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+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stopover Planet, by Robert E. Gilbert
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+
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+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30015 ***</div>
+
+<div class="bk1"><div class="bk2"><h1>STOPOVER PLANET</h1>
+
+<h2><i>By<br />
+Robert E. Gilbert</i></h2></div></div>
+
+<div class="bk3"><p><big><b>Early morning deliveries were part of
+the Honeychile Bakery Service. But on this
+particular morning the service was reversed!</b></big></p></div>
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">At</span> 2:34 a.m., Patrolman Louis
+Whedbee left the Zip Cab
+station. With arch supports
+squeaking and night stick swinging,
+Whedbee walked east to the call
+box at the corner of Sullivan and
+Cherokee. The traffic signal suspended
+above the intersection
+blinked a cautionary amber. Not
+a car moved on the silent streets.</p>
+
+<p>Whedbee reached for the box.
+Then he swore softly and stepped
+off the curb. "Pardon me," he said,
+for he believed that a policeman
+should be courteous at all times,
+even when arresting a school zone
+speedster. This, however, was not
+a speedster. It seemed to be a
+huge man standing on top of a
+truck and cutting down the stop
+light. "What's going on here?"
+Whedbee asked.</p>
+
+<p>HONEYCHILE BAKERY was
+advertised on the side of the truck.
+Instinctively, Whedbee jammed his
+whistle in his mouth when he
+realized that the man on the truck
+wore something like a suit of long
+underwear made of improbable
+black fur sprinkled with tiny red
+spots.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing to the stop
+light?" Whedbee demanded.</p>
+
+<p>The amber light quit blinking
+without the expected electrical display.
+Sinuous as beheaded snakes,
+the wires and cables supporting the
+traffic signal fell into the street.
+The unusual man pocketed his
+cutting tool&mdash;a long thin tube&mdash;and
+lowered the stop light to the
+truck. He looked at Whedbee.
+The corner street lamp reacted
+upon his eyes like a flashlight
+thrown on a tomcat in an alley.
+The eyes gleamed green.</p>
+
+<p>Whedbee's whistle arced to the
+end of the chain and clanked
+against his metal buttons. A block
+away on Center Street, a heavy
+truck roared through the business
+section. The bell of a switch engine
+tolled near the freight depot,
+and a small dog barked suddenly
+at the obscured sky.</p>
+
+<p>"I am promoting you to captain.
+You will replace Hanks, whom I
+am demoting," the figure on the
+truck announced.</p>
+
+<p>"Chief Grindstaff?" Whedbee
+wondered.</p>
+
+<p>The chief of police glared down
+at the patrolman. He hooked a
+bright metal globe to the stop
+light, lifted it in one hand, and
+jumped, landing lightly on the
+pavement. "Put this in the mobile
+unit," he said. "The truck, I
+evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh? Sure, chief," Whedbee
+said. He tucked his night stick
+under his arm and prepared to accept
+a heavy load. Tensed muscles
+almost felled him when the
+signal proved to weigh not more
+than one pound.</p>
+
+<p>Chief Grindstaff opened the
+doors in the rear of the truck, releasing
+a faint odor of stale bread.
+The truck was empty. Whedbee
+deposited the almost weightless
+burden. The chief looked him in
+the eye. "I am promoting you to
+captain," he repeated. "You will
+replace Hanks, whom I am demoting."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, chief!" Whedbee exalted.
+"You know Hanks didn't
+treat me fair that time I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know all about that,"
+the chief interposed. "Go bring
+the postage box and place it in
+the truck."</p>
+
+<p>"The which? Oh, you mean
+the mailbox!" Whedbee walked
+across the street to the
+square green box with the rounded
+metal top. Another of the globes
+had been attached to the mailbox,
+and the legs had been burned loose
+from the concrete sidewalk. Confidently,
+Whedbee lifted the light
+object, carried it to the truck, and
+deposited it inside.</p>
+
+<p>"Bleachers there," said Chief
+Grindstaff.</p>
+
+<p>"What you say, chief?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stands there. No, stand there."</p>
+
+<p>Patrolman Whedbee stood by
+the back of the truck. Chief
+Grindstaff placed a device like
+an atomizer under Whedbee's nose
+and released the spray.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Miss</span> Betsy Tapp awoke after
+not more than one hour of
+fitful sleep. The door to the garage
+apartment shook under the
+tattoo of a heavy fist. Miss Tapp's
+heart thudded somewhere inside her
+thirty-eight-inch bosom. She lay
+rigid in darkness penetrated only
+by the glimmer of a distant street
+light.</p>
+
+<p>The knocking ceased. Boards
+creaked on the platform outside
+the door. A face appeared at the
+window, a face in complete shadow
+except for two eyes that glowed
+with greenish light.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tapp, unaware of the disarray
+of her nightgown, sat upright.
