Galaxy Science Fiction Super Pack #2. Edgar Pangborn

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      “How’s my Peony-girl?” the dealer purred.

      It licked its lips. “Wanna g’ass o’ water, Daddy,” it said drowsily.

      Norris caught his breath. No K-99 should be able to make a speech that long, even when it reached the developmental limit. He glanced at O’Reilley. The old man nodded slowly, then went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She drank greedily and eyed her foster-parent.

      “Daddy crying.”

      O’Reilley glowered at her and blew his nose solemnly. “Don’t be silly, child. Now get your coat on and go with Mister Norris. He’s taking you for a ride in his truck. Won’t that be fine?”

      “I don’t want to. I wanna stay here.”

      “Peeony! On with you!”

      She brought her coat and stared at Norris with childish contempt. “Can Daddy go, too?”

      “Be on your way!” growled O’Reilley. “I got things to do.”

      “We’re coming back?”

      “Of course you’re coming back! Git now—or shall I get my spanking switch?”

      Peony strolled out the door ahead of Norris.

      “Oh, inspector, would you be punching the night latch for me as you leave the shop? I think I’ll be closing for the day.”

      Norris paused at the head of the stairs, looking back at the old man. But O’Reilley closed himself inside and the lock clicked. The agent sighed and glanced down at the small being beside him.

      “Want me to carry you, Peony?”

      She sniffed disdainfully. She hopped upon the banister and slid down ahead of him. Her motor-responses were typically neutroid—something like a monkey, something like a squirrel. But there was no question about it; she was one of Delmont’s deviants. He wondered what they would do with her in central lab. He could remember no instance of an intelligent mutant getting into the market.

      Somehow he could not consign her to a cage in the back of the truck. He drove home while she sat beside him on the front seat. She watched the scenery and remained aloof, occasionally looking around to ask, “Can we go back now?”

      Norris could not bring himself to answer.

      *

      When he got home, he led her into the house and stopped in the hall to call Chief Franklin. The operator said, “His office doesn’t answer, sir. Shall I give you the robot locator?”

      Norris hesitated. His wife came into the hall. She stooped to grin at Peony, and Peony said, “Do you live here, too?” Anne gasped and sat on the floor to stare.

      Norris said, “Cancel the call. It’ll wait till tomorrow.” He dropped the phone quickly.

      “What series is it?” Anne asked excitedly. “I never saw one that could talk.”

      “It is a she,” he said. “And she’s a series unto herself. Some of Delmont’s work.”

      Peony was looking from one to the other of them with a baffled face. “Can we go back now?”

      Norris shook his head. “You’re going to spend the night with us, Peony,” he said softly. “Your daddy wants you to.”

      His wife was watching him thoughtfully. Norris looked aside and plucked nervously at a corner of the telephone book. Suddenly she caught Peony’s hand and led her toward the kitchen.

      “Come on, baby, let’s go find a cookie or something.”

      Norris started out the front door, but in a moment Anne was back. She caught at his collar and tugged. “Not so fast!”

      He turned to frown. Her face accused him at a six-inch range.

      “Just what do you think you’re going to do with that child?”

      He was silent for a long time. “You know what I’m supposed to do.”

      Her unchanging stare told him that she wouldn’t accept any evasions. “I heard you trying to get your boss on the phone.”

      “I canceled it, didn’t I?”

      “Until tomorrow.”

      He worked his hands nervously. “I don’t know, honey—I just don’t know.”

      “They’d kill her at central lab, wouldn’t they?”

      “Well, they’d need her as evidence in Delmont’s trial.”

      “They’d kill her, wouldn’t they?”

      “When it was over—it’s hard to say. The law says deviants must be destroyed, but—”

      “Well?”

      He paused miserably. “We’ve got a few days to think about it, honey. I don’t have to make my report for a week.”

      He sidled out the door. Looking back, he saw the hard determination in her eyes as she watched him. He knew somehow that he was going to lose either his job or his wife. Maybe both. He shuffled moodily out to the kennels to care for his charges.

      *

      A great silence filled the house during the evening. Supper was a gloomy meal. Only Peony spoke; she sat propped on two cushions at the table, using her silver with remarkable skill.

      Norris wondered about her intelligence. Her chronological age was ten months; her physical age was about two years; but her mental age seemed to compare favorably with at least a three year old.

      Once he reached across the table to touch her forehead. She eyed him curiously for a moment and continued eating. Her temperature was warmer than human, but not too warm for the normally high neutroid metabolism—somewhere around 101°. The rapid rate of maturation made I.Q. determination impossible.

      “You’ve got a good appetite, Peony,” Anne remarked.

      “I like Daddy’s cooking better,” she said with innocent bluntness. “When can I go home?”

      Anne looked at Norris and waited for an answer. He managed a smile at the flame-haired cherub. “Tell you what we’ll do. I’ll call your daddy on the phone and let you say hello. Would you like that?”

      She giggled, then nodded. “Uh-huh! When can we do it?”

      “Later.”

      Anne tapped her fork thoughtfully against the edge of her plate. “I think we better have a nice long talk tonight, Terry,” she said.

      “Is there anything to talk about?” He pushed the plate away. “I’m not hungry.”

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