Woman's World
by Ted Taine
A planet where the women are all over fifteen feet tall
Update: 07/10/1997 to giantess


          There were a lot of things Damion didn't like
          about the planet; the moons were all wrong;
          the weather was very bad; and even the small
          women were over fifteen feet tall.

THEY WALKED noiselessly through the forest, the two bright moons
of Krinn filtering their light down through the interlaced
branches of the trees. Damion didn't like the moons. They sat
like two poached eggs against he blackness of space, and he had
nurtured an aversion to poached eggs ever since childhood. The
moon back on Earth was different. It either resembled an orange
slice and he definitely like citrus fruits. He sighed deeply.
Earth was a long way off.
     An itch under one of his ribs reminded him that he didn't
like the outlandish clothes, either. He glanced sideways at
Konars, taking in his companion's dress. Konars was tall, with
close-cropped blond hair that fitted his skull like a yellow
woolen cap. He was dressed in the tight-fitting breeches and
tunic of the Krinnian, his broad shoulders straining against the
course material. A short sword slapped against the muscle of his
thigh as they padded over the fallen leaves. In his right hand,
hanging at his side, he carried a heavy black case.    
     "You look damn silly," Damion said.
     Konar's too wide mouth curled upward in a boyish grin. "To
tell you the truth, I feel silly."
     Damion grunted, annoyed, with the constant slapping of the
sword against his own side; annoyed too by the itch of the tunic
against his bare skin.
     "This is a new way to induce membership, all right. Sink to
the level of the barbarians."
     "Infiltration," Konars said.
     "I don't approve," Damion said flatly. "I didn't approve
when I first heard of the plan, and I still don't. If these
overgrown brats haven't the common sense to see that the
Federation..."
     "You'd better lower your voice," Konars warned.
     Damion clamped his jaws shut tight. He was silent for a
moment, then he said, "I don't see why we have to come down to
their level. After all, the Federation..."
     "We need Krinn in the Federation," Konars said simply.
     "Why? It seems to be doing fine without..."
     "You know why, Damion."
     Damion fell silent, and the only sound was the gentle slap-
slap of their sandals on the forest floor. After a while he said,
"Forgive me, Konars." He clapped his hand on his friend's
shoulder. "I'm just on-edge, I guess. I always get this way
before doing a big job. And this straight jacket doesn't help
much, either. By Kudos, it itches!"
     Konars glanced up at the twin moons. "We could do without
those yellow eyes in the sky, too."
     "Poached eggs."
     "Huh?"
     "The remind me...well, never mind." He swallowed his
distaste, then shook his head sadly. "You'd think the other five
planets in this system would make up their own minds."
     "That's a little beyond them, Damion. You've got to remember
that all these planets, with the exception of Daxo, are still
roughly in Stage Two."

DAMION tugged uncomfortably at the tunic. "How can I forget it?" 
     "We'll just have to be uncomfortable for a little while,"
Konars said. "It'll be worth it if the plan works. If we can get
Krinn to accept our offer, the other five will come scurrying
into the Federation immediately."
     Damion thought this over for a while. They were coming out
of the forest now, and the dirt road was a little wider, still
rutted with the deep scars of cartwheels.
     "Want me to take the transmitter?" he asked.
     Konars shifted the black case. "No, I can manage."
     the walked on in silence, out in the open past the covering
canopy of the woods now. The countryside was studded with
colorful rock formations, luminous in the light of the twin
moons. Even the shrubbery on either side of the road glowed with
phosphorescent brilliance. It was a beautiful planet, all right,
especially at night.
     "The Lovely Lady--isn't that why they call it?" Damion
asked.
     Konars nodded, his eyes wandering over the twinkling rocks
and plants around them. "All decked out in her best jewelry, too.
I wonder if she was expecting visitors tonight."
     "I doubt it." A new thought crossed Damion's mind. "Do you
suppose the copter...?"
     "Sure. There wasn't a soul in sight when we landed, and the
boys had plenty of time to get back to the ship."
     Damion grinned in the darkness, pleased once again with
Konar's faculty for understanding half-spoken thoughts. He
supposed that came from having worked together for such a long
time. How many planets had there been so far? By Kudos, he
couldn't even count them all.
     In the distance, like a sparkling tiara against the velvet
night, the city crouched in flickering brilliance.
     "We'll have to be splitting up soon," Konars said.
     "Ummm."
     "Do you want to run over it once more?"
     "If you like."
     Konars rubbed a broad palm over the flatness of his nose.
"It isn't that I doubt your memory," he apologized, "but I like
to make sure everything is detailed in my own mind."
     "I know," Damion said. He had heard this same speech on a
hundred separate occasions. It always preceded a precise resume
of their operational plan. In the beginning, he had resented
Konars' constant recapitulation. But over the years he had come
to respect and admire the orderliness of the other man's mind.
     Konar's mouth set thoughtfully, and his brows pulled
slightly together, angling down over his grey eyes. When he
spoke, his voice was soft.
     "We'll bury the transmitter just outside the city. Your
speaker is in working order, isn't it?"
     "Yes."
     "Fine. Either one of us may have to make the necessary
contact with our ships later." He paused, arranging the sequence
of thoughts in his mind.
     "We'll part after we bury the transmitter. You'll get into
the palace somehow, I know; you've done this before, and I'll
leave it to you."
     "I don't know how I'm going to like working for these
Amazons," Damion said.
     "I understand they don't like references to their height.
Perhaps you'd better keep that in mind."
     Damion nodded, glad he'd been reminded, thankful again for
the near-infallibility of Konars' thinking process.
     "I'll get to work on the male inhabitants at once," Konars
continued. "I don't expect results too soon, but let's plan on
meeting tomorrow night anyway. If only to compare notes."   
     "Fine. I hope I'll be able to..."
     "If you can't get away, which may be likely, I'll wait an
hour and then go. I'll be there the next night at the same time.
I'll keep coming ever night until you do get away."

DAMION nodded briefly. "Let's synchro, shall we?"
     They paused in the middle of the dirt road, the city much
closer now, it's lights brighter. The luminous dials of the
chrons, set into the Krinnian bracelets at their wrists, appeared
suddenly as they snapped back the jewel-fronted case covers.
     "Set at 2204," Damion said. He watched the sweep hand swing
around past the numerals. "Ready...set." He heard a faint click
as Konars engaged the gears again. Both men snapped the covers
shut, transposing the timepieces into innocent-looking pieces of
jewelry again. "What time shall we meet?"
     "2300, I imagine. Or is that too late?"
     "No, it should be all right."
     "And where?"
     "Do you recall the street map we saw?"
     "Yes."
     "Three squares from the palace then. There should be an inn
called _The Triple Door_. I'll meet you there."
     "Fine."
     Konars looked off into the distance. "We're getting pretty
close, Damion. Let's bury this blamed thing."
     They dug silently in the warm earth, leaving two short
antennae exposed. These they covered with leaves.
     "That should do it."
     "Let's go."
     The first few dwellings on the outskirts of the city were
directly ahead of them now. Damion glanced at them briefly, then
came to a halt at the same time Konars did. They clasped hands
tightly.
     "Good luck, Damion."
     "And you." They released their grips and began walking in
the opposite directions; Damion into the city, Konars out over
the fields. They hadn't gone five paces when both men turned
simultaneously and whispered, "Be careful."
     The thatched huts that fringed the city gave way slowly to
heavier, more solid establishments. Damion walked up the dimly-
lit road, wider now that it had entered the city proper. His eyes
snapped quickly to the right and left as he made his way deeper
into the city. There were shops now, and taverns, a smithy, a
potter's kiln--all the signs of a culture in Stage Two. Well,
perhaps this would be simpler than he thought.
     He wondered about how he could gain access to the palace.
Should he simply present himself and ask for a job? The
advisability of this seemed dubious. The male of the Krinnian
species wasn't particularly noted for its daring. I hardly seemed
likely that one of them would have the courage to seek a job at
the palace. Still, perhaps the very novelty of the approach would
be in his favor.
     The familiar sounds of a tavern-crowd reached his ears, and
he glanced up quickly. The yellow glow of the tavern spilled onto
the road some fifty feet away, and from the sound of things, a
bawdy drinkfest was in progress. He grinned, quickened his
stride. The strains of a song picked at the air, grew louder as
he came closer to the tavern.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        "We'll 
polish your boots,
                           your lovely boots,
                        "We'll polish your belts
                               above 'em.
                       "We'll cherish your curves,
                           your lovely curves,
                    "And dream of how we'll love 'em!


