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diff --git a/31665.txt b/31665.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae7cd05 --- /dev/null +++ b/31665.txt @@ -0,0 +1,831 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Skin Game, by Charles E. Fritch + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Skin Game + +Author: Charles E. Fritch + +Illustrator: Kelly Freas + +Release Date: March 16, 2010 [EBook #31665] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SKIN GAME *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _Working on the theory that you can skin a sucker in space as well + as on Earth, the con team of Harding and Sheckly operated furtively + but profitably among natives of the outer planets. That is--until + there was a question of turnabout being fair play in a world where + natives took their skinning literally!_ + + +SKIN GAME + +By Charles E. Fritch + +Illustrated by Kelly Freas + + +"People are basically alike," Harding said democratically. He sat idly +against the strawlike matting of the hut wall and reached for a native +fruit in a nearby bowl. "They're all suckers, even the smartest of them; +in fact, the ones who think they're the smartest generally wind up to be +the dumbest." Carefully, he bit into the fruit which resembled an orange +and, mouth full, nodded approvingly. "Say, these aren't bad. Try one." + +Sheckly shook his head, determined to avoid as many aspects of this +culture as he could. "But these aren't people," he reminded, not happy +with the thought. "They're lizards." + +Harding shrugged and settled back, his grinning features ruddy in the +flaring torchlight. "Humanoids have no monopoly on suckerhood. When it +comes to that, we're all brothers under the skin, no matter what +color or how hard the skin may be." He sighed, contemplating the +harvest-to-be. "No, Sheckly, it'll be like taking candy from a baby. +We'll be out of here with our pockets bulging before the Space Patrol +can bat an eyelash in this direction." + +Unconvinced, Sheckly stared glumly through the open doorway of the hut +into the warm humid night, where a fire flared in the darkness and long +shadows danced and slithered around it. + +"It's not the Space Patrol I'm worried about," he said, after a while. +"I don't mind fleecing humanoids--" he shivered, grimacing--"but +lizards!" + +Harding laughed. "Their riches are as good as anybody else's. The +trouble with you, Sheckly, you're too chicken-hearted. If it weren't for +me, you'd still be small-timing back on Earth. It takes imagination to +get along these days." + +Sheckly grunted, for he had no ready answer to deny this truth. While he +didn't like the reference to his inability to get along in the world +without Harding's help, the man was right about other things. It did +take imagination, all right, mixed with a generous supply of plain +ordinary guts; that, plus an eye focused unfalteringly on the good old +credit sign. + +He certainly could not get along without Harding's timing. The man knew +just when Patrol Ships would be at certain spots, knew their schedules +for visiting these small otherworlds, and always he was several steps +ahead of them. They went into a planet, their rocket ship loaded with +gambling devices--cards, dice, roulette wheels, and other cultural +refinements--and set up shop which could be folded at a moment's notice +if necessary. Natives seemed almost eager to be skinned of their riches, +and he and Harding happily obliged them. + +"Listen to them out there," Harding marveled, leaning forward to hear +the sharp scrapings that represented music. "They must be having some +kind of ceremony." + +Sheckly nodded, shivering slightly, though the air was hot and humid. He +wished again, as he often had in the past, he could have some of +Harding's assurance, some of that unrelenting optimism that insisted +everything would turn out favorably. But he didn't like these strange +primitive worlds, he didn't trust them or their inhabitants. The +lizard-people had seemed friendly enough, but by looking at a strange +reptile you couldn't tell how far it would jump. When the Earth ship +landed, the creatures had come slithering to them with all but a brass +band, welcoming the Earthlings with the hissings that composed their +language. One of them--the official interpreter, he proclaimed +himself--knew a peculiarly good brand of English, and welcomed them in a +more satisfactory manner, but still Sheckly didn't like it. Harding had +called him chicken-hearted, and he felt a certain amount of justified +indignance at the description. Cautious would be a better word, he +decided. + + * * * * * + +These people appeared friendly to the Earthlings, but so did the +Earthlings give the appearance of friendliness to the natives; that was +proof in itself that you couldn't trust actions to indicate purpose. But +even more than that, their basic alienness