50 in 50

Haydin nodded. "This is the one; it comes down from that range of mountains back there."

Bron nodded, then ran to rescue a squealing suckling from a crack in the rocks into which it had managed to wedge itself. They moved on.

By sunset they had set up camp — in the glade just next to the one where the previous expedition had met its end.

"Do you think this is a good idea?" Haydin asked.

"The best.” Bron told him. "It's the perfect spot for our needs." He eyed the sun, which was close to the horizon. "Let's eat now; I want everything cleared away by dark."

Bron had opened a tremendous tent, but it was sparsely furnished— containing, to be exact, only two folding chairs and a battery-powered light.

"Isn't this a little on the Spartan side?" Haydin asked.

"I see no reason to bring equipment forty-five light-years just to have it destroyed. We've obviously set up camp, — that's all that's important. The equipment I need is in here." He tapped a small plastic sack that hung from his shoulder. "Now — chow's up."

Their table was an empty ration box that had held the pigs' dinner. A good officer always sees to his troops first, so the animals had been fed. Bron put two self-heating dinners on the box, broke their seals, and handed Haydin a plastic fork. It was almost dark by the time they had finished and Bron leaned out through the open end of the tent and whistled for Curly and Moe. The two boars arrived at full charge and left grooves in the dirt as they skidded to a halt next to him.

"Good boys," he said, scratching their bristly skulls. They grunted happily and rolled their eyes up at him. "They think I'm their mother, you know." He waited placidly while Haydin fought with his expression, his face turning red in the process. "That may sound a little funny, but it's true. They were removed from their litter at birth and I raised them. So I'm 'imprinted' as their parent."

"Their parents were pigs. You don't look very much like a pig to me."

"You've never heard of imprinting. Everyone knows that if a kitten is raised With a litter of pups, the cat goes through life thinking she is another dog. This is more than just association from an early age. There exists a physical process known as imprinting. The way it works is that the first creature an animal is aware of, that it sees when its eyes first open, is recognized as a parent. This usually is a parent — but not always. The kitten thinks the dog is its mother. These two oversized boars think I am their parent, no matter how physically impossible that may appear to you. I made sure of that before I even considered training them. It is the only way I can be absolutely safe around them, since, intelligent as they are, they are still quick-tempered and deadly beasts. It also means that I'm safe as long as they are around. If anyone as much as threatened me he would be disemboweled within the second. I'm telling you this so that you won't try anything foolish. Now, would you kindly hand over that gun you promised not to bring?"

Haydin's hand jumped towards his hip pocket — and stopped just as suddenly as both boars turned towards the sudden movement. Moe was salivating with happiness at the head-scratching, and a drop of saliva collected and dropped from the tip of one ten-inch tusk.

"I need it for my own protection. ." Haydin protested.

"You're better protected without it. Take it out, slowly." Haydin reached back gingerly and took out a compact energy pistol, then tossed it over to Bron. Bron caught it and hung it on the hook next to the light. "Now empty your pockets," he said. "I want everything metallic dumped on to the box."

"What are you getting at?"

"We'll talk about it later, — we don't have time now. Dump."

Haydin looked at the boars and emptied out his pockets, while Bron did the same. They left a collection of coins, keys, knives, and small instruments on the box.

"We can't do anything now about the eyelets in your boots," Bron said, "but I don't think they'll cause much trouble. I took the precaution of wearing elastic-sided boots."

It was dark now, and Bron drove his charges into the woods nearby, spreading them out under the trees a good hundred yards from the clearing. Only Queeny, the intelligent sow, remained behind, dropping down heavily next to Bron's stool.

"I demand an explanation," said Governor Haydin.

"Don't embarrass me, Guv, I'm just working on guesses so far. If nothing has happened by morning, I'll give you an explanation — and my apology. Isn't she a beauty," he added, nodding towards the massive hog at his feet.

"I'm afraid I might use another adjective myself."