Captain Steng won by a nose, it was his ship and he knew all the shortcuts. The psiman was holding out a transcription, but he summed it up in one sentence. He looked at me while he talked and his face was hard and cold.
“They hit again, knocked out a Navy supply satellite, thirty-four men dead.”
“If your plan doesn’t work, admiral,” the captain whispered hoarsely in my ear, “I’ll personally see that you’re flayed alive!”
“If my plan doesn’t work, captain—there won’t be enough of my skin left to pick up with a tweezer. Now if you please, I’d like to get to Udrydde and pick up my ship as soon as possible.”
The easy-going hatred and contempt of all my associates had annoyed me, thrown me off balance. I was thinking with anger now, not with logic. Forcing a bit of control, I ordered my thoughts, checking off a mental list.
“Belay that last command,” I shouted, getting back into my old space-dog mood. “Get a call through first and find out if any of our plants were picked up during the raid.”
While the psiman unfocused his eyes and mumbled under his breath I riffled some papers, relaxed and cool. The ratings and officers waited tensely, and made some slight attempt to conceal their hatred of me. It took about ten minutes to get an answer.
“Affirmative,” the psiman said. “A store ship docked there twenty hours before the attack. Among other things, it left newspapers containing the article.”
“Very good,” I said calmly. “Send a general order to suspend all future activity with the planted releases. Send it by psimen only, no mention on any other Naval signaling equipment, there’s a good chance now it might be ‘overheard.’”
I strolled out slowly, in command of the situation. Keeping my face turned away so they couldn’t see the cold sweat.
* * * * *
It was a fast run to Udrydde where my billionaire’s yacht, the Eldorado, was waiting. The dockyard commander showed me the ship, and made a noble effort to control his curiosity. I took a sadistic revenge on the Navy by not telling him a word about my mission. After checking out the controls and special apparatus with the technicians, I cleared the ship. There was a tape in the automatic navigator that would put me on the course mentioned in all the articles, just a press of a button and I would be on my way. I pressed the button.
It was a beautiful ship, and the dockyard had been lavish with their attention to detail. From bow to rear tubes she was plated in pure gold. There are other metals with a higher albedo, but none that give a richer effect. All the fittings, inside and out, were either machine-turned or plated. All this work could not have been done in the time allotted, the Navy must have adapted a luxury yacht to my needs.
Everything was ready. Either Pepe would make his move—or I would sail on to my billionaire’s paradise planet. If that happened, it would be best if I stayed there.
Now that I was in space, past the point of no return, all the doubts that I had dismissed fought for attention. The plan that had seemed so clear and logical now began to look like a patched and crazy makeshift.
“Hold on there, sailor,” I said to myself. Using my best admiral’s voice. “Nothing has changed. It’s still the best and only plan possible under the circumstances.”
Was it? Could I be sure that Pepe, flying his mountain of a ship and eating Navy rations, would be interested in some of the comforts and luxuries of life? Or if the luxuries didn’t catch his eye, would he be interested in the planetary homesteading gear? I had loaded the cards with all the things he might want, and planted the information where he could get it. He had the bait now—but would he grab the hook?
I couldn’t tell. And I could work myself into a neurotic state if I kept running through the worry cycle. It took an effort to concentrate on anything else, but it had to be made. The next four days passed very slowly.
When the alarm blew off, all I felt was an intense sensation of relief. I might be dead and blasted to dust in the next few minutes, but that didn’t seem to make much difference.
Pepe had swallowed the bait. There was only one ship in the galaxy that could knock back a blip that big at such a distance. It was closing last, using the raw energy of the battleship engines for a headlong approach. My ship bucked a bit as the tug-beams locked on at maximum distance. The radio bleeped at me for attention at the same time. I waited as long as I dared, then flipped it on. The voice boomed out.
“… That you are under the guns of a warship! Don’t attempt to run, signal, take evasive action, or in any other way….”
“Who are you—and what the devil do you want?” I spluttered into the mike. I had my scanner on, so they could see me, but my own screen stayed dark. They weren’t sending any picture. In a way it made my act easier, I just played to an unseen audience. They could see the rich cut of my clothes, the luxurious cabin behind me. Of course they couldn’t see my hands.
“It doesn’t matter who we are,” the radio boomed again. “Just obey orders if you care to live. Stay away from the controls until we have tied on, then do exactly as I say.”
There were two distant clangs as magnetic grapples hit the hull. A little later the ship lurched, drawn home against the battleship. I let my eyes roll in fear, looking around for a way to escape—and taking a peek at the outside scanners. The yacht was flush against the space-filling bulk of the other ship. I pressed the button that sent the torch-wielding robot on his way.
* * * * *
“Now let me tell you something,” I snapped into the mike, wiping away the worried billionaire expression. “First I’ll repeat your own warning—obey orders if you want to live. I’ll show you why—”
When I threw the big switch a carefully worked out sequence took place. First, of course, the hull was magnetized and the bombs fused. A light blinked as the scanner in the cabin turned off, and the one in the generator room came on. I checked the monitor screen to make sure, then started into the spacesuit. It had to be done fast, at the same time it was necessary to talk naturally. They must still think of me as sitting in the control room.
