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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Knights of Arthur, by Frederik Pohl
+
+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: The Knights of Arthur
+
+Author: Frederik Pohl
+
+Illustrator: Martin
+
+Release Date: April 16, 2010 [EBook #32004]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNIGHTS OF ARTHUR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+    This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction January
+    1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the
+    U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+
+
+
+The Knights of Arthur
+
+
+By FREDERIK POHL
+
+
+Illustrated by MARTIN
+
+
+    _With one suitcase as his domain, Arthur was desperately in
+    need of armed henchmen ... for his keys to a kingdom were
+    typewriter keys!_
+
+
+I
+
+
+There was three of us--I mean if you count Arthur. We split up to
+avoid attracting attention. Engdahl just came in over the big bridge,
+but I had Arthur with me so I had to come the long way around.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+When I registered at the desk, I said I was from Chicago. You know how
+it is. If you say you're from Philadelphia, it's like saying you're
+from St. Louis or Detroit--I mean _nobody_ lives in Philadelphia any
+more. Shows how things change. A couple years ago, Philadelphia was
+all the fashion. But not now, and I wanted to make a good impression.
+
+I even tipped the bellboy a hundred and fifty dollars. I said: "Do me
+a favor. I've got my baggage booby-trapped--"
+
+"Natch," he said, only mildly impressed by the bill and a half, even
+less impressed by me.
+
+"I mean _really_ booby-trapped. Not just a burglar alarm. Besides the
+alarm, there's a little surprise on a short fuse. So what I want you
+to do, if you hear the alarm go off, is come running. Right?"
+
+"And get my head blown off?" He slammed my bags onto the floor.
+"Mister, you can take your damn money and--"
+
+"Wait a minute, friend." I passed over another hundred. "Please? It's
+only a shaped charge. It won't hurt anything except anybody who messes
+around, see? But I don't want it to go off. So you come running when
+you hear the alarm and scare him away and--"
+
+"No!" But he was less positive. I gave him two hundred more and he
+said grudgingly: "All right. If I hear it. Say, what's in there that's
+worth all that trouble?"
+
+"Papers," I lied.
+
+He leered. "Sure."
+
+"No fooling, it's just personal stuff. Not worth a penny to anybody
+but me, understand? So don't get any ideas--"
+
+He said in an injured tone: "Mister, naturally the _staff_ won't
+bother your stuff. What kind of a hotel do you think this is?"
+
+"Of course, of course," I said. But I knew he was lying, because I
+knew what kind of hotel it was. The staff was there only because being
+there gave them a chance to knock down more money than they could make
+any other way. What other kind of hotel was there?
+
+Anyway, the way to keep the staff on my side was by bribery, and when
+he left I figured I had him at least temporarily bought. He promised
+to keep an eye on the room and he would be on duty for four more
+hours--which gave me plenty of time for my errands.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I made sure Arthur was plugged in and cleaned myself up. They had
+water running--New York's very good that way; they always have water
+running. It was even hot, or nearly hot. I let the shower splash over
+me for a while, because there was a lot of dust and dirt from the
+Bronx that I had to get off me. The way it looked, hardly anybody had
+been up that way since it happened.
+
+I dried myself, got dressed and looked out the window. We were fairly
+high up--fifteenth floor. I could see the Hudson and the big bridge up
+north of us. There was a huge cloud of smoke coming from somewhere
+near the bridge on the other side of the river, but outside of that
+everything looked normal. You would have thought there were people in
+all those houses. Even the streets looked pretty good, until you
+noticed that hardly any of the cars were moving.
+
+I opened the little bag and loaded my pockets with enough money to run
+my errands. At the door, I stopped and called over my shoulder to
+Arthur: "Don't worry if I'm gone an hour or so. I'll be back."
+
+I didn't wait for an answer. That would have been pointless under the
+circumstances.
+
+After Philadelphia, this place seemed to be bustling with activity.
+There were four or five people in the lobby and a couple of dozen more
+out in the street.
+
+I tarried at the desk for several reasons. In the first place, I was
+expecting Vern Engdahl to try to contact me and I didn't want him
+messing with the luggage--not while Arthur might get nervous. So I
+told the desk clerk that in case anybody came inquiring for Mr.
+Schlaepfer, which was the name I was using--my real name being Sam
+Dunlap--he was to be told that on no account was he to go to my room
+but to wait in the lobby; and in any case I would be back in an hour.
+
+"Sure," said the desk clerk, holding out his hand.
+
+I crossed it with paper. "One other thing," I said. "I need to buy an
+electric typewriter and some other stuff. Where can I get them?"
+
+"PX," he said promptly.
+
+"PX?"
+
+"What used to be Macy's," he explained. "You go out that door and turn
+right. It's only about a block. You'll see the sign."
+
+"Thanks." That cost me a hundred more, but it was worth it. After all,
+money wasn't a problem--not when we had just come from Philadelphia.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The big sign read "PX," but it wasn't big enough to hide an older sign
+underneath that said "Macy's." I looked it over from across the
+street.
+
+Somebody had organized it pretty well. I had to admire them. I mean I
+don't like New York--wouldn't live there if you gave me the place--but
+it showed a sort of go-getting spirit. It was no easy job getting a
+full staff together to run a department store operation, when any city
+the size of New York must have a couple thousand stores. You know what
+I mean? It's like running a hotel or anything else--how are you going
+to get people to work for you when they can just as easily walk down
+the street, find a vacant store and set up their own operation?
+
+But Macy's was fully manned. There was a guard at every door and a
+walking patrol along the block-front between the entrances to make
+sure nobody broke in through the windows. They all wore green armbands
+and uniforms--well, lots of people wore uniforms.
+
+I walked over.
+
+"Afternoon," I said affably to the guard. "I want to pick up some
+stuff. Typewriter, maybe a gun, you know. How do you work it here?
+Flat rate for all you can carry, prices marked on everything, or what
+is it?"
+
+He stared at me suspiciously. He was a monster; six inches taller than
+I, he must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. He didn't look
+very smart, which might explain why he was working for somebody else
+these days. But he was smart enough for what he had to do.
+
+He demanded: "You new in town?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+He thought for a minute. "All right, buddy. Go on in. You pick out
+what you want, see? We'll straighten out the price when you come out."
+
+"Fair enough." I started past him.
+
+He grabbed me by the arm. "No tricks," he ordered. "You come out the
+same door you went in, understand?"
+
+"Sure," I said, "if that's the way you want it."
+
+That figured--one way or another: either they got a commission, or,
+like everybody else, they lived on what they could knock down. I filed
+that for further consideration.
+
+Inside, the store smelled pretty bad. It wasn't just rot, though there
+was plenty of that; it was musty and stale and old. It was dark, or
+nearly. About one light in twenty was turned on, in order to conserve
+power. Naturally the escalators and so on weren't running at all.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I passed a counter with pencils and ball-point pens in a case. Most of
+them were gone--somebody hadn't bothered to go around in back and had
+simply knocked the glass out--but I found one that worked and an old
+order pad to write on. Over by the elevators there was a store
+directory, so I went over and checked it, making a list of the
+departments worth visiting.
+
+Office Supplies would be the typewriter. Garden & Home was a good
+bet--maybe I could find a little wheelbarrow to save carrying the
+typewriter in my arms. What I wanted was one of the big ones where all
+the keys are solenoid-operated instead of the cam-and-roller
+arrangement--that was all Arthur could operate. And those things were
+heavy, as I knew. That was why we had ditched the old one in the
+Bronx.
+
+Sporting Goods--that would be for a gun, if there were any left.
+Naturally, they were about the first to go after it happened, when
+_everybody_ wanted a gun. I mean everybody who lived through it. I
+thought about clothes--it was pretty hot in New York--and decided I
+might as well take a look.
+
+Typewriter, clothes, gun, wheelbarrow. I made one more note on the
+pad--try the tobacco counter, but I didn't have much hope for that.
+They had used cigarettes for currency around this area for a while,
+until they got enough bank vaults open to supply big bills. It made
+cigarettes scarce.
+
+I turned away and noticed for the first time that one of the elevators
+was stopped on the main floor. The doors were closed, but they were
+glass doors, and although there wasn't any light inside, I could see
+the elevator was full. There must have been thirty or forty people in
+the car when it happened.
+
+I'd been thinking that, if nothing else, these New Yorkers were pretty
+neat--I mean if you don't count the Bronx. But here were thirty or
+forty skeletons that nobody had even bothered to clear away.
+
+You call that neat? Right in plain view on the ground floor, where
+everybody who came into the place would be sure to go--I mean if it
+had been on one of the upper floors, what difference would it have
+made?