DAMION was passing the tavern now, amused by the off key croaking
of the all-male chorus. He quickened his pace. It would be best
to pass the tavern unnoticed.
     A shrill whistle split the air, and Damion froze, a tremor
of fear clutched at his back muscles. The song hung abruptly like
the splintered remnants of a broken lance and then crumbled into
silence. He turned quickly at the sound of boots on the hard,
crusted road. His hand went to his sword more out of surprise
than any thought of defense.
     He had expected them to be big, yes. By all means, they
should have been big.
     But by Kudos, they were enormous! Damion stood six-five in
his bare feet, but these women were twice his size and a little
more. He stared in wonder at them, marvelling at their height.
     He marvelled, to, at the perfection of the women. No
gangling, awkward creatures were these. They were tall, yes, but
they moved with quick animal grace within their loosely draped
tunics. The cloth molded the supple strength of their bodies,
falling liquidly over full breasts, tapering down to narrow-
waists, flaring out again over rounded hips. They were splendidly
bronzed by the sun, their long legs curving down into their
polished boots.
     They barged into the tavern now, shouting down the drunken
men, their boots clattering on the rough wooden planking. Damion
turned his back, began walking away. This was one brawl he didn't
want to...
     "You! You there!"
     The voice was deep and husky, but not unfeminine. A tingle
of apprehension worked its cold way up Damion's spine. He
stretched his legs, lengthening his strides.
     "You! Halt!"
     He began to run, the sandals flapping loosely about his
feet. He heard the stamp of heavy boots behind him, realized with
sudden despair that he could never hope to outrun one of these
elongated females.
     An alley opened miraculously on his right, and he dashed
into it. He skirted around an animal that looked like a cat, kept
running, he breath jagged in his lungs.
     "Steria, this way!" a voice shouted.
     "What is it?" he heard the reply
     "Hurry up!"
     He kept running but the sounds behind him told him he would
soon be captured. And suddenly, he felt a pair of strong arms
around his middle. He was yanked rudely off his feet, the breath
knocked out of him. He kicked out in fury, one of his sandals
falling to the ground. He reached for his sword, felt a strong
hand clamp on his wrist.
     She held him out in front of her, his feet dangling, his
arms pinned to his sides. Her face was close to his, and he
stared into the wide-spaced green eyes. Her lips were full and
cushiony, and they parted now in a hearty laugh.
     "A spry one, aren't you?" he asked.
     "Put me down, damn it!"

SHE DROPPED him abruptly, and he landed solidly on the hard
ground, the shock of contact jarring him to his teeth. He stood
up, began dusting himself off.
     "Very funny," he commented drily.
     The girl kept laughing. She was joined quickly by the second
girl who came running up the alley. Together, they towered over
him, chuckling, their rich laughter spreading into every corner
of the alley.
     He put his hands on his hips, stared up at them.
     "Well, now that you've got me, what are you going to do with
me?"
     "Perky little one, isn't he?" the second girl said.
     "Very frisky," the first one agreed.
     He realized he wasn't' behaving very much like a Krinnian
male, but he didn't give a damn. Male resentment flared within
him, resentment at being treated like...a puppy dog.
     "Alidia would like him," the first girl said.
     "Who the hell's Alidia?", he blurted. He was angry now, very
angry.
     The girls thought this was funny. They slapped their shapely
thighs and went off into gales of laughter.
     "Alidia will love him," the second one said between chokes.
     He began to sidestep as he saw the arms reaching for him
again. He was too late. They lifted him off his feet, and he
wriggled violently. He hit his captor with his fists, and the
girl only laughed.
     "To the palace with you, my friend," she said.
     He stopped kicking. "The palace?"
     "Alidia needs something to take her out of the doldrums. You
should do very nicely."
     "Oh," he said in a small voice. A smile crossed his face.
She was holding him in her arms like a baby now, clutched tightly
against her.
     She was slightly taller than the two who brought him to her.
Her hair leaped about her flawless face like a cap of fire. The
cold green of her eyes lashed out at him, her lips parted to show
small cat's teeth.
     "Do something funny," she said.
     "What would you like me to do? Eat a snake? Cut off my right
arm? Braid my hair and skip rope with it? Just.."
     A smile crossed her face, and she covered it with her hand.
     "He _is_ funny, isn't he, Alidia?" one of the girls asked.
     Alidia wiped the smile from her features. "He is only
faintly amusing," she said. "He will have to do better than that,
I'm afraid."
     This time Alidia's smile was wider. Damion glowed with inner
satisfaction. All he had to do was behave the way no other
Krinnian man would dare to behave. They loved him for it, by
Kudos. They loved him for his Terran impudence. And he was inside
the palace! Most important of all, he was inside the palace,
right were he wanted to be.
     "What is your name?" Alidia asked.
     "Just call me..." He stopped. He had been ready to say,
"Shorty," but he remembered Konars' warning. "Just call me the
first thing that comes to your mind."
     "What would you suggest?"
     "Well, how about a suitable name? Like 'Handsome,' or
'Hunk'...or just plain 'Zowie'?"

ALIDIA'S smile vanished, replaced by a narrow mouth with flaring
green eyes. Oh-oh, he thought, the comedian has laid his first
big egg.
     "I find egotism to be an undesirable trait in Court
Jesters," she said.
     "I was only flattering your own taste," he said, tempering
his pride with the kind of amusement he hoped they would like.
"If you're too stupid to realize how excellent your taste is,
then chop me up and serve me for breakfast."
     The smile disappeared magically again, a beautiful expanse
of white that made Alidia's face radiant. All he had to do was
insult them, he thought. Insult them, and they'd split their
sides with laughing. Well, that should be easy enough.
     He folded his arms across his wide chest. "I'm a busy man,"
he said. " do I get the job or not?"
     Alidia seemed to think heavily for a moment. "I shall call
you 'Fool'," she said at length.
     "And I shall call you 'Idiot'."
     The girls behind Damion snickered and he waited for the
response from Alidia. She smiled at him. "Do not press me too
far, Fool."
     HE shrugged his shoulders. "I'm hungry. When do we eat?"
     This time Alidia laughed out loud. "Your humor has an
inconsistent absurdity to it, but it is fresh. You may stay,
Fool."
     "Good," he said. "In fact, I've already unpacked."

HE WAITED for the laughs, pleased when he got them. He was
convinced now that he'd missed his calling. By Kudos, stereo show
comedians lived luxuriantly back on Earth.
     "Show the Fool his quarters," Alidia said. "And then feed
him."
     She turned regally, the curve of her back shimmering beneath
her tunic. he watched the sway of her hips, the gentle taper of
her legs. And then she was gone. He turned to the two giggling
girls behind him, spread his palms wide.
     "Now who do you suppose she was?" he asked, shrugging.
     This really broke the girls up. They hugged each other and
laughed uproariously. "The Queen..." they chocked. "He asks
who...the Queen...is."
     They led him from the chamber, still laughing.
     He was wakened before the sun rose.
     "Fool!" a female voice shouted.
     He swung his legs over the side of his cot. "What in holy
hell..." he began. He remembered suddenly where he was, slumped
back against the stone wall and rubbed his eyes. The girl
towering over him had long black hair, a saucy nose liberally
sprinkled with freckles, and warm brown eyes.
     "Good morning, Fool," she said pertly.
     He yawned. "What's so good about it?" He wasn't trying to be
funny, but she laughed anyway.
     "Did you sleep well, Fool?"
     "Are all your mattresses stuffed with rocks?" he inquired.
Again, he was simply inquiring about a prevailing condition, but
she seemed to think he was making a big joke. He shrugged. Oh
well, the life of a jester. He looked out the small open window.
     "Why, it's still night!" he said in surprise.
     "The sun will be up soon," the girl said.
     "How soon?" he asked drily.
     She giggled. "Soon."
     He stood up, his eyes travelling over the girl's body.
"You're cute. What's your name?"
     "Thania."
     "Glad to know you." He paused. "Well, what now?"
     "Your breakfast. You will eat in the kitchen. Alidia will
want you to amuse her later while she breakfasts."
     "Mind if I wash first?"
     "You'd best hurry," she said. "Alidia rises early."
     "Not as early as I do, I'll bet," he mumbled.
     "What?"
     "Nothing. All fools talk to themselves. It's an occupational
disease."
     "Oh."
     
THE COOK'S specialty was poached eggs.
     Damion stared down at them, his mouth suddenly dry. He
looked at them with careful scrutiny, lifting them gingerly with
the end of his wooden fork, peered under them as if he were
looking for dirt under a rug. For a brief ecstatic moment he
thought enviously of Konars out in the fields with the men of
Krinn. Was Konars awake at this ungodly hour? Was Konars eating
poached eggs? He put down his fork with finality. Well, neither
was Damion!
     "Cook!" he bellowed.
     The cook was as tall as all the other women he'd seen, and
her width tried hard to rival her height. She turned surprised
blue eyes on him, a spatula in her pudgy hand.
     "What kind of garbage is this?" he asked
     The cook giggled.
     "I'm a working man, whether you realize it or not. Now get
these two soulful eyes of my plate and give me something to eat."
     The cook waddled over good-naturedly, slapped him on the
back with a hand like a meat cleaver. He yanked back his face an
instant before it collided with the poached eggs. The cook took
them away and brought back some scrambled ones. Thankfully,
hungrily, he attacked them with ferocious intensity.
     He was scraping his plate clean when Thania came into the
kitchen.
     "Alidia is ready for you, Fool."
     Damion patted his stomach. "And I," he said, "am ready for
Alidia."
     He followed Thania through a long stone corridor. A high
wooden door was set in the far wall. Thania threw the door open,
waited for him to enter, then closed it behind him.
     His eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight streaming through
the tall windows. Alidia sat at a small table near one of the
windows. She wore a green silk dressing gown, falling past her
knees to cascade onto the stone floor in rolling waves. When she
heard the door close, she looked up.
     "Good morning, Fool," she said.
     He wondered about the advisability of the what's-so-good-
about-it gag again, decided quickly against it. "Good morning."
     Alidia patted a stool by her side. "Come sit near me, Fool."
     He crossed the room, surveyed the high stool, struggled onto
it with some difficulty.
     Alidia's eyes were smiling at his labors. He finally made
himself comfortable, looped his toes under the top rung, and sat
watching her while she ate.
     "No sparkling witticisms this morning, Fool?"
     "Do you expect a gem every time I open my mouth?" He didn't
like the way she put him on the defensive. It would be very easy
to keep on insulting her. In fact, he would enjoy it immensely.
     Alidia didn't answer him. She drank a deep draught of milk
from a tall glass, put it back on the table.
     "What is your real name?" she asked. Her face was serious,
and he was suspicious of her changed mood.
     "Fool," he said.
     "This is not your real name." Her yes had narrowed, and he
found himself watching the strange intensity in them. Her lower
lip, he noticed was full and petulant, like that of a pouting
child. He wondered what it would be like to kiss one of those
overgrown...he caught his thought abruptly. There was work to be
done.
     "No," he said, "Fool is not my real name."
     "What is your real name?"
     "Fool," he said.
     Her hand flashed out with amazing speed. It caught him on
the side of the jaw, sent him sprawling backwards. He grabbed at
the air, felt himself toppling off the stool. His shoulders
crashed against the stone floor, the stool clattering noisily. He
got to his feet with dignity, stared up into her cold face. There
was no sympathy on that face, no remorse. He could feel the sting
of her open palm on his cheek. He worked his jaw, felt the grit
of a chipped tooth.
     "Where are you wrestling tonight?" he asked. There was no
humor in his voice.
     "I asked you a question. Answer me."
     "My real name is Ichthor van Scrubolo der Paxley Thorpe the
Second." His lips had formed into a tight line, and he kept his
teeth together behind them.

