Duel on Syrtis

Poul Anderson

Description

What happens when hunters grow weary of pursuing traditional game? In the future imagined by Poul Anderson in the story "Duel on Syrtis," wealthy sportsman Riordan has upped the stakes by traveling across the solar system to pursue an intelligent creature that can match wits with him.

Sujets

• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776536498
• Langue: English

Extrait

DUEL ON SYRTIS
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POUL ANDERSON
 
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Duel on Syrtis First published in 1951 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-649-8 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-650-4 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Duel on Syrtis
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Bold and ruthless, he was famed throughout the System as abig-game hunter. From the firedrakes of Mercury to the ice-crawlers ofPluto, he'd slain them all. But his trophy-room lacked one item; andnow Riordan swore he'd bag the forbidden game that roamed the reddeserts ... a Martian!
*
The night whispered the message. Over the many miles of loneliness itwas borne, carried on the wind, rustled by the half-sentient lichensand the dwarfed trees, murmured from one to another of the littlecreatures that huddled under crags, in caves, by shadowy dunes. In nowords, but in a dim pulsing of dread which echoed through Kreega'sbrain, the warning ran—
They are hunting again.
Kreega shuddered in a sudden blast of wind. The night was enormousaround him, above him, from the iron bitterness of the hills to thewheeling, glittering constellations light-years over his head. Hereached out with his trembling perceptions, tuning himself to thebrush and the wind and the small burrowing things underfoot, lettingthe night speak to him.
Alone, alone. There was not another Martian for a hundred miles ofemptiness. There were only the tiny animals and the shivering brushand the thin, sad blowing of the wind.
The voiceless scream of dying traveled through the brush, from plantto plant, echoed by the fear-pulses of the animals and the ringinglyreflecting cliffs. They were curling, shriveling and blackening as therocket poured the glowing death down on them, and the withering veinsand nerves cried to the stars.
Kreega huddled against a tall gaunt crag. His eyes were like yellowmoons in the darkness, cold with terror and hate and a slowlygathering resolution. Grimly, he estimated that the death was beingsprayed in a circle some ten miles across. And he was trapped in it,and soon the hunter would come after him.
He looked up to the indifferent glitter of stars, and a shudder wentalong his body. Then he sat down and began to think.
*
It had started a few days before, in the private office of the traderWisby.
"I came to Mars," said Riordan, "to get me an owlie."
Wisby had learned the value of a poker face. He peered across the rimof his glass at the other man, estimating him.
Even in God-forsaken holes like Port Armstrong one had heard ofRiordan. Heir to a million-dollar shipping firm which he himself hadpyramided into a System-wide monster, he was equally well known as abig game hunter. From the firedrakes of Mercury to the ice crawlers ofPluto, he'd bagged them all. Except, of course, a Martian. Thatparticular game was forbidden now.
He sprawled in his chair, big and strong and ruthless, still a youngman.