The Mammoth Book of Golden Age SF

by Martin Greenberg

  “Exactly, Commdor,” said Mallow gravely, taking mental exception to the comparison, “an argument which I consider strongly in favor of continued peace and friendship between our governments.”

  “Peace! Ah!” The Commdor’s sparse gray beard twitched to the sentimental grimaces of his face. “I don’t think there is anyone in the Periphery who has so next to his heart the ideal of Peace, as I have. I can truthfully say that since I succeeded my illustrious father to the leadership of the state, the reign of Peace has never been broken. Perhaps I shouldn’t say it” – he coughed gently— “but I have been told that my people, my fellow-citizens rather, know me as Asper, the Well-Beloved.

  Mallow’s eyes wandered over the well-kept garden. Perhaps the tall men and the strangely-designed but openly-vicious weapons they carried just happened to be lurking in odd corners as a precaution against himself. That would be understandable. But the lofty, steel-girdered walls that circled the place had quite obviously been recently strengthened – an unfitting occupation for such a Well-Beloved Asper.

  He said, “It is fortunate that I have you to deal with then, Commdor. The despots and monarchs of surrounding worlds, which haven’t the benefit of enlightened administration, often lack the qualities that would make a ruler well-beloved.”

  “Such as?” There was a cautious note in the Commdor’s voice.

  “Such as their concern for the best interests of their people. You, on the other hand, would understand.”

  The Commdor kept his eyes on the gravel path as they walked leisurely. His hands caressed each other behind his back.

  Mallow went on smoothly, “Up to now, trade between our two nations has suffered because of the restrictions placed upon our traders by your government. Surely, it has long been evident to you that unlimited trade—”

  “Free Trade!” mumbled the Commdor.

  “Free Trade, then. You must see that it would be of benefit to both of us. There are things you have that we want, and things we have that you want. It asks only an exchange to bring increased prosperity. An enlightened ruler such as yourself, a friend of the people – I might say, a member of the people – needs no elaboration on that theme. I won’t insult your intelligence by offering any.”

  “True! I have seen this. But what would you?” His voice was a plaintive whine. “Your people have always been so unreasonable. I am in favor of all the trade our economy can support, but not on your terms. I am not sole master here.” His voice rose, “I am only the servant of public opinion. My people will not take commerce which sparked in crimson and gold.”

  Mallow drew himself up, “A compulsory religion?”

  “So it has always been in effect. Surely you remember the case of Askone twenty years ago. First they were sold some of your goods and then your people asked for complete freedom of missionary effort in order that the goods might be run properly; that Temples of Health be set up. There was then the establishment of religious schools; autonomous rights for all officers of the religion and with what result? Askone is now an integral member of the Foundation’s system and the Grand Master cannot call his underwear his own. Oh, no! Oh, no! The dignity of an independent people could never suffer it.”

  “None of what you speak is at all what I suggest,” interposed Mallow.

  “No?”

  “No. I’m a Master Trader. Money is my religion. All this mysticism and hocus-pocus of the missionaries annoys me, and I’m glad you refuse to countenance it. It makes you more my type of man.”

  The Commdor’s laugh was high-pitched and jerky, “Well said! The Foundation should have sent a man of your caliber before this.”

  He laid a friendly hand upon the trader’s bulking shoulder. “But man, you have told me only half. You have told me what the catch is not. Now tell me what it is.”

  “The only catch, Commdor, is that you’re going to be burdened with an immense quantity of riches.”

  “Indeed?” he snuffled. “But what could I want with riches? The true wealth is the love of one’s people. I have that.”

  “You can have both, for it is possible to gather gold with one hand and love with the other.”

  “Now that, my young man, would be an interesting phenomenon, if it were possible. How would you go about it?”

  “Oh, in a number of ways. The difficulty is choosing among them. Let’s see. Well, luxury items, for instance. This object here, now—”

  Mallow drew gently out of an inner pocket a flat, linked chain of polished metal. “This, for instance.”

