No Moving Parts
Page 3
43.4SC.
TAKE OUT OF REFRIGERATOR! THIS AN ORDER! WHY UNDRESSED?
CMD GENERAL
CMD GENERAL
BULLARD MAKING MODEL OF MY DRAWINGS. READY SOON. R'THAGNA BAR OUT OF REFRIGERATOR AS REQUESTED BUT SHIPS PHYSICIAN VERY ANGRY AND WANTS TO PUT BACK IN. COLOR ON STOMACH PINK AND YELLOW WITH BLUE SQUARES. THIS SIGNIFICANT?
QUEMOS
It went on like this for several more days. Hansen, at first amused, wasnow alarmed and completely convinced that both Quemos and Bullard werethoroughly useless. The messages were his only source of information, sinceboth "experts" were too immersed in their work to talk with him. As hisalarm grew, he decided that he might at least try to strike up a friendshipwith someone on board Captain Fromer's sealed ship--someone who might havesomething comforting to report. He called up the ship's navigator.
"This is Hansen. How're things going up there?"
"Ha!"
"What's that mean? Good or bad?"
"It means," the navigator said, while yawning, "that things are fallingapart rapidly. In fact, in a day or two I don't think it'll make muchdifference whether or not they open that damn door."
"You, er, care to fill me in?"
"Why not?" said the navigator, with the voice of a man who knows that it istoo late for anything to matter. "The members of the crew are divided intotwo factions. It appears that our physician has rallied half the crew tosupport his medical contention that our exhalted passenger belongs in therefrigerator. The good captain, with some justice, one must admit, thinksthat he is in command of the ship, and prefers to believe that R'thagna Barbelongs out of the refrigerator."
"Who seems to be winning the argument?"
"Argument? There's no argument, old man--it's open warfare. No weaponsaboard, of course, but the two teams are grappling up and down thecorridors and shuttling our exhalted passenger in and out of the ice boxabout four times each hour. Quite a sight, really. Right now he's _in_the refrigerator, but the other team--"
"Let me know who's ahead from time to time, will you?" Hansen heard himselfsay.
"Glad to oblige," the navigator said, yawning again. "Oh, incidentally,have they sent for help yet?"
* * * * *
Hansen said with some surprise, "Why, as a matter of fact, SectorHeadquarters is sending some help. How did you know?"
"Bound to happen sooner or later, old man. When the going really gets toughthey always get around to sending a Gypsy. Only way to get anything done,you know."
"I don't know," Hansen said reluctantly. "Why is it that everyone knowsexcept me? What, please, is a Gypsy?"
"You're too young to know everything, old man," the navigator said. "You'reespecially too young to know about one of the Federation's best keptsecrets. But you might as well, I suppose. The fact is that a Gypsy is agenerally vagrant, dirty, thieving, clever scoundrel who will not work, whohas absolutely no respect for order or authority, who believes that ourinstitutions are effete and--"
"But then why--"
"Patience, patience," cautioned the navigator, haughtily, "if I am toreveal everything I know, I must do it in my own way. The description Ijust gave you is not necessarily true. It is simply the way that SectorHeadquarters feels about Gypsies. Common jealousy, really. It seems thatfrom time to time, our perfect little galactic society spawns men who don'tcare to be cast in the common mold. In short, there are a few men aroundwith brains who don't think that it means very much to wear pretty uniformsor fancy titles."
"Uniforms like yours?" asked Hansen.
"Precisely," the navigator said sadly. "The truth of the matter is, ofcourse, that I only play at being a navigator. I couldn't get this ship offcourse, if I tried. The same is true with the four engineering officers whostand around watching the Hegler drive units. They occasionally make aceremonial adjustment, but beyond that, they simply stand around lookingpretty."
"No moving parts." Hansen said.
"No moving brains, if you like. Anyway, a Gypsy has--somewhere along theline--learned how to do things. They'll take an emergency call about once ayear--if they happen to feel like it. Then they charge about half a millioncredits."
"You mean they have an organization, standard rates and--"
"Heavens no!" the navigator said. "They hate anything that smells likeorganization. They don't even specialize in any certain kind of work. Oneyear they'll be fascinated by sub-nucleonics, the next by horse racing.Very erratic. Can't keep attention on any one thing. Heard of one once whoengaged in fishing and alcohol drinking. Brilliant mathematician, too. Buthe'd only take a call once every three years or so."
"For a half million credits a crack, eh? You could live pretty well forthree years on that."
"Strangely enough," the navigator said thoughtfully, "they don't reallyhave any interest in money. If you'd ever met one, you'd know that the highfee is sort of a penalty they mete out to everyone else for being so dumb."
"Well, one thing for sure," Hansen said, "if Bullard and Quemos are thecream of the crop, I'm on the side of the Gypsies."
"Ah, youth!" the navigator said, "I, too, once had such dreams--"
* * * * *
"We'll see about the dreams," Hansen said, almost menacingly, "I didn'tspend six years in that damn school just to sit around in a pretty uniformfor the rest of my life."
"Oh, you'll get used to it. In fact, you'll like it after a while. The homeleaves. The fuss your friends will make over you when you step off theship. The regular and automatic promotions in grade with the extra goldband added to your sleeve; the move from one outpost to an always largerinstallation. You'll never do much, of course, but why should you? Afterall, there aren't any moving parts."
* * * * *
Hansen cut the communicator off. He stood there for a moment, feelingdepressed and betrayed. Automatically he reached down and flicked imaginarydust from his blue sleeve with its narrow solitary gold band. Ten minuteslater the Gypsy's ship signaled for landing.
The man who walked into Hansen's control room was hardly the ogre he hadbeen prepared for. He looked, Hansen was later to reflect, like Santa Clauswith muscles in place of the fat. Wearing an almost unheard of beard anddressed in rough clothes, he walked across the room and made short work ofthe usual formalities. "Name's Candle," said the man. "Where's those twophonies I'm supposed to replace?"
"You'll have to go suit up and go back through the airlock," Hansen said,motioning to the door. "They're in their ship. It's the one next to yours.Want me to tell them you're on your way over?"
"Hell, no," said Candle, grinning, "I'll surprise 'em. Now, suppose you andme sit down and have a little chat."
They sat and Candle pumped Hansen of everything he knew about the entiresituation. An hour later, Hansen felt almost as if he had been had. "Isthat all?" he asked, wearily.
"I got the facts," Candle said. "Now let's go throw those experts out." Itwasn't quite that simple. Neither Bullard nor Quemos had any intention ofsimply clearing out. "Who the hell you think you are," Bullard said, "tocome over here and order us off? We didn't even ask for help. And, Godknows, you couldn't supply it anyway." Bullard, with evident distaste, ranhis eyes up and down Candle's clothing.
Dr. Quemos had some ideas, too. "Letter of authority or no letter ofauthority," Quemos said, pointing a manicured forefinger at the paper inCandle's hand, "you'll ruin everything! You have no idea what you're upagainst. We've spent weeks working this thing out--"
Candle grinned. "What've you worked out?"
"Why--why we know that this is a metal double enveloping worm gear."
"Wrong," Candle said. "It's a single enveloping worm gear. It's made ofsteel with an aluminum alloy wheel gear and the two parts have corroded andstuck. The whole mechanism was originally designed for submarines."
Quemos started to say something, then turned and looked
at Bullard forreassurance. "He's crazy," Bullard said, "he's making it up as he goesalong. How could he possibly know what he's talking about? Why, therehaven't been any submarines for centuries."
"I'm tired of playing games," Candle said, no longer grinning. "The boy andI have work to do. You two are in the way. You'll only take up time if