Starwolf (Omnibus)

by Edmond Hamilton

  Eron began to curse. "The men at the starport said they thought a ship landed you and then took off again. What kind of ship?"

  "A Starwolf ship," said Chane.

  That made Eron's eyes pop. But Dilullo looked at Chane and for this once, at least, a warm light came into his eyes.

  "Chane, then you went home to Varna? And you got back alive? How was it?"

  "It was wonderful, and it was dangerous," said Chane, "and I'm damned glad I did it."

  Eron broke in, raging. "You Mercs have been nothing but bad luck to me since you came here. This settles it—when the Qajars demand you you'll all be turned over to them. I don't care if they put you over a slow fire."

  "Relax, Eron," said Chane. "It will be a long time before the Qajars bother you or anyone else. Those nice, crazy, torture-happy, beauty-loving people have been most thoroughly smashed, and their world has been most thoroughly looted, and I don't think anyone will hear anything from them for a long time."

  "Smashed? With their defenses?" cried Eron. "Lies, lies. Who could do that?"

  "The Starwolves did it," said Chane, and his teeth flashed. "And I led them there." And he turned to Dilullo and said, "We didn't really kill hardly anybody there, John, but we did strip them clean, and that pays them off for the fun they had with us."

  "Those treasures!" cried Eron. "And the Singing Suns? What became of them?"

  "I got them," said Chane.

  Eron began to shout again. "Lies, lies! You had nothing, nothing at all, when you landed on Rith."

  Chane nodded. "Of course. Do you think I would bring the Singing Suns here, so you could grab hold of them and then boot our behinds off this world? Little man, I'm not that foolish!"

  Eron stared at him, and then burst into a bellow of laughter.

  "I knew," he told Chane, "the first time I saw you that you were a bastard of a Starwolf!" He came up to Chane and grabbed his arm. "So you did it, eh? Tell me how?"

  Chane told him, Dilullo, listening, watched Chane's face and said nothing. But Eron again and again rocked with crowing laughter.

  "Wonderful, wonderful!" he cried. "But where, actually, are the Singing Suns?"

  Chane patted him on the shoulder. "You're a nice little king, Eron, and I rather like you in a way, but please don't insult me with questions like that."

  Eron shrugged. "Well, I can see your point. It happens that I'm the soul of honor, but you couldn't be expected to know that. Just tell me how and when you'll turn over my half of the two million credits' reward. That was our deal, you remember."

  "That was our deal," Chane said. "But if you recall, that deal went sour when your information and your ship didn't get us anywhere near the Suns. The deal was off, and you were going to feed us to the Qajars if they wanted us. I broke loose, and now we have a new deal."

  "What kind of deal?" asked Eron, looking black but crafty.

  Chane smiled. "I'm generous to a fault. When the Suns are taken back to Achernar, you get one-tenth of the reward."

  "One-tenth?" Eron began to curse in his native language and Chane said, "Put it into galacto, if you want me to get it."

  Eron lost his good humor completely. His face became stony and dangerous. He glared at Chane.

  "All right," he said. "I've tried to be nice about this. But you've hidden the Suns somewhere and now you come swaggering in here and think you've got the upper hand. You forget that I've got you right in the hollow of my hand. Just a few hours of Rith working-over and you'll be babbling all you know about the Suns."

  Chane shook his head. "It won't work. Nobody ever got anything out of a Starwolf by torture. And you know why? It's because, to protect the secrets of Varna, every Starwolf who goes on a raid has a drug capsule under his skin. All I have to do is press my skin in a certain place and then my body is completely anesthetized and you could carve on me all day and I'd never feel it."

  Eron stared at him, startled. "Is that true?"

  "No," said Chane. "It's a great big bluff and a lie."

  And he broke into laughter, and Eron roared with him.

  Dilullo sprang up from his chair. "God save me from getting into any deals with people who think everything's funny."

  "Relax, John," said Chane. "I think Eron and I understand each other."

  "Sure we do," said Eron, going hail-fellow-well-met again. He clapped Chane on the back. "Bluff or no bluff, nobody's ever made a Starwolf talk. Let's sit down and bargain this like gentlemen."

  They sat down at a table. Eron called for flagons of the strong Rith liquor, and then more flagons. Dilullo drank it, but looked like a thundercloud.

  As time went on it was evident that Eron was trying to get them very drunk. But it was not working very well. Dilullo would not drink that much. Chane tossed it off goblet for goblet with Eron, but he had the stronger head. He kept shaking it at Eron and turning boredly away to watch the decorative dancing-girls who had appeared.

  "Fifteen percent," Chane said finally. "The absolute last offer. Look, better fifteen percent of something than nothing."

  "Twenty-five, or I'll have you all lasered before morning," said Eron.

  "Not one percent, not one hundredth of a percent more," Chane told him, and poured more liquor into the goblets.

  "Look," interrupted Dilullo, "my head aches, my rump aches, I'm sick of all this haggling." He said to Eron, "Twenty percent, or let the whole thing go."

  Eron considered. "Four hundred thousand credits.

  Well ..." He suddenly added, "But I have the price of my stolen scout ship as well."

  Dilullo said, "All right, that seems fair enough. How do you want it?"

  "Not in galactic credits," Eron said. "We don't trust that currency in the Spur. Bring it in jewels. I'll give you a list."

  He added, "One more thmg. Just so you remember to come back again with my share, I'll keep your friend Chane here with me. He's a good drinking companion."

  "I was pretty sure," said Chane, "you would insist on some such little condition. All right." He looked at Dilullo. "I'll tell you in the morning where the Suns are hidden, so you can take them to Achernar."

  "By all means wait until morning to tell me," said Dilullo. "You're in no condition to tell anyone directions to anything right now."

  In the morning, after Chane had given Dilullo the location of the Suns on the dead world of the red giant, the Mercs took off in their ship.

  Chane remained. He was a guest, an honored guest, and little red men with lasers watched him day and night.

  He did not find it unpleasant. Eron insisted on trying to drink him down every night, but each time it was Eron who ended up with his head on the table. Nearly every night, after that, Chane tried to make a connection with one of the dancing-girls, who were attracted but also afraid.

  The days, the weeks, the perpetual storms went by, and Chane was beginning to get just a little bored by the time the Merc ship called in for a landing.

  Dilullo alone came from the starport to the pawky palace and put a package down in front of Eron.

  "There it is," he said. "You can look the jewels over if you like."

  Eron told him, "I can tell when I can trust a man, so there's no need. However, since you suggest it ..."

  The hours went by while the jewels were examined by Eron experts. Then the little red monarch exclaimed, "All there."

  "I may add," Dilullo said, "that there are no jewels, no credits, nor anything else of value on our ship, so that it will not profit you to detain us."

  "As if I would!" said Eron. He clapped Chane on the back. "Well, I'll miss you, Starwolf. Good luck."

  "Good luck to you, Eron," said Chane. "You just might find some good pickings left at Chlann, now that the Qajar defenses have been broken."

  "I hate to break up these affectionate leavetakings between fellow robbers," grated Dilullo. "But if you don't mind..."

  He and Chane, at the starport, walked out together toward the waiting Merc ship.

  "So you went to Varna
, and you raided again with the Starwolves," said Dilullo. "How was your homecoming, Chane? The same as it was with me, at Brindisi?"

  Chane considered. "Not quite the same. Most of the people I knew were still there. But ... I can't go back there again."

  "Well," said Dilullo, "you're younger than I am, and that's what made the difference."

  Then he added, "The devil with all this nostalgia. A starman's home is space. Let's go."

  They went.

  The End