Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  “Some of those people thought you a madman; but they gave you the credit for loving Earth, for wanting to do the right thing, even though it was opposed to what they wanted.

  “You can’t do that. For you, there’s only one way! Storm’s way. The other ways are wrong, criminal, traitorous. I said once you never loved anyone. I was wrong! You love yourself with an all-consuming passion. There is no room for anyone else.”

  Storm turned from her and sat down slowly, heavily at his desk. He put a shaking hand to his face.

  “You are wrong,” he whispered. “I loved someone.” He looked up at Margo then, and his eyes devoured the fine lines of her face, the flaring wings of black hair that swept back above her ears, the slim, vital, quick-moving strength of her body.

  She met his gaze for a long, tense moment, and then a touch of color came to her cheeks and she turned away, sobbing. “Then take us with you,” she said, brokenly. “Let us love something and die for it, too. Don’t be selfish, Storm. Give us that much.” For a moment, too, the silence was thick and oppressive in the small room. Dust motes danced in the still air, and tiny shadowy ships moved on the visi-screen.

  Storm put his head down and rubbed his eyes; and then he got slowly to his feet. He spoke and his voice was strong and sure, but there was a softness in it no one had ever heard there before.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  CHAPTER IX

  A HEAD of them the fleet from Galaxy X loomed and spread across the forward visi-screen of the Astro Star II.

  Storm was at the controls, Margo beside him. Larry was in the waist of the ship, at the batteries of atomic cannons.

  “It’s incredible,” Margo whispered. “There must be hundreds of thousands of them. . .”

  “They’ve seen us too,” Storm said. He pointed. “See that formation at the rear. They’re dropping back.”

  “How long now?”

  “Minutes.”

  Margo’s hand tightened on his arm. “I don’t care. I know what you feel toward me. I was afraid I’d never know for sure.”

  Storm touched her hand. “It’s not much, really,” he said. “I mean, it’s so damn little to have, actually. We had nothing. We just knew about it, that’s all. You don’t mind that too much?”

  “No, not too much,” Margo said.

  Storm smiled at her and said, “That’s all the talking we have time for. I’m throwing on the boosters now.”

  “Okay.” She smiled. “Are you a good pilot fighter?”

  “Very good,” he said. He was glad in a small way that he was, and that she was going to see him working. “Yes, I’m damn good,” he said, and flipped the booster switches and flung the Astro Star in a mighty arching dive across the top of the rear echelon of the fleet from Galaxy X.

  They flashed through the void, a streaking, silver flash of speed, and from their waist a solid wall of flame suddenly lashed out and struck against the ships of the galaxy.

  Storm made two more looping passes that brought Larry’s batteries into position, and then they were streaking on toward the main body of the fleet. The rear echelons had joined the black nothingness of the void.

  “Larry, much as I hate to give the young pup credit, is damn good,” Storm said. “But now the fun is over.”

  Ahead, the main section of the fleet had changed course swiftly and was deploying its units across the path of the Astro Star II.

  Storm hurled his ship into combat with a cluster of ships in the dead center of the formation* Lights flashed out from the enemy ships and he felt the Astro Star lurch and shudder under their impact. He knew a fin was gone by the sudden slipping list he went into, but he corrected that by stepping up the blast from the rockets on that side.

  From the side of the Astro Star the atomic cannons flashed solid walls of light, and the ships from Galaxy X were burned out of existence by the hundreds.

  But their numbers were inexhaustible, and they flung themselves at the Astro Star in increasingly confident waves, as the mighty ship began to slow down and lose its maneuverability.

  Like a crippled shark attacked by thousands of tiny parasites, the Astro

  Star was gradually weakened, crippled.

  Storm swore as it failed to answer his hand. He flung it out in a screaming dive that should have brought him clear of danger, but only made his position worse.

  THE fight ranged across thousands of miles of space and in spite of the destruction brought by the powerful cannons of the Astro Star, the inevitable end came closer with each blazing, flame-filled moment.