+The alarm clock on the
+floor by the bed clacked in the
+stillness. The tap in the kitchen
+cubicle dripped. Timbers, contracting
+in the cool of early morning,
+popped faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"I need to marry you," the face
+said. "I was wrong tonight. Forgive
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Fred?" Miss Tapp gasped in
+sudden joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Open the portal," Fred said.</p>
+
+<p>Wrenching metal curlers from
+her permanently waved hair, Miss
+Tapp bounded to the door. She released
+the catch and threw herself
+at the figure on the landing.
+Fred purred, "I want to marry you.
+I was wrong tonight. Forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Fred," Miss Tapp sighed.
+"I knew you'd come back! You
+just had too much to drink! I
+forgive you, Fred! We'll&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Bring your rayon crepe
+with tall tucking."</p>
+
+<p>"What, Fred?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bring your garb, your clothing.
+Hurry."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tapp skillfully fought a
+blush. "Oh, Fred! I'm sorry.
+I'll be dressed in a minute!"</p>
+
+<p>Fred slowly stated, "I want to
+marry you. I was wrong tonight.
+Forgive me." He walked into the
+apartment and rapidly gathered
+and rolled together the dress and
+undergarments scattered on and
+about the chair. He stuffed the
+spike-heeled shoes into pockets
+of his black fur suit and lifted
+Miss Tapp in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"We're eloping!" Miss Tapp
+sighed as Fred carried her down
+the outside stairs. A <i>Honeychile
+Bakery</i> truck, with rear doors open,
+waited in the driveway. Fred
+tossed the roll of clothing and the
+slippers into the truck, and swiftly
+sprayed Miss Tapp.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">An</span> unearthly glow permeated
+the bedroom and cast the
+black shadows of heavy furniture
+against the faded papered walls.
+Within the glow, two dots of green
+flickered. The Reverend Enos
+Shackelford dropped on creaking
+knees and bowed his grizzled head.</p>
+
+<p>A voice said, "Well done, good
+and faithful servant. Arise and
+follow me."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord," said Reverend Shackelford,
+"I have served thee faithfully
+all the days of my life. Remember
+me when thou comest into thy
+kingdom. Remember also&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Well done, good and
+faithful servant. Arise and follow
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Shackelford stood on tottering
+old legs. His nightshirt hung below
+his knees. Horrified shock
+blanched his lined face. "Blasphemer!"
+he cried. "False prophet!
+Get thee behind me, Satan!"</p>
+
+<p>The glow danced and faded. A
+towering black shape pointed a
+bent rod. The rod hissed. The
+Reverend Shackelford staggered
+against a small table, dragging it
+with him to the floor. He lay still
+with one gnarled old hand on a
+large golden-edged book that had
+fallen from the table.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">"You're</span> fired," the man in
+the dream said over and
+over.</p>
+
+<p>Calvin C. Kear rolled off the
+half-bed, struck the floor, and
+awoke. "First time I've fallen out
+of bed in years," he groaned. His
+shaking hand fumbled with the
+switch and succeeded in turning
+on the lamp.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Calvin C. Kear sprawled
+on her back in the other bed and
+snored. "You and your fifteen-thousand-dollar
+house," Kear
+muttered. He combed his thinning
+hair with his fingers. "You
+and your sterling silver. You and
+your chosen pattern. Your service
+for eight. How far do you
+think fifty-four dollars a week will
+go with 12-gauge shells three and
+a quarter a box?"</p>
+
+<p>Green eyes glittered beside the
+frilly dressing table. The man standing
+there said, "I'm not igniting
+you. I'm giving you a bonus for
+your fine work. Enough currency to
+pay the loan on this house. You'll be
+making two hundred per week. This
+fall, I'll take you hunting at my
+place in the country."</p>
+
+<p>"Boss?" Kear mumbled. "I
+mean, Mr. Darmond?"</p>
+
+<p>"Put on your clothing," the boss
+said. "I'll show you your new office.
