Legacy

Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the United States copyright on this publication was renewed. MEET TRIGGER ARGEE.... Half a block from the shopping center, a row of spacers on planet-leave came rollicking cheerily toward her.... Trigger shifted toward the edge of the sidewalk to let them pass. As the line swayed up on her left, there was a shadowy settling of an aircar at the curb to her right. With loud outcries of glad recognition and whoops of laughter, the line swung in about her, close. Bodies crowded against her, a hand was clapped over her mouth. Other hands held her arms. Her feet came off the ground and she had a momentary awareness of being rushed expertly forward. There was a lurching twist as the aircar shot upward. SHE'S ABOUT TO ENTER THE MYSTERY OF HER LIFE, IN Also by James H. Schmitz THE DEMON BREED THE UNIVERSE AGAINST HER ACE SCIENCE FICTION JAMES H. SCHMITZ A Division of Charter Communications Inc. A GROSSET & DUNLAP COMPANY 360 Park Avenue South New York, New York 10010 LEGACY Originally published as A TALE OF TWO CLOCKS An ACE Book Cover art by Bob Adragna First Ace printing: May 1979 Printed in U.S.A This book is dedicated affectionately to my father 1 It was the time of sunrise in Ceyce, the White City, placidly beautiful capital of Maccadon, the University World of the Hub. In the Colonial School's sprawling five-mile complex of buildings and tropical parks, the second student shift was headed for breakfast, while a larger part of the fourth shift moved at a more leisurely rate toward their bunks. The school's organized activities were not much affected by the hour, but the big exercise quadrangle was almost deserted for once. Behind the railing of the firing range a young woman stood by herself, gun in hand, waiting for the automatic range monitor to select a new string of targets for release. She was around twenty-four, slim and trim in the school's comfortable hiking outfit. Tan shirt and knee-length shorts, knee stockings, soft-soled shoes. Her sun hat hung on the railing, and the dawn wind whipped strands of shoulder-length, modishly white-silver hair along her cheeks. She held a small, beautifully worked handgun loosely beside her—the twin-barrelled sporting Denton which gunwise citizens of the Hub rated as a weapon for the precisionist and expert only. In institutions like…