  Soon the Astro Star would lose its speed, its ability to maneuver; and then the attacking ships could draw back and blast away until its mighty hull weakened, its sections collapsed, and it died in the void.

  Storm caught Margo’s hand.

  The ship was sluggish now, almost as if it were bound by thick heavy atmosphere. It was becoming nothing more than a huge target, Margo’s fingers tightened convulsively on his hand.

  “Look, Storm!” she cried.

  Storm swung his eyes to the visi-screen, and a grin split his weary face, light danced in his eyes.

  “Thank God!” he shouted.

  Streaming across the screen toward the Galaxy fleet were eight flashing columns of projectiles, slim, deadly* inevitable.

  Tiny flames glowed from exhaust blasts at their rear as they arced through the void to close with their targets—to close inevitably, implacably, irresistibly.

  Storm gave the Astro Star every last ounce of power, throwing on all the rockets and the auxiliary, and like a spirited horse answering the demand of its master, the ship lurched ahead and cleared the galaxy fleet in a mighty soaring arc.

  They were not a second too soon, for the area they left was transformed in a matter of seconds to a scene of violent destruction.

  The slim missies flashed into the heart of the Galaxy fleet. Hundreds of them were burned down, but thousands more poured into the catyclysmic fight. Storm, watching, saw thousands more breaking away from the pull of Jupiter and flashing up to fulfil their mission.

  Storm cut his auxiliary power and headed for their base . . .

  Margo was laughing and crying and Storm knew how she felt as he put his arms about her and held her close.

  CHAPTER X

  STORM stood up as the door of his office opened and Larry came in. It was four hours later, and they knew by then that the threat to Earth was gone. The fleet from Galaxy was debris.

  “There’s nothing much to say,” Storm said. “Maybe we’ve both learned something out here, Captain. I know I have.”

  “Didn’t you forget something when you called me ‘Captain’ ?” Larry said.

  “No, it wasn’t a slip of the tongue, if that’s what you mean,” Storm said, a trace of a smile on his lips. “You’re a captain of the Earth Federation, and a damn good one.”

  Larry grinned and put out his hand. “All I want, now or ever, is to stay in your command, sir.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment,” Storm said drily, “although I realize you don’t mean it.” He glanced through the window, saw Karen passing, and released Larry’s hand. “There, for instance,” he said, “is something you want, too.”

  Larry smiled, saluted, and left. Storm stood in the doorway of his office, smoking a cigar, and studying the atmosphere of the planet. It was clear and clean. Soon they would leave here, cleaving through that atmosphere to the silent void that lay between the planets of his universe. A void that was now free.

  He saw Margo come from her hut at the end of the compound. She saw him and waved.

  Smiling, he waited for her.

  THE RELUCTANT GENJII

  First published in the July 1950 issue of Fantastic Adventures.

  A genii is bound by certain laws to obey its master. But this particular genii was reluctant to cooperate—and justly so . . .

  REGINALD VAN SCHUYLER was a lean but lissom young man with blond hair and a perpetually startled expression on his narrow
and not unlikable face. He was the final genealogical product of two famous and intricately interwoven strains, the van Schuylers and the du Berrys, and as such provided a rather shocking example of the ill effects of centuries of inbreeding.

  Reggie was no moron, of course. His best friends wouldn’t go that far in his defense. On the other hand he was no cretin in spite of what his enemies and creditors had to say on the subject.

  Reggie was in essence a simple-minded, scatter-brained, moderately harmless fellow, who believed anything he read or was told, and who had never to anyone’s sure knowledge performed a single productive act in his life.

  Considering all this it was no wonder that Deborah Ardleigh behaved in a peculiar manner when she opened the door of her home and found him standing on the porch.

  She put a finger to her lips imperatively and grabbed him by the arm.

  “Come inside but be quiet,” she whispered. “Father’s in the study.”

  “What ho!” Reggie said, as he was dragged through the door and into a spacious foyer.