HE SAW the beginnings of the smile on her face, and decided to
press his luck. "But my friends call me Fool," he added.
     "Sit down, Fool," she said.
     "Thanks, I'll stand. I don't like getting knocked down."
     She turned back to her breakfast with a shrug. "You have
many dislikes for a man."
     "How many men do you know?"
     She glanced up, returning to her cereal. "Not very many."
     "Then how would you know about my dislikes, or likes for
that matter?"
     "You talk like a Federation representative," she said.
     He looked at her quickly, afraid she'd pierced his disguise.
She was bent over her cereal, nonchalantly lifting the wooden
spoon to her mouth.
     "How do they talk?" he asked.
     "Stupidly. The way you do."
     "Ask a foolish question," he said.
     "They think we need them."
     "Maybe you do."
     "Hardly, Krinn is an old planet. "We've managed nicely
without the Federation for a good many centuries."
     He wondered how far he should go with this discussion. Well,
just a little farther anyway. "There are a great many planets in
the Federation, aren't there?" he asked cautiously.
     "Yes. A foolish setup, though. They would teach us to reach
the stars." She put another spoonful of food into her mouth, and
he watched her lips close about it. "But who wants to reach the
stars?"
     "Some people do."
     "Do you?"
     He was about to answer when he caught his tongue. "I am only
a poor fool," he said.
     "Have you ever heard of the system containing Earth, Mars,
Venus, Jopiter..."
     "Jupiter," he corrected.
     She opened her eyes wide. "You have heard of the system
then?"
     "A fool hears many things."
     "Well, the Federation was started in that system. Since then
they've expanded, of course. But Krinn will never join them.
Never."
     "Why not?"
     "We don't need them."
     Well, he thought, this is where I came in.
     "Space travel is a dangerous thing," she went on. "Our
neighbors on Daxo have mastered the science. They visit us often,
and they've offered to teach us all they know. We have refused
every time."
     "For the love of Kudos, why?" He glanced at her quickly,
wondering if she'd noticed his use of the Terran expression.
Apparently, she hadn't.
     "Krinn is a happy planet. We wanted to keep it that way."
     "What way?"
     "The way it is. In a happy state."
     "In a medieval state, you mean."
     She paused, the spoon halfway to her mouth. "What kind of
state?"
     He realized the expression was foreign to her, rephrased it.
"A blind, ignorant, groping state."
     She put down her spoon. "My Fool is looking for another cuff
on the jaw."
     "Go on," he said steadily, "cuff away. You can't slug every
man on the planet."
     Her fingered clenched at her side, and he waited patiently,
expecting the blow at any moment. Finally, her hands relaxed, and
she resumed eating. She said nothing more until she had finished
her meal. Then she turned to Damion and said, "You're not very
funny this morning. I suggest you go to the kitchen and see if
the cook has any pots you might clean."
     "I thought..."
     "Go now, Fool."
     Damion nodded, a brief single nod accompanied by tight lips
and flaring eyes. Then he turned and left Alidia, the sun flaming
in her auburn hair.

KONARS SNAPPED the case shut on his wrist chron. It was 0900. He
cursed himself inwardly for having got such a late start, cursing
the comfort and warmth of the haystack. Well, it merely indicated
that he'd needed the sleep badly, and he certainly wasn't going
to waste more time mourning over a few lost hours.
     He pulled his tunic tight beneath his belt. Damn, these
clothes did itch. His mind wondered whether he'd succeeded in
getting into the palace. Most likely he had. He smiled as he
remembered a time on Saranna, when Damion had disguised himself
as a peddler, got into the Governor's home, and been invited to
stay for a week. Yes, Damion was probably in the arms of a lovely
Amazon by this time, gathering all the information, the
Federation would need. 
     Konars shrugged. There was work to be done. Quickly, he
started across the fields, passing once to examine the curious
plants that covered the ground. By day, they were plain, almost
ugly. Krinn was a planet of the night, he thought. The idea did
not surprise him. Night was a woman's time, and Krinn was a
woman's planet. No, the idea did not surprise him a tall.
     He made his way across the field toward a small, thatched
cottage squat again the horizon. A curl of smoke pushed its way
out of the square stone chimney at one end of the cottage, the
sky was a pale blue wash. There, was a serenity to the scene that
stirred memories of Earth. He tried to place the picture. France?
Germany?
     England. Yes, England.
     He pushed these thoughts aside, remembering the work ahead
of him, envying Damion his soft job was a moment. He walked up
the path leading to the cottage, paused outside the enormous door
set in its face. He lifted a brass knocker, let it fall heavily.
     "Just a moment," a voice called.
     He waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to
the other. At last, the door opened a crack. A pair of narrow
blue eyes studied his face. A long nose stuck out, seemed to
sniff him audibly.
     "Yes?" the voice asked.
     "I'm a traveler," he said. "I'm lost."
     The eyes kept studying him, the door not budging. "A
traveler from where?"
     Konars met the other mans' eyes squarely. "From the North. I
come South in search of work."
     "Mmm?"
     "Yes." Konars shifted his weight again. "Is your woman at
home?"
     "No." The voice seemed to lose some of its suspicion.
     "May I come in?"
     "I suppose so." The door opened wide, and Konars stepped
into the cool, dim interior of the cottage. His eyes swept the
room, touching on the two-level table, the short chairs and the
tall chairs, the double set of steps build side by side. A
difficult situation on this planet, all right. He wondered why
the women were so big. Glands, activated by elements in the air?
Or the drinking water? Metabolism? Perhaps the Federation could
help eventually. Selective breeding, perhaps or... He gave it up.
He was no scientist. He knew though that the Federation would
conceive some method of putting the planet on a more normal
level. If Krinn joined the Federation.
     The little man was studying Konars closely.
     "Get you something to eat?" he asked.
     "Just a drink of water," Konars said. "and a place to sit."

HE WALKED over to a two-level bench near the fireplace, one level
low to accommodate the male, the other high for the female's
benefit. He sat down on  the lower level, stretched his legs. The
little man poured water from a wooden bucket into a mug.
     "Wife working?" Konars asked.
     "Yes."
     "In the city?"
     "Yes." The little man brought the mug to Konars, and he
drained it greedily.
     "Ahhhh. Good."
     The little man kept watching him, waiting for him to speak,
it seemed.
     "My name is Konars." He extended his hand.
     "Partin." He took Konars' hand  and held it firmly. When he
released it, he sat on a stool across from Konars, the waiting
look still in his eyes. Konars squirmed uncomfortably.
     "Like the idea of your wife working, Partin?"
     "Partin waited a moment before he answered. "Why do you
ask?"
     "Just like that." Konars leaned forward expectantly.
     "No, I don't like it. Men should do the work."
     "Mmmmm?"
     "Of course," Partin spat. "Or are you a damn reactionary."
     "No. Hardly."
     "I'm not sure about you, friend."
     "What is there to be sure about?"
     "I'm just not sure, that's all."
     Konars leaned forward, and his voice lowered to a
confidential whisper. "We can do something about it, perhaps."
     "About what? About my not being sure?"
     Konars shook his head impatiently. "The women. We can do
something about them."
     Partin smiled. "Really?"
     "There are more like us, my friend. A great many more. If
we..."
     "Unite?"
     "Yes," Konars said, his voice bearing a note of surprise.
This was running too smoothly. He had the uneasy feeling that
something was wrong.
     Partin was nodding now, his eyes bright. "I know," he said.
"I know."
     "I've been talking to others," Konars lied.
     "They feel the same way we do." It was a statement, not a
question.
     Konars leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "Yes, yes they do."
He had expected fear. Revolt should have been a frightening
prospect to the average Krinnian male. He should have had a tough
selling job, but instead...
     "I'd like to keep in touch with you, my friend. I'll be
circulating, moving around. When we're strong enough..."
     "We'll strike!" Partin slammed his bunched fist into the
palm of his open hand. "The government will be ours." His eyes
gleamed brightly. "And then things will change."
     Konars stood up. A vagrant thought crossed his mind, and he
considered it seriously. Was it possible that the first Krinnian
he'd contacted was a hopeless idiot? He pushed this thought
aside. No, no that was impossible. The man seemed rational
enough. Was it possible, then, that revolt had been seething in
the Krinnian mind for a long time now?