  “What is it?”

  “That’s got to be demonstrated. Can you get a girl? Any young female will do. And a mirror, full length.”

  “Hm-m-m. Let’s get indoors, then.”

  The Commdor referred to his dwelling place as a house. The populace undoubtedly would call it a palace. To Mallow’s straightforward eyes, it looked uncommonly like a fortress. It was built on an eminence that overlooked the capital. Its walls were thick and reinforced. Its approaches were guarded, and its architecture was shaped for defence. Just the type of dwelling, Mallow thought sourly, for Asper, the Well-Beloved.

  A young girl was before them. She bent low to the Commdor, who said, “This is one of the Commdora’s girls. Will she do?”

  “Perfectly!”

  The Commdor watched carefully while Mallow snapped the chain about the girl’s waist, and stepped back.

  The Commdor snuffled, “Well. Is that all?”

  “Will you draw the curtain, Commdor? Young lady, there’s a little knob just near the snap. Will you move it upward, please? Go ahead, it won’t hurt you.”

  The girl did so, drew a sharp breath, looked at her hands, and gasped, “Oh!”

  From her waist as a source she was drowned in a pale, streaming luminescence of shifting color that drew itself over her head in a flashing coronet of liquid fire. It was as if someone had torn the aurora borealis out of the sky and molded it into a cloak.

  The girl stepped to the mirror and stared, fascinated.

  “Here, take this.” Mallow handed her a necklace of dull pebbles. “Put it around your neck.”

  The girl did so, and each pebble, as it entered the luminescent field became an individual flame that leaped and sparkled in crimson and gold.

  “What do you think of it?” Mallow asked her. The girl didn’t answer but there was adoration in her eyes. The Commdor gestured and reluctantly, she pushed the knob down, and the glory died. She left – with a memory.

  “It’s yours, Commdor,” said Mallow, “for the Commdora. Consider it a small gift from the Foundation.”

  “Hm-m-m.” The Commdor turned the belt and necklace over in his hand as though calculating the weight. “How is it done?”

  Mallow shrugged, “That’s a question for our technical experts. But it will work for you without – mark you, without – priestly help.”

  “Well, it’s only feminine frippery after all. What could you do with it? Where would the money come in?”

  “You have balls, receptions, banquets – that sort of thing?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Do you realize what women will pay for that sort of jewelry? Ten thousand credits, at least.”

  The Commdor seemed struck in a heap, “Ah!”

  “And since the power unit of this particular item will not last longer than six months, there will be the necessity of frequent replacements. Now we can sell as many of these as you want for the equivalent in wrought iron of one thousand credits. There’s nine hundred percent profit for you.”

  The Commdor plucked at his beard and seemed engaged in awesome mental calculations, “Galaxy, how the dowagers will fight for them. I’ll keep the supply small and let them bid. Of course, it wouldn’t do to let them know that I personally—”

  Mallow said, “We can explain the workings of dummy corporations, if you would like. – Then, working further at random, take our complete line of household gadgets. We have collapsible stoves that will roast the toughes
t meats to the desired tenderness in two minutes. We’ve got knives that won’t require sharpening. We’ve got the equivalent of a complete laundry that can be packed in a small closet and will work entirely automatically. Ditto dishwashers. Ditto-ditto floor-scrubbers, furniture polishers, dust-precipitators, lighting fixtures – oh, anything you like. Think of your increased popularity, if you make them available to the public. Think of your increased quantity of, uh, wordly goods, if they’re available as a government monopoly at nine hundred percent profit. It will be worth many times the money to them, and they needn’t know what you pay for it. And, mind you, none of it will require priestly supervision. Everybody will be happy.”

  “Except you, it seems. What do you get out of it?”

  “Just what every trader gets by Foundation law. My men and I will collect half of whatever profits we take in. Just you buy all I want to sell you, and we’ll both make out quite well. Quite well.”

  The Commdor was enjoying his thoughts. “What did you say you wanted to be paid with? Iron?”