+
+I began to wish we were out of the city. But naturally that would have
+to wait until we finished what we came here to do--otherwise, what was
+the point of coming all the way here in the first place?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The tobacco counter was bare. I got the wheelbarrow easily
+enough--there were plenty of those, all sizes; I picked out a nice
+light red-and-yellow one with rubber-tired wheel. I rolled it over to
+Sporting Goods on the same floor, but that didn't work out too well. I
+found a 30-30 with telescopic sights, only there weren't any
+cartridges to fit it--or anything else. I took the gun anyway; Engdahl
+would probably have some extra ammunition.
+
+Men's Clothing was a waste of time, too--I guess these New Yorkers
+were too lazy to do laundry. But I found the typewriter I wanted.
+
+I put the whole load into the wheelbarrow, along with a couple of odds
+and ends that caught my eye as I passed through Housewares, and I
+bumped as gently as I could down the shallow steps of the motionless
+escalator to the ground floor.
+
+I came down the back way, and that was a mistake. It led me right past
+the food department. Well, I don't have to tell you what _that_ was
+like, with all the exploded cans and the rats as big as poodles. But I
+found some cologne and soaked a handkerchief in it, and with that over
+my nose, and some fast footwork for the rats, I managed to get to one
+of the doors.
+
+It wasn't the one I had come in, but that was all right. I sized up
+the guard. He looked smart enough for a little bargaining, but not too
+smart; and if I didn't like his price, I could always remember that I
+was supposed to go out the other door.
+
+I said: "Psst!"
+
+When he turned around, I said rapidly: "Listen, this isn't the way I
+came in, but if you want to do business, it'll be the way I come out."
+
+He thought for a second, and then he smiled craftily and said: "All
+right, come on."
+
+Well, we haggled. The gun was the big thing--he wanted five thousand
+for that and he wouldn't come down. The wheelbarrow he was willing to
+let go for five hundred. And the typewriter--he scowled at the
+typewriter as though it were contagious.
+
+"What you want that for?" he asked suspiciously. I shrugged.
+
+"Well--" he scratched his head--"a thousand?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"Five hundred?"
+
+I kept on shaking.
+
+"All right, all right," he grumbled. "Look, you take the other things
+for six thousand--including what you got in your pockets that you
+don't think I know about, see? And I'll throw this in. How about it?"
+
+That was fine as far as I was concerned, but just on principle I
+pushed him a little further. "Forget it," I said. "I'll give you fifty
+bills for the lot, take it or leave it. Otherwise I'll walk right down
+the street to Gimbel's and--"
+
+He guffawed.
+
+"Whats the matter?" I demanded.
+
+"Pal," he said, "you kill me. Stranger in town, hey? You can't go
+anyplace but here."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Account of there _ain't_ anyplace else. See, the chief here don't
+like competition. So we don't have to worry about anybody taking their
+trade elsewhere, like--we burned all the other places down."
+
+That explained a couple of things. I counted out the money, loaded the
+stuff back in the wheelbarrow and headed for the Statler; but all the
+time I was counting and loading, I was talking to Big Brainless; and
+by the time I was actually on the way, I knew a little more about this
+"chief."
+
+And that was kind of important, because he was the man we were going
+to have to know very well.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+I locked the door of the hotel room. Arthur was peeping out of the
+suitcase at me.
+
+I said: "I'm back. I got your typewriter." He waved his eye at me.
+
+I took out the little kit of electricians' tools I carried, tipped the
+typewriter on its back and began sorting out leads. I cut them free
+from the keyboard, soldered on a ground wire, and began taping the
+leads to the strands of a yard of forty-ply multiplex cable.
+
+It was a slow and dull job. I didn't have to worry about which
+solenoid lead went to which strand--Arthur could sort them out. But
+all the same it took an hour, pretty near, and I was getting hungry by
+the time I got the last connection taped. I shifted the typewriter so
+that both Arthur and I could see it, rolled in a sheet of paper and
+hooked the cable to Arthur's receptors.
+
+Nothing happened.
+
+"Oh," I said. "Excuse me, Arthur. I forgot to plug it in."
+
+I found a wall socket. The typewriter began to hum and then it started
+to rattle and type:
+
+DURA AUK UKOO RQK MWS AQB
+
+It stopped.
+
+"Come on, Arthur," I ordered impatiently. "Sort them out, will you?"
+
+Laboriously it typed:
+
+!!!
+
+Then, for a time, there was a clacking and thumping as he typed random
+letters, peeping out of the suitcase to see what he had typed, until
+the sheet I had put in was used up.
+
+I replaced it and waited, as patiently as I could, smoking one of the
+last of my cigarettes. After fifteen minutes or so, he had the hang of
+it pretty well. He typed:
+
+YOU DAMQXXX DAMN FOOL WHUXXX WHY DID YOU LEAQNXXX LEAVE ME ALONE Q Q
+
+"Aw, Arthur," I said. "Use your head, will you? I couldn't carry that
+old typewriter of yours all the way down through the Bronx. It was
+getting pretty beat-up. Anyway, I've only got two hands--"
+
+YOU LOUSE, it rattled, ARE YOU TRYONXXX TRYING TO INSULT ME BECAUSE I
+DONT HAVE ANY Q Q
+
+"Arthur!" I said, shocked. "You know better than that!"
+
+The typewriter slammed its carriage back and forth ferociously a
+couple of times. Then he said: ALL RIGHT SAM YOU KNOW YOUVE GOT ME BY
+THE THROAT SO YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO WITH ME WHO CARES ABOUT
+MY FEELINGS ANYHOW
+
+"Please don't take that attitude," I coaxed.
+
+WELL
+
+"Please?"
+
+He capitulated. ALL RIGHT SAY HEARD ANYTHING FROM ENGDAHL Q Q
+
+"No."
+
+ISNT THAT JUST LIKE HIM Q Q CANT DEPEND ON THAT MAN HE WAS THE
+LOUSIEST ELECTRICIANS MATE ON THE SEA SPRITE AND HE ISNT MUCH BETTER
+NOW SAY SAM REMEMBER WHEN WE HAD TO GET HIM OUT OF THE JUG IN NEWPORT
+NEWS BECAUSE
+
+I settled back and relaxed. I might as well. That was the trouble with
+getting Arthur a new typewriter after a couple of days without one--he
+had so much garrulity stored up in his little brain, and the only
+person to spill it on was me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Apparently I fell asleep. Well, I mean I must have, because I woke up.
+I had been dreaming I was on guard post outside the Yard at
+Portsmouth, and it was night, and I looked up and there was something
+up there, all silvery and bad. It was a missile--and that was silly,
+because you never see a missile. But this was a dream.
+
+And the thing burst, like a Roman candle flaring out, all sorts of
+comet-trails of light, and then the whole sky was full of bright and
+colored snow. Little tiny flakes of light coming down, a mist of
+light, radiation dropping like dew; and it was so pretty, and I took a
+deep breath. And my lungs burned out like slow fire, and I coughed
+myself to death with the explosions of the missile banging against my
+flaming ears....
+
+Well, it was a dream. It probably wasn't like that at all--and if it
+had been, I wasn't there to see it, because I was tucked away safe
+under a hundred and twenty fathoms of Atlantic water. All of us were
+on the _Sea Sprite_.
+
+But it was a bad dream and it bothered me, even when I woke up and
+found that the banging explosions of the missile were the noise of
+Arthur's typewriter carriage crashing furiously back and forth.
+
+He peeped out of the suitcase and saw that I was awake. He demanded:
+HOW CAN YOU FALL ASLEEP WHEN WERE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS Q Q ANYTHING
+COULD HAPPEN SAM I KNOW YOU DONT CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO ME BUT FOR YOUR
+OWN SAKE YOU SHOULDNT
+
+"Oh, dry up," I said.
+
+Being awake, I remembered that I was hungry. There was still no sign
+of Engdahl or the others, but that wasn't too surprising--they hadn't
+known exactly when we would arrive. I wished I had thought to bring
+some food back to the room. It looked like long waiting and I wouldn't
+want to leave Arthur alone again--after all, he was partly right.
+
+I thought of the telephone.
+
+On the off-chance that it might work, I picked it up. Amazing, a voice
+from the desk answered.
+
+I crossed my fingers and said: "Room service?"
+
+And the voice answered amiably enough: "Hold on, buddy. I'll see if
+they answer."
+
+Clicking and a good long wait. Then a new voice said: "Whaddya want?"
+
+There was no sense pressing my luck by asking for anything like a
+complete meal. I would be lucky if I got a sandwich.
+
+I said: "Please, may I have a Spam sandwich on Rye Krisp and some
+coffee for Room Fifteen Forty-one?"
+
+"Please, you go to hell!" the voice snarled. "What do you think this
+is, some damn delicatessen? You want liquor, we'll get you liquor.