IF SO, HIS job would be an extremely easy one. He had expected a
long, hard pull. If this Krinnian were typical, all he had to do
was apply the spark to the waiting tinder.
     "Well," he said, "thanks for the water." He began walking
toward the door. Partin put his hand on Konars' arm.
     "Will it be soon, friend?" he asked.
     Konars nodded. "Much sooner than we expected."
     "And I'll be notified?"
     "Yes, of course. We'll...we'll arrange a signal." For the
first time in his life, Konars was visibly confused.
     "I'll be waiting," Partin said.
     "Fine, fine." He stepped out into the sunlight, blinking his
eyes against the glare. Down the road, he saw the outlines of
another cottage. He turned, waved at the little man in the
doorway, and started off to meet his second Krinnian.
     Thoughts crossed his mind with blinding rapidly. He
shrugged, refusing to speculate. Maybe it would be easy. He
wondered if Damion had gathered any information that might be
helpful.
     And then he though of Damion in the arms of a big woman, and
he shook his head in envy as he approached the second cottage.
     Damion dug down deep into the black bowels of the pot. The
pot was sticky and gritty and greasy and just plain damn ordinary
filthy.
     Damn barbarians, he thought. Stupid ignorant louts.
     He poked at the hardened residue with the scraper in his
right hand. Back on Earth, this pot could be cleaned in a matter
of seconds with a simple disfec bath. Better yet, it would be
thrown out and replaced by a new plastonite one that wouldn't
collect garbage the way this one did.
     Krinn is a happy planet, she had said. Happy for whom, he
wondered? Sure, imbeciles are happy, too. Imbeciles might even
enjoy scraping the guts out of this damn filthy pot. Well, he was
not an imbecile!
     He straightened abruptly, almost banging his head on the
edge of the enormous pot. He threw the scraper into the rounded
depths, heard it clank metallically against the sides. He rubbed
the filth of his hands onto the grime-smeared apron they'd given
him, then ripped the apron off, rolled it into a ball, and threw
that into the pot, too.
     "I quit!" he bellowed.
     The cook giggled and waddled over to him. "You quit?" she
asked.
     "You heard me, Cookie. I was hired as a funnyman, not a
chimney sweep."
     A short spurt of laughter erupted from the cook's lips. "You
are a funny man," she said.
     "I'm glad someone appreciates my talents," Damion said.
"Where's Alidia?"
     "She..."
     "Never mind. I'll find her myself."
     The cook's face lost its humor. "Just a minute," she said.
     Damion ran for the door, the cook's weight in his favor. He
yanked it open, darted into the stone corridor, kept running
until he reached the door at the end of the hallway. Behind him
he heard the cook puffing and panting.
     He burst into Alidia's chambers, slammed the door behind him
and leaned against it. Alidia was seated on a low couch at the
other end of the room, and a strange man in bright scarlet sat
next to her, his feet barely touching the floor.
     "I'm afraid your cook is after me," Damion panted.

ALIDIA STIFLED a laugh, "Come here, Fool," she said, beckoning
him to her with one slender, graceful hand.
     He crossed the room, looking back nervously at the door,
expecting it to be shoved open at any moment. Alidia reached out
and picked him up, perching him on her bare knee. The touch of
her hands sent a strange tremor-up his back. He was aware
suddenly of the scent of her, strong and sweet.
     The door was pushed in violently, and the cook shoved her
tremendous girth into the room. "Your majesty," she panted,
"forgive me, forgive me. He--he--"
     "That's all right, Corette," Alidia said. "You may go. I'll
take care of the Fool." She chucked Damion under the chin and
asked playfully, "Won't I, Fool?"
     The cook shrugged massive shoulders and left the room.
Damion stared at the man sitting next to Alidia on the couch. He
was broad shouldered, with an angular face that terminated in a
short beard beneath his chin.
     "Bendir," she said, "you haven't met my Fool, have you?" She
leaned closer to Damion and he felt the gentle insistence of her
breasts against this shoulder. "Say hello to Commander Bendir,
little Fool."
     "Hello," Damion said gruffly.
     "That's a good Fool," Alidia said. She put her lips to his
cheek, brushed them softly against his skin. He felt a blush
start somewhere around his toes, work its way up to his face.
Alidia laughed a merry little laugh and cradled his face in her
hand. "My Fool blushes, poor Fool. Have you never been kissed by
a queen, Fool?"
     "Only by Empresses," Damion said.
     Bendir stood up abruptly, his polished boots clacking again
the stone floor. He began to pace impatiently.
     "Really, Alidia," he said, "must we waste time with such
nonsense."
     Damion noticed that his nose wiggled whenever he moved his
mouth. His beard wiggled, too. He stared into the brown depths of
the other man's eyes, decided to use his jester's license once
again.
     "Who is this jerk?" he asked.
     Bendir's head snapped around quickly, and his hand dropped
to his belt. A holster hanging there seemed to unsnap of its own
accord, and a weapon flicked up into Bendir's hand. Damion felt
the fingers of fear stroking his back again. Why hadn't he seen
that before? Electronic, alright, something like a Terran blaster
he would guess. Well, he'd played his cards and his bluff had
been called. should he turn tail and snuggle up close to Alidia's
protective skirts? Or should he stand up like the man he was and
get burned to a cinder in about three seconds flat?
     The prospect of become a pile of ashes didn't appeal to him.
Neither did the thought of a woman's protection. He wished for a
moment that the possessed Konar's sharp mind. Konars could take
his way out of anything. Well, there was no time like the present
to start learning. He got to his feet, sliding of Alidia's lap.
     "A foreigner, I see."
     Bender held the weapon steady, his eyes searing deep into
Damion's.
     "What's that in your hand," Damion asked, "a silver salami?"
     
BENDIR'S EYES were still uncompromising. Damion held his ground.
He'd come this far, so he might as well go all the way.
     "Well, come on friend. Do something."
     He waited, saw the tightening of Bendir's jaw muscles. He'd
pressed it too far. In a second, a yellow lance would shoot out
of the muzzle of Bendir's weapon. Goodbye, Damion. Period. The
End.
     "Bendir!" It was Alidia's voice, and it sliced through the
charged atmosphere like a sharp icicle. "Put that away this
instant." Damion, somehow resented the intrusion.
     Bendir hesitated.
     "Need I remind you that you are my guest? She glanced
quickly at Damion. "Besides, he is only a Fool."
     Reluctantly, Bendir holstered the weapon. "You should teach
him better manners." He looked at Damion with unveiled derision.
"On a man's planet, he would be dead now."
     Like hell, Damion thought. On a man's planet I'd take you
outside and make you eat that cruddy beard.
     "This is woman's planet," Alidia reminded Bendir. "Despite
effort to the contrary," she added pointedly.     
     Bendir seemed to forget his anger immediately. "Are they
still pestering you?" he asked, shaking his head sadly.
     "The last representative was here only last week. Didn't
they come to Daxo, too?"
     Bendir smiled. "Of course. They're after all of us."
     So this idiot was from Daxo. Damion understood the
electronic weapon now. Hadn't Alidia said that the Daxonians had
mastered space travel?
     Bendir spread his palms wide, "The Federation will never
give up, Alidia. I was thinking, however, that you might..." He
stopped speaking, his eyes flicking Damion meaningfully.
     "He's all right," Alidia said. "He is only a Fool."
     Bendir smiled knowingly. "No man is a fool, Alidia. Send him
away."
     Alidia shrugged lightly. "I'm sorry, Fool. Go to your
quarters. I'll send for you later."
     "Sure," Damion said. "Suites me fine. I could use a little
sleep." He turned to face the Daxonian. "Goodbye, Bendir, dear,"
he said.
     He saw the faint flick of Bendir's wrist toward the holster
again, deliberately turned his back on him. He heard Bendir
sputter. He was almost at the door when he remembered something.
     "Alidia?"
     "Yes."
     "I hate to ask..."
     "What is it, Fool?"
     "I'd like a little time off. Tonight. At about..." He
wondered whether 2300 would have any meaning to her. "Well,late
tonight," he finished.
     "I'm sorry, Fool. I prefer you to stay in the palace."
     "What? That's absur..."
     "You may go now, Fool."
     "A man is entitled to a little--"
     "That's enough, Fool." She smiled wickedly. "You wouldn't
want me to turn Bendir loose, would you?"
     Damion pulled back his hands in mock fright. "Oh goodness
no," he squealed. "Great big Bendir is liable to kill me and
drink my blood." His voice lowed to its normal deep tones again,
and he stared at Bendir maliciously. "Wouldn't you, strong boy?"

BENDIR SAID nothing, his fingers twitching nervously near his
weapon.
     Damion shrugged. "No? All right." He turned to go again.
     "Someday, Fool," Bendir said. "Someday."
     "Sure," Damion answered. Gently, he closed the door behind
him.
     He cut the rich tapestry into long shreds, the knife he'd
stolen from the kitchen moving swiftly to his hand. He paused for
a moment and snapped open the lid of wrist chron. It was 2240. He
had twenty minutes.
     Quickly, he knotted the long strips together, then tied a
loop on one end. He flipped this over the post on the end of his
cot, moved the cot to the open stone window, and tossed the make-
shift rope down to the ground below. He looked out after the
rope, saw no sentries, and quickly made his descent.
     Konars would be waiting. He'd have to hurry.
     He left the rope dangling against the wall of the palace,
hoping it wouldn't be spotted before he returned. Quietly, he
made his way through the heavily-planted grounds. The trees and
bushes twinkled over a thousand luminous eyes, and overhead the
stars winked back flirtingly. The rocks beneath his feet glowed
with inner beauty, lending a fairyland enchantment to the
setting. The beauty of the planet struck him like a physical
blow. It was like a land of eternal springtime, the air balmy and
caressing. He breathed deeply of the night, his heart singing
within him.
     He counted off the squares as he walked. Each square was
approximately a hundred yards long. The squares stretched out
from the palace on either side, no houses or shops occupying the
first two squares in any direction from the royal dwelling. For a
moment, he wondered if he were walking in the right direction.
And then, at the end of the third square, he saw the warm glow of
the inn.
     A grillwork sign creaked back and forth on heavy iron hinges
outside the inn. _The Triple Door_. He smiled, glanced  quickly
at his watch. 2304. He snapped the case shut, opened the first
door he came to, noticing that two others were directly beyond
it.
     There were all the familiar sounds of any inn anywhere. The
crackle of the fire, the muted hum of conversation, the
occasional outburst of laughter, the swish of beverage against
the side of a mug, the snatches of song. He wished he could get
drunk, by Kudos. He wished he could get roaring drunk and forget
all about Alidia, and Krinn, and the Federation. Everything. He
sighed deeply, his eyes searching the room for Konars.
     If he knew Konars, the table he'd choose would be far from
the door, most likely in a dark corner where recognition would be
a narrow possibility.His eyes probed the corners of the room,
widened slightly when he saw Konars with his back to the wall,
leaning over a tankard.
     He crossed the room quickly, stopped before Konars' table.
     "Mind if I sit here, friend?" he asked. 
     "Make yourself at home," Konars said, his voice loud. It
dropped to a sudden whisper and he said, "It's good to see you,
Damion."
     They clasped hands firmly beneath the table. "And you,
Konars. Kudos, these women are insufferable."

