to have done so.
In a matter of ten minutes, there was heavy breathing at the door, then the entrance shook. Archer came into the igloo carrying a vast mass of equipment: a giant armful that could have bent the chassis of a truck.
“Put if over there,” frowned Rock. “Right by the door.”
“Would your friend like some lichen buns?” asked Tinglim.
Rock’s eyes rolled; “Would Archer like food? Does Lenin have a beard?”
Tinglim carefully inspected the Schecter skis, the compasses, sextants, knives, pistols, and camp gear Archer had brought in. “I take all this,” he concluded, “And I give you four sleds and dog teams.”
“No dice,” Rock said.
This brought a pleased expression to the Eskimo’s face. Out here men spent hours bartering—happy for the companionship.
“Very well, let us inspect your other goods.”
The two of them walked outside to Rock’s ’brid, Snorter. Rock unsheathed his new Liberator rifle from alongside the saddle. It was one of the newer models that Rock had recently acquired from the arms factory.
Tinglim’s fat brown hands ran covetously along the barrel of the perfectly machined .9mm rifle. He looked at the weapon closely, snapped the fifteen-round banana-clip in and out, admired the superlight magna-steel simulated-wood take-down stock. The weapon seemed to cause something approximating love in the man. He clicked the trigger, with the magazine out, of course, and then sighted along the barrel and gave an exclamation.
Tinglim had pointed it toward a husky, and had seen a tiny little red spot appear on the dog’s fur.
“It’s just the laser-locking mechanism,” Rock said. “When you sight a target, the rifle shoots forth a harmless red laser beam. The beam leaves a trace of light-activated phosphorescence where it was focused. Then, if you pull the trigger and are off a bit, the bullets will skew to the right or left to find the target.”
“Amazing,” Tinglim muttered. “Amazing. Perhaps I could up my offer for some more sleds and dogs,” Tinglim said, a greedy look in his eye. The Nara chief motioned to some men, said something in Naraese. Rock was then led back into the big igloo.
The Nara men brought in all kinds of artifacts, even jewels that Rock really didn’t need, but couldn’t resist looking at. The Doomsday Warrior nearly gasped out when he saw two neon-blue rabbitskin robes. They were beautiful, soft, and iridescent, catching every bit of light and reflecting it. Rock wanted them for Rona and Kim. The robes were of two sizes, one just right for each of the women.
“It took a hundred and fifty rabbits apiece to make them,” Tinglim boasted. “And not ordinary rabbits. Neon rabbits. They have pelts that are dazzlingly blue, like the feathers of a peacock. It takes great skill,” said Tinglim, “to catch a neon rabbit. Then the pelts have to be dried and hung up in narrow strips. Then they are dressed and sewn together with walrus gut—very strong. Then they must be hung up in evergreen trees to catch the light of the aurora borealis, enhancing their color so that these robes are almost ultraviolet and glow. The coat that is made from them is light and warm. Wrapped in furs like that of the neon rabbit, a woman could walk in the coldest night without freezing.”
Rock thought later that there might have been something in the tea to loosen up his mind. For he ended up trading quite a lot of supplies for the furs. Tinglim gave good value back, though, for another four rifles, some rounds, and compasses. He would board the ’brids while Rock traveled north, and promised to return the mounts, no strings attached, whenever the Freefighter came to claim them. They would be given foodstuffs for the trip, some of the harpoons the Eskimos used, a sled and six dogs for every member of the party, warm pelts, and a brick of Eskimo black tea, guaranteed to heat up the blood. Plus four clay gourds filled with highly volatile seal oil. “They might
In a matter of ten minutes, there was heavy breathing at the door, then the entrance shook. Archer came into the igloo carrying a vast mass of equipment: a giant armful that could have bent the chassis of a truck.
“Put if over there,” frowned Rock. “Right by the door.”
“Would your friend like some lichen buns?” asked Tinglim.
Rock’s eyes rolled; “Would Archer like food? Does Lenin have a beard?”
Tinglim carefully inspected the Schecter skis, the compasses, sextants, knives, pistols, and camp gear Archer had brought in. “I take all this,” he concluded, “And I give you four sleds and dog teams.”
“No dice,” Rock said.
This brought a pleased expression to the Eskimo’s face. Out here men spent hours bartering—happy for the companionship.
“Very well, let us inspect your other goods.”
The two of them walked outside to Rock’s ’brid, Snorter. Rock unsheathed his new Liberator rifle from alongside the saddle. It was one of the newer models that Rock had recently acquired from the arms factory.
Tinglim’s fat brown hands ran covetously along the barrel of the perfectly machined .9mm rifle. He looked at the weapon closely, snapped the fifteen-round banana-clip in and out, admired the superlight magna-steel simulated-wood take-down stock. The weapon seemed to cause something approximating love in the man. He clicked the trigger, with the magazine out, of course, and then sighted along the barrel and gave an exclamation.
Tinglim had pointed it toward a husky, and had seen a tiny little red spot appear on the dog’s fur.
“It’s just the laser-locking mechanism,” Rock said. “When you sight a target, the rifle shoots forth a harmless red laser beam. The beam leaves a trace of light-activated phosphorescence where it was focused. Then, if you pull the trigger and are off a bit, the bullets will skew to the right or left to find the target.”
“Amazing,” Tinglim muttered. “Amazing. Perhaps I could up my offer for some more sleds and dogs,” Tinglim said, a greedy look in his eye. The Nara chief motioned to some men, said something in Naraese. Rock was then led back into the big igloo.
The Nara men brought in all kinds of artifacts, even jewels that Rock really didn’t need, but couldn’t resist looking at. The Doomsday Warrior nearly gasped out when he saw two neon-blue rabbitskin robes. They were beautiful, soft, and iridescent, catching every bit of light and reflecting it. Rock wanted them for Rona and Kim. The robes were of two sizes, one just right for each of the women.
“It took a hundred and fifty rabbits apiece to make them,” Tinglim boasted. “And not ordinary rabbits. Neon rabbits. They have pelts that are dazzlingly blue, like the feathers of a peacock. It takes great skill,” said Tinglim, “to catch a neon rabbit. Then the pelts have to be dried and hung up in narrow strips. Then they are dressed and sewn together with walrus gut—very strong. Then they must be hung up in evergreen trees to catch the light of the aurora borealis, enhancing their color so that these robes are almost ultraviolet and glow. The coat that is made from them is light and warm. Wrapped in furs like that of the neon rabbit, a woman could walk in the coldest night without freezing.”
Rock thought later that there might have been something in the tea to loosen up his mind. For he ended up trading quite a lot of supplies for the furs. Tinglim gave good value back, though, for another four rifles, some rounds, and compasses. He would board the ’brids while Rock traveled north, and promised to return the mounts, no strings attached, whenever the Freefighter came to claim them. They would be given foodstuffs for the trip, some of the harpoons the Eskimos used, a sled and six dogs for every member of the party, warm pelts, and a brick of Eskimo black tea, guaranteed to heat up the blood. Plus four clay gourds filled with highly volatile seal oil. “They might
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