+That's what room service is for!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I hung up. What was the use of arguing? Arthur was clacking peevishly:
+
+WHATS THE MATTER SAM YOU THINKING OF YOUR BELLY AGAIN Q Q
+
+"You would be if you--" I started, and then I stopped. Arthur's
+feelings were delicate enough already. I mean suppose that all you had
+left of what you were born with was a brain in a kind of sardine can,
+wouldn't you be sensitive? Well, Arthur was more sensitive than you
+would be, believe me. Of course, it was his own foolish fault--I mean
+you don't get a prosthetic tank unless you die by accident, or
+something like that, because if it's disease they usually can't save
+even the brain.
+
+The phone rang again.
+
+It was the desk clerk. "Say, did you get what you wanted?" he asked
+chummily.
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh. Too bad," he said, but cheerfully. "Listen, buddy, I forgot to
+tell you before. That Miss Engdahl you were expecting, she's on her
+way up."
+
+I dropped the phone onto the cradle.
+
+"Arthur!" I yelled. "Keep quiet for a while--trouble!"
+
+He clacked once, and the typewriter shut itself off. I jumped for the
+door of the bathroom, cursing the fact that I didn't have cartridges
+for the gun. Still, empty or not, it would have to do.
+
+I ducked behind the bathroom door, in the shadows, covering the hall
+door. Because there were two things wrong with what the desk clerk had
+told me. Vern Engdahl wasn't a "miss," to begin with; and whatever
+name he used when he came to call on me, it wouldn't be Vern Engdahl.
+
+There was a knock on the door. I called: "Come in!"
+
+The door opened and the girl who called herself Vern Engdahl came in
+slowly, looking around. I stayed quiet and out of sight until she was
+all the way in. She didn't seem to be armed; there wasn't anyone with
+her.
+
+I stepped out, holding the gun on her. Her eyes opened wide and she
+seemed about to turn.
+
+"Hold it! Come on in, you. Close the door!"
+
+She did. She looked as though she were expecting me. I looked her
+over--medium pretty, not very tall, not very plump, not very old. I'd
+have guessed twenty or so, but that's not my line of work; she could
+have been almost any age from seventeen on.
+
+The typewriter switched itself on and began to pound agitatedly. I
+crossed over toward her and paused to peer at what Arthur was yacking
+about: SEARCH HER YOU DAMN FOOL MAYBE SHES GOT A GUN
+
+I ordered: "Shut up, Arthur. I'm _going_ to search her. You! Turn
+around!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She shrugged and turned around, her hands in the air. Over her
+shoulder, she said: "You're taking this all wrong, Sam. I came here to
+make a deal with you."
+
+"Sure you did."
+
+But her knowing my name was a blow, too. I mean what was the use of
+all that sneaking around if people in New York were going to know we
+were here?
+
+I walked up close behind her and patted what there was to pat. There
+didn't seem to be a gun.
+
+"You tickle," she complained.
+
+I took her pocketbook away from her and went through it. No gun. A lot
+of money--an _awful_ lot of money. I mean there must have been two or
+three hundred thousand dollars. There was nothing with a name on it in
+the pocketbook.
+
+She said: "Can I put my hands down, Sam?"
+
+"In a minute." I thought for a second and then decided to do it--you
+know, I just couldn't afford to take chances. I cleared my throat and
+ordered: "Take off your clothes."
+
+Her head jerked around and she stared at me. "_What?_"
+
+"Take them off. You heard me."
+
+"Now wait a minute--" she began dangerously.
+
+I said: "Do what I tell you, hear? How do I know you haven't got a
+knife tucked away?"
+
+She clenched her teeth. "Why, you dirty little man! What do you
+think--" Then she shrugged. She looked at me with contempt and said:
+"All right. What's the difference?"
+
+Well, there was a considerable difference. She began to unzip and
+unbutton and wriggle, and pretty soon she was standing there in her
+underwear, looking at me as though I were a two-headed worm. It was
+interesting, but kind of embarrassing. I could see Arthur's eye-stalk
+waving excitedly out of the opened suitcase.
+
+I picked up her skirt and blouse and shook them. I could feel myself
+blushing, and there didn't seem to be anything in them.
+
+I growled: "Okay, I guess that's enough. You can put your clothes back
+on now."
+
+"Gee, thanks," she said.
+
+She looked at me thoughtfully and then shook her head as if she'd
+never seen anything like me before and never hoped to again. Without
+another word, she began to get back into her clothes. I had to admire
+her poise. I mean she was perfectly calm about the whole thing. You'd
+have thought she was used to taking her clothes off in front of
+strange men.
+
+Well, for that matter, maybe she was; but it wasn't any of my
+business.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Arthur was clacking distractedly, but I didn't pay any attention to
+him. I demanded: "All right, now who are you and what do you want?"
+
+She pulled up a stocking and said: "You couldn't have asked me that in
+the first place, could you? I'm Vern Eng--"
+
+"_Cut it out!_"
+
+She stared at me. "I was only going to say I'm Vern Engdahl's partner.
+We've got a little business deal cooking and I wanted to talk to you
+about this proposition."
+
+Arthur squawked: WHATS ENGDAHL UP TO NOW Q Q SAM IM WARNING YOU I DONT
+LIKE THE LOOK OF THIS THIS WOMAN AND ENGDAHL ARE PROBABLY
+DOUBLECROSSING US
+
+I said: "All right, Arthur, relax. I'm taking care of things. Now
+start over, you. What's your name?"
+
+She finished putting on her shoe and stood up. "Amy."
+
+"Last name?"
+
+She shrugged and fished in her purse for a cigarette. "What does it
+matter? Mind if I sit down?"
+
+"Go ahead," I rumbled. "But don't stop talking!"
+
+"Oh," she said, "we've got plenty of time to straighten things out."
+She lit the cigarette and walked over to the chair by the window. On
+the way, she gave the luggage a good long look.
+
+Arthur's eyestalk cowered back into the suitcase as she came close.
+She winked at me, grinned, bent down and peered inside.
+
+"My," she said, "he's a nice shiny one, isn't he?"
+
+The typewriter began to clatter frantically. I didn't even bother to
+look; I told him: "Arthur, if you can't keep quiet, you have to expect
+people to know you're there."
+
+She sat down and crossed her legs. "Now then," she said. "Frankly,
+he's what I came to see you about. Vern told me you had a pross. I
+want to buy it."
+
+The typewriter thrashed its carriage back and forth furiously.
+
+"Arthur isn't for sale."
+
+"No?" She leaned back. "Vern's already sold me his interest, you know.
+And you don't really have any choice. You see, I'm in charge of
+materiel procurement for the Major. If you want to sell your share,
+fine. If you don't, why, we requisition it anyhow. Do you follow?"
+
+I was getting irritated--at Vern Engdahl, for whatever the hell he
+thought he was doing; but at her because she was handy. I shook my
+head.
+
+"Fifty thousand dollars? I mean for your interest?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Seventy-five?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Oh, come on now. A hundred thousand?"
+
+It wasn't going to make any impression on her, but I tried to explain:
+"Arthur's a friend of mine. He isn't for sale."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She shook her head. "What's the matter with you? Engdahl wasn't like
+this. He sold his interest for forty thousand and was glad to get it."
+
+Clatter-clatter-clatter from Arthur. I didn't blame him for having
+hurt feelings that time.
+
+Amy said in a discouraged tone: "Why can't people be reasonable? The
+Major doesn't like it when people aren't reasonable."
+
+I lowered the gun and cleared my throat. "He doesn't?" I asked, cuing
+her. I wanted to hear more about this Major, who seemed to have the
+city pretty well under his thumb.
+
+"No, he doesn't." She shook her head sorrowfully. She said in an
+accusing voice: "You out-of-towners don't know what it's like to try
+to run a city the size of New York. There are fifteen thousand people
+here, do you know that? It isn't one of your hick towns. And it's
+worry, worry, worry all the time, trying to keep things going."
+
+"I bet," I said sympathetically. "You're, uh, pretty close to the
+Major?"
+
+She said stiffly: "I'm not married to him, if that's what you mean.
+Though I've had my chances.... But you see how it is. Fifteen thousand
+people to run a place the size of New York! It's forty men to operate
+the power station, and twenty-five on the PX, and thirty on the hotel
+here. And then there are the local groceries, and the Army, and the
+Coast Guard, and the Air Force--though, really, that's only two
+men--and--Well, you get the picture."
+
+"I certainly do. Look, what kind of a guy _is_ the Major?"
+
+She shrugged. "A guy."
+
+"I mean what does he like?"
+
+"Women, mostly," she said, her expression clouded. "Come on now. What
+about it?"
+
+I stalled. "What do you want Arthur for?"
+
+She gave me a disgusted look. "What do you think? To relieve the
+manpower shortage, naturally. There's more work than there are men.
+Now if the Major could just get hold of a couple of prosthetics, like
+this thing here, why, he could put them in the big installations. This
+one used to be an engineer or something, Vern said."
