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Updated: May 2, 2025
The young man rocked to and fro above the rifle, whose muzzle thus deflected itself from the pit of Private Copper's stomach. His face was dusky with rage. "Yess, I'm a Transvaal burgher. It took us about twenty years to find out how rotten you were. We know and you know it now. Your army it is the laughing-stock of the Continent."
The little jockey's glassy eye rested meaninglessly on the young man's face and wandered away. When the other had moved on, he dropped his eyelid and muttered to his pal: "Wants the kybosh puttin' on him. Good as called me a copper's nark." "Hundred thousand in the pot," grinned the fat man. "And a dainty bit o' white meat. I don't blame him." He licked his lips.
"Instead o' castin' their stuff, they shoot it on a core in a melted spray. They ain't got steel, an' copper's scarce, but they got some alloys that are good an' tough. One's part tungsten or I'm crazy." Tommy nodded. "Turn out all the guns you can," he said. "I look for fighting." "Yeah," said Smithers. "Miss Evelyn's still all right?" "Up to three hours ago," said Tommy grimly.
The naked emotion in Copper's face was readable enough, Kennon thought. One didn't need Sorovkin techniques to interpret what was in her mind. And it would have been amusing if it weren't so sad. For what she wanted, he couldn't give. Yet if she were human it would be easy. A hundred generations of Betan moral code said "never," yet when he looked at her their voices faded.
Kennon's voice was flat and filled with utter conviction. "There's a reason why Copper's wearing that suit," Kennon continued, "and you won't know that either." The Burkholtz swiveled around to point at Kennon's belly. "I've had about enough of this. Let's have it. Tell me what you're doing here!" "I'll do better than that," Kennon said promptly. "I'll show you.
"Who is she?" "None of your business," Kennon snapped, hoping that his outburst covered Copper's gasp of surprise and fear, and knowing that it didn't. "I'm making it my business. There's something funny going on around here." Kennon blinked. Could it be that Douglas didn't know? Had he been watching them on radar? Durilium was radar-transparent.
He clasped his hands together and leaned forward his out-thrust chin within two feet of Copper's left, or pipe hand. "Yuss," said Copper, "it's a fair knock-out." The fist landed to a hair on the chin-point, the neck snicked like a gun-lock, and the back of the head crashed on the boulder behind.
"So our copper's hot, eh?" "May Allah do more to me if my throat is not lined with the fires of Eblis!" "But the Kalamullah!" King objected. "What saith the Prophet?" "The Prophet forbade the faithful to drink wine," said the jezailchi. "He said nothing about whiskey, that I ever heard!" "Mine is brandy," said King. "May Allah bless the sahib's sons and grandsons to the seventh generation!
We purchase relief from the sympathetic feelings roused by the spectacle of misery, at the copper's cost. It is too cheap too cheap for us, and often too dear for the beggar. If we really loved him we would either do more for him, or less. Then Paul contrasts it with sacrifice and martyrdom.
I've had enough of that." "You just think you have," Alexander said gleefully. "That's what you have forgotten. You've gotten your agreement now you will satisfy me. As I see it you have breached your contract by leaving Flora without authorization." "That is right," Kennon said. A small lump of lead began to grow rapidly larger in his stomach. Brainard was grinning and Copper's eyes were shining.
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