KONARS EXPRESSED surprise. "I never thought I'd hear you say that
about any woman."
     "They're pretty , mind you," Damion amended.
     "Mmmmm."
     "And intelligent."
     "Mmmmm."
     "But..."
     "But what?"
     "Well..." Damion nibbled at his lower lip. "Tell me," he
said suddenly, changing the subject, "How has it been going?"
     "Incredibly well."
     "Really? Tell me."
     "It's difficult to analyze, really. I'm not sure I
understand it myself."
     "What--for the love of..."
     "You know the plan, of course. I thought it would naturally
meet with some resistance. Instead, I find the men ready, willing
and able to revolt."
     "How do you mean?"
     "I contacted a great many of them today. I got a late
start," he apologized, "but I really accomplished a lot once I
got going. Without exception, the men treated me like a long-lost
brother. The concept of revolt was not at all new to them. In
fact, it seems to be planted firmly in their minds. You won't
believe this, Damion, but I've already arranged a meeting for
tonight."
     Damion's features showed his disbelief.
     "I know, I know," Konars said hastily, "it sounds
impossible. We hadn't expected to reach that stage for several
weeks. But I tell you there was nothing to do. It was as if they
expected me." He paused. "Do  you know what I mean, Damion?"
     Damion thought for several moments. "Can it be the
Federation was wrong?"
     "I doubt it," Konars answered quickly.
     "I'm worried, Konars. It smells fishy. Perhaps we'd best
abandon the plan. Or at least..."
     "The plan is a perfectly workable one. The Old Man may make
mistakes sometimes, but this isn't one of them. This is one time
he's really given a problem all the thought it deserved-- and
he's come up with a perfect solution."
     Damion still looked doubtful, Konars leaned across the
table, his voice dropping lower. "Figure it out for yourself,
Damion. Suppose you were confronted with a planet like Krinn,
Stage Two, refusing to accept Federation membership.... and on
the insane grounds that they don't need us. What would you do?"
     Damion shook his head. "I don't know."
     "You'd do just what the Old Man decided to do. You'd find
some way to show these Krinnians that they really do need us."
     All the old doubts began flooding Damion's mind again. "All
right," he whispered. "Even assuming that starting a revolt among
the men was the best solution, although we both know open
intervention is a breach of Federation precedent..."
     "Five planets will join the Federation if we get Krinn,"
Konars interrupted. "We can afford to break precedent."
     Damion nodded. "I'll go along that far, too. And I'll grant
that a timely end to the revolt by Federation troops would
undoubtedly show these elongated females how much they really
need us. That much I'll grant."
     
KONARS SMILED. "If you'll go that far, there's not much farther
to go, Damion. Once we've made contact with our ships, and once
our troops put an end to the revolt we fomented..."
     He spread his hands wide, shrugging.
     Damion shook his head violently. "That's not what's
bothering me. In the light of what you've told me, there may be
deeper implications."
     "Like what?"
     "Like a male populace that's been straining at the leash for
a good many centuries now. Like this same populace sweeping
forward on the drunkenness of rebellion. Like a real fight on the
Federation's hands, instead of the token show of arms we'd
planned..."
     "Whoa, slow down!"
     "Like a real breaking precedent in that the Federation will
actually be taking the planet by force." Damion shook his head
again. "No sir, Konars it stinks."
     Konars made an open-handed gesture of uncertainty. "Maybe
you're right."
     "If I am, it'll be too damned bad for the Federation, I'll
tell you that much."
     "How much time do you have, Damion?"
     "Huh?"
     "When do you have to be back at the palace? He grinned. "You
did get into the palace, didn't you?"
     "Sure. I'm number one jester and bottle washer." Damion
grimaced.
     "Have you a little time yet?"
     "They don't even know I'm gone. As far as I'm concerned,
I've got all night."
     "Good. I want you to come to the meeting with me. I'll let
you form your own judgements."
     Damion nodded slowly. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."
     "We'd better get started then. It's almost time."
     The meeting was held in the must wine cellar of a man named
Garrid. His wife was a silk merchant, and tremendous yardage of
the material she sold was wrapped about the bulging middle of his
body. He greeted them secretly at the door, bidding them enter
after Konars had identified himself.
     "Come in, come in," he whispered, nodding his head, his
chins shaking with each vigorous vibration. "The meeting has
already started."
     Damion's eyes swept the room. The men were seated among the
big wine barrels, straddling stools, benches, perched on upended
barrels. The fire of rebellion was in their eyes, and Damion
regarded them uneasily.
     A bearded man, more heavily built than the others, was
standing on top of a wine barrel, his hand resting upon the short
sword at his side.  
     "What have they given us?" the bearded man asked. He paused
dramatically, then shouted, "Nothing! That's what."
     Damion nudged Konars. "I thought you were running this
show," he whispered.
     "I guess we're a little late," Konars replied.
     They took seats among the men as the bearded speaker
continued. "are we to be kept slaves forever?" he asked.
     A discontented grumbling started among the men.
     "We are men," the speaker bellowed, "men!" He lowered his
voice. "Does anyone know the meaning of the word?"

AGAIN THE grumbling rolled through the crowded cellar.
     "No!And I'll tell you why. We don't know what it means
because we've never had the opportunity to be men. What kind of
men sit home while their women go out to labor? What kind of men
are subject to the arbitrary whims of a female ruler? These are
not men! These are puppets with skirts!"
     Damion leaned forward, hypnotized by the man's speaking
power. "He's good," he said to Konars.
     "Too good."
     "Puppets with skirts," he repeated. "And the puppet masters
stand high above us, pulling the strings, watching us do our
delightful little dance." His voice dropped to an ominous
whisper. "Well, gentlemen, the time has come to break those
strings."
     A shout went up from the men, and the speaker suddenly
flared with new fire.
     "Break the strings and make the puppet masters dance to our
tune!" he roared. "We'll play the fiddle from now on, and they'll
dance because we'll tell them to! They'll dance...and they'll
like it!"
     "Make 'm dance," a short, balding man shouted.
     "Show 'em what men really are!"
     "We've had enough of them."
     "Time we had a change around here."
     Beside Damion, Garrid the silk merchant stirred uneasily.
His plump fingers went to his lips and a worried look tip-toed
across his face.
     "Soon," the speaker shouted. "Soon we'll be ready! And when
we're ready, we'll strike. Strike!"
     "Strike!" the men shouted in unison. "Strike, strike!
Strike!"
     "Oh dear," Garrid said. "They're getting a little too loud,
aren't' they?" The frown had deepened, and he bit his lips
nervously.
     "Sounds something like a baseball game," Konars commented
wryly.
     Damion's face was serious. "It sounds like a hell of a lot
more than that. These guys are really out for..."
     A familiar whistle shrieked through the wine cellar. Garrid
leaped to his feet, the fat quivering on his belly as he rose.
     "The Guard," he said. "Oh my goodness, the Guard."
     Damion was up instantly. "I know that whistle, Konars. The
gals are coming, and I suggest we get the hell out of here."
     There was a loud battering on the front door, followed by
the sound of splintering wood. Damion saw the door buckle inward
saw the shining boots and the long, curving legs as the women
crashed through and charged down the steps.
     "Take them!" the bearded man shouted. "Don't let them bring
this news back to..."
     The flat side of a sword cut his ranting short. He toppled
off the wine barrel and a tall, bronzed woman picked him up
quickly and flicked him into a corner. Damion saw swords scraping
free of their scabbards, saw the women burst into the crowded
room like a jet explosion.
     And then all hell broke loose.
     The men were shouting, hacking at the women with their
short, ineffective swords. The women ploughed into them like
enormous scythes, knocking them aside with powerful sweeps of
their arms. A sword sliced into a wine barrel, and a stave
splintered, releasing a flow of red liquid onto the floor.
     "We'd better get out fast," Damion said.
     