+
+"Well ... _like_ an engineer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Amy shrugged. "So why couldn't we connect him up with the power
+station? It's been done. The Major knows that--he was in the Pentagon
+when they switched all the aircraft warning net over from computer to
+prosthetic control. So why couldn't we do the same thing with our
+power station and release forty men for other assignments? This thing
+could work day, night, Sundays--what's the difference when you're just
+a brain in a sardine can?"
+
+Clatter-rattle-_bang_.
+
+She looked startled. "Oh. I forgot he was listening."
+
+"No deal," I said.
+
+She said: "A hundred and fifty thousand?"
+
+A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I considered that for a while.
+Arthur clattered warningly.
+
+"Well," I temporized, "I'd have to be sure he was getting into good
+hands--"
+
+The typewriter thrashed wildly. The sheet of paper fluttered out of
+the carriage. He'd used it up. Automatically I picked it up--it was
+covered with imprecations, self-pity and threats--and started to put a
+new one in.
+
+"No," I said, bending over the typewriter, "I guess I couldn't sell
+him. It just wouldn't be right--"
+
+That was my mistake; it was the wrong time for me to say that, because
+I had taken my eyes off her.
+
+The room bent over and clouted me.
+
+I half turned, not more than a fraction conscious, and I saw this Amy
+girl, behind me, with the shoe still in her hand, raised to give me
+another blackjacking on the skull.
+
+The shoe came down, and it must have weighed more than it looked, and
+even the fractional bit of consciousness went crashing away.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+I have to tell you about Vern Engdahl. We were all from the _Sea
+Sprite_, of course--me and Vern and even Arthur. The thing about Vern
+is that he was the lowest-ranking one of us all--only an electricians'
+mate third, I mean when anybody paid any attention to things like
+that--and yet he was pretty much doing the thinking for the rest of
+us. Coming to New York was his idea--he told us that was the only
+place we could get what we wanted.
+
+Well, as long as we were carrying Arthur along with us, we pretty much
+needed Vern, because he was the one who knew how to keep the lash-up
+going. You've got no idea what kind of pumps and plumbing go into a
+prosthetic tank until you've seen one opened up. And, naturally,
+Arthur didn't want any breakdowns without somebody around to fix
+things up.
+
+The _Sea Sprite_, maybe you know, was one of the old
+liquid-sodium-reactor subs--too slow for combat duty, but as big as a
+barn, so they made it a hospital ship. We were cruising deep when the
+missiles hit, and, of course, when we came up, there wasn't much for a
+hospital ship to do. I mean there isn't any sense fooling around with
+anybody who's taken a good deep breath of fallout.
+
+So we went back to Newport News to see what had happened. And we found
+out what had happened. And there wasn't anything much to do except pay
+off the crew and let them go. But us three stuck together. Why not? It
+wasn't as if we had any families to go back to any more.
+
+Vern just loved all this stuff--he'd been an Eagle Scout; maybe that
+had something to do with it--and he showed us how to boil drinking
+water and forage in the woods and all like that, because nobody in his
+right mind wanted to go near any kind of a town, until the cold
+weather set in, anyway. And it was always Vern, Vern, telling us what
+to do, ironing out our troubles.
+
+It worked out, except that there was this one thing. Vern had bright
+ideas. But he didn't always tell us what they were.
+
+So I wasn't so very surprised when I came to. I mean there I was, tied
+up, with this girl Amy standing over me, holding the gun like a club.
+Evidently she'd found out that there weren't any cartridges. And in a
+couple of minutes there was a knock on the door, and she yelled, "Come
+in," and in came Vern. And the man who was with him had to be somebody
+important, because there were eight or ten other men crowding in close
+behind.
+
+I didn't need to look at the oak leaves on his shoulders to realize
+that here was the chief, the fellow who ran this town, the Major.
+
+It was just the kind of thing Vern _would_ do.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Vern said, with the look on his face that made strange officers wonder
+why this poor persecuted man had been forced to spend so much time in
+the brig: "Now, Major, I'm sure we can straighten all this out. Would
+you mind leaving me alone with my friend here for a moment?"
+
+The Major teetered on his heels, thinking. He was a tall,
+youngish-bald type, with a long, worried, horselike face. He said:
+"Ah, do you think we should?"
+
+"I guarantee there'll be no trouble, Major," Vern promised.
+
+The Major pulled at his little mustache. "Very well," he said. "Amy,
+you come along."
+
+"We'll be right here, Major," Vern said reassuringly, escorting him to
+the door.
+
+"You bet you will," said the Major, and tittered. "Ah, bring that gun
+along with you, Amy. And be sure this man knows that we have bullets."
+
+They closed the door. Arthur had been cowering in his suitcase, but
+now his eyestalk peeped out and the rattling and clattering from that
+typewriter sounded like the Battle of the Bulge.
+
+I demanded: "Come on, Vern. What's this all about?"
+
+Vern said: "How much did they offer you?"
+
+Clatter-bang-BANG. I peeked, and Arthur was saying: WARNED YOU SAM
+THAT ENGDAHL WAS UP TO TRICKS PLEASE SAM PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HIT HIM
+ON THE HEAD KNOCK HIM OUT HE MUST HAVE A GUN SO GET IT AND SHOOT OUR
+WAY OUT OF HERE
+
+"A hundred and fifty thousand dollars," I said.
+
+Vern looked outraged. "I only got forty!"
+
+Arthur clattered: VERN I APPEAL TO YOUR COMMON DECENCY WERE OLD
+SHIPMATES VERN REMEMBER ALL THE TIMES I
+
+"Still," Vern mused, "it's all common funds anyway, right? Arthur
+belongs to both of us."
+
+I DONT DONT DONT REPEAT DONT BELONG TO ANYBODY BUT ME
+
+"That's true," I said grudgingly. "But I carried him, remember."
+
+SAM WHATS THE MATTER WITH YOU Q Q I DONT LIKE THE EXPRESSION ON YOUR
+FACE LISTEN SAM YOU ARENT
+
+Vern said, "A hundred and fifty thousand, remember."
+
+THINKING OF SELLING
+
+"And of course we couldn't get out of here," Vern pointed out.
+"They've got us surrounded."
+
+ME TO THESE RATS Q Q SAM VERN PLEASE DONT SCARE ME
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I said, pointing to the fluttering paper in the rattling machine:
+"You're worrying our friend."
+
+Vern shrugged impatiently.
+
+I KNEW I SHOULDNT HAVE TRUSTED YOU, Arthur wept. THATS ALL I MEAN TO
+YOU EH
+
+Vern said: "Well, Sam? Let's take the cash and get this thing over
+with. After all, he _will_ have the best of treatment."
+
+It was a little like selling your sister into white slavery, but what
+else was there to do? Besides, I kind of trusted Vern.
+
+"All right," I said.
+
+What Arthur said nearly scorched the paper.
+
+Vern helped pack Arthur up for moving. I mean it was just a matter of
+pulling the plugs out and making sure he had a fresh battery, but Vern
+wanted to supervise it himself. Because one of the little things Vern
+had up his sleeve was that he had found a spot for himself on the
+Major's payroll. He was now the official Prosthetic (Human)
+Maintenance Department Chief.
+
+The Major said to me: "Ah, Dunlap. What sort of experience have you
+had?"
+
+"Experience?"
+
+"In the Navy. Your friend Engdahl suggested you might want to join us
+here."
+
+"Oh. I see what you mean." I shook my head. "Nothing that would do you
+any good, I'm afraid. I was a yeoman."
+
+"Yeoman?"
+
+"Like a company clerk," I explained. "I mean I kept records and cut
+orders and made out reports and all like that."
+
+"Company clerk!" The eyes in the long horsy face gleamed. "Ah, you're
+mistaken, Dunlap! Why, that's _just_ what we need. Our morning reports
+are in foul shape. Foul! Come over to HQ. Lieutenant Bankhead will
+give you a lift."
+
+"Lieutenant Bankhead?"
+
+I got an elbow in my ribs for that. It was that girl Amy, standing
+alongside me. "I," she said, "am Lieutenant Bankhead."
+
+Well, I went along with her, leaving Engdahl and Arthur behind. But I
+must admit I wasn't sure of my reception.
+
+Out in front of the hotel was a whole fleet of cars--three or four of
+them, at least. There was a big old Cadillac that looked like a
+gangsters' car--thick glass in the windows, tires that looked like
+they belonged on a truck. I was willing to bet it was bulletproof and
+also that it belonged to the Major. I was right both times. There was
+a little MG with the top down, and a couple of light trucks. Every one
+of them was painted bright orange, and every one of them had the
+star-and-bar of the good old United States Army on its side.
+
+It took me back to old times--all but the unmilitary color. Amy led me
+to the MG and pointed.
+
+"Sit," she said.
+
+I sat. She got in the other side and we were off.