“That’s the ship’s generators you’re looking at,” I said. “Ninety-eight per cent of their output is now feeding into coils that make an electromagnet of this ship’s hull. You will find it very hard to separate us. And I would advise you not to try.”
The suit was on, and I kept the running chatter up through the mike in the helmet, relaying to the ship’s transmitter. The scene in the monitor receiver changed.
“You are now looking at a hydrogen bomb that is primed and aware of the magnetic field holding our ships together. It will, of course, go off if you try to pull away.”
I grabbed up the monitor receiver and ran towards the air lock.
“This is a different bomb now,” I said, keeping one eye on the screen and the other on the slowly opening outer door. “This one has receptors on the hull. Attempt to destroy any part of this ship, or even gain entry to it, and this one will detonate.”
I was in space now, leaping across to the gigantic wall of the other ship.
“What do you want?” These were the first words Pepe had spoken since his first threats.
“I want to talk to you, arrange a deal. Something that would be profitable for both of us. But let me first show you the rest of the bombs, so you won’t get any strange ideas about co-operating.”
Of course I had to show him the rest of the bombs, there was no getting out of it. The scanners in the ship were following a planned program. I made light talk about all my massive armament that would carry us both to perdition, while I climbed through the hole in the battleship’s hull. There was no armor or warning devices at this spot, it had been chosen carefully from the blueprints.
“Yeah, yeah … I take your word for it, you’re a flying bomb. So stop with this roving reporter bit and tell me what you have in mind.”
This time I didn’t answer him, because I was running and panting like a dog, and had the mike turned off. Just ahead, if the blueprints wer
e right, was the door to the control room. Pepe should be there.
I stepped through, gun out, and pointed it at the back of his head. Angelina stood next to him, looking at the screen.
“The game’s over,” I said. “Stand up slowly and keep your hands in sight.”
“What do you mean,” he said angrily, looking at the screen in front of him. The girl caught wise first. She spun around and pointed.
“He’s here!”
They both stared, gaped at me, caught off guard and completely unprepared.
“You’re under arrest, crime-king,” I told him. “And your girl friend.”
Angelina rolled her eyes up and slid slowly to the floor. Real or faked, I didn’t care. I kept the gun on Pepe’s pudgy form while he picked her up and carried her to an acceleration couch against the wall.
“What … what will happen now?” He quavered the question. His pouchy jaws shook and I swear there were tears in his eyes. I was not impressed by his acting since I could clearly remember the dead men floating in space. He stumbled over to a chair, half dropping into it.
“Will they do anything to me?” Angelina asked. Her eyes were open now.
“I have no idea of what will happen to you,” I told her truthfully. “That is up to the courts to decide.”
“But he made me do all those things,” she wailed. She was young, dark and beautiful, the tears did nothing to spoil this.
Pepe dropped his face into his hands and his shoulders shook. I flicked the gun his way and snapped at him.
“Sit up, Pepe. I find it very hard to believe that you are crying. There are some Naval ships on the way now, the automatic alarm was triggered about a minute ago. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see the man who….”
“Don’t let them take me, please!” Angelina was on her feet now, her back pressed to the wall. “They’ll put me in prison, do things to my mind!” She shrunk away as she spoke, stumbling along the wall. I looked back at Pepe, not wanting to have my eyes off him for an instant.
“There’s nothing I can do,” I told her. I glanced her way and a small door was swinging open and she was gone.
“Don’t try to run,” I shouted after her, “it can’t do any good!”
Pepe made a strangling noise and I looked back to him quickly. He was sitting up now and his face was dry of tears. In fact he was laughing, not crying.
“So she caught you, too, Mr. Wise-cop, poor little Angelina with the soft eyes.” He broke down again, shaking with laughter.
“What do you mean,” I growled.
“Don’t you catch yet? The story she told you was true—except she twisted it around a bit. The whole plan, building the battleship, then stealing it, was hers. She pulled me into it, played me like an accordion. I fell in love with her, hating myself and happy at the same time. Well—I’m glad now it’s over. At least I gave her a chance to get away, I owe her that much. Though I thought I would explode when she went into that innocence act!”
The cold feeling was now a ball of ice that threatened to paralyze me. “You’re lying,” I said hoarsely, and even I didn’t believe it.
“Sorry. That’s the way it is. Your brain-boys will pick my skull to pieces and find out the truth anyway. There’s no point in lying now.”
“We’ll search the ship, she can’t hide for long.”
“She won’t have to,” Pepe said. “There’s a fast scout we picked up, stowed in one of the holds. That must be it leaving now.” We could feel the vibration, distantly through the floor.
“The Navy will get her,” I told him, with far more conviction than I felt.
“Maybe,” he said, suddenly slumped and tired, no longer laughing. “Maybe they will. But I gave her her chance. It is all over for me now, but she knows that I loved her to the end.” He bared his teeth in sudden pain. “Not that she will care in the slightest.”
I kept the gun on him and neither of us moved while the Navy ships pulled up and their boots stamped outside. I had captured my battleship and the raids were over. And I couldn’t be blamed if the girl had slipped away. If she evaded the Navy ships, that was their fault, not mine.
