, because of my persistent problem in such things. I have a regrettable lack of patience and tend to get carried away early. That spoils things much too soon. Very unprofessional, too. My youthful compatriot, however, brings not only the necessary patience to the task, but also a certain young enthusiasm. And he’s received expert instruction, even if he remains less skillful than I.”
The mention of the semi-naked young man reminded Kitten of his unspeaking presence. She turned, with difficulty, to stare curiously at him. On impulse, she gave him her best helpless-young-maiden look. It must have had some effect, because the young man finally spoke.
“I’ve always had a suppressed desire to play at lower abdominal surgery without bothersome encumbrances like anesthetics,” he said smoothly. He was toying with a long thin pair of finely-crafted forceps with razor-sharp tips. They made a squeaky sound whenever the two blades snicked together. A hand came up and lifted back the black hood.
It was Russell Kingsley.
“Relax, Maijib,” Hammurabi said to his First Mate. The hoveraft sped over the slick waters. “Rose won’t try anything silly or unprofitable. He’s old, but he’s not stupid. Our best insurance is thousands of kilometers skyward. There’s no way he can get to the dust aboard the
Umbra.”
“Even so,” said the diminutive Takaharu, “I’d feel a lot better about the whole business if you’d talk with him via comm and forget this needless appearance in person.”
“No good, Maj. He wouldn’t believe a word I said from the comfort of the
Umbra’s
forecabin. He might consent to come aboard, but he’s a tricky old devil. I’d rather not let him on ship. He needs something in the way of concrete proof of my seriousness. I’m it.”
The hoveraft slowed as Takaharu slid the rented craft slowly around the rocky circumference of the island, searching for the landing. Hammurabi noted idly that the large quasi-evergreens grew down almost to the water’s edge, where the green stalks of water plants took over from the land-dwellers. It had been the same on all the islands they’d passed thus far. It was the same on Will’s Landing, the island on which Repler City was located. It was more intense at the equator and less so nearer the poles.
The docking area sat at the head of a natural inlet. Several other vessels, one a transport of fair size, were tied up or beached at the landing. As they rounded the last point the comm buzzed and Takaharu leaned to flip the channel open. The small vidscreen lit but no picture appeared.
“You in the blue raft—identify yourself and state your business.”
Mal leaned
Kitten was trying to look anywhere but at the objects of Rose’s adoration. One glance had been more than sufficient. Where Rose saw beauty, she saw only a nightmare of piercing points and fine-honed edges. Things for gripping, things for slicing, things for scraping.
She shuddered for the first time. Even the most experienced operatives had only so much control.
“I understand,” she continued drily, “that the sublimation of normal desires through the use of such devices is positive proof of the wielder’s impotence.”
“Such well-honed insults! Such delicately practiced invective!” Rose clapped his hands boyishly. “I’ve read formal psychology, my dear. That is true in a few cases. Only a few. Anyway, as you can see, I’ve turned the actual operation—pardon the pun—over to this fine young friend of mine. It is him you should be trying to dissuade. He requested most firmly that he be permitted to perform as my surrogate. I agreed, because of my persistent problem in such things. I have a regrettable lack of patience and tend to get carried away early. That spoils things much too soon. Very unprofessional, too. My youthful compatriot, however, brings not only the necessary patience to the task, but also a certain young enthusiasm. And he’s received expert instruction, even if he remains less skillful than I.”
The mention of the semi-naked young man reminded Kitten of his unspeaking presence. She turned, with difficulty, to stare curiously at him. On impulse, she gave him her best helpless-young-maiden look. It must have had some effect, because the young man finally spoke.
“I’ve always had a suppressed desire to play at lower abdominal surgery without bothersome encumbrances like anesthetics,” he said smoothly. He was toying with a long thin pair of finely-crafted forceps with razor-sharp tips. They made a squeaky sound whenever the two blades snicked together. A hand came up and lifted back the black hood.
It was Russell Kingsley.
“Relax, Maijib,” Hammurabi said to his First Mate. The hoveraft sped over the slick waters. “Rose won’t try anything silly or unprofitable. He’s old, but he’s not stupid. Our best insurance is thousands of kilometers skyward. There’s no way he can get to the dust aboard the
Umbra.”
“Even so,” said the diminutive Takaharu, “I’d feel a lot better about the whole business if you’d talk with him via comm and forget this needless appearance in person.”
“No good, Maj. He wouldn’t believe a word I said from the comfort of the
Umbra’s
forecabin. He might consent to come aboard, but he’s a tricky old devil. I’d rather not let him on ship. He needs something in the way of concrete proof of my seriousness. I’m it.”
The hoveraft slowed as Takaharu slid the rented craft slowly around the rocky circumference of the island, searching for the landing. Hammurabi noted idly that the large quasi-evergreens grew down almost to the water’s edge, where the green stalks of water plants took over from the land-dwellers. It had been the same on all the islands they’d passed thus far. It was the same on Will’s Landing, the island on which Repler City was located. It was more intense at the equator and less so nearer the poles.
The docking area sat at the head of a natural inlet. Several other vessels, one a transport of fair size, were tied up or beached at the landing. As they rounded the last point the comm buzzed and Takaharu leaned to flip the channel open. The small vidscreen lit but no picture appeared.
“You in the blue raft—identify yourself and state your business.”
Mal leaned
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