+
+It was a little uncomfortable on account of I wasn't just sure whether
+I ought to apologize for making her take her clothes off. And then she
+tramped on the gas of that little car and I didn't think much about
+being embarrassed or about her black lace lingerie. I was only
+thinking about one thing--how to stay alive long enough to get out of
+that car.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+See, what we really wanted was an ocean liner.
+
+The rest of us probably would have been happy enough to stay in Lehigh
+County, but Arthur was getting restless.
+
+He was a terrible responsibility, in a way. I suppose there were a
+hundred thousand people or so left in the country, and not more than
+forty or fifty of them were like Arthur--I mean if you want to call a
+man in a prosthetic tank a "person." But we all did. We'd got pretty
+used to him. We'd shipped together in the war--and survived together,
+as a few of the actual fighters did, those who were lucky enough to be
+underwater or high in the air when the ICBMs landed--and as few
+civilians did.
+
+I mean there wasn't much chance for surviving, for anybody who
+happened to be breathing the open air when it happened. I mean you can
+do just so much about making a "clean" H-bomb, and if you cut out the
+long-life fission products, the short-life ones get pretty deadly.
+
+Anyway, there wasn't much damage, except of course that everybody was
+dead. All the surface vessels lost their crews. All the population of
+the cities were gone. And so then, when Arthur slipped on the
+gangplank coming into Newport News and broke his fool neck, why, we
+had the whole staff of the _Sea Sprite_ to work on him. I mean what
+else did the surgeons have to do?
+
+Of course, that was a long time ago.
+
+But we'd stayed together. We headed for the farm country around
+Allentown, Pennsylvania, because Arthur and Vern Engdahl claimed to
+know it pretty well. I think maybe they had some hope of finding
+family or friends, but naturally there wasn't any of that. And when
+you got into the inland towns, there hadn't been much of an attempt to
+clean them up. At least the big cities and the ports had been gone
+over, in some spots anyway, by burial squads. Although when we finally
+decided to move out and went to Philadelphia--
+
+Well, let's be fair; there had been fighting around there after the
+big fight. Anyway, that wasn't so very uncommon. That was one of the
+reasons that for a long time--four or five years, at any rate--we
+stayed away from big cities.
+
+We holed up in a big farmhouse in Lehigh County. It had its own
+generator from a little stream, and that took care of Arthur's power
+needs; and the previous occupants had been just crazy about stashing
+away food. There was enough to last a century, and that took care of
+the two of us. We appreciated that. We even took the old folks out and
+gave them a decent burial. I mean they'd all been in the family car,
+so we just had to tow it to a gravel pit and push it in.
+
+The place had its own well, with an electric pump and a hot-water
+system--oh, it was nice. I was sorry to leave but, frankly, Arthur was
+driving us nuts.
+
+We never could make the television work--maybe there weren't any
+stations near enough. But we pulled in a couple of radio stations
+pretty well and Arthur got a big charge out of listening to them--see,
+he could hear four or five at a time and I suppose that made him feel
+better than the rest of us.
+
+He heard that the big cities were cleaned up and every one of them
+seemed to want immigrants--they were pleading, pleading all the time,
+like the TV-set and vacuum-cleaner people used to in the old days;
+they guaranteed we'd like it if we only came to live in Philly, or
+Richmond, or Baltimore, or wherever. And I guess Arthur kind of hoped
+we might find another pross. And then--well, Engdahl came up with this
+idea of an ocean liner.
+
+It figured. I mean you get out in the middle of the ocean and what's
+the difference what it's like on land? And it especially appealed to
+Arthur because he wanted to do some surface sailing. He never had when
+he was real--I mean when he had arms and legs like anybody else. He'd
+gone right into the undersea service the minute he got out of school.
+
+And--well, sailing was what Arthur knew something about and I suppose
+even a prosthetic man wants to feel useful. It was like Amy said: He
+could be hooked up to an automated factory--
+
+Or to a ship.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HQ for the Major's Temporary Military Government--that's what the sign
+said--was on the 91st floor of the Empire State Building, and right
+there that tells you something about the man. I mean you know how much
+power it takes to run those elevators all the way up to the top? But
+the Major must have liked being able to look down on everybody else.
+
+Amy Bankhead conducted me to his office and sat me down to wait for
+His Military Excellency to arrive. She filled me in on him, to some
+degree. He'd been an absolute nothing before the war; but he had a
+reserve commission in the Air Force, and when things began to look
+sticky, they'd called him up and put him in a Missile Master control
+point, underground somewhere up around Ossining.
+
+He was the duty officer when it happened, and naturally he hadn't
+noticed anything like an enemy aircraft, and naturally the
+anti-missile missiles were still rusting in their racks all around the
+city; but since the place had been operating on sealed ventilation,
+the duty complement could stay there until the short half-life
+radioisotopes wore themselves out.
+
+And then the Major found out that he was not only in charge of the
+fourteen men and women of his division at the center--he was ranking
+United States Military Establishment officer farther than the eye
+could see. So he beat it, fast as he could, for New York, because what
+Army officer doesn't dream about being stationed in New York? And he
+set up his Temporary Military Government--and that was nine years ago.
+
+If there hadn't been plenty to go around, I don't suppose he would
+have lasted a week--none of these city chiefs would have. But as
+things were, he was in on the ground floor, and as newcomers trickled
+into the city, his boys already had things nicely organized.
+
+It was a soft touch.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Well, we were about a week getting settled in New York and things were
+looking pretty good. Vern calmed me down by pointing out that, after
+all, we had to sell Arthur, and hadn't we come out of it plenty okay?
+
+And we had. There was no doubt about it. Not only did we have a fat
+price for Arthur, which was useful because there were a lot of things
+we would have to buy, but we both had jobs working for the Major.
+
+Vern was his specialist in the care and feeding of Arthur and I was
+his chief of office routine--and, as such, I delighted his fussy
+little soul, because by adding what I remembered of Navy protocol to
+what he was able to teach me of Army routine, we came up with as
+snarled a mass of red tape as any field-grade officer in the whole
+history of all armed forces had been able to accumulate. Oh, I tell
+you, nobody sneezed in New York without a report being made out in
+triplicate, with eight endorsements.
+
+Of course there wasn't anybody to send them to, but that didn't stop
+the Major. He said with determination: "Nobody's ever going to chew
+_me_ out for non-compliance with regulations--even if I have to invent
+the regulations myself!"
+
+We set up in a bachelor apartment on Central Park South--the Major had
+the penthouse; the whole building had been converted to barracks--and
+the first chance we got, Vern snaffled some transportation and we set
+out to find an ocean liner.
+
+See, the thing was that an ocean liner isn't easy to steal. I mean
+we'd scouted out the lay of the land before we ever entered the city
+itself, and there were plenty of liners, but there wasn't one that
+looked like we could just jump in and sail it away. For that we needed
+an organization. Since we didn't have one, the best thing to do was
+borrow the Major's.
+
+Vern turned up with Amy Bankhead's MG, and he also turned up with Amy.
+I can't say I was displeased, because I was beginning to like the
+girl; but did you ever try to ride three people in the seats of an MG?
+Well, the way to do it is by having one passenger sit in the other
+passenger's lap, which would have been all right except that Amy
+insisted on driving.
+
+We headed downtown and over to the West Side. The Major's
+Topographical Section--one former billboard artist--had prepared road
+maps with little red-ink Xs marking the streets that were blocked,
+which was most of the streets; but we charted a course that would take
+us where we wanted to go. Thirty-fourth Street was open, and so was
+Fifth Avenue all of its length, so we scooted down Fifth, crossed
+over, got under the Elevated Highway and whined along uptown toward
+the Fifties.
+
+"There's one," cried Amy, pointing.
+
+I was on Vern's lap, so I was making the notes. It was a Fruit Company
+combination freighter-passenger vessel. I looked at Vern, and Vern
+shrugged as best he could, so I wrote it down; but it wasn't exactly
+what we wanted. No, not by a long shot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Still, the thing to do was to survey our resources, and then we could
+pick the one we liked best. We went all the way up to the end of the
+big-ship docks, and then turned and came back down, all the way to the
+Battery. It wasn't pleasure driving, exactly--half a dozen times we
+had to get out the map and detour around impenetrable jams of stalled
+and empty cars--or anyway, if they weren't exactly empty, the people
+in them were no longer in shape to get out of our way. But we made it.
+
+We counted sixteen ships in dock that looked as though they might do
+for our purposes. We had to rule out the newer ones and the
+reconverted jobs. I mean, after all, U-235 just lasts so long, and you
+can steam around the world on a walnut-shell of it, or whatever it is,
+but you can't store it. So we had to stick with the ships that were
+powered with conventional fuel--and, on consideration, only oil at
+that.
+
+But that left sixteen, as I say. Some of them, though, had suffered
+visibly from being left untended for nearly a decade, so that for our
+purposes they might as well have been abandoned in the middle of the
+Atlantic; we didn't have the equipment or ambition to do any great
+amount of salvage work.