+You may have a secretary,
+also. I'm not firing you. I'm
+giving you a bonus."</p>
+
+<p>Kear sat gasping on the floor.
+"That's great, boss!" he exclaimed.
+"I thought I did an extra special
+job on the plastics mill design.
+It'll mean a lot to the company.
+We&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Dress quickly."</p>
+
+<p>Kear threw off his pajamas and
+started stuffing arms and legs into
+his clothes. Mrs. Kear opened
+her eyes and squeaked like a dying
+rabbit.</p>
+
+<p>The bent rod in the boss's hand
+hissed, and Mrs. Kear stopped
+squeaking.</p>
+
+<p>With tie flapping, shirt unbuttoned,
+shoes unlaced, Kear followed
+the boss through the living
+room and down the flagstone walk
+to the street. The boss opened the
+doors of the <i>Honeychile Bakery</i>
+truck and said, "In here."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Mrs.</span> Jane Huprich dropped
+her mop. Her varicose legs
+trotted across the wet lobby of
+the Jordon Building, and her flabby
+fat arms reached for the tall man
+with bright eyes who stood near
+the elevators. "It's me, Mom," the
+man cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Matt!" Mrs. Huprich cried.
+"Matt, baby!"</p>
+
+<p>"I got a full pardon, Mom," Matt
+said, stroking her tangled white
+hair. "Right from the ruling
+state official. You won't have to
+scrub floors anymore! I'm going
+straight, Mom. I'm a good mechanic
+now. They learned me a lot
+in the enclosure. Come on. I got
+a used truck outside, I bought
+cheap."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Huprich and son walked
+through the oddly twisted doors of
+the Jordon Building and into the
+gray twilight that awaited dawn.
+The <i>Honeychile Bakery</i> truck
+waited too.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Gary</span> Abston peddled his bicycle
+against the flow of cars
+carrying day-shift workers through
+the half-light. He whirled into
+Walnut Street, twisted a fresh
+copy of the <i>Morning Herald</i> into
+a fiendishly clever knot, and hurled
+it in the general direction of a
+front porch that flashed past on
+his right. Never slowing, Gary
+threw the next paper entirely across
+the street. He chuckled as it
+cleared a picket fence. "Bang,
+bang!" he blurted. His red shirt,
+with a picture of a mounted cowboy
+on the back, ballooned in the
+early morning breeze.</p>
+
+<p>"Whoa!" Gary roared. He stopped,
+held the bicycle upright with
+one foot on the pavement. A tall,
+lanky, slightly bowlegged man with
+squinting luminous green eyes
+stood on the sidewalk. Gary looked
+at the man. The newspapers
+fluttered to the parkway. The bicycle
+clattered in the street.</p>
+
+<p>"Howdy, partner!" the tall man
+said. "The rustlers are headin'
+for the plateau! We'll take the
+short gash and head 'em off at the
+canyon!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ramrod Jones?" Gary chirped.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's the truck I haul Quizz-kid,
+the I.Q. Horse, in! Let's get
+after the rustlers!" Jones said.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, I've seen all your pictures,
+Ramrod," Gary said. "<i>Silver City
+Raiders</i>, <i>Rustlers of Silver City</i>,
+<i>Silver City Rustlers</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The great cowboy lifted the
+newsboy into the <i>Honeychile</i>
+truck.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Pink</span> and rose clouds drifted
+through a brightening sky as
+the <i>Honeychile Bakery</i> truck careened
+along a narrow road badly
+in need of rock and grading. From
+the road, the truck rattled into a
+rutted track through dewy woods
+and skidded swaying to a stop at
+the side of a long, low, grassy hill.</p>
+
+<p>The tall creature dressed in
+black, red-spotted fur stepped from
+the cab. An opening appeared in
+the hillside. Four machines&mdash;dull
+metal eggs balancing on single
+tractor treads&mdash;rolled silently
+through the opening. Jointed steel
+arms darted from recesses in the
+eggs. One machine opened the
+truck doors.</p>
+
+<p>The creature walked up a ramp
+inside the hill and entered a shimmering
+metallic compartment.</p>
+
+<p>"Greetings, Eo. I have returned."</p>
+
+<p>Eo, who wore a suit of white fur,
+hummed, "None too soon, Za. We
+miscalculated dawn. What success?"</p>
+
+<p>"An excellent group," Za said.