  “Do be still,” Deborah said. “You know how father feels about you.”

  “Rather cool, eh? Cool is the word, eh?” Reggie shrugged. He couldn’t understand the old boy. Loud, trumpeting ass, always yelling about people getting jobs, working, toeing the mark, hitting the ball.

  “We’ll go onto the sun porch,” Deborah said. “He won’t find us there.”

  The sun porch faced the Western side of the Ardleigh estate and the view of gardens, trees and tennis courts that could be enjoyed from there was extremely pleasant. Now the sun was setting and the flowers and shrubs were glowing in its last pale light.

  Reggie sat down and reclined in a lounge that was conveniently near a wicker table on which there were bottles, ice, a siphon and glasses. He made himself a drink and let the beauty of the approaching night enter his soul.

  Deborah sat on a straight chair and smiled at him with maternal fondness.

  “Okay, tell me all about it,” she said.

  She was very attractive as she waited expectantly for him to answer. The sun picked up lights in her shining brown hair, and the casual suit she wore emphasized the slim exciting lines of her body.

  “Well?”

  Reggie was frowning. “All about what?”

  “Your new job, silly. The one you started today.”

  “Oh that.” Reggie beamed as his memory shot back to a time that seemed incredibly long ago. It was incredibly long ago, he reflected, pleased with his retentiveness. It was all the way back to this morning, a full ten hours.

  “Do go on, Reggie. This job means a lot to us, you know.”

  “Oh, you’re still talking about the job.” Reggie frowned. It seemed to him they had hashed the subject and dismissed it just a second ago. Well, women were odd. They liked to worry a thing around.

  “The job got away from me,” he said. “It was queer. One minute there I was, working away like a badger, and the next thing I knew I was back at the club having a drink.”

  “Oh, Reggie,” Deborah said. “What happened this time?”

  REGGIE sipped his drink reflectively, getting all the loose ends straight. “It had to do with tidying up, I think,” he said. “There were all these checks, you see, and they kept piling up on my desk in an awful mess, so I sensibly bundled them up and disposed of them in the lavatory.”

  “I suppose,” Deborah said in a dull voice, “the Bank had already given depositors credit for those checks. Oh, you wouldn’t even know what that meant,” she said suddenly and angrily. “Reggie when are you going to wake up and start making a living?”

  Reggie stared at her in astonishment. One instant they’d been talking in the friendliest possible fashion about his work, and now she was all excited about some other matter. It kept a man hopping to keep up with a woman.

  Deborah came and sat beside him and took his hand. “I didn’t mean to be upset,” she said. “You’re sweet and innocent Reggie and I love you. But don’t you see, you went ahead today in your usual witless, unthinking fashion and did something that will probably cost the bank a lot of money.”

  “Hmmm,” Reggie said. “Hadn’t looked at it that way.”

  “Father got you that job and now he’ll be that much more unsold on you when he hears what has happened.”

  “I won’t tell him,” Reggie said promptly.

  “Oh, he probably knows already. Not that that matters too much, Reggie. But I want you to prove yourself to him, just for my sake. I want to marry you at a time when we can both tell him to go to hell if we feel like it.”

  “Ha!” Reggie said. “I always feel like it.”

  Deborah walked to the windows and gazed out across the darkening lawns of the estate and sighed deeply. Finally she turned and smiled at Reggie. “I’m suddenly getting a headache,” she said. “Would you mind postponing our date until tomorrow?”

  “Not at all,” Reggie said. “Headache, eh? Too much thinking,” he said, nodding. “Trouble today. Everyone going about thinking all the time.”

  They walked through the drawing room, the library, and came to the foyer.

  “Sorry I’m such a dud tonight,” Deborah said.

  “Pish and tosh,” Reggie said. He put his hand against a vase that decorated the newel post of the bannister. He leaned his weight against it confidently and Deborah let out a sudden, warning scream.

  She was too late.