+
+The _Empress of Britain_ would have been a pretty good bet, for instance,
+except that it was lying at pretty nearly a forty-five-degree angle in
+its berth. So was the _United States_, and so was the _Caronia_. The
+_Stockholm_ was straight enough, but I took a good look, and only one
+tier of portholes was showing above the water--evidently it had
+settled nice and even, but it was on the bottom all the same. Well,
+that mud sucks with a fine tight grip, and we weren't going to try to
+loosen it.
+
+All in all, eleven of the sixteen ships were out of commission just
+from what we could see driving by.
+
+Vern and I looked at each other. We stood by the MG, while Amy
+sprawled her legs over the side and waited for us to make up our
+minds.
+
+"Not good, Sam," said Vern, looking worried.
+
+I said: "Well, that still leaves five. There's the _Vulcania_, the
+_Cristobal_--"
+
+"Too small."
+
+"All right. The _Manhattan_, the _Liberte_ and the _Queen Elizabeth_."
+
+Amy looked up, her eyes gleaming. "Where's the question?" she
+demanded. "Naturally, it's the _Queen_."
+
+I tried to explain. "Please, Amy. Leave these things to us, will you?"
+
+"But the Major won't settle for anything but the best!"
+
+"The _Major_?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I glanced at Vern, who wouldn't meet my eyes. "Well," I said, "look at
+the problems, Amy. First we have to check it over. Maybe it's been
+burned out--how do we know? Maybe the channel isn't even deep enough
+to float it any more--how do we know? Where are we going to get the
+oil for it?"
+
+"We'll get the oil," Amy said cheerfully.
+
+"And what if the channel isn't deep enough?"
+
+"She'll float," Amy promised. "At high tide, anyway. Even if the
+channel hasn't been dredged in ten years."
+
+I shrugged and gave up. What was the use of arguing?
+
+We drove back to the _Queen Elizabeth_ and I had to admit that there
+was a certain attraction about that big old dowager. We all got out
+and strolled down the pier, looking over as much as we could see.
+
+The pier had never been cleaned out. It bothered me a little--I mean I
+don't like skeletons much--but Amy didn't seem to mind. The _Queen_
+must have just docked when it happened, because you could still see
+bony queues, as though they were waiting for customs inspection.
+
+Some of the bags had been opened and the contents scattered
+around--naturally, somebody was bound to think of looting the _Queen_.
+But there were as many that hadn't been touched as that had been
+opened, and the whole thing had the look of an amateur attempt. And
+that was all to the good, because the fewer persons who had boarded
+the _Queen_ in the decade since it happened, the more chance of our
+finding it in usable shape.
+
+Amy saw a gangplank still up, and with cries of girlish glee ran
+aboard.
+
+I plucked at Vern's sleeve. "You," I said. "What's this about what the
+_Major_ won't settle for less than?"
+
+He said: "Aw, Sam, I had to tell her something, didn't I?"
+
+"But what about the Major--"
+
+He said patiently: "You don't understand. It's all part of my plan,
+see? The Major is the big thing here and he's got a birthday coming up
+next month. Well, the way I put it to Amy, we'll fix him up with a
+yacht as a birthday present, see? And, of course, when it's all fixed
+up and ready to lift anchor--"
+
+I said doubtfully: "That's the hard way, Vern. Why couldn't we just
+sort of get steam up and take off?"
+
+He shook his head. "_That_ is the hard way. This way we get all the
+help and supplies we need, understand?"
+
+I shrugged. That was the way it was, so what was the use of arguing?
+
+But there was one thing more on my mind. I said: "How come Amy's so
+interested in making the Major happy?"
+
+Vern chortled. "Jealous, eh?"
+
+"I asked a question!"
+
+"Calm down, boy. It's just that he's in charge of things here so
+naturally she wants to keep in good with him."
+
+I scowled. "I keep hearing stories about how the Major's chief
+interest in life is women. You sure she isn't ambitious to be one of
+them?"
+
+He said: "The reason she wants to keep him happy is so she _won't_ be
+one of them."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The name of the place was Bayonne.
+
+Vern said: "One of them's _got_ to have oil, Sam. It _has_ to."
+
+"Sure," I said.
+
+"There's no question about it. Look, this is where the tankers came to
+discharge oil. They'd come in here, pump the oil into the refinery
+tanks and--"
+
+"Vern," I said. "Let's look, shall we?"
+
+He shrugged, and we hopped off the little outboard motorboat onto a
+landing stage. The tankers towered over us, rusty and screeching as
+the waves rubbed them against each other.
+
+There were fifty of them there at least, and we poked around them for
+hours. The hatches were rusted shut and unmanageable, but you could
+tell a lot by sniffing. Gasoline odor was out; smell of seaweed and
+dead fish was out; but the heavy, rank smell of fuel oil, that was
+what we were sniffing for. Crews had been aboard these ships when the
+missiles came, and crews were still aboard.
+
+Beyond the two-part superstructures of the tankers, the skyline of New
+York was visible. I looked up, sweating, and saw the Empire State
+Building and imagined Amy up there, looking out toward us.
+
+She knew we were here. It was her idea. She had scrounged up a naval
+engineer, or what she called a naval engineer--he had once been a
+stoker on a ferryboat. But he claimed he knew what he was talking
+about when he said the only thing the _Queen_ needed to make 'er go
+was oil. And so we left him aboard to tinker and polish, with a couple
+of helpers Amy detached from the police force, and we tackled the oil
+problem.
+
+Which meant Bayonne. Which was where we were.
+
+It had to be a tanker with at least a fair portion of its cargo
+intact, because the _Queen_ was a thirsty creature, drinking fuel not
+by the shot or gallon but by the ton.
+
+"Saaam! Sam _Dunlap_!"
+
+I looked up, startled. Five ships away, across the U of the mooring,
+Vern Engdahl was bellowing at me through cupped hands.
+
+"I found it!" he shouted. "Oil, lots of oil! Come look!"
+
+I clasped my hands over my head and looked around. It was a long way
+around to the tanker Vern was on, hopping from deck to deck, detouring
+around open stretches.
+
+I shouted: "I'll get the boat!"
+
+He waved and climbed up on the rail of the ship, his feet dangling
+over, looking supremely happy and pleased with himself. He lit a
+cigarette, leaned back against the upward sweep of the rail and
+waited.
+
+It took me a little time to get back to the boat and a little more
+time than that to get the damn motor started. Vern! "Let's not take
+that lousy little twelve horse-power, Sam," he'd said reasonably. "The
+twenty-five's more what we need!" And maybe it was, but none of the
+motors had been started in most of a decade, and the twenty-five was
+just that much harder to start now.
+
+I struggled over it, swearing, for twenty minutes or more.
+
+The tanker by whose side we had tied up began to swing toward me as
+the tide changed to outgoing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a moment there, I was counting seconds, expecting to have to make
+a jump for it before the big red steel flank squeezed the little
+outboard flat against the piles.
+
+But I got it started--just about in time. I squeezed out of the trap
+with not much more than a yard to spare and threaded my way into open
+water.
+
+There was a large, threatening sound, like an enormous slow cough.
+
+I rounded the stern of the last tanker between me and open water, and
+looked into the eye of a fire-breathing dragon.
+
+Vern and his cigarettes! The tanker was loose and ablaze, bearing down
+on me with the slow drift of the ebbing tide. From the hatches on the
+forward deck, two fountains of fire spurted up and out, like enormous
+nostrils spouting flame. The hawsers had been burned through, the ship
+was adrift, I was in its path--
+
+And so was the frantically splashing figure of Vern Engdahl, trying
+desperately to swim out of the way in the water before it.
+
+What kept it from blowing up in our faces I will never know, unless it
+was the pressure in the tanks forcing the flame out; but it didn't.
+Not just then. Not until I had Engdahl aboard and we were out in the
+middle of the Hudson, staring back; and then it went up all right, all
+at once, like a missile or a volcano; and there had been fifty tankers
+in that one mooring, but there weren't any any more, or not in shape
+for us to use.
+
+I looked at Engdahl.
+
+He said defensively: "Honest, Sam, I thought it was oil. It _smelled_
+like oil. How was I to know--"
+
+"Shut up," I said.
+
+He shrugged, injured. "But it's all right, Sam. No fooling. There are
+plenty of other tankers around. Plenty. Down toward the Amboys, maybe
+moored out in the channel. There must be. We'll find them."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"No," I said. "_You_ will."
+
+And that was all I said, because I am forgiving by nature; but I
+thought a great deal more.
+
+Surprisingly, though, he did find a tanker with a full load, the very
+next day.
+
+It became a question of getting the tanker to the _Queen_. I left that
+part up to Vern, since he claimed to be able to handle it.
