The Duplicators

hat—it was too small for him—and had Thistlethwaite’s stun gun slung over his shoulder. Another rider wore Thistlethwaite’s shirt and a third wore the whiskery man’s pants. A fourth had his shoes dangling as an ornament from his saddle. But of Thistlethwaite himself there was no sign.

All the newcomers carried long spears, lances, and wore at their belts large knives in decorated scabbards half the length of a sword.

The cavalcade came comfortably but ominously toward the Glamorgan. It came to a halt, its members regarding Link with expressions whose exact meaning it was not easy to decide. But Thistlethwaite had marched away from the ship with the only weapon on board, a stun rifle. The leader of this group carried it, but without any sign of familiarity with it. Link considered that he could probably get inside the ship with the port door closed before anything drastic could happen to him. He should, too, find out what had happened to Thistlethwaite.

So he said, “How do you do? Nice weather, isn’t it?”

Chapter 3

There was a movement among the members of the cavalcade. The leader, wearing Thistlethwaite’s hat and carrying his stun rifle, looked significantly at his followers. Then he turned to Link and spoke with a certain painful politeness. There was no irony in it. It was manners. It was the most courteous of greetings.

“I’m pretty good, thank you, suh. And the weather’s pretty good too, only we could do with a mite of rain.” He paused, and said with an elaborate stateliness, “I’m the Householder of the Household over yonder. We heard your ship come down and we wondered about it. An’ then… uh… somethin’ happened and we come to look it over. We never seen a ship like this before, only o’course there’s the tales from old times about ’em.”

His manner was one of vast dignity. He wore Thistlethwaite’s hat, and his companions or followers wore everything else that Thistlethwaite had had on in the Glamorgan. But he ignored the fact. It appeared that he obeyed strict rules of etiquette. And of course, people who follow etiquette are bound by it even in the preliminaries to homicide. Which is important if violence is in the air. Link took advantage of the known fact.

“It’s not much of a ship,” he said deprecatingly, “but such as it is I’m glad to have you see it.”

The leader of the cavalcade was visibly pleased. He frowned, but he said with the same elaborate courtesy:

“My name’s Harl, suh. Would you care to give me a name to call you by? I wouldn’t presume for more than that.”

Out of the corner of his eye Link saw that two pig-like animals had appeared not far away. They might be the same two he’d seen before. They squatted on their haunches and watched curiously, what went on as between men. He said:

“My name’s Link. Link Denham, in fact. Pleased to meet you.”

“The same, suh! The same!” The leader’s tone became warm while remaining stately. “I take that very kindly, Link, tellin’ me your last name, too. And right off Denham… Denham… I never met none of your Household before, but I’ll remember it’s a mannerly group. Would you… uh… have anything else to say?”

Link thought it over.

“I’ve come a long way,” he observed. “I’m not sure what to say that would be most welcome.”

“Welcome!” said the man who called himself Harl. He beamed. “Now, that’s right nice! Boys, we been welcomed by this here Link and he’s told us his last name and that’s manners! This here gentleman ain’t like that other fella! We’re guestin’.”

He slipped from his saddle, hung Thistlethwaite’s stun gun on his saddle horn, and leaned his spear against the Glamorgan. He held out his hand cordially to Link. Link shook it. Harl’s followers similarly divested themselves of weapons. They solemnly shook hands with Link. Harl rapped on one of the Glamorgan’s hull plates and said admiringly:

“This here ship’s iron, ain’t it? M-m-m-h! I never saw so much iron to one place in all my lifetime!”

A scornful voice from somewhere said indignantly, “We saw it first! It’s ours!”

“Shut up,” said Harl to the landscape at large. “And stay shut up.” He turned, “Now, Link—”

“We saw it first!” insisted the voice furiously. “We saw it first! It’s ours!”

“This gentleman,” said Harl firmly, and again to the landscape, “is maybe thinkin’ of settin’ up a Household here! You uffts clear out!”

Two voices, now, insisted stridently:

“It’s ours! We saw it first! It’s ours!”

Harl said apologetically:

“I’m real sorry, Link, but you know how it is with uffts! Uh… I’d like to ask you something private.”

“Come inside,” said Link. He rose.

Harl and his companions—Link thought of the word “retainers” for no special reason—came trooping into the port. Link was very alertly interested. He didn’t understand this state of things at all, but men with inhospitable intentions do not disarm themselves. These men had. Men with unpleasant purposes tend to cast furtive glances from one to another. These men didn’t. If one ignored the presence of Thistlethwaite’s garments, and the absence of Thistlethwaite himself, the atmosphere was almost insanely cordial and friendly and uncalculating. It verified past question that this planet had very little contact with other worlds. People of brisk and progressive cultures feel a deep suspicion of strangers and of each other. With reason. Yet Thistlethwaite—

Link let the small group precede him up the steps inside the landing fin. He could get down and outside before any of them, and very probably lock them in. Then he’d be armed and mounted, which in case of unfriendliness might be an advantage. But in spite of whatever had happened to Thistlethwaite, the feel of things was in no sense ominous. The visitors to the ship were openly curious and openly astonished at what they saw.

They commented almost incredulously that the long flight of steps was made of iron. Link tactfully did not refer to the sealed-off cargo compartments—the lifeboat was sealed off, too—nor to Thistlethwaite’s garments worn so matter-of-factly by his guests. They passed the engine room without recognizing the door to it as what it was. They marveled to each other that iron showed through the worn floor-covering of the mess room. They were astounded by the cabins. But the control room left them entirely uninterested except for small metal objects— instruments—fastened to the control board and fitted into the walls.

The man wearing Thistlethwaite’s pants took a deep breath. He caught Link’s eye and said wistfully:

“Mistuh Link, that’s a right pretty little thing!”

He pointed to the ship’s chronometer. Harl said angrily:

“You shut up! What kinds guest-gift have you brought? I beg y’pardon, Link, for this fella!” He glared at his following. “Sput! You fellas go downstairs an’ wait outside, so’s you won’t shame me again! I got to talk confidential to Mistuh Link, anyway.”

His followers, still flaunting Thistlethwaite’s garments, went trooping down and out. Silence fell, below. Then Harl said:

“Link, I’m right sorry about that fella! Admirin’ something of yours to get it, without givin’ you a gift first! I’d ought to chase him outa my Household for bad manners! I hope you’ll excuse me for him!”

“No harm done,” said Link. “He just forgot.” It was evident that etiquette played a great part in the lives of the people of Sord Three. It looked promising. “I’d like to ask—”

Harl said confidentially, “Let’s talk private, Link. Do you know a little fella with whiskers that cusses dreadful an’ insults people right an’ left an’ says—” his voice dropped to a shocked tone—“an’ says he’s a friend of Old Man Addison? A fella like that come to my Household and—you maybe won’t believe this, Link, but it’s so—he offered to pay me for sendin’ a message to Old Man Addison! He… offered to… pay me! Like I was an ufft! I’m beggin’ your pardon for askin’ such a thing, but we’re talkin’ private. Do you know a fella like that?”

“He ran the engines of this ship,” said Link. “His name’s Thistlethwaite. I don’t know what he has to do with Old Man Addison.”

“Natural!” said Harl hastily. “I wouldn’t suspect you of anything like that! But… uh… the womenfolks said his