  “That, and coal, and bauxite. Also tobacco, pepper, magnesium, hardwood. Nothing you haven’t got enough of.”

  “It sounds well.”

  “I think so. Oh, and still another item at random, Commdor. I could retool your factories.”

  “Eh? How’s that?”

  “Well, take your steel foundries. I have handy little gadgets that could do tricks with steel that would cut production costs to one percent of previous marks. You could cut prices by half, and still split extremely fat profits with the manufacturers. I tell you, I could show you exactly what I mean, if you allowed me a demonstration. Do you have a steel foundry in this city? It wouldn’t take long.”

  “It could be arranged, Trader Mallow. But tomorrow, tomorrow. Would you dine with us tonight?”

  “My men—” began Mallow.

  “Let them all come,” said the Commdor, expansively. “A symbolic friendly union of our nations. It will give us a chance for further friendly discussion. But one thing,” his face lengthened and grew stern, “none of your religion. Don’t think that all this is an entering wedge for the missionaries.”

  “Commdor,” said Mallow, dryly, “I give you my word that religion would cut my profits.”

  “Then that will do for now. You’ll be escorted back to your ship.”

  6

  The Commdora was much younger than her husband. Her face was pale and coldly formed and her black hair was drawn smoothly and tightly back.

  Her voice was tart. “You are quite finished, my gracious and noble husband? Quite, quite finished? I suppose I may even enter the garden if I wish, now.”

  “There is no need for dramatics, Licia, my dear,” said the Commdor, mildly. “The young man will attend at dinner tonight, and you can speak with him all you wish and even amuse yourself by listening to all I say. Room will have to be arranged for his men somewhere about the place. The stars grant that they be few in numbers.”

  “Most likely they’ll be great hogs of eaters who will eat meat by the quarter-animal and wine by the hogshead. And you will groan for two nights when you calculate the expense.”

  “Well now, perhaps I won’t. Despite your opinion, the dinner is to be on the most lavish scale.”

  “Oh, I see.” She stared at him contemptuously. “You are very friendly with these barbarians. Perhaps that is why I was not to be permitted to attend your conversation. Perhaps your little wizened soul is plotting to turn against my father.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Yes, I’d be likely to believe you, wouldn’t I? If ever a poor woman was sacrificed for policy to an unsavory marriage, it was myself. I could have picked a more proper man from the alleys and mudheaps of my native world.”

  “Well, now, I’ll tell you what, my lady. Perhaps you would enjoy returning to your native world. Only to retain as a souvenir that portion of you with which I am best acquainted, I could have your tongue cut out first. And,” he lolled his head, calculatingly, to one side, “as a final improving touch to your beauty, your ears and the tip of your nose as well.”

  “You wouldn’t dare, you little pug-dog. My father would pulverize your toy nation to meteoric dust. In fact, he might do it in any case, if I told him you were treating with these barbarians.”

  “Hm-m-m. Well, there’s no need for threats. You are free to question the man yourself tonight. Meanwhile, madam, keep your wagging tongue still.”

  “At your orders?”

  “Here, take this, then, and keep still.”

  The band was about her waist and the necklace around her neck. He pushed the knob himself and stepped back.

  The Commdora drew in her breath and held out her hands stiffly. She fingered the necklace gingerly, and gasped again.

  The Commdor rubbed his hands with satisfaction and said, “You may wear it tonight – and I’ll get you more. Now keep still.”

  The Commdora kept still.

  7

  Jaim Twer fidgeted and shuffled his feet. He said, “What’s twisting your face?”

  Hober Mallow lifted out of his brooding. “Is my face twisted? It’s not meant so.”

  “Something must have happened yesterday – I mean, besides that feast.” With sudden conviction, “Mallow, there’s trouble, isn’t there?”

  “Trouble? No. Quite opposite. In fact, I’m in the position of throwing my full weight against a door and finding it ajar at the time. We’re getting into this steel foundry too easily.”

  “You suspect a trap?”