+
+It took him two weeks. First it was finding the tanker, then it was
+locating a tug in shape to move, then it was finding someone to pilot
+the tug. Then it was waiting for a clear and windless day--because the
+pilot he found had got all his experience sailing Star boats on Long
+Island Sound--and then it was easing the tanker out of Newark Bay,
+into the channel, down to the pier in the North River--
+
+Oh, it was work and no fooling. I enjoyed it very much, because I
+didn't have to do it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But I had enough to keep me busy at that. I found a man who claimed he
+used to be a radio engineer. And if he was an engineer, I was Albert
+Einstein's mother, but at least he knew which end of a soldering iron
+was hot. There was no need for any great skill, since there weren't
+going to be very many vessels to communicate with.
+
+Things began to move.
+
+The advantage of a ship like the _Queen_, for our purposes, was that
+the thing was pretty well automated to start out with. I mean never
+mind what the seafaring unions required in the way of flesh-and-blood
+personnel. What it came down to was that one man in the bridge or
+wheelhouse could pretty well make any part of the ship go or not go.
+
+The engine-room telegraph wasn't hooked up to control the engines, no.
+But the wiring diagram needed only a few little changes to get the
+same effect, because where in the original concept a human being would
+take a look at the repeater down in the engine room, nod wisely, and
+push a button that would make the engines stop, start, or
+whatever--why, all we had to do was cut out the middleman, so to
+speak.
+
+Our genius of the soldering iron replaced flesh and blood with some
+wiring and, presto, we had centralized engine control.
+
+The steering was even easier. Steering was a matter of electronic
+control and servomotors to begin with. Windjammers in the old movies
+might have a man lashed to the wheel whose muscle power turned the
+rudder, but, believe me, a big superliner doesn't. The rudders weigh
+as much as any old windjammer ever did from stem to stern; you have to
+have motors to turn them; and it was only a matter of getting out the
+old soldering iron again.
+
+By the time we were through, we had every operational facility of the
+_Queen_ hooked up to a single panel on the bridge.
+
+Engdahl showed up with the oil tanker just about the time we got the
+wiring complete. We rigged up a pump and filled the bunkers till they
+were topped off full. We guessed, out of hope and ignorance, that
+there was enough in there to take us half a dozen times around the
+world at normal cruising speed, and maybe there was. Anyway, it didn't
+matter, for surely we had enough to take us anywhere we wanted to go,
+and then there would be more.
+
+We crossed our fingers, turned our ex-ferry-stoker loose, pushed a
+button--
+
+Smoke came out of the stacks.
+
+The antique screws began to turn over. Astern, a sort of hump of muddy
+water appeared. The _Queen_ quivered underfoot. The mooring hawsers
+creaked and sang.
+
+"Turn her off!" screamed Engdahl. "She's headed for Times Square!"
+
+Well, that was an exaggeration, but not much of one; and there wasn't
+any sense in stirring up the bottom mud. I pushed buttons and the
+screws stopped. I pushed another button, and the big engines quietly
+shut themselves off, and in a few moments the stacks stopped puffing
+their black smoke.
+
+The ship was alive.
+
+Solemnly Engdahl and I shook hands. We had the thing licked. All, that
+is, except for the one small problem of Arthur.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The thing about Arthur was they had put him to work.
+
+It was in the power station, just as Amy had said, and Arthur didn't
+like it. The fact that he didn't like it was a splendid reason for
+staying away from there, but I let my kind heart overrule my good
+sense and paid him a visit.
+
+It was way over on the East Side, miles and miles from any civilized
+area. I borrowed Amy's MG, and borrowed Amy to go with it, and the two
+of us packed a picnic lunch and set out. There were reports of deer on
+Avenue A, so I brought a rifle, but we never saw one; and if you want
+my opinion, those reports were nothing but wishful thinking. I mean if
+people couldn't survive, how could deer?
+
+We finally threaded our way through the clogged streets and parked in
+front of the power station.
+
+"There's supposed to be a guard," Amy said doubtfully.
+
+I looked. I looked pretty carefully, because if there was a guard, I
+wanted to see him. The Major's orders were that vital defense
+installations--such as the power station, the PX and his own barracks
+building--were to be guarded against trespassers on a shoot-on-sight
+basis and I wanted to make sure that the guard knew we were privileged
+persons, with passes signed by the Major's own hand. But we couldn't
+find him. So we walked in through the big door, peered around,
+listened for the sounds of machinery and walked in that direction.
+
+And then we found him; he was sound asleep. Amy, looking indignant,
+shook him awake.
+
+"Is that how you guard military property?" she scolded. "Don't you
+know the penalty for sleeping at your post?"
+
+The guard said something irritable and unhappy. I got her off his back
+with some difficulty, and we located Arthur.
+
+Picture a shiny four-gallon tomato can, with the label stripped off,
+hanging by wire from the flashing-light panels of an electric
+computer. That was Arthur. The shiny metal cylinder was his prosthetic
+tank; the wires were the leads that served him for fingers, ears and
+mouth; the glittering panel was the control center for the
+Consolidated Edison Eastside Power Plant No. 1.
+
+"Hi, Arthur," I said, and a sudden ear-splitting thunderous hiss was
+his way of telling me that he knew I was there.
+
+I didn't know exactly what it was he was trying to say and I didn't
+want to; fortune spares me few painful moments, and I accept with
+gratitude the ones it does. The Major's boys hadn't bothered to bring
+Arthur's typewriter along--I mean who cares what a generator-governor
+had to offer in the way of conversation?--so all he could do was blow
+off steam from the distant boilers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Well, not quite all. Light flashed; a bucket conveyor began crashingly
+to dump loads of coal; and an alarm gong began to pound.
+
+"Please, Arthur," I begged. "Shut up a minute and listen, will you?"
+
+More lights. The gong rapped half a dozen times sharply, and stopped.
+
+I said: "Arthur, you've got to trust Vern and me. We have this thing
+figured out now. We've got the _Queen Elizabeth_--"
+
+A shattering hiss of steam--meaning delight this time, I thought. Or
+anyway hoped.
+
+"--and its only a question of time until we can carry out the plan.
+Vern says to apologize for not looking in on you--" _hiss_--"but he's
+been busy. And after all, you know it's more important to get
+everything ready so you can get out of this place, right?"
+
+"Psst," said Amy.
+
+She nodded briefly past my shoulder. I looked, and there was the
+guard, looking sleepy and surly and definitely suspicious.
+
+I said heartily: "So as soon as I fix it up with the Major, we'll
+arrange for something better for you. Meanwhile, Arthur, you're doing
+a capital job and I want you to know that all of us loyal New York
+citizens and public servants deeply appreciate--"
+
+Thundering crashes, bangs, gongs, hisses, and the scream of a steam
+whistle he'd found somewhere.
+
+Arthur was mad.
+
+"So long, Arthur," I said, and we got out of there--just barely in
+time. At the door, we found that Arthur had reversed the coal scoops
+and a growing mound of it was pouring into the street where we'd left
+the MG parked. We got the car started just as the heap was beginning
+to reach the bumpers, and at that the paint would never again be the
+same.
+
+Oh, yes, he was mad. I could only hope that in the long run he would
+forgive us, since we were acting for his best interests, after all.
+
+Anyway, I _thought_ we were.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Still, things worked out pretty well--especially between Amy and me.
+Engdahl had the theory that she had been dodging the Major so long
+that _anybody_ looked good to her, which was hardly flattering. But
+she and I were getting along right well.
+
+She said worriedly: "The only thing, Sam, is that, frankly, the Major
+has just about made up his mind that he wants to marry me--"
+
+"He _is_ married!" I yelped.
+
+"Naturally he's married. He's married to--so far--one hundred and nine
+women. He's been hitting off a marriage a month for a good many years
+now and, to tell you the truth, I think he's got the habit Anyway,
+he's got his eye on me."
+
+I demanded jealously: "Has he said anything?"
+
+She picked a sheet of onionskin paper out of her bag and handed it to
+me. It was marked _Top Secret_, and it really was, because it hadn't
+gone through his regular office--I knew that because I was his regular
+office. It was only two lines of text and sloppily typed at that:
+
+    Lt. Amy Bankhead will report to HQ at 1700 hours 1 July to
+    carry out orders of the Commanding Officer.
+
+The first of July was only a week away. I handed the orders back to
+her.
+
+"And the orders of the Commanding Officer will be--" I wanted to know.
+
+She nodded. "You guessed it."
+
+I said: "We'll have to work fast."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the thirtieth of June, we invited the Major to come aboard his
+palatial new yacht.
+
+"Ah, thank you," he said gratefully. "A surprise? For my birthday? Ah,
+you loyal members of my command make up for all that I've lost--all of
+it!" He nearly wept.
+
+I said: "Sir, the pleasure is all ours," and backed out of his
+presence. What's more, I meant every word.
