Murray Leinster: The Duplicators

The human army halted to pass upon Link’s behavior. Thistlethwaite glowered at Link and loudly disclaimed any association with him at all. He was no longer Thistlethwaite’s junior partner. He was—

They made camp, to discuss the situation in detail. Then Thistlethwaite was astonished to be placed in the dock as Link’s fellow-criminal. The head of this court-martial would be Old Man Addison. He was not an amiable character, and Link took an instant dislike to him. His air was authoritative and offensive. His speech was very far from cordial. Link found that his objection to Old Man Addison could be summed up in the statement that he didn’t have any manners.

But he knew what he intended the court-martial to do, and he plainly meant to see that it did it. Against Thistlethwaite’s arguments he said acidly:

“You stuck me once. I gave you a spaceboat cargo on your promise to come back an’ pay me adequate for some dupliers. You’re back. Where’s the stuff you was to bring?”

Thistlethwaite protested despairingly.

“You’ goin’ to be hung,” said Old Man Addison, as acidly as before. “An’ I take your ship to pay me for what you cheated me out of. And any more strangers land on Sord Three get hung right off, no questions an’ no foolin’ around!”

The court-martial convened. Link explained lucidly that the uffts around Harl’s household were already nearly in revolt, that they’d besieged Harl’s Household, and that with Harl’s approval he’d gone out to persuade them to go off somewhere and let pack-trains of unicorns relieve the food shortage. He pointed out that he had accomplished exactly that. He even pointed out that no human had been insulted or injured by uffts following his oratorical suggestions. He’d assumed leadership of the uffts as a favor to Harl.

Harl cast the only vote in the court-martial in favor of Link. The decision was that Link and Thistlethwaite were to be hanged the next morning. The delay was to allow other householders, hurrying to the scene, to watch the pleasant spectacle.

Link remained composed. Especially after the number of uffts usually to be seen about a gathering of humans appeared, one by one, and moved casually about the encampment. Nobody bothered them. It was the habit of humans to tolerate uffts. By midday there were at least fifty uffts moving about among the men and tents and animals. Later there were more.

Near sundown, Thana was admitted to the closely guarded place where Link and Thistlethwaite waited for morning and their doom. Thana looked at once indignant and subdued.

“I’m… sorry, Link,” she said unhappily, “Harl’s still arguing, trying to get them to change their minds. But it doesn’t look like he’s going to! He’s even told them that you showed me how to duply a knife so it’s as good as an unduplied one! He’s promised to make them all presents of shirts and beans and unduplied knives! But they listen to Old Man Addison.”

“Yes,” admitted Link. “He has a certain force of character. But his manners—” He shook his head. “Even Thistlethwaite doesn’t approve of Old Man Addison now!”

Thana caught her breath as if trying not to cry.

“I… I brought you a shirt, Link. I… guess you didn’t like that embroidered one. You took it off. This is duplied from the one you gave Harl.”

“Hm,” said Link. “Fine! Thanks, Thana.”

She wept. He patted her shoulder.

“Is there anything…” she whispered, “is there anything I can do? Anything, Link!” She sobbed. “I… feel like it’s my fault, you being in trouble. If I’d had more food stored away you wouldn’t have had to lead the uffts away and… and—”

Link said helpfully, “If you feel that way, why… a couple of unicorns up the valley at midnight—If you could manage that, I’d appreciate it a lot!”

She was silent. Then she said bitterly, “You… you want to go back to Imogene!”

Link stared at her.

“Look, Thana, I didn’t tell you the end of the story! After I got on the spaceship, and that’s nearly a year ago, I looked at the receipt the florist had given me. And he’d written down Imogene’s address on the back of the receipt. So he couldn’t send the flowers or the note. So Imogene never heard from me again, and if I know her she’s married long ago!”

She looked at him earnestly. “Honestly, Link?”

“Of course,” Link said with dignity. “Have you ever known me to lie?”

“Where shall I have the unicorns?” she asked. “And how?”

“Influence,” said Link. “I’ve got influence. Now—”

He told her a place it would not be easy to miss, perhaps a mile up the valley from the camp. She went away.

He seemed absorbed in thought for a long time after that. He didn’t even pay particular attention to the uffts, which near sunset seemed to increase in number. But once an ufft winked reassuringly at him. Thistlethwaite was bitter, but Link consoled him as well as he could.

“You,” he said kindly, “mistake the courtesies of business life for sentiments of deeper importance. You should reform.” Thistlethwaite swore despairingly at him.

Darkness fell. Stars shone. The camp quieted. Then, at midnight, there was sudden and dithering uproar. Tents collapsed. Unicorns made dismal noises, tried to bolt, and finding their tethers bitten through by uffts, high-tailed it for the mountain slopes, with heel-nips to urge them on. Men swore, under blanketing canvas. Men tried to run after the unicorns and uffts ran between their legs and upset them. Those who tried to haul collapsed tents off their fellows suffered similarly irritating upsets. When swearing men crawled out to the open air, uffts nipped their legs and they leaped madly. There was a swarm of shouting uffts all about, ripping at any human or other heel within reach, biting through any ropes that remained intact, and bellowing contradictory orders in fairly good imitations of human voices. They turned the camp into something close to primordial chaos.

Link grunted as one of his own guards was bowled over. He grabbed at Thistlethwaite. He led the way. A small party of uffts formed around them, clearing the path. Twice, householders or their retainers seemed about to blunder into them, but each time they toppled as running uffts hit their knees from behind. Then the entire escort ran zestfully over them in what they considered the fine tradition of the Die-hard Regiment. Before disbanding his army, Link had picked them out, dramatically, for possible secret military action. This was it.

He and Thistlethwaite arrived where the unicorns should be. Around them, their escort boasted of their achievement in releasing Link. He had to warn them that these unicorns, dimly seen in the starlight, were not to be stampeded.

Then he discovered that there were three unicorns, not two. Thana flung reins to Link.

“Come on!” she said fiercely. “Maybe they’ll follow!”

“I’ve got a rear guard,” said Link, tranquilly, “and you’d better not come with us, Thana. Better turn your unicorn loose and get back to the camp.”

“I won’t!” said Thana. “I told Harl what I was going to do. He asked me to apologize for not coming to see us off.”

“Us?” Link’s mouth dropped open. Then he felt good. Remarkably good. He said warmly, “Harl has the best manners of anybody I know!”

They headed up the pass down which Link had come to surrender. The unicorns climbed. Thistlethwaite fumed and sputtered. He’d built a most extensive structure of dreams upon a supposedly firm business engagement with Old Man Addison. It was now wrecked. And Old Man Addison considered that he should be hanged. And the gait of riding-unicorns was excessively unpleasant. But he followed, dismally, the resolute figure of Thana, silhouetted against the stars. Link’s figure was often close to it. Very close.