The Golden Steed

That was a new kind of overindulgence for him. As a secret agent there were professional standards to follow, but the key one had nothing to do with traditional notions of honor. It was: stay alive. It had been impressed on him very early in his career that it didn't matter how an agent played the game, but rather that he won it and came out on his feet. And if necessary, that the opponent did not come out on his feet. But now, Blade found himself unable to keep his mind set in that mold.

Was it the computer affecting his brain again? Possibly. It had already given him problems with sex and with alcohol. Perhaps it was now giving him more subtle psychological problems?

Or was it simply too much exposure to worlds where fighting and violence had not been mechanized, where one could be «honorable» without winding up a corpse? Where in fact it was even sometimes to one's advantage to play the game a certain way? He didn't know. Nor did he know how far these new attitudes might lead him. He would have to keep it under control though. If it led him too far, he would wind up very dead, far from home, and perhaps for no good reason.

Or was honor perhaps a good reason for accepting death? There I go again, he told himself sharply. A year ago he would have given a professional's answer to the question. A large resounding no. Today… He would have to speak to both J and Lord Leighton about it, that was certain. It was something that might endanger his fitness for further trips into Dimension X.

But there was one consolation. Neither J nor Lord Leighton would laugh at him for admitting this problem. J was of the old school, and he tried to preserve its standards in his personal life if he could not do so in his profession. He would appreciate Blade's situation. And the scientist? Well, a sense of personal honor was not scientifically measurable, so Leighton would never admit its existence. At least not aloud to Blade. But there was a particular expression on Leighton's face when he was forced to recognize something that went beyond the limits of the measurable. It would be on his face when he listened to Blade explaining this new problem.

His mind was really wandering down strange paths today, Blade told himself. Time to get moving, get a little fresh air blowing in his face. He dug his heels into the flanks of the Golden Steed and felt it surge forward.