+He stretched and reclined on a
+transparent slab. "The servants
+are unloading the vehicle. I captured
+a young male, a mature male,
+an aged male, some sort of official
+or guardian male, a mature female,
+and an aged female."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's view them," Eo said.
+"You can rest after we're away."</p>
+
+<p>The tall creatures entered a second
+compartment furnished with a
+large table upon which the silent
+machines deposited inanimate bodies.
+"Extraordinary!" said Eo,
+staring at Miss Betsy Tapp.
+"These things have reached a peak
+of mammalian development!"</p>
+
+<p>"Her correct garments are in this
+bundle," Za explained. "The servants
+are bringing the properties
+now. I secured a signaling device
+and a box used in an extremely
+primitive system of communication.
+Also, I brought the quaint muscle-powered
+vehicle ridden by the
+young male. The photographs
+should be sufficient for other details."</p>
+
+<p>"Any difficulty?" Eo asked as
+the machines dumped Patrolman
+Whedbee on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"The language was the greatest
+obstacle," Za said. "The same
+word has many different meanings,
+or many different words have the
+same meaning. Rather crude."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you use bait, or force?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bait," Za said. "It's much simpler.
+This is a completely selfish,
+egocentric breed. Most of them
+have one thing in mind which they
+want solely for themselves. Their
+sending power is weak, but that
+one selfish desire is powerful
+enough to be received. I merely
+dangled it before their minds, and
+they were hooked." He tapped
+the foot of Calvin C. Kear. "I
+killed this one's female companion.
+She awoke and screamed. The
+males and females pair off and live
+together for years. Strange custom!
+Breeding seems to be only
+one reason for the mutual bondage."</p>
+
+<p>Za pointed to Mrs. Jane Huprich.
+"The old female may be an
+exception to the selfishness. I
+couldn't decide whether she most
+wanted to be relieved of cleaning
+floors by primitive methods, or
+wanted her male offspring to be released
+from some structure where
+he had been secured for reasons I
+couldn't determine."</p>
+
+<p>The machines deposited the Reverend
+Enos Shackelford and then
+lined up in a precise row. "This
+thing is dead!" Eo buzzed.</p>
+
+<p>Za shook his head. "That was
+the only genuine exception. He
+confused me till I forgot his proper
+clothing, but some can be devised
+from the other samples. He seems
+to have been a witch-doctor. His
+mind was cluttered with myths and
+superstitions from an ancient text.
+I don't understand him, Eo, and
+wish I had time to study the
+phenomena. He was different from
+the others. He believed in something
+and considered himself lowly
+and humble. The minds of the
+others were in constant confusion.
+They believed, actually, in nothing.
+Somehow, he saw me, Eo. I was
+forced to kill him."</p>
+
+<p>"No harm done," Eo decided.
+He faced the machines and said,
+"Destroy the vehicle, draw in the
+camouflage net, prepare for take-off."
+The machines rolled from
+the compartment, and the two creatures
+followed.</p>
+
+<p>"Seal it," Eo said. "I'll plasticize
+them when we're in space.
+Fine work, Za. I can see the
+plaque now: 'Mounted by Eo, Collected
+by Za. Typical Street Corner
+on Planet <i>Earth</i>, Star <i>Sol</i>.'
+The directors will surely give the
+group a prominent place in the Galactic
+Museum of Natural History!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Za agreed, glancing back
+at the Reverend Enos Shackelford.
+"This planet was a fortunate
+stopover."</p>
+
+<p class="hd1"><i>The End</i></p>
+
+<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="146" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div>
+
+<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p>
+
+<p>This etext was produced from <i>Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy</i> August 1953.
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30015 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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