Imperial Stars 1-The Stars at War Read Online Free PDF

in his mind, trying to extract their meaning.
    "Would you like me to repeat?" the dakta volunteered.
    Demaris shook his head in disgust. There was really no point in this clumsy communication. The Monster had superimposed a Marakian personality where an Earthman had been, and there was not much that Earthmen and Marakians had to say to each other.
    "Never mind," he said, enunciating as clearly as possible.
 
"We do or die for the Agency—
As much of the first as we can—
Heroes who, mashed to glue,
Spent their saved-up back pay,
Are strange to the mem'ry of man."
 

Chapter Four
    The trip out to Marak in the Agency ship took about a week, T.S.T. In that time Demaris recuperated completely, until, by the time the ship ducked down on Marak's nightside, he was at his physical peak. He grinned with delight at the steelhard claws which sprang out from his fingertips at will. He paced his cabin relentlessly, a constant growl of satisfaction rumbling up his throat as he felt his supple tendons coiling and uncoiling in fluid motion.
    Yet, the bitterness was still there. Paradoxically, it was sprung from the same source as his satisfaction. If Earthmen could take one of their own kind and turn him into a duplicate of any other bipedal, bilaterally symmetrical being—if they had learned that much, and mastered biology to such a point—why did Earthmen have to wear disguises at all? Why did Earth's fighting men have to fight for every race but their own, and why was Earth itself so helpless?
    No, not helpless—spineless.
    Some day. Some day, maybe, things would be different.
    The growl in Demaris' alien throat became a caged cough of rancor.
     
    The ship dropped him in a sparse area, flitting down and leaping back to the sky as soon as his contact turned up. Demaris watched it dwindle, and only after it was gone did he notice his contact's hungry eyes following it.
    "I haven't been home in a long time," the contact apologized in perfect Marakian. "I've got another three years to go here."
    Demaris grunted. "Believe me—six months and you'll be begging to sign up for a new tour."
    "I suppose so," the contact agreed. "I don't guess it's changed much?"
    "Not the slightest."
    The contact expressed himself in listless oaths. "Well," he said with a final profane twitch of his mouth, "let's put the show on the road. I've got a car stashed out in some shrubbery down there."
    Demaris fell in behind him. Neither of them spared any particular attention to the thoroughly familiar countryside. They threaded their way through the broken thickets, automatically keeping clear of shrubs that would have left cockleburrs in their glossy fur.
     
    The Marakian Overchief was growing old. His fur was beginning to lose its sheen, and his skin hung loosely around his neck. Nevertheless, his eyes were incisive and his voice was penetrating. He studied Demaris thoroughly for several moments before he said anything beyond a perfunctory greeting. Then he grunted with satisfaction.
    "Good. You look as though you can handle things. I don't know where Resvik dug you out, but that's unimportant."
    The contact, standing beside Demaris, made a noncommittal gesture. "As I've said from the beginning, we're not prepared to go deeply into Koil's past activities. Some of them might be interpreted as having been extra-legal. But he's thoroughly familiar with all the aspects of what's expected of him, and he's got the training required."
    The Overchief surveyed Demaris again, and shook his head in agreement. "He looks it. He ought to, for the price you're asking."
    "It's fair," the contact said.
    "Oh, yes—I'll grant you that. Well—is there anything else, Resvik?"
    "No, sir. I'll get back to my duties. It's been a pleasure, Overchief. Good luck, Koil." He slipped out of the office, closing the door gently behind him.
    The Overchief gestured toward a bench, and Demaris sat down, quietly watching the Overchief stalk back and forth behind his desk. The first