KONARS AGREED. They pushed their way toward the door, shoving
past the slipping, sliding, writhing men and women.
     They were halfway up the steps, the sound of battle below
them now, when a powerful pair of arms wrapped themselves around
Damion's waist. He half-turned, still in the woman's grip. He
drew his arm back, then uncorked a right that landed solidly on
the point of her jaw. He felt her grip loosen, brought up a
sudden left hook, her arms dropped to her sides, and she stumbled
backward down the stairs.
     Konars had already opened the door.
     "This way," he whispered urgently.
     Below him, Damion could hear Garrid pleading, "My wine, be
careful. Please, my wine."
     He smiled and followed Konars into the darkness. The wind
was fresh on his face, and it was a pleasant change from the
sweating, musty atmosphere of the cellar.
     "Look out!" Konars shouted.
     Damion whirled rapidly, just in time to see the big fist
swinging up toward his face. He tried to duck his head, felt the
hard knuckles crunch against his eye. A blazing spurt of pain
erupted inside his head, and he thought for an instant that she'd
blinded him. He cursed himself for not realizing that they'd have
left someone outside. He was annoyed because his nose was
beginning to run and his eye was tearing, and he couldn't see
where she was. How could he hit her if he couldn't see her.
     He heard a scuffle, heard Konars deep voice swearing softly.
There was the solid thud of metal against bone and then the
crumbling noise of a body hitting the ground.
     A hand grasped his. "Come on, boy. Let's make tracks."
     He tried to smile, and the pain shot clear up to his eye,
threatening to turn his head inside out. They ran, with the wind
cool against his face. After a while, he opened his good eye, saw
that Konars was leading him back to the palace.
     The eye that had been hit refused to open. He stopped tying.
     "How'd you get out of the palace?" Konars asked.
     "Rope. My window."
     They kept running and the pain was spreading to his cheek
now, making the entire left side of his face numb. Kudos, she
could hit!
     "Which side of the palace?"
     "North. No, South."
     He saw Konars nod. The trees thickened, and he knew they had
entered the palace grounds. Around him the trees and rocks and
stars all twinkled, but he couldn't distinguish them from the
galaxy of blinding lights that was swimming before his eyes.
     "I can find my way from here," he said.
     Konars stopped, and the two men breathed heavily in the
darkness for several moments.
     After a while, Konars asked, "What did you think of it?"
     "Just what I said before. It stinks."
     Konars nodded agreement. "Give me another day, Damion. I
want more time to scout around. In the meantime, keep your eyes
open.This little brawl tonight will certainly be talked about in
there." He gestured toward the palace.
     "You'd better go," Damion said.
     "If we feel the same way tomorrow night," Konars said,
"we'll transmit to the ships and explain the situation. I think
this calls for further instructions from the Old Man, don't you?"
     "Maybe. We'll see. Go now, will you? Before they have you
cleaning pots too."

KONARS FACE was concerned. "Are you okay?"
     "I'm fine. Get the hell out of here, will you?"
     "I'll see you tomorrow night." Konars clapped Damion on the
shoulder. He ducked low and disappeared in the bushes.
     Damion waited until he could no longer hear Konars'
footfalls. He ran across the grounds, then, keeping to the
shadows, hugging the old stone walls.
     Overhead, the twin moons glared down like a pair of poached
eggs.
     Damion found the rope, just the way he left it. Not a soul
was in sight. He stuck his tongue out at the moons, and climbed
quickly to his room.
     He was certain that someone had stuffed an old meteorite
into his mouth while he slept. He felt the strong fingers on his
shoulder shaking him to awareness. The meteorite in his mouth was
a very, very old one, and it tasted of ash and other things.
     He sat up in bed, yawned. A pain stabbed at the side of his
face, and he touched his eye gingerly.
     "What happened to you?"
     He recognized Thania's voice, squinted up at the freckled
giantess.
     "I dreamt I walked into a door," he said.
     "That was some dream."
     "That was some door, sister."
     He touched the eye again. It felt like a pound ground
hamburger. It probably had maggots, too.
     "If you want breakfast, you'd better hurry," Thania said.
     "Sure. Hurry, hurry, hurry."
     Everyone commented on his eye. It seemed to be the choicest
bit of news to hit the palace in weeks. He was not surprised when
Alidia said, "Who hit you?"
     She had finished breakfast, was lying on the long couch now,
her legs stretched out ahead of her. He followed the long curve
of her legs, up to the swell of her breasts, his eyes resting on
her face.
     "What difference does it make?"
     "None, surely."
     "Then why do you ask?"
     "There was a slight disturbance last night."
     "Really?"
     "Yes. Some men."
     "Oh?"
     "We've taken them all into custody. Quite a few of them, one
the mate of a respectable city merchant."
     "Tch-tch," Damion clucked.
     "They all profess ignorance and innocence. They claim it was
a meeting of their club."
     Damion shrugged. "What's all this got to do with my eye?"
     "Nothing of course. I thought you might like to know,
however that one of the ringleaders has been caught."
     Damion started visibly. Konars caught? He mastered control
of himself. "Ringleader of what? I thought it was a club
meeting."

"WE THINK it was a planned conspiracy." She paused. "There was
another leader. He got away."
     "Did he?"
     "Yes, but we have reason to believe he was...ah...injured
during the fight." She looked at his eye meaningfully.
     "The one you caught. Where are you keeping him?"
     "With the rest. In the dungeons."
     "I see." He'd have to release Konars somehow. Soon.
     "He was found near the palace grounds." She smiled slightly.
"What do you suppose he was doing here?"
     "Taking a walk maybe. The grounds are very pretty at night."
     "Mmmm." Alidia rose, walked to the window. "Incidentally,
Fool, I don't think you should tear up any more of our
tapestries."
     "What?"
     "They're quite expensive."
     "I don't..."
     "Until we catch the other one, Fool, I think you'd best stay
in your quarters. A guard will be posted."
     Damion smiled. "Surely you don't think..."
     "What I think is a matter between myself and my mind," she
snapped. "Get to your quarters."
     He paced the floor of his room, back and forth, back and
forth. He glanced at his wrist chron every five minutes waiting
for the time to pass, waiting for darkness to shroud the planet.
And at last, the twin moons rose, specters against the sky, while
the sun slowly dropped behind the horizon.
     "He lay down on the cot, clutched his stomach and shouted,
"Ohhhhh! Help, help."
     He heard a faint shuffle outside the door.
     "Hellp, please, help," he moaned.
     The door snapped open. Thania's eyes were worried, large
brown saucers behind her freckled nose.
     "What is it?" she pleaded. "What is it?"
     "My stomach," he groaned. "Please, please."
     She stepped closer to the cot, her mouth hanging open.
     "What is it? she pleaded. "What is it?" she pleaded. "What
is it?"
     "Fever. My head. Burning up. Stomach."
     His words had the desired reaction. She reached out, placed
her large palm on his forehead. Damion clamped his fingers on her
wrist, and he turned rapidly on the cot. His fist came up with
surprising rapidity, squashed against Thania's nose. He yanked
her harm back, twisted it, then brought the edge of his hand down
against the back of her neck, once, twice, again, again. She
struggled for a moment, shock in her eyes, and then crumpled to
the floor.
     "Sorry, honey," he mumbled. He unbuckled her large sword,
admiring the excellence of her legs as he did so. He looked
around the room for something he could tie her up with,
remembered the strips of tapestry he'd hidden beneath the cot. He
got down on his hands and knees, peering into the blackness. The
strips were gone.
     Cautiously, he walked to the door, peered into the stone
corridor. So far, so good. He closed the door rapidly, considered
the problem of the unconscious Amazon again. He ripped off his
tunic, tore it, stuffed part of it into her mouth, and gagged her
with the rest. Then he removed the leather belt from about her
waist, and lashed her feet firmly together.
     What about her hands? He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

QUICKLY, HE moved the cot to the window. Then he looped one end
of the leather strap around the post, dragging the heavy girl to
the sill. Without ceremony, he dropped her out, head first. Her
hair hung down toward the ground, her arms dangling. He checked
the strap again, made certain that it would withstand any of her
strugglings, and then picked up the large sword she once wore.
She'd be safe until someone found her. And in the meantime, she
was in no position to spread alarm.
     Quietly, he slipped out into the corridor, closing the door
firmly  behind him.
     Now, where were the dungeons? 
     Down, most likely. All the way down. He started walking the
corridor, his eyes searching every shadow. The click of heels on
stone reached his ears, and he quickly pressed himself against
the wall. He listened, his ears straining, and finally he heard a
door slam somewhere down the corridor.
     He began walking hurriedly again. Near the end of the
corridor, he discovered a door opening on a long, winding
staircase. Without hesitation, he started down the steps. The
stairwell was dimly lit, torches flickering in the wall at
irregular intervals.He paused occasionally to listen, proceeding
when he was sure he heard no alien sound.
     The steps ended abruptly on a dark stone landing. He peered
around he corner of the two walls, trying to adjust his eyes to
the darkness. As far as he could determine, there was no one on
guard. Were the cells that escape-proof?
     he took-another tentative step forward.
     He heard the whispers then, and his heart lurched crazily.
There were voices. One, two, maybe there. he heard the stealthy
creep of footsteps. His heart hammered against his ribs and he
peered into the blackness, flattening himself against the damp
stones.
     "This way," a voice whispered.
     For a moment, he thought the voice had addressed him, and he
almost moved away from the wall. He caught himself, pressed his
bare back to the cold surface again.
     "Are these the cells?" This voice was louder, a little above
a whisper. It was a man's voice.
     "I don't know," the first voice whispered. "She didn't tell
me where they were. She only said one of the ringleaders was
being held in the dungeons."
     Ringleaders? Was someone else after Konars? Perhaps these
were friends.
     "Can't we strike a light?"
     "No not yet. Let's make sure these are the cells first."
     Damion heard a scraping metallic sound.
     "Looks like a door here."
     "This is it, alright."
     "Are you sure she was referring to Lakdor?"
          Damion frowned. Who the hell was Lakdor?
     "Who else could she mean? He was in charge at last night's
meeting, wasn't he?" The voice was louder now, and it had a
familiar sound.
     Damion stirred abruptly, and his sword clanked against the
stone wall.
     "Hist..." one of the voices said.

