"Certainly. Oh, I've had a few close ones, but I learned my lesson in
Africa. I got over my impulse to gut-shoot everything that ran at me."
He showed me a wrinkled red scar on one shoulder at the base of his
bull-neck. "You never want to gut-shoot a lion. He keeps coming. Lead
has plenty of impact, but it mushes up and loses its shocking effect
in the entrails. You got to break a bone to be sure on these fast
beasties. Same thing's true with most of these Wampuses."
"Wampuses?" I asked.
"It's what I call any fast moving game that wears its skeleton on the
inside," he explained. "Some on every planet. Carnivorous. Teeth,
claws and a hell of an appetite's about all they have in common. Come
in all shapes, but main thing is they come at you fast. A lion covers
a hundred yards in a little more than three seconds. Some of these
extra-t's do better than that."
I tried to look casual, but the truth was that I had never fired at a
living target in my life.
"Never gut-shoot a wampus," he repeated. "Break a bone. That gives you
time to finish him off."
Our sanguinary conversation ended with the appearance of a circular
tray loaded with food. It slid in silently, supported from a silvery,
over-head trestle. When it reached us it lowered to the pillowed deck,
and the Major fell to with both hands.
He had eaten only a few bites when the uncomfortable plummeting of the
food down his gullet reminded him of the heavy pull of acceleration.
He threw back his head and roared into the concealed microphone
over-head, "Ease off to one gee, captain. A man can't enjoy his food."
After a brief pause a man's voice answered, "We'll have to replot the
orbit, and it will cost us several days at lower acceleration, Major."
"Ease off while we eat, then pick it up again," Daphne snapped,
oblivious to the work he was creating for the navigator. "And don't
make me heave when you do it, either!"
The pressure gradually diminished to normal earth gravity. Daphne
belched with relief. "That's better."
Annellica was back. She and the girls joined Daphne, nibbling at the
platters of meats and swallowing copious quantities of a golden,
low-alcohol fluid they sucked from collapsible containers.
"Better eat, Frost," Daphne insisted. "Be in free flight for a bit, and
you want to keep up your strength. I can't eat well in free flight.
Makes me gassy."
I forced down a few mouthfuls of the exotic rations, wondering why a
steward hadn't served us instead of Annellica. After the meal the girls
began to perform for us--three of them, singing, dancing and producing
weird music on tiny instruments they inserted in their mouths. The
other three, Daphne told me, were strictly free flight artists from
low gee planets.
Annellica watched for a few minutes then got up and followed the food
tray as it drifted away from us. I went after her. In the galley I
found her stowing the remnants back into refrigeration. She didn't wait
for me to ask the question.
"Daffy dislikes personal servants," she said. "Roboid servers are not
practical on the smaller craft, so I take care of our wants."
* * * * *
She scraped some half-chewed food into a disposal unit and slipped
the plate into a slot: the wife of the wealthy Major Daphne, handling
garbage! Cook and gunbearer!
"You must love him very much," I said.
"Love?" She turned to face me. "What has love to do with--anything?"
That was cue enough for me.
I couldn't convince myself she was as frigid as the Major asserted. And
I was right. She came into my arms like a hungry tigress. After the
most interesting moment of its kind in my eventful bachelorhood, she
peeled herself away and went back to her chores.