  The vase toppled and crashed to the floor and Reggie lost his balance. The vase broke into dozens of jagged pieces and Reggie landed on the seat of his pants amid its splintered fragments.

  “Oh, Reggie!” Deborah moaned,

  A door on the opposite side of the foyer opened and a loud, irritated voice cried: “What in the name of Heaven and Hell is going on around here?”

  The voice came into the foyer like a herd of bull elephants and it was followed by a huge, shaggy-haired man with a choleric face and wild eyes.

  “Now daddy,” Deborah said, “it was an accident. He—”

  “You!” Adolph Ardleigh shouted, pointing a finger the size of a banana at Reggie.

  “What ho!” Reggie said cheerily. Adolph Ardliegh stared up at the ceiling and his lips moved soundlessly. His great hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically.

  REGGIE got nimbly to his feet and dusted off the seat of his pants. He had found through long experience that it was best to ignore the old codger. Reggie secretly harbored the conviction that old Ardleigh was a bit potty. All this muttering to himself, and counting up to ten. Hardly the behavior of a man you’d care to know socially.

  Deborah’s father lowered his gaze to Reggie and while his hands had stopped their nervous clenching the color of his face was like that of a blood-shot tomato.

  “I was hoping to see you,” he said, controlling his voice with a strenuous effort. “Myers at the First National called me after dinner.”

  Reggie brightened. “Myers, eh? The noisy chap with the gray hair and monocle?”

  “He is the president of the bank,” Mr. Ardleigh shouted. “He called to tell me that never in his experience had he met anyone so incompetent, demoralizing and supercilious as you.”

  “I say! It was nice of him to call, wasn’t it?”

  “Reggie, it’s no compliment,” Deborah said wearily.

  Mr. Ardleigh rubbed his forehead and stared in glassy-eyed fascination at Reggie. “Go away,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t say anything else. I’m at the breaking point. My doctor told me I can’t afford to even think about you.”

  “You’re not very well, are you?” Reggie said with a note of hope in his voice. He grinned broadly and winked at Deborah.

  “Get out!” Mr. Ardleigh bellowed. “What ho!” Reggie said, blinking. Suddenly the old fool was blowing his top. A true-blue loon, Reggie decided.

  “Please go, Reggie’,” Deborah said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Righto! Cheers and all that,” Reggie said, and slid out the door, happy to esc
ape.

  Outside in the dusky evening light Reggie was overcome wit if gloom. Filtering through the solid mass of his brain was the idea that he’d made a hash of things. Tonight was to have been a celebration, he realized. He and Deborah were going to tie one on in honor of his first day on the new job. And look what happened? Reggie kicked the head of a daisy in disgust. Why hadn’t he been clever enough to hold back the sour news until after the celebration. That way he’d have at least had the pleasure of hoisting a few with Deborah, and on Deborah, he realized with a pang. She had intended to stand the drinks! Oh, he was a bloody fool, he thought morosely.

  Standing at the entrance of the Ardleigh estate Reggie had the option of walking back to the station for a train to the city, or of standing where he was and doing nothing. He decided gloomily he might as well go on home, but his soul was in a mellow contemplative cast and he turned off the road and wandered down to the shore of the Ardleigh’s private bay. Here the night air sang softly and the surface of the water was shining a welcome to the rising moon.

  Reggie wandered along the beach heading in a rather indirect way toward the station. He was enjoying the somber beauty of the night free from distraction. The difficulty with Mr. Ardleigh had slipped from his mind. His soul was calm and peaceful.

  A GLEAMING object at the waterline caught his eye and he strolled closer to investigate. It was, he saw, a slender vase about six inches high, tightly stoppered by a wooden plug. It was rolling back and forth on the edge of the water as light waves lapped against it.

  Reggie picked it up and looked it over thoroughly. Its curving sides were adorned with graceful designs painted in red against the gray background of the vase. A pretty item, Reggie thought, pleased with himself. He had never before in his life found anything of interest or value.