  “Oh, for Seldon’s sake, don’t be melodramatic.” Mallow swallowed his impatience and added conversationally, “It’s just that the easy entrance means there will be nothing to see.”

  “Atomic power, huh?” Twer ruminated. “I’ll tell you. There’s just about no evidence of any atomic power economy here in Korell. And it would be pretty hard to mask all signs of the widespread effects a fundamental technology such as atomics would have on everything.”

  “Not if it was just starting up, Twer, and being applied to a war economy. You’d find it in the shipyards and the steel foundries only.”

  “So if we don’t find it, then—”

  “Then they haven’t got it – or they’re not showing it. Toss a coin or take a guess.”

  Twer shook his head. “I wish I’d been with you yesterday.”

  “I wish you had, too,” said Mallow stonily. “I have no objection to moral support. Unfortunately, it was the Commdor who set the terms of the meeting, and not myself. And that outside there would seem to be the royal ground-car to escort us to the foundry. Have you got the gadgets?”

  “All of them.”

  8

  The foundary was large, and bore the odor of decay which no amount of superficial repairs could quite erase. It was empty now and in quite an unnatural state of quiet, as it played unaccustomed host to the Commdor and his court.

  Mallow had swung the steel sheet onto the two supports with a careless heave. He had taken the instrument held out to him by Twer and was gripping the leather handle inside its leaden sheath.

  “The instrument,” he said, “is dangerous, but so is a buzz saw. You must have to keep your fingers away.”

  And as he spoke, he drew the muzzle-slit swiftly down the length of the steel sheet, which quietly and instantly fell in two.

  There was a unanimous jump, and Mallow laughed. He picked up one of the halves and propped it against his knee. “You can adjust the cutting-length accurately to a hundredth of an inch, and a two-inch sheet will slit down the middle as easily as this thing did. If you’ve got the thickness exactly judged, you can place steel on a wooden table, and split the metal without scratching the wood.”

  And at each phrase, the atomic shear moved and a gouged chunk of steel flew across the room.

  “That,” he said, “is whittling – with steel.”

  He passed back the shear. “Or else you have the plane. Do you want to decrease the thickness of a sheet, smoot
h out an irregularity, remove corrosion? Watch!”

  Thin, transparent foil flew off the other half of the original sheet in six-inch swaths, then eight-inch, then twelve.

  “Or drills? It’s all the same principle.”

  They were crowded around now. It might have been a sleight-of-hand show, a corner magician, a vaudeville act made in high-pressure salesmanship. Commdor Asper fingered scraps of steel. High officials of the government tiptoed over each other’s shoulders, and whispered, while Mallow punched clean, beautiful round holes through an inch of hard steel at every touch of his atomic drill.

  “Just one more demonstration. Bring two short lengths of pipe, somebody.”

  An Honorable Chamberlain of something-or-other sprang to obedience in the general excitement and thought-absorption, and stained his hands like any laborer.

  Mallow stood them upright and shaved the ends off with a single stroke of the shear, and then joined the pipes, fresh cut to fresh cut.

  And there was a single pipe! The new ends, with even atomic irregularities missing, formed one piece upon joining. Johannison blocks, at a stroke.

  Then Mallow looked up at his audience, stumbled at his first word and stopped. There was the keen stirring of excitement in his chest, and the base of his stomach went tingly and cold.

  The Commdor’s own bodyguard, in the confusion, had struggled to the front line, and Mallow, for the first time, was near enough to see their unfamiliar hand-weapons in detail.

  They were atomic! There was no mistaking it; an explosive projectile weapon with a barrel like that was impossible. But that wasn’t the big point. That wasn’t the point at all.

  The butts of those weapons had, deeply etched upon them, in worn gold plating, the Spaceship-and-Sun!

  The same Spaceship-and-Sun that was stamped on every one of the great volumes of the original Encyclopedia that the Foundation had begun and not yet finished. The same Spaceship-and-Sun that had blazoned the banner of the Galactic Empire through millennia.