later year war projects, it was funded by the Ank.”
“Ironic it comes back to shoot them. But
clones are stupid, right?” Delovoa and I had dealt with clones some decades
ago. He had even dissected some.
“Single-minded of purpose might be a
better description. They can handle simple tasks and instructions. If he was
really designed to be an assassin, then he would be doing what he was created to
do. I said the Ank traders were the best way to get some chrodite, if any still
existed.”
I grunted in exasperation.
“You gave all that information to an
assassin who just shot three Ank?” Delovoa really did lack wisdom.
“Three Ank were attacked?”
“Yeah, I haven’t told anyone. I don’t
want there to be a panic.”
“Did he steal any chrodite?”
“Not that I know of,” I said. “What did
the person look like you explained all this to?”
“I don’t know. Normal. Man. Colmarian.”
“Not this tall and this wide with four
arms?” I asked, indicating with my hands the approximate dimensions of 19-10.
“Not at all,” he said.
“But wait a minute, even a single-minded
clone wouldn’t be taking on contracts. And travelling. Or coming to talk to you.”
“Yeah. He probably only understands how
to kill people.”
“But he didn’t kill them. He
purposefully injured them. And not even badly.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t know. The other thing
is that the armor can portal,” Delovoa said.
“I could have told you that. He blipped
in, fired, blipped out. Do you know how it works? Even a-drives are supposed to
be huge. I was exposed to a Portal before and it almost turned me inside-out even
though I was blocks away from it. This one was nothing. Just some bright light.”
“I don’t know how Portals work,” Delovoa
said.
“What are you talking about? You fix our
Portals.”
“I’m a mechanic. I tighten screws and
weld cracks. I know the engineering of a Portal. I don’t have the faintest
concept of the physics involved. I doubt there is any one person in the galaxy
who knows that anymore.”
“So you gave a bunch of information to
an assassin or his handler whose job may or may not involve killing me. But
what the void did you get out of it?”
Delovoa walked across the room to a
glass cabinet. He opened the door and carefully removed an ornate sculpture of
some kind.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a crystal-porcelain figurine from
Onyeu representing happiness. It’s a water fowl. They didn’t allow any to be
taken off the planet. And of course, the planet was essentially destroyed in
the war. It is probably the only one left in existence.”
I glowered at Delovoa, who was lightly
stroking the object.
“That’s a duck?”
“They had a different word for it,” he
said haughtily, “zshu-maen.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“Give me that,” I said, stepping
forward.
“No!” Delovoa screamed. “Help! Help!
Help!” He shrieked.
One of his boy-toy twinks came running
into the room.
I pointed a gun at him.
“Go away,” I demanded.
The twink screamed and ran.
I plodded a few steps forward and it hit
me square in the chest. I felt my head go light and my feet and hands turn to
ice.
“Great,” I managed to squeak.
My gun dropped from my limp fingers and
I soon followed it to the ground.
As my heart was seizing up I tried to
occupy myself by counting the squares on Delovoa’s carpet. No, they weren’t
squares, they were triangles. Or squares in triangles? Dumb carpet.
It was like I was underwater holding my
breath. Maybe I was in space. Belvaille had finally lost its protective
shield—probably because Delovoa had forgotten to fix it while he was off
trading for ducks.
Time goes weird when you’re dying. I
could feel a lifetime slide by. Not a particularly interesting lifetime, though.
Maybe the life of a librarian who wasn’t allowed to read any books.
When I came around, Delovoa was next to
me looking worried.
“How long was I down for?” I
“Ironic it comes back to shoot them. But
clones are stupid, right?” Delovoa and I had dealt with clones some decades
ago. He had even dissected some.
“Single-minded of purpose might be a
better description. They can handle simple tasks and instructions. If he was
really designed to be an assassin, then he would be doing what he was created to
do. I said the Ank traders were the best way to get some chrodite, if any still
existed.”
I grunted in exasperation.
“You gave all that information to an
assassin who just shot three Ank?” Delovoa really did lack wisdom.
“Three Ank were attacked?”
“Yeah, I haven’t told anyone. I don’t
want there to be a panic.”
“Did he steal any chrodite?”
“Not that I know of,” I said. “What did
the person look like you explained all this to?”
“I don’t know. Normal. Man. Colmarian.”
“Not this tall and this wide with four
arms?” I asked, indicating with my hands the approximate dimensions of 19-10.
“Not at all,” he said.
“But wait a minute, even a single-minded
clone wouldn’t be taking on contracts. And travelling. Or coming to talk to you.”
“Yeah. He probably only understands how
to kill people.”
“But he didn’t kill them. He
purposefully injured them. And not even badly.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t know. The other thing
is that the armor can portal,” Delovoa said.
“I could have told you that. He blipped
in, fired, blipped out. Do you know how it works? Even a-drives are supposed to
be huge. I was exposed to a Portal before and it almost turned me inside-out even
though I was blocks away from it. This one was nothing. Just some bright light.”
“I don’t know how Portals work,” Delovoa
said.
“What are you talking about? You fix our
Portals.”
“I’m a mechanic. I tighten screws and
weld cracks. I know the engineering of a Portal. I don’t have the faintest
concept of the physics involved. I doubt there is any one person in the galaxy
who knows that anymore.”
“So you gave a bunch of information to
an assassin or his handler whose job may or may not involve killing me. But
what the void did you get out of it?”
Delovoa walked across the room to a
glass cabinet. He opened the door and carefully removed an ornate sculpture of
some kind.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a crystal-porcelain figurine from
Onyeu representing happiness. It’s a water fowl. They didn’t allow any to be
taken off the planet. And of course, the planet was essentially destroyed in
the war. It is probably the only one left in existence.”
I glowered at Delovoa, who was lightly
stroking the object.
“That’s a duck?”
“They had a different word for it,” he
said haughtily, “zshu-maen.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“Give me that,” I said, stepping
forward.
“No!” Delovoa screamed. “Help! Help!
Help!” He shrieked.
One of his boy-toy twinks came running
into the room.
I pointed a gun at him.
“Go away,” I demanded.
The twink screamed and ran.
I plodded a few steps forward and it hit
me square in the chest. I felt my head go light and my feet and hands turn to
ice.
“Great,” I managed to squeak.
My gun dropped from my limp fingers and
I soon followed it to the ground.
As my heart was seizing up I tried to
occupy myself by counting the squares on Delovoa’s carpet. No, they weren’t
squares, they were triangles. Or squares in triangles? Dumb carpet.
It was like I was underwater holding my
breath. Maybe I was in space. Belvaille had finally lost its protective
shield—probably because Delovoa had forgotten to fix it while he was off
trading for ducks.
Time goes weird when you’re dying. I
could feel a lifetime slide by. Not a particularly interesting lifetime, though.
Maybe the life of a librarian who wasn’t allowed to read any books.
When I came around, Delovoa was next to
me looking worried.
“How long was I down for?” I
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