Free The Fortress in Orion by Mike Resnick Page A

her she didn’t show it.
    â€œThirty-four Standard days from now.”
    â€œHe’s moved it up?” said Pretorius.
    â€œI don’t know what your information was,” she replied. “I just know when he’s due there.”
    â€œOkay, thanks.”
    She smiled at him. “Come on, Nathan. I’m sure you needed that, but you could have gotten it other places. What’s the second thing you need?”
    He stared at her for a long moment. “I need a shape-changer, and I need it soon.”
    A broad smile spread across her face. “You’re going to try to replace Michkag!” She took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, and shook her head. “You’ll never get away with it, Nathan. When’s the last time you touched a doorknob or a computer or damned near anything else that didn’t read your DNA?”
    Pretorius saw no reason to tell her about the clone, so he merely shrugged. “I don’t create the plans,” he responded. “I just carry them out.”
    â€œOh, come on, Nathan, everyone at your level improvises. At least tell me that I’m wrong, that this isn’t what you want a shape-changer for.”
    â€œYou’re wrong,” said Pretorius. “This isn’t want I want a shape-changer for.”
    She stared at him intently. “I can’t tell if you’re lying or not.”
    He grinned at her. “Good. I’m getting better at this. Maybe I’ll join the Diplomatic Corps.”
    â€œIf you live through this foolishness,” she said.
    He nodded seriously. “If I live through it.”
    â€œYou know there are only three shape-changing races in the galaxy,” she said, “none of them especially friendly to the Democracy, none of them especially inimical to the Coalition—and unless some of the major wormholes have moved, none of them within twenty days of the Orion constellation.”
    â€œIf it was easy, I wouldn’t be spending time talking to you while three women aboard my ship are planning a humiliating death for me for coming here,” he said with a smile.
    â€œAll right,” she said. “You’ll have to stretch the definition, but I can help you.”
    â€œStretch the definition?” he repeated, frowning.
    â€œIf he—or it , I’m really not sure which—functions as a shape-changer, do you really care what he is?”
    â€œHe can change into any shape the situation calls for?” persisted Pretorius.
    â€œAny living shape,” she replied. “I very much doubt that he could pass for a hospital or a spaceship.”
    â€œThat’s no problem. Even the Domarians can’t do that, and they’re supposed to be the most accomplished shape-changers in the galaxy.”
    â€œGood,” said Madam Methuselah. “Then I’ll be able to help my old friend”—she suddenly stared hard into his eyes—“ who will not forget that he owes me one—a big one .”
    â€œI won’t forget.”
    â€œYou had better succeed in this cockamamie scheme, whatever it is. Dead men never pay their debts.”
    â€œI assure you it is my earnest intention to live through it,” he said with a smile.
    â€œGood. Then I think I shall help you.” She got up, walked to a nearby bar, opened a bottle of Alphard brandy, and filled two exquisite crystal glasses, carrying one over to Pretorius and sitting down with the other.
    â€œThanks,” he said, taking a sip. “Good as ever.”
    â€œWe don’t water the liquor or misrepresent the frail flowers,” she replied. “All right, Nathan. The creature you want—there’s no sense pretending he’s a Man—is Gzychurlyx.”
    â€œSay that name again?”
    She did so.
    He sighed. “I’ll die of old age before I pronounce it right.” He finished his brandy. “Is he here?”
    â€œIn the house?” she asked,