Short Fiction, Mack Reynolds [best book reader txt] 📗

Short Fiction

By Mack Reynolds.

Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Tourists to Terra Not in the Rules The Martians and the Coys Mercy Flight Halftripper The Cosmic Bluff Dogfight—1973 Potential Enemy Off Course The Galactic Ghost Happy Ending After Some Tomorrow Unborn Tomorrow The Good Seed Summit Revolution Adaptation Foreword I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII Combat Medal of Honor I’m a Stranger Here Myself Gun for Hire Freedom Ultima Thule Farmer I II III IV V Status Quo Mercenary I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI Subversive The Common Man Frigid Fracas I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX XXI XXII Spaceman on a Spree I II Colophon Uncopyright Imprint

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Tourists to Terra

Diomed of Argos, son of Tydeus, drew his sword with a shout and rushed forward to finish off his Trojan opponent before help could arrive. Suddenly he stopped and threw up a shielding arm before his eyes. When he could see again, one who could only have been Aphrodite, Goddess of love and beauty stood between him and the unconscious enemy. She was dressed as though for the bridal room, her Goddess body, breathtakingly beautiful, revealed through the transparent robe she wore. She was attired for love, but held a short sword in her hand.

Aphrodite smiled at him in derision. “Now, then, Prince of Argos, would you fight the Gods?” She advanced the sword, half mockingly.

But the Greek was mad with bloodlust, half crazed with his day’s victories; he snatched up his spear, muttering, “Pallas Athene aids me,” and rushed her.

Her eyes widened, fear flashing in them, and she began to rise from the ground. The barbaric spear flashed out and ripped her arm; blood flowed and she dropped the sword, screaming.

Diomed heard a voice call urgently, “Go back! Go back immediately to⁠—” And the Goddess Aphrodite disappeared.

He whirled to face the newcomer and saw another God confronting him. The extent of his action was beginning to be realized but Diomed had gone too far to turn back now; he charged his new opponent, shield held high and sword at the ready. The God lifted his hand, sending forth a bolt of power that brought the Greek to his knees.

Diomed’s eyes were filled with sudden fear and despair. “Phoebus Apollo,” he quavered.

The God was scornful. “Beware, Diomed,” he said. “Do not think to fight with Gods.”

The Greek cowered before him.

Later, in the invisible space ship, hovering five hundred feet above the battle, Cajun faced her, his features impassive and his tone of voice faultless. He was boiling with rage beneath his courtesy.

“I will present your complaint to the Captain, but I would like to remind the Lady Jan that she has been warned repeatedly against appearing in the battle clothed as she is and without greater defenses. It was fortunate I was able to appear as soon as I did. If you’d been injured seriously, I hesitate to say what repercussions would’ve taken place on the home planet.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Injured seriously! Just what do you mean by that? Do you realize this horrible wound will probably take half the night to heal? You saw that barbarian was insane, why didn’t you come to my assistance sooner? You haven’t heard the last of this, you inefficient nincompoop. When we return home I’ll have you stripped of your rank!”

Cajun’s face remained blank. “Yes, your ladyship,” he said. “And, before I go, may I deliver a message from the Lady Marid? She said they await you in the salon.”

She drew a cape about her and without speaking further, swept from the compartment.

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Parasites,” he muttered savagely, and turned to go to his own quarters where he could change from this ridiculous glittering armor, into his own uniform as ship’s officer.

The Lady Jan stormed into the salon where the others had gathered to try the new concoction the steward had named ambrosia. Some of them still wore their costumes, others had changed into the more comfortable dress of their own world.

Her eyes blazed at them. “Who in the name of Makred told that Greek he would conquer anyone he fought today, even a God? The damned barbarian nearly killed me!”

The Lord Daren laughed gently. “It was Marid; she was playing the Goddess Athene. The sport was rather poor with that new bow of hers so she thought she’d inflame one of the Greeks and see just how berserk he would become if he thought he had the protection of a Goddess.”

“He could have killed me!”

“Oh, come, now, Jan, you were barely scratched. Besides, Marid didn’t know this