Get off the Unicorn
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Get off the Unicorn». Краткое содержание книги:
Contents:
Lady in the Tower.--A Meeting of Minds.--Daughter.--Dull Drums.--Changeling.--Weather on Welladay.--The Thorns of Barevi.--Horse From a Different Sea.--Great Canine Chorus.--Finder's Keeper.--A Proper Santa Claus.--The Smallest Dragonboy.--Apple.--Honeymoon.
"Investigator Brack mistook you for a pirate," Tallav explained nervously. "Why didn't you identify?"
"I never had the chance," Shahanna protested. "I was checking coordinates…" she trailed off when she caught the look on Tallav's face. She whirled to see that Brack's weapon was trained on them.
"I'll take that iodine. Now," Brack said, smiling slightly. He grabbed it by the shock-webbing, then carefully stepped backward and moved up the rocks, his gun covering Shahanna, Tallav and Sharkey.
Suddenly they were distracted by violent whoshing splashing sounds from the lagoon and a whining whistle from above. Shahanna took the opportunity to launch herself, her body taking every bit of advantage from muscles that had been trained on a heavy-gravity planet as she leaped at Brack. He could not keep track of three attackers at once so his shots went wild. Shahanna ripped the valuable iodine from his hand, then rolled sideways and down. She ripped her suit against the jagged rocks, but managed to scramble away with the cube.
When she came to rest against a huge black fist of a rock, she dazedly saw Sharkey running up the ledge of his fishboat toward the hatch. Then she heard his despairing scream as half a dozen fishboats closed in on him and he was tumbled into the water to be ground against the converging hulls. A bolt lanced past her ear and she wrenched around, trying to put the rock fist between her and Brack.
Somewhere Tallav was shrieking. "They've got him. They got him. He's getting away. Stop him!" Then abruptly the sounds of the struggles ended and Tallav's exhortations ceased.
Battered and shaking with pain, Shahanna drew herself up. She saw Brack, spread across the rocks just below the drone. Odis was climbing down, hand over hand on the line which Shahanna could see had tangled Brack's feet and brought him down. In the lagoon, where roiling waters lapped around Tallav's knees, only two fishboats remained—one lay unbelievably sideways on the rocks; its belly was barnacle-covered, exposed to glisten in the sun. The second was cruising slowly in to shore near Tallav.
With a sigh Shahanna sagged and laid her scratched cheek against the cool cube.
"I really don't credit what I saw," Tallav protested as he watched Murv and Odis bandage the Seginan girl.
"When I reached my ship under the ledge," Murv said patiently, "I saw the school on sonar, flooding in through the passage after him."
"Then he was kept from Shoulder by the whales?" Tallav asked.
"Hardly matters," Murv remarked. "We've got to get you back to the hospital at Shoulder, Shahanna."
"And the iodine," Tallav said.
"Better get, then," Odis suggested, pointing toward the squall brewing in the west.
"This fardling planet and its fladding storms!" Murv growled.
"I've got to get iodine to Seginus," Shahanna insisted, struggling to rise.
"We will. Just as soon as we fix you up at Shoulder." "But my ship's—" Shahanna began, looking over her shoulder.
"Brack won't require his spaceship anymore," Murv assured her, helping her up and then swinging the cube to his back.
"Now, wait a minute, Murv," Tallav ordered, blocking his path.
"Fair's fair, Tallav. Brack blew her mercy ship up," Murv said, "and considering her help today, that's the least you can do."
"Of course, of course," Tallav replied.
"And to be sure, you can return the iodine to Shoulder," Murv went on, dumping the cube into Tallav's arms, "in Odis's drone."
"I'm left with your fishboat?" Odis asked, slightly amused.
"You're the sailor, friend," Murv laughed, thinking of the rough passage out of the lagoon.
"And that's the only fishboat we've got left until the embargo's lifted," Tallav added. "You be careful with it."
By the time Odis had clambered into the fishboat, the drones were circling above him. He tapped on the outboard panel release, plotted a course across the lagoon. The drones were approaching him now as he cut across the lagoon toward the passage out. They waggled farewell. Odis responded and then began to read his gauges. A man had to keep an eye on the weather of Welladay.
* * *
The three stories which follow are basically humorous – or at least they exhibit my own notions of whimsy and proportion. Humor is one of the hardest things to carry off in a story or a novel and especially in sf. But there are many humorous incidents in every life, so I've included such episodes in all my books.
"The Thorns of Barevi" was an attempt to cash in on the lucrative market for soft– and hard-core pornography in the 60's. The market paid well for such stories and many sf writers earned their monthly rent from such submissions. I thought I'd give it a try. I didn't really succeed there. But there were seeds in the short story that could eventually germinate a full novel about the modus operand! of the Catteni in subjugating a planet and its inhabitants. But I haven't written that one yet, either.
"Horse from a Different Sea" was written after my three years as a Cub Scout Den Mother. In my youth I was a Girl Scout; my brothers were Boy Scouts. So I have nothing but respect for the work done by scout leaders, and for any woman brave enough to be a den mother. Furthermore, the scouting programs have helped train many responsible and marvelous adults.
We're still in my Wilmington years with "The Great Canine Chorus." Actually, we acquired Wizard in New Jersey. He became one of the first K-9's to serve the Wilmington Police Force. He was an unusually intelligent beast, about eighty-five pounds' worth and so fast on his feet that he never had to bite, even when it was all legal. He never needed to, his handler told me: he'd trip up the guy he was chasing. Wizard was honorably retired after three years of service when it was discovered that he had displacia of the hip. He lived another five years in comfort before the condition worsened enough to cause him constant pain. He sired one litter of pups, and Chet kindly gave me one. Merlin, who is the hero of a novel. The Ma.r of Merlin.
Wilmington is often maligned by its residents as being a one-horse town because of the equestrian statue of Caesar Rodney (one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence), which inhabits the park in the center of town.
Although there's a lot of good music in Wilmington, and many fine semiprofessional singers, there never was a canine chorus… that I heard about it, at any rate! Who knows what's happened since I left?
The Thorns of Barevi
Christin Bjornsen wondered if summer on the planet Barevi could possible be the only season. There had been remarkably little variation in temperature in the nine months since she'd arrived here. She'd been four months in what appeared to be the single, sprawling city of the planet when she'd been a slave, and now had racked up five months of comparative freedom—tooth-and-nail survival—in this jungle, after her escape from the city in a stolen flitter.
Her sleeveless, one-piece tunic was made of an indestructible material, but it would not be very warm in cold weather. The scooped neckline was indecently low and the skirt ended midway down her long thighs. It was closely modeled, in fact, after the miniskirted sheath she had been wearing to class that spring morning the Catteni ships had descended on Denver. One moment she was on her way to the college campus; the next, she was one of thousands of astonished and terrified Denverites being driven by forcewhips up the ramp of a spaceship that made the Queen Mary look like a bathtub float. Once past the black maw of the ship, Chris, with all the others, swiftly succumbed to the odorless gas. When she and her fellow prisoners had awakened, they were in the slave compounds of Barevi, waiting to be sold.
Chris aimed the avocado-sized pit of the gorupear she was eating at the central stalk of a nearby thicket of purple-branched thom-bushes. The bush instantly rained tiny darts in all directions. Chris laughed. She had bet it would take less than five minutes for the young bush to rearm itself. And it had. The larger ones took longer to position new missiles. She'd had reason to find out.