A DEADLY APPREHENSIVE silence crowded into the corridor. Damion
heard the ragged sound of his own breath, the hurried beating of
his heart. He knew they were listening, waiting for another
sound.
     "all right," one of the voices said suddenly. "Come out of
there!"
     Damion hesitated.
     "Come out or I'll burn you down in your tracks."
     The voice was louder, and Damion knew who it was now. He
stepped away from the wall.
     "Put a light on her," the first voice commanded.
     A small beam blinked up into Damion's eyes, and he heard a
surprised gasp.
     "Well, well, if it isn't the fool!"
     "That's who it is, Bendir," Damion said.
     "Come here, Fool."
     "My name is Damion."
     "Come here, Fool!"
     Damion snapped forward, the sheen of the Daxonian's weapon
gleaming in the light of the beam.
     "What are you doing here? Bendir asked. Damion could see the
hard glint of his eyes, the tangled triangle of his beard.
     "The same thing you're doing."
     Bendir smirked. "And what may that be?"
     "I've come to release Lakdor," he lied. One of his problems
was taking care of itself. He'd wondered how he was going to open
Konars' cell once he found it. With electronic weapons at his
disposal, it would be a simple matter.
     "How would you know Lakdor?" Bendir asked, his mouth
smirking.
     "I was at the meeting last night," said Damion.
     "Were you, now?"
     "Yes, I was. I saw them capture Lakdor. Being in the palace,
I figured I was in a position to help him escape."
     "Is that so?"
     "Yes." Damion paused a moment then plunged ahead
recklessly." I know all your plans. Lakdor told me."
     Bendir moved forward swiftly, pushing his weapon against
Damion's stomach. "You're a liar, Fool. I was ready to believe
you--up to now. But even Lakdor doesn't know the extent of our
plans, so he couldn't have told you very well."
     Damion shrugged, "Why bother getting him out then? If he's
not important, why not just let him..."
     "He is important. He's one of our contacts with the men of
Krinn. But none of our contacts understand the scope of our
plans. Nor do we intend telling them, until it's all over."
     "Until what's all over?"
     Bendir smiled. "Perhaps you'd best wait until it's all over,
too. You'll be finding out soon enough."
     He prodded Damion with the weapon, forced him down the
passageway. They stopped before one of the cells. 
     "Lakdor?" Bendir asked, his face close to the small opening
in the door. There was no answer.
     "Perhaps it's one of the other cells," the other man
suggested.
     "Yes," Bendir agreed. They walked a little further down the
corridor, pausing outside another heavy door.
     "Lakdor?"
     "Yes," a voice answered. "Get me out of here." Damion
recognized the voice. It belonged to a fellow named Konars. Good
old Konars. He'd probably heard every bit of the conversation and
had seized upon it as his means of escape.
     "Stand back, away from the door," Bendir said.
     "Hurry up," Konars voice came again.
     "Are you away from the door?"
     "Yes, yes. Hurry."

BENDIR TOOK his weapon away from Damion's stomach, pointed it at
the metal lock on the door. He pressed a button and an orange
shaft of light sprang from the muzzle, arced out to the lock. The
metal ran liquid, and Bendir stepped closer to the door.
     "Now, Damion!" Konars shouted.
     Damion lashed out with his fist as the door sprang outward.
He caught the second Daxonian high on the cheekbone, and the man
staggered back a few paces. Damion reached out grasped his
scarlet tunic. He brought up a left hook that exploded solidly on
the other man's chin.
     The man fell to the stones, his weapon clattering tot he
floor. Damion picked up the weapon, turned to help Konars. Bendir
grunted as Konars' big hands whipped into his midsection. Then
Konars propped him against the wall, brought up his fist from the
floor, and turned to Damion without waiting to see the results.
     "Come on, boy, this is important!"
     He was already down the corridor, Damion behind him.
     "What's it all about?" Damion asked.
     "Lakdor was in my cell. I put him to sleep when I heard your
voices." He paused, starting up the winding steps. "But not
before he had a chance to tell me what's going on."
     "Well, what is going on?"
     "I rather suspect that Daxo is planning to take over the
planet. At any rate, these damned Daxonians have been inciting
the men to rebellion for months now."
     "What!"
     "You heard me, pal That explains the lack of resistance when
I approached the men. They thought I was just another emissary.
Hell, they'd been hearing the same story for a long time."
     They were almost at the top of the steps now.
     "We'd better hurry," Konars said. 'if we can talk to the
queen and get her to..."
     A scream tore its way down the steps.
     "Holy..."
     "Come on," Konars shouted. "We may be too late already."
     
     The palace was in a state of confusion. All through the
corridors, Damion and Konars passed women buckling on armor, too
intent to pay much attention to the fool.
     "Where is she?" Konars asked.
     "Straight ahead." They were running down the long corridor
that led from the kitchen to Alidia's chambers. "You'd better let
me talk to her."
     "Alright."
     They reached the door, and Konars opened it quickly. Alidia
turned, her eyes blazing. She spotted Damion and drew her sword.
     "You! You dare come here!"
     "Listen, Alidia..."
     She was barreling across the room, her sword swinging, her
eyes spitting hate.
     "So you've finally arranged it, have you? You've finally
succeeded!"
     "I don't know what you're talk..."
     "Out there! Your men are pounding on the gates, Fool."
     "They're not my men, Alidia."
     "Don't lie to me, Fool!"
     "I tell you they're not..."

THE SWORD arced in a wide circle, and Damion dodged the blow.
Alidia brought back her arm, preparing for another stroke. Damion
lifted the Daxonian weapon, squeezed off. The metal fell from the
sword in a molten cascade.
     Alidia started at the sword. "You... you..."
     "That's only a sample of what's out there, Alidia. Those men
are lead by Daxonians, and you can be they'll be equipped with
these little gadgets."
     "Daxon..."
     "Yes, damnit. Your pal Bendir is planning to overrun the
planet, and chances are he'll succeed, now."
     "But..."
     "But nothing! Unless we do something fast..."
     "But Bendir...his...our talks. He urged me to stay away from
the Federation. He said it would mean submission...almost
slavery...he..."
     "He was lying." Damion gestured toward Konars. "We're
Federation men. Bendir was lying."
     The fire leaped into Alidia's eyes again. "Federation men!
And you expect me to believe you? You expect me to take your word
over Bendir's." She lunged forward, her big hands grasping.
     Damion set his mouth, tossed his weapon aside. He waited for
Alidia to approach him, then lashed out with his foot. He felt it
smash against her shin bone, felt his toes crumble against the
hard bone. Damnit, why couldn't he remember that Krinnians wore
sandals. Desperately, he flung himself at her knees, wrapping his
arms around them. He yanked hard, pulling her off her feet. She
toppled to the floor in a swirl of skirts and flashing legs.
     Damion slapped her across the face, straddling her middle.
     "Why you..."
     "Shut up!" he shouted. HE slapped her again, saw the
surprise cover her entire face. She reached out with one of her
hands, and he knocked it aside. She tried to lift her head, and
he slammed it down against the stones. Then he slapped her again.
     The surprise on her face gave way to open-mouthed shock. He
reached down quickly, planted his lips firmly against hers.
     She squirmed violently, moving her head from side to side.
And then her lips softened, and he felt them move in response
against his. Her arms came up around his neck. He opened his
eyes, looked down the length of his nose. Alidia's eyes were
closed tightly.
     Quickly, he broke away, scrambled to his feet.
     "Get up!"
     She seemed to be awakened from a deep sleep. "Fool.." she
said. "Fool..."
     "My name is Damion!"
     "Damion..."
     "Get up!"
     "Yes, Damion, " she said. Her voice was warm.
     Damion turned, met Konars smiling eyes. "Let's get out there
now, and see what we can do," he said.

THEY STARTED for the door, Alidia trailing behind them.
     The sounds of battle were loud now, voices raised in ragged
discord, metal clashing on metal, the sullen crackle of
electronic equipment.
     They climbed to the parapets surrounding the palace. Outside
it was even worse than Damion had suspected.
     The girls were falling back steadily, helpless in the grip
of Daxonian arms. The men pushed forward relentlessly, guns
lashing flame. They milled beneath the palace walls. Shouting,
swearing. Among them, Damion saw the tell-tale scarlet of the
Daxonians, realized it was they alone who bore the real weapons.
     We'd better make that call now," Konars suggested.
     "No," Damion snapped.
     "Why not? That is..."
     "The real danger is the Daxonians," Damion said. "if we call
in our ships, they'll blast everything in sight. The Krinnian men
out there are dupes, Konars. Can't you understand that?"
     "Sure, but..."
     "The Krinnians have got to beat the Daxonians. Alone. If we
show them how, fine. But we can't do it for them."
     "They'll never do it," Konars said, wagging his head. "The
Daxonians have superior arms..."
     "You misunderstand. The arms don't mean a damn. Look at all
the Krinnians out there with swords! Hell, the Daxonians only
have a handful."
     "A handful of electronic weapons," Konars said.
     ""But still a handful. If we can make the Krinnians
understand that they're being duped into losing their own
planet..."
     "How do you intend to accomplishing that miraculous feat?"
     "I don't know."
     "Well, you'd better find out in a hurry. It looks as if
they're getting ready for an all-out attack."
     Damion whirled rapidly, seized Alidia by her arms.
     "Can your girls hold out for a while?"
     "I... I suppose so. Those guns..."
     "Never mind the guns. Can they hold out?"
     "If... I guess so. Damion, I was wrong about all this.
Perhaps we should have..."
     "We'll talk about it later." He tugged on her arm, and she
bent down. He kissed her fleetingly, and then said, "Come on,
Konars. I've got an idea."
     They were in the dungeons again, the light pale, the odor
range and musty with the smell of the centuries."
     "What are we...."
     "There are two Daxonian uniforms down here. I want them."
     "What for?" Konars asked.
     "We're going to playact for a little while."
     "I don't get it."
     "You will." Damion stopped to get his bearings. "Around this
corner, Konars."
     They turned the corner, walking at a fast clip. Damion
pulled up abruptly when he heard the voice.
     "That's quite far enough, Fool."
     Bendir was holding a weapon in his fist, a smaller weapon
than his previous one, but it looked just as deadly.
     "I'm glad you're awake," Damion said. "It'll save me the
trouble of undressing you."
     "Don't make jokes," Bendir warned.