I had my victory all right.
Then why did it taste like ashes in my mouth?
It’s a big galaxy, but it wasn’t going to be big enough to hide Angelina now. I can be conned once—but only once. The next time we met things were going to be very different.
TOY SHOP (1962)
Because there were few adults in the crowd, and Colonel “Biff” Hawton stood over six feet tall, he could see every detail of the demonstration. The children—and most of the parents—gaped in wide-eyed wonder. Biff Hawton was too sophisticated to be awed. He stayed on because he wanted to find out what the trick was that made the gadget work.
“It’s all explained right here in your instruction book,” the demonstrator said, holding up a garishly printed booklet opened to a four-color diagram. “You all know how magnets pick up things and I bet you even know that the earth itself is one great big magnet—that’s why compasses always point north. Well … the Atomic Wonder Space Wave Tapper hangs onto those space waves. Invisibly all about us, and even going right through us, are the magnetic waves of the earth. The Atomic Wonder rides these waves just the way a ship rides the waves in the ocean. Now watch….”
Every eye was on him as he put the gaudy model rocketship on top of the table and stepped back. It was made of stamped metal and seemed as incapable of flying as a can of ham—which it very much resembled. Neither wings, propellors, nor jets broke through the painted surface. It rested on three rubber wheels and coming out through the bottom was a double strand of thin insulated wire. This white wire ran across the top of the black table and terminated in a control box in the demonstrator’s hand. An indicator light, a switch and a knob appeared to be the only controls.
“I turn on the Power Switch, sending a surge of current to the Wave Receptors,” he said. The switch clicked and the light blinked on and off with a steady pulse. Then the man began to slowly turn the knob. “A careful touch on the Wave Generator is necessary as we are dealing with the powers of the whole world here….”
A concerted ahhhh swept through the crowd as the Space Wave Tapper shivered a bit, then rose slowly into the air. The demonstrator stepped back and the toy rose higher and higher, bobbing gently on the invisible waves of magnetic force that supported it. Ever so slowly the power was reduced and it settled back to the table.
“Only $17.95,” the young man said, putting a large price sign on the table. “For the complete set of the Atomic Wonder, the Space Tapper control box, battery and instruction book …”
At the appearance of the price card the crowd broke up noisily and the children rushed away towards the operating model trains. The demonstrator’s words were lost in their noisy passage, and after a moment he sank into a gloomy silence. He put the control box down, yawned and sat on the edge of the table. Colonel Hawton was the only one left after the crowd had moved on.
“Could you tell me how this thing works?” the colonel asked, coming forward. The demonstrator brightened up and picked up one of the toys.
“Well, if you will look here, sir….” He opened the hinged top. “You will see the Space Wave coils at each end of the ship.” With a pencil he pointed out the odd shaped plastic forms about an inch in diameter that had been wound—apparently at random—with a few turns of copper wire. Except for these coils the interior of the model was empty. The coils were wired together and other wires ran out through the hole in the bottom of the control box. Biff Hawton turned a very quizzical eye on the gadget and upon the demonstrator who completely ignored this sign of disbelief.
“Inside the control box is the battery,” the young man said, snapping it open and pointing to an ordinary flashlight battery. “The current goes through the Power Switch and Power Light to the Wave Generator …”
“What you mean to say,” Biff broke in, “is that the juice from this fifteen cent battery goe
s through this cheap rheostat to those meaningless coils in the model and absolutely nothing happens. Now tell me what really flies the thing. If I’m going to drop eighteen bucks for six-bits worth of tin, I want to know what I’m getting.”
The demonstrator flushed. “I’m sorry, sir,” he stammered. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything. Like any magic trick this one can’t be really demonstrated until it has been purchased.” He leaned forward and whispered confidentially. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do though. This thing is way overpriced and hasn’t been moving at all. The manager said I could let them go at three dollars if I could find any takers. If you want to buy it for that price….”
“Sold, my boy!” the colonel said, slamming three bills down on the table. “I’ll give that much for it no matter how it works. The boys in the shop will get a kick out of it,” he tapped the winged rocket on his chest. “Now really—what holds it up?”
The demonstrator looked around carefully, then pointed. “Strings!” he said. “Or rather a black thread. It runs from the top of the model, through a tiny loop in the ceiling, and back down to my hand—tied to this ring on my finger. When I back up—the model rises. It’s as simple as that.”
“All good illusions are simple,” the colonel grunted, tracing the black thread with his eye. “As long as there is plenty of flimflam to distract the viewer.”
“If you don’t have a black table, a black cloth will do,” the young man said. “And the arch of a doorway is a good site, just see that the room in back is dark.”
“Wrap it up, my boy, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m an old hand at this kind of thing.”
* * * * *
Biff Hawton sprang it at the next Thursday-night poker party. The gang were all missile men and they cheered and jeered as he hammed up the introduction.
“Let me copy the diagram, Biff, I could use some of those magnetic waves in the new bird!”
“Those flashlight batteries are cheaper than lox, this is the thing of the future!”
Harry Harrison Short Stoies Page 13