troubled Sheckly more than he +dared admit aloud. Differences in skin color and modified body shapes +were one thing, but when a race was on a completely different +evolutionary track it was a time for caution. These were a different +people, on a different planet under a different star. Their customs +were strange, how strange he could yet only guess, though he preferred +not to. This ceremony now, for example, what did it mean? A rite for +some serpent god perhaps. A dance in honor of the Earthmen's arrival. Or +it might just as easily be a preliminary to a feast at which the +visitors would be the main course. + +"I just wish we knew more about the creatures," he complained, trying to +shove that last thought from his mind. + +Harding looked annoyed, as he drew his attention from the alien music +which had fascinated him. "Stop worrying, will you? They're probably +among the friendliest creatures in the universe, even if they do look +like serpents out of Eden. And the friendly ones rate A-1 on my +sucker-list." + +Sheckly shuddered and cast an annoyed glance into the night. "How can +anybody concentrate with that infernal racket going on out there? Don't +they ever sleep?" + +"Patience," Harding advised calmly, "is a noble virtue. Ah, here comes +our interpreter." + +Sheckly started involuntarily, as a scaley head thrust itself into the +hut. The serpentman had a long sharp knife gleaming in one hand. +"Pardon, sirs," the head said slurringly, as a forked tongue sorted over +the unfamiliar syllables. "The leader wishes to know will you join us?" + +"No, thanks," Sheckly said, staring at the knife. + +Harding said, "We should join them. We don't want to offend these +creatures, and if we're real friendly we might make out better." + +"_You_ go out then. I'm going to see if I can get some sleep." + +Harding shrugged, his glance making it plain he knew Sheckly lacked +nerve more than sleep. To the serpentman he said, "Tell your leader my +companion is tired from our long journey and would rest now. However, I +will be happy to join you." + +"Yesss," the serpent head hissed and withdrew. + +"Boy, will I be glad to get out of here," Sheckly muttered. + +"Sometimes I wonder why I ever teamed up with a pansy like you, +Sheckly," Harding said harshly, a disgusted look on his face. "There are +times when I regret it." He turned and walked from the hut. + +Sheckly stared bitterly after him. He felt no anger at the denunciation, +only a plaguing irritableness, an annoyance with both Harding and +himself. He should have gone out there with Harding, if only to show the +man that he was not afraid, that he was no coward. And yet, as he sat +there listening to the strange sounds creeping across the warm dampness, +he made no move to rise, and he knew he would not. + +Grunting disgustedly, Sheckly stretched out on the floor matting and +tried to think of other things. He stared at the orange-flaring torch +and contemplated putting it out, but the sounds from the outside drifted +in upon him and changed his mind. After a while, he closed his eyes and +dozed. + + * * * * * + +He woke suddenly and sat upright, a cold sweat making him tremble. +What had wakened him? he wondered. He had the vague notion that someone +had screamed, yet he wasn't sure. In the faltering torchlight, he could +see Harding had not returned. He listened intently to the noises +outside, the scraping, the hissing, the slithering. No screams came. + +[Illustration] + +I'm not going to stay here, he told himself. I'll leave tomorrow, I +don't care what Harding says. I'll go crazy if I have to spend another +night like this. Exhausted, he fell asleep. + +Morning came, and the alien sun slanted orange rays through the cabin +doorway. Sheckly opened his eyes and stared at the thatched roof. The +torch had burned out, but it was no longer needed for light. Thank +goodness for morning, he thought. Morning brought a temporary sanity to +this world, and after the madness of the night it was a reprieve he +welcomed gladly. He had not opposed Harding till now, but desperation +was a strong incentive to rebellion. When Harding returned-- Startled, +he considered the thought. _When_ Harding returned? + +He sat up and stared around him. Harding was not in sight. Panic came, +and he leaped up, blood racing, as though to defend himself against +invisible enemies. Perhaps he'd gotten up early, Sheckly thought. But +suppose he hadn't returned? Suppose-- + +He jumped, as the interpreter entered the hut behind him. "The Leader +wishes you to join him for eating," the serpentman said. + +"No," Sheckly said hastily. They weren't going to make a meal out of +him. "No, thanks. Look, I've got to leave your planet. Leave, +understand? Right away." + +"The leader wishes you to join him," the creature repeated. This time +the sword crept into his hands. + +Sheckly stared at the sword, and his heart leaped. He thought there was +a tinge of red on the blade's edge. Mentally, he shook his head. No, it +was his imagination again. Just imagination. Still, the drawn sword +clearly indicated that the invitation was not to be refused. + +"All right," he said weakly. "All right, in a few minutes." + +"Now," the other said. + +"Okay, now," the Earthling agreed listlessly. "Where is my companion?" + +"You will see him," the creature promised. + +Sheckly breathed a sigh of relief at that. Harding was probably all +right then. It made him feel better, though it would make the task of +leaving much harder. + + * * * * * + +They had arrived at twilight the previous day, so they hadn't the +opportunity to see the village in its entirety. They hadn't missed much, +Sheckly realized as he walked along, for the grouped huts were +unimpressive, looking somewhat like a primitive African village back on +Earth. But the Earthling would have preferred the most primitive Earth +native to these serpents. In the distance, the slim nose of the rocket +ship pointed the way to freedom, and Sheckly looked longingly at it. + +At one end of the village was a small mountain of what appeared to be +plastic clothing, milkily translucent--which was strange, since these +creatures wore no clothing. The Earthling wondered at this but did not +ask about it. Other thoughts more important troubled him. + +"In here," the interpreter told him, stopping before the largest hut. + +Hesitating briefly, Sheckly entered and the creature followed him in. +Seated on the floor were the leader and his mate and several smaller +reptiles that evidently were the children. Between them lay several +bowls of food. Sheckly grimaced and turned hastily away as he saw small +crawling insects in one bowl. + +"Sit down," the interpreter directed. + +Harding was not in evidence. "Where is my companion?" he asked. + +The interpreter conferred briefly with the leader, then told Sheckly, +"He could not come. Sit down--eat." + +Sheckly sat down, but he didn't feel like eating. He wondered _why_ +Harding could not come. At a sudden thought, he said, "I have rations on +my ship--" + +"Eat," the interpreter said, gripping his sword. + +Sheckly nodded weakly and reached out for the bowl of fruit, taking one +that resembled that which Harding had eaten the previous night. It +wasn't bad. The leader stuffed a fistful of squirming insects in his +mouth and offered the bowl to Sheckly, who shook his head as politely as +he could and indicated the fruit in his hand. + +Fortunately, the serpentman did not insist on his taking anything other +than fruit, so the meal passed without physical discomfort. + +When they were through, the leader hissed several syllables to the +interpreter, who said, "The leader wishes to see your games. You will +set them up now." + +Sheckly ran his tongue over dry lips. "They're in the ship," he said, +and eagerness crept into his voice. "I'll have to get them." Once inside +the ship, he'd never come back. He'd slam the airlock door and bolt it +and then blast off as fast as he could get the motors going, Harding or +no Harding. He got up. + +"We will help you," the interpreter said. + +"No. I can do it myself." + +"We will help you," the interpreter insisted firmly. His eyes bored into +the Earthling, as though daring him to refuse again. + +Sheckly's mouth felt dry once more. "Where's Harding?" he demanded. +"Where's the other Earth man? What have you done with him?" + +The interpreter looked at the leader, who nodded. The interpreter said +gravely, "It is too bad. It is the season for the shedding of skins. At +the shedding feast last night--" + +"The shedding of skins!" Sheckly said, remembering the pile he'd seen at +one corner of the village; "those translucent things were your cast-off +skins." He recalled that some reptiles back on Earth had regular seasons +of shedding. That intelligent creatures should do it made him feel +slightly sick. + +"Your friend joined us last night," the serpentman went on. "But he +could not shed properly, so--" + +Sheckly felt his blood turn to ice. + +"--so we helped him." + +"You _what_?" + +"We helped him out of his skin," the serpentman went on calmly. "We try +to help those who are friends with us. Your friend had trouble getting +his skin off, but with our help--" + +"No!" the Earthling cried, trying to reject the thought. + +The full realization of what had happened struck him at once. Despite +himself, he could picture Harding struggling, trying to convince these +creatures that Earthlings don't shed their skins. His struggles must +have convinced them only that he was having trouble shedding, so they +"helped him." They had come to skin the natives, but the reverse was +happening--only literally. + +"Where--where is he?" he asked finally, though he knew it didn't really +matter. + +"We will take you to him," the interpreter said. + +"No," Sheckly cried. "No, I--I'd rather not." + +The