"I WANT your clothes, chum."
     "Isn't that strange? I want something from you, too."
     "What?"
     "Your life." Damion sensed the urgency behind the words. He
dropped flat to the stones as the flame lanced over his head. He
heard a click as Bendir slapped another lethal cartridge into the
chamber. He braced his feet, leaped forward.
     The flame lanced out again, at the ceiling this time. The
stone crumbled and dropped to the floor. Damion gripped Bendir's
hand as he heard another cartridge click into place.
     The bearded man struggled, swinging the arm, trying to shake
Damion's tightening fingers. They rolled over on the floor,
Bendir on top now.
     Damion heard the shuffle of Konars' feet.
     "Stay out of this," he shouted, rolling over again.
     He gripped Bendir's hand with both his own, began slamming
it against the hard floor. He heard the bones crunch, felt the
hand turn soggy with blood as he kept pounding. Finally, Bendir
released his grip on the weapon. Damion kicked it across the
passageway, heard it collide with the far wall.
     He wrapped his fist in Bendir's tunic, pulled him to his
feet.
     "Come on, Commander!" he whispered through clenched teeth.
"Drink my blood."
     Bendir brought up his knee, gouging at Damion's groin.
     "Why you lousy..."
     Damion clenched his fist into a tight, hard ball. He brought
it back, unleashed it with the force of a trip hammer. He felt
the shock clear up to his shoulder. Bendir grunted, ducked his
head, then clamped his teeth on Damion's arm.
     "A man's planet, huh?" Damion shouted. "A man's planet! Do
you pull hair, too?"
     He pulled his arms away, the skin ripping from Bendir's
teeth. His fist clenched again, and he threw it forward. He felt
the snap of Bendir's head, swung again as the man went down.
     He was breathing heard, standing over the Daxonian.
     "Come on," he said at last. "Let's get this over with."
     Alidia let them out through a side door, not fifty feet away
from the milling invaders. They wore the scarlet uniforms of the
Daxonians now, and they held the guns that went with the
uniforms. The clothes Konars had taken from Bendir's crony were
tight and he moved forward stiffly.
     "I hope you know what you're doing," he said.     
     "You can tell your grandchildren about this some day,"
Damion said.
     "If I live to have any."
     "Shhhh."
     They slipped into the group of men easily, two more scarlet
uniforms among the Krinnians.
     "What now?"
     "A little further," Damion said. "I want to get in the
middle here."
     The men were standing about apparently waiting for
direction. Off to one side, the Daxonians were in conversation,
planning the next assault.
     "Life me up," Damion said.
     "What?"
     "On your shoulder's. Come on. I want to make sure they all
can see me."
     
KONARS COMPLIED, hefting Damion easily.
     "All right, men!" Damion shouted.
     The men stopped grumbling, looking up at the scarlet-clad
figure.
     "We're going to make the next attack soon, so listen
carefully."
     The men cheered, throwing their hats into the air. They were
getting impatient with all the delay. From the corner of his eye,
Damion saw the Daxonians look up with interest.
     "You Krinnians are performing a great service," Damion said.
"And when the planet is in our hands, you'll be rewarded."
     He heard the confused murmur of the men, saw the knot of
Daxonians move a little closer.
     "You'll find that Daxo is not an ungrateful planet! We among
you, we in scarlet, have been watching you carefully. When Daxo
is in control, we will remember our friends."
     "Great Kudos," Konars said, "what are you trying to do?"
     "Daxo?" one of the men shouted. "What are you talking
about?"
     A chorus of voices grumbled their protest, and Damion held
up his hands to silence the crew.
     "You'll find that life under Daxonian rule is far better
than the meager existence you've had up to now. The Daxonians are
good rulers, and we will treat you well."
     He heard the angry mutter again, pretended it didn't affect
him. "But first we must storm the walls," he bellowed. "We must
clear out all the Krinnian scum, subdue the Krinnian degenerates,
utterly the base, vile, evil Krinnian...
     "They're getting mad, pal," Konars whispered.
     "...Krinnian empire," he continued. He paused when he saw
the gleam in the eyes of the Krinnian men. "Watch the boys in
red," he whispered to Konars, "and get read to get out of here in
a hell of a hurry."
     "And then," he shouted, "the glorious Daxonians will lift
you out of your ignorance and filth. The Krinnian shame will be
forgotten forever as the splendor of Daxo..."
     "That's it!" Konars shouted. "That does it!"
     The Krinnian's leaped forward as one man, their weapons
swinging wildly. Damion dropped to the ground and headed back
toward the palace.
     "Don't let them get away," he heard someone shout.
     "Kill the filthy beggars."
     He glanced over his shoulder, saw the Daxonians break out
their guns. There were a few sputtering flames of protest, and
then the tide of Krinnians swept forward. Damion ripped off his
tunic, tossing it over his shoulder.
     "They need some help, I think."
     He wasn't surprised to see that Konars had already removed
his tunic, and was moving forward toward the source of the
Daxonian firing.
     The men in scarlet were gathered into a tight red circle
that bristled with guns. The Krinnians closed on them, and the 
Daxonians held their fire, waiting.
     "We'll never break that circle," Konars said. "They've got
enough firepower to stop an army."

AND THEN suddenly, dropping from the walls of the palace like so
many released boulders, Damion saw the fighting women of Krinn,
tunics flaring out over their waists, swords swinging. They
dropped into the circle and the Krinnian men raised their voices
in a blood cry.
     The Daxonian circle spit flame, but the women were among
them now, and the wall rapidly crumbled.
     Damion charged forward, his weapon firing, clicking, firing
again. There were Krinnians behind him now, shouting, taking him
for one of their own now that his back was bare.
     Across the field, close to the palace wall, he saw Alidia
hacking away at a man in a red tunic. Beside her, their shoulders
touching, stood Thania. He wondered briefly how she'd found her
way out of the position he'd left her in.
     Then he broke into a sprint, the gun in his hand leaping as
he fired. Konars was right behind him.
     Three men in red closed on Thania and Alidia. The girls
stood back to back, their swords cutting a wide swath around
them.     
     "Those damn fools are going to get killed," Konars said.    
     Damion kept running forward. He clicked a cartridge into
place as soon as he was close enough, squeezed the button. A
Daxonian curled up on the ground, his body black. Damion fired
again, and another man dropped. Behind him, he heard the crackle
of Konars' gun, saw the third man crumble to the ground.
     He ran to her, and she dropped to her knees, sobbing like a
little girl. He ran his fingers through the fire of her hair,
touched her face, kissed her gently.
     "It's all over, Alidia," he said. "it's all over now."
     The sounds of victory were loud around them. Konars looked
at Damion with some embarrassment Thania turned away, not sued to
seeing her queen kissed.
     Men were clapping women on the back, and women were lifting
men into their arms. Swords were being tossed into the air along
with hats, shoes, buckles, anything that wasn't nailed down.
     "Well," Konars said, "it looks as if it is really over now."
     Thania nodded, her freckles glistening under a coat of
sweat.

IT WAS WONDERFUL what science could accomplish, Konars reflected.
     He sat on the foamite couch on the porch of his home,
peering out at the stars overhead. Sighing deeply, he pressed a
button on the side of the coach and soft music sifted onto the
porch.
     The old warrior, he mused, with no more worlds to conquer.
Daxo? Even Daxo had adapted readily to Federation techniques once
Bendir had been ousted. A changing universe, for sure. A universe
of peace.
     HE thought briefly about Damion, wondered if he were truly
happy with his new bride. He admitted grudgingly, that Alidia was
a wonderful women and now that things were changed.
     Still, she had been a queen, and he pondered the
advisability of being married to such a woman.
     Well, queens could change, too, he supposed. Everything else
had changed, by Kudos. Why not a queen?
     He fumbled in his tunic for his pipe, grimaced when he
realized he left it inside again. He leaned back, pressed a
toggle in the wall, out his mouth close to a speaker.
     "Yes?" a soft voice answered.
     "Will you bring me my pipe, please?" he said. "I seem to
have left it inside again."
     "Oh, Konars."
     "Sorry, honey. You shouldn't have married an absent-minded
dolt."
     He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'll be right out."
     He sighed, leaned back against the foamite again. He'd have
to drop on Damion tomorrow, maybe invite him and Alidia over for
the weekend.
     The plexolite door swung upward, and a young woman with a
freckle-covered nose stepped out onto the porch.
     "here," she said, handing him the pipe.
     He reflected about the door, and about the woman who stood
by his side now. He rose, took the pipe, and put his arm around
her waist. Her head reached to his shoulder, and he snipped at
her hair in appreciation.
     Yes, science was a wonderful thing all right.
     Around them, the bushes and rocks gleamed with a million
incandescent eyes. Overhead the twin moons glared down balefully.
"I think, Thania," he said, "that the only thing I'll never like
about this planet is..."
     He looked up at the moons again.

                              THE END