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"They have a couple of ships a year there." "That's right," Trask agreed. "Marduk." "You mean, you think Dunnan's trying to terrorize Marduk?" Valkanhayn demanded. "Great Satan, even he isn't crazy enough for that!" Baron Rathmore started to say something about what Andray Dunnan was crazy enough to do, and what his uncle was crazy enough to do.
There were probably quite a few survivors a human planetary population is extremely hard to exterminate completely but within a century they'd be back to the loincloth and the stone hatchet. "We don't even know Dunnan did it, personally," Paytrik Morland said.
"Suppose Dunnan comes and finds nobody here but Spasso and the Lamia?" "Chance we'll have to take. Personally, I think we have a year to a year and a half before Dunnan shows up here. I know, we were fooled trying to guess what he'd do before. But the sort of raid I have in mind, we'll need two ships, and in any case, I don't want to leave both those ships here while we're gone, even if you do."
I think, now that he has a base, Dunnan is getting a fleet together." "He'll know we're after him by now," Vann Larch said. "And he knows where we are, and that puts him one up on us." So Andray Dunnan was haunting him again. Tiny bits of information came in Dunnan's ship had been on Hoth, on Nergal, selling loot. Now he sold for gold or platinum, and bought little, usually arms and ammunition.
"Why, if it weren't so utterly ridiculous, one might even think he was making war on Marduk." From Trask's viewpoint, it wasn't ridiculous at all. He merely mentioned that Andray Dunnan was psychotic and let it go at that. The Victrix was not completely unrepairable, although quite beyond the resources at hand.
Yes, in his own private dream-world, a world of fantasy that had now become Andray Dunnan's reality, in which an Elaine Karvall whom his imagination had created existed only to love him. Confronted by the real Elaine, he simply rejected the reality. "I never loved you, Lord Dunnan, and I never told you so. I never hated you, either, but you are making it very hard for me not to.
The Old Federation, where you're going to hunt Dunnan, occupies a space-volume of two hundred billion cubic light-years. And you're hunting for one ship and one man in that. How are you going to do it, Lord Trask?" "I haven't started thinking about how; all I know is that I have to do it.
And in Rivington itself, bulldozers and power shovels and manipulators labored, and there was always a rising cloud of dust over the city. There was so much to do, and only a trifle under twenty-five Galactic Standard hours in a day to do it. There were whole days in which he never thought once of Andray Dunnan. A hundred and twenty-five days to Gram, and a hundred and twenty-five days back.
"You mean, he's making a string of terror-raids on their trade planets, hoping to pull the Mardukan space-navy away from the home planet?" Harkaman had stopped being incredulous. "And when he gets them all lured away, he'll make a fast raid?" "That's what I think. Remember our fundamental postulate: Dunnan is crazy.
A dozen space-armored officers with planet-perched dragons on their breasts were crowding beside Prince Bentrik in the screen from the Victrix, whooping like drunken bisonoid-herders on payday night. "I wonder," he said, almost inaudibly, "if I'll ever know if Andray Dunnan was on that ship."
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