serpentman nodded. "As you wish. He does not look pretty. I hope +that tonight you do not have as much trouble." + +Sheckly's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?" + +"In your shedding," the serpentman explained. "We will try to help you +all we can, of course." + +"Of course," the Earthling agreed weakly, licking cottony lips. He +wondered how he could just stand there so apparently calm, instead of +letting out a shriek and running as fast as he could for the rocket +ship. He decided it was some sort of paralysis, the shock of finding +himself in the middle of something so alien his mind told him it +couldn't possibly be. + + * * * * * + +Knees wobbling, Sheckly went to the door and out into the morning. That +he had gotten that far surprised him pleasantly. The tall rocket ship +was in a clearing several yards beyond the edge of the village. He +headed for it. He thought of running, but his legs felt like rubber, his +blood like ice. He walked past the pile of drying skins on the ground +without looking at them, and he was followed by the interpreter and +several others whom the serpentman had motioned to join them. Except for +their swords, they had no weapons, he noticed. Poor Harding, he thought, +and wondered if the Earthling's skin were somewhere in the pile; he felt +sick, thinking about it. + +"You'd better stay outside the ship," he suggested testily. "I'll lower +the equipment to you." + +"I will go aboard with you," the serpentman said. + +"But--" + +"I will go aboard with you." + +Sheckly shrugged, but he hardly felt complacent. He felt as though a +giant icy hand held onto his spine with a firm paralyzing grip. He +trembled visibly. Got to think, he told himself desperately, got to plan +this out. But fear jumbled his thoughts, and he could only think of +Harding back in the village minus his skin, and of what was going to +happen that night if all went as these creatures planned. + +The second thought was the more terrifying, and when they were within a +hundred feet of the rocket ship, Sheckly broke into a frantic run. + +"Stop," the interpreter cried. + +Sheckly had no intentions of stopping. His glands told him to run, and +he ran. He ran as fast as he could and didn't look back. He imagined the +serpentman was on his heels, knife poised, and he ran even faster. He +reached the rocket ship and went up the ladder, scrambling, missing his +foothold, pulling himself up with clutching hands. He threw himself +through the airlock and slammed the massive door behind him. + +He ran through the metal corridors to the control room. They must be on +the ladder, he thought, prying at the airlock with their metal swords. +He pressed switches, slammed down on the throttle, and the sweet music +of the rockets came and pressed him into his seat. + +He looked down at the planet dwindling into space below him and he +laughed hysterically, thinking of the narrow escape he'd had. No more +planets for him, no more trying to skin anyone. + + * * * * * + +"There it goes," the Space Patrolman said, watching the rocket rise. + +Harding trembled with helpless rage. "That blasted fool Sheckly'll lead +you right to the money, too," he complained. + +"That's the way we planned it," the Patrolman smiled. "I must compliment +our native friends on their fine acting. Your pal took off like a scared +rabbit." + +"Yeah," Harding grimaced, clenching his fists as though wishing he had +someone's neck in them. + +"Don't blame your friend too much," the Patrolman advised. "Whether you +realize it or not, the fact that you were consciously avoiding our +schedules caused you to follow a pattern in your visits to these +outerspace planets; we just figured a bit ahead of you and posted hidden +patrols on all the inhabited planets in this sector, knowing that sooner +or later you'd land on one of them. We spotted your ship last night and +hurried over by 'copter so we wouldn't be seen." + +"Forget the synopsis," Harding growled. "You walked in when these +blasted lizards were making believe they were going to skin me alive. +They didn't have to act so realistic about it." + +"You're wrong about one thing," the Patrolman said. "The act didn't +start until after we arrived to direct it." + +Harding looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?" + +"We arrived, as the books say, just in time," the Patrolman told him. +"They _weren't_ making believe." He offered a bowl of fruit to his +prisoner. "We'll be here for another hour yet. Eat something." + +Weakly, Harding shook his head no. He sat down, suddenly pale at what +the officer had said. + +He didn't feel very hungry. + + ... THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _If: Worlds of Science Fiction_ May + 1954. 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. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Skin Game, by Charles E. 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