have to sell your information to a exoveterinarian instead of the Marquis.” He paused. “I'll keep my communicator activated. If she hasn't got some way to nullify the signal, it should transmit everything we say."
"Are you sure you'd rather go alone?"
"As a matter of fact, I'd much rather have company,” said Nighthawk, repressing a smile. “Give her two targets instead of just one."
"Damn it!” exploded Malloy. “You were supposed to say that you wanted to face her alone!"
"I do, really. I just wanted to see your reaction."
"Cold-blooded killers aren't supposed to have a sense of humor,” muttered the little man.
"Then I must be a hot-blooded killer."
"Let's just hope you're a long-lived one."
"One of me is."
Nighthawk left the ship, found a waiting tram, and got off at the tower, where he rented a heated powersled. It was a type with which he was unfamiliar, so he had the saleswoman program it for him.
"You're sure these are the coordinates you want?” she asked.
"Why not?"
"I'll need a larger deposit,” she said apologetically. “Lots of people go out to the Ice Palace. Almost none of them come back."
"What happens to them?"
"Beats me,” she said. “I don't know. I don't want to know. I just want a bigger deposit."
Nighthawk pressed his thumb against a contract rider that she produced.
"You got any advice for someone going to the Ice Palace?” he asked while waiting for the thumbprint to be cleared and approved.
"Don't believe your eyes."
"I don't think I understand,” said Nighthawk, as the computer approved his print.
"She looks human, but she's not."
"What is she?"
"If you survive and return the sled, maybe you can tell me,” said the woman.
[Back to Table of Contents]
8.
Nighthawk could see the Ice Palace from five miles away. It appeared, truly, to be a structure of snow and ice, blindingly white in the midday sun. There were huge turrets, crenelated walls, towers and ramps and balustrades, and literally millions of icicles hanging down from every section and structure. All that was missing was a moat, and he was sure it was only because it was too cold for water.
He approached to within a mile, then slowed the powersled to half speed, alert for any possible danger. Small white animals scurried to and fro, some even racing alongside the sled for a moment, but they veered off as he neared the main gate.
Finally he came to a halt in front of the Ice Palace and stepped off his sled. He looked around for guards and was mildly surprised not to find any. He walked up to the gate and tried it. It was locked, and he turned his laser pistol on it, melting both the locking mechanism and the latch itself.
He stepped cautiously inside. The walls and floor still seemed to be made of ice, but his spacesuit told him that the temperature was 23 degrees Celsius. He cautiously removed his helmet, then quickly slipped out of his suit. He touched some icicles that hung down from the ceiling; they were quartz, quite warm to the touch. Spheres of light, not quite solid, with no discernable power source, floated near the ceiling, illuminating the room.
He walked through a number of chambers, accompanied by about half the spheres, which seemed to sense his presence and anticipate his needs, racing to provide light whenever he turned his head to look in a new direction. The walls and floors glittered like polished diamonds. Some of the chambers were furnished with pieces that matched the magical decor of the palace, others were empty. Nowhere was there any sign of life. No humans, no aliens, no pets, no guard animals, nothing.
Finally he came to an exceptionally large room, perhaps sixty feet on a side. Lilting alien music came from a tiny speaker that hovered near the ceiling at the exact center of the room, and a number of the light spheres floated about it in a stately dance that had no pattern but displayed a form and grace that seemed to match the music perfectly. Lining the walls were
"Are you sure you'd rather go alone?"
"As a matter of fact, I'd much rather have company,” said Nighthawk, repressing a smile. “Give her two targets instead of just one."
"Damn it!” exploded Malloy. “You were supposed to say that you wanted to face her alone!"
"I do, really. I just wanted to see your reaction."
"Cold-blooded killers aren't supposed to have a sense of humor,” muttered the little man.
"Then I must be a hot-blooded killer."
"Let's just hope you're a long-lived one."
"One of me is."
Nighthawk left the ship, found a waiting tram, and got off at the tower, where he rented a heated powersled. It was a type with which he was unfamiliar, so he had the saleswoman program it for him.
"You're sure these are the coordinates you want?” she asked.
"Why not?"
"I'll need a larger deposit,” she said apologetically. “Lots of people go out to the Ice Palace. Almost none of them come back."
"What happens to them?"
"Beats me,” she said. “I don't know. I don't want to know. I just want a bigger deposit."
Nighthawk pressed his thumb against a contract rider that she produced.
"You got any advice for someone going to the Ice Palace?” he asked while waiting for the thumbprint to be cleared and approved.
"Don't believe your eyes."
"I don't think I understand,” said Nighthawk, as the computer approved his print.
"She looks human, but she's not."
"What is she?"
"If you survive and return the sled, maybe you can tell me,” said the woman.
[Back to Table of Contents]
8.
Nighthawk could see the Ice Palace from five miles away. It appeared, truly, to be a structure of snow and ice, blindingly white in the midday sun. There were huge turrets, crenelated walls, towers and ramps and balustrades, and literally millions of icicles hanging down from every section and structure. All that was missing was a moat, and he was sure it was only because it was too cold for water.
He approached to within a mile, then slowed the powersled to half speed, alert for any possible danger. Small white animals scurried to and fro, some even racing alongside the sled for a moment, but they veered off as he neared the main gate.
Finally he came to a halt in front of the Ice Palace and stepped off his sled. He looked around for guards and was mildly surprised not to find any. He walked up to the gate and tried it. It was locked, and he turned his laser pistol on it, melting both the locking mechanism and the latch itself.
He stepped cautiously inside. The walls and floor still seemed to be made of ice, but his spacesuit told him that the temperature was 23 degrees Celsius. He cautiously removed his helmet, then quickly slipped out of his suit. He touched some icicles that hung down from the ceiling; they were quartz, quite warm to the touch. Spheres of light, not quite solid, with no discernable power source, floated near the ceiling, illuminating the room.
He walked through a number of chambers, accompanied by about half the spheres, which seemed to sense his presence and anticipate his needs, racing to provide light whenever he turned his head to look in a new direction. The walls and floors glittered like polished diamonds. Some of the chambers were furnished with pieces that matched the magical decor of the palace, others were empty. Nowhere was there any sign of life. No humans, no aliens, no pets, no guard animals, nothing.
Finally he came to an exceptionally large room, perhaps sixty feet on a side. Lilting alien music came from a tiny speaker that hovered near the ceiling at the exact center of the room, and a number of the light spheres floated about it in a stately dance that had no pattern but displayed a form and grace that seemed to match the music perfectly. Lining the walls were
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