+
+It was a select party of slightly over a hundred. All of the wives
+were there, barring twenty or thirty who were in disfavor--still, that
+left over eighty. The Major brought half a dozen of his favorite
+officers. His bodyguard and our crew added up to a total of thirty
+men.
+
+We were set up to feed a hundred and fifty, and to provide liquor for
+twice that many, so it looked like a nice friendly brawl. I mean we
+had our radio operator handing out highballs as the guests stepped on
+board. The Major was touched and delighted; it was exactly the kind of
+party he liked.
+
+He came up the gangplank with his face one great beaming smile. "Eat!
+Drink!" he cried. "Ah, and be merry!" He stretched out his hands to
+Amy, standing by behind the radio op. "For tomorrow we wed," he added,
+and sentimentally kissed his proposed bride.
+
+I cleared my throat. "How about inspecting the ship, Major?" I
+interrupted.
+
+"Plenty of time for that, my boy," he said. "Plenty of time for that."
+But he let go of Amy and looked around him. Well, it was worth looking
+at. Those Englishmen really knew how to build a luxury liner. God rest
+them.
+
+The girls began roaming around.
+
+It was a hot day and late afternoon, and the girls began discarding
+jackets and boleros, and that began to annoy the Major.
+
+"Ah, cover up there!" he ordered one of his wives. "You too there,
+what's-your-name. Put that blouse back on!"
+
+It gave him something to think about. He was a very jealous man, Amy
+had said, and when you stop to think about it, a jealous man with a
+hundred and nine wives to be jealous of really has a job. Anyway, he
+was busy watching his wives and keeping his military cabinet and his
+bodyguard busy too, and that made him too busy to notice when I tipped
+the high sign to Vern and took off.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+In Consolidated Edison's big power plant, the guard was friendly. "I
+hear the Major's over on your boat, pal. Big doings. Got a lot of the
+girls there, hey?"
+
+He bent, sniggering, to look at my pass.
+
+"That's right, pal," I said, and slugged him.
+
+Arthur screamed at me with a shrill blast of steam as I came in. But
+only once. I wasn't there for conversation. I began ripping apart his
+comfy little home of steel braces and copper wires, and it didn't take
+much more than a minute before I had him free. And that was very
+fortunate because, although I had tied up the guard, I hadn't done it
+very well, and it was just about the time I had Arthur's steel case
+tucked under my arm that I heard a yelling and bellowing from down the
+stairs.
+
+The guard had got free.
+
+"Keep calm, Arthur!" I ordered sharply. "We'll get out of this, don't
+you worry!"
+
+But he wasn't worried, or anyway didn't show it, since he couldn't. I
+was the one who was worried. I was up on the second floor of the
+plant, in the control center, with only one stairway going down that I
+knew about, and that one thoroughly guarded by a man with a grudge
+against me. Me, I had Arthur, and no weapon, and I hadn't a doubt in
+the world that there were other guards around and that my friend would
+have them after me before long.
+
+Problem. I took a deep breath and swallowed and considered jumping out
+the window. But it wasn't far enough to the ground.
+
+Feet pounded up the stairs, more than two of them. With Arthur
+dragging me down on one side, I hurried, fast as I could, along the
+steel galleries that surrounded the biggest boiler. It was a nice
+choice of alternatives--if I stayed quiet, they would find me; if I
+ran, they would hear me, and then find me.
+
+But ahead there was--what? Something. A flight of stairs, it looked
+like, going out and, yes, _up_. Up? But I was already on the second
+floor.
+
+"Hey, you!" somebody bellowed from behind me.
+
+I didn't stop to consider. I ran. It wasn't steps, not exactly; it was
+a chain of coal scoops on a long derrick arm, a moving bucket
+arrangement for unloading fuel from barges. It did go up, though, and
+more important it went _out_. The bucket arm was stretched across the
+clogged roadway below to a loading tower that hung over the water.
+
+If I could get there, I might be able to get down. If I could get
+down--yes, I could see it; there were three or four mahogany motor
+launches tied to the foot of the tower.
+
+And nobody around.
+
+I looked over my shoulder, and didn't like what I saw, and scuttled up
+that chain of enormous buckets like a roach on a washboard, one hand
+for me and one hand for Arthur.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thank heaven, I had a good lead on my pursuers--I needed it. I was on
+the bucket chain while they were still almost a city block behind me,
+along the galleries. I was halfway across the roadway, afraid to look
+down, before they reached the butt end of the chain.
+
+Clash-clatter. _Clank!_ The bucket under me jerked and clattered and
+nearly threw me into the street. One of those jokers had turned on the
+conveyor! It was a good trick, all right, but not quite in time. I
+made a flying jump and I was on the tower.
+
+I didn't stop to thumb my nose at them, but I thought of it.
+
+I was down those steel steps, breathing like a spouting whale, in a
+minute flat, and jumping out across the concrete, coal-smeared yard
+toward the moored launches. Quickly enough, I guess, but with nothing
+at all to spare, because although I hadn't seen anyone there, there
+was a guard.
+
+He popped out of a doorway, blinking foolishly; and overhead the
+guards at the conveyor belt were screaming at him. It took him a
+second to figure out what was going on, and by that time I was in a
+launch, cast off the rope, kicked it free, and fumbled for the
+starting button.
+
+It took me several seconds to realize that a rope was required, that
+in fact there was no button; and by then I was floating yards away,
+but the pudgy pop-eyed guard was also in a launch, and he didn't have
+to fumble. He knew. He got his motor started a fraction of a second
+before me, and there he was, coming at me, set to ram. Or so it
+looked.
+
+I wrenched at the wheel and brought the boat hard over; but he swerved
+too, at the last moment, and brought up something that looked a little
+like a spear and a little like a sickle and turned out to be a
+boathook. I ducked, just in time. It sizzled over my head as he swung
+and crashed against the windshield. Hunks of safety glass splashed out
+over the forward deck, but better that than my head.
+
+Boathooks, hey? I had a boathook too! If he didn't have another
+weapon, I was perfectly willing to play; I'd been sitting and taking
+it long enough and I was very much attracted by the idea of fighting
+back. The guard recovered his balance, swore at me, fought the wheel
+around and came back.
+
+We both curved out toward the center of the East River in intersecting
+arcs. We closed. He swung first. I ducked--
+
+And from a crouch, while he was off balance, I caught him in the
+shoulder with the hook.
+
+He made a mighty splash.
+
+I throttled down the motor long enough to see that he was still
+conscious.
+
+"_Touche_, buster," I said, and set course for the return trip down
+around the foot of Manhattan, back toward the _Queen_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It took a while, but that was all right; it gave everybody a nice long
+time to get plastered. I sneaked aboard, carrying Arthur, and turned
+him over to Vern. Then I rejoined the Major. He was making an
+inspection tour of the ship--what he called an inspection, after his
+fashion.
+
+He peered into the engine rooms and said: "Ah, fine."
+
+He stared at the generators that were turning over and nodded when I
+explained we needed them for power for lights and everything and said:
+"Ah, of course."
+
+He opened a couple of stateroom doors at random and said: "Ah, nice."
+
+And he went up on the flying bridge with me and such of his officers
+as still could walk and said: "Ah."
+
+Then he said in a totally different tone: "What the devil's the matter
+over there?"
+
+He was staring east through the muggy haze. I saw right away what it
+was that was bothering him--easy, because I knew where to look. The
+power plant way over on the East Side was billowing smoke.
+
+"Where's Vern Engdahl? That gadget of his isn't working right!"
+
+"You mean Arthur?"
+
+"I mean that brain in a bottle. It's Engdahl's responsibility, you
+know!"
+
+Vern came up out of the wheelhouse and cleared his throat. "Major," he
+said earnestly, "I think there's some trouble over there. Maybe you
+ought to go look for yourself."
+
+"Trouble?"
+
+"I, uh, hear there've been power failures," Vern said lamely. "Don't
+you think you ought to inspect it? I mean just in case there's
+something serious?"
+
+The Major stared at him frostily, and then his mood changed. He took a
+drink from the glass in his hand, quickly finishing it off.
+
+"Ah," he said, "hell with it. Why spoil a good party? If there are
+going to be power failures, why, let them be. That's my motto!"
+
+Vern and I looked at each other. He shrugged slightly, meaning, well,
+we tried. And I shrugged slightly, meaning, what did you expect? And
+then he glanced upward, meaning, take a look at what's there.
+
+But I didn't really have to look because I heard what it was. In fact,
+I'd been hearing it for some time. It was the Major's entire air
+force--two helicopters, swirling around us at an average altitude of a
+hundred feet or so. They showed up bright against the gathering clouds
+overhead, and I looked at them with considerable interest--partly
+because I considered it an even-money bet that one of them would be
+playing crumple-fender with our stacks, partly because I had an idea
+that they were not there solely for show.
+
+I said to the Major: "Chief, aren't they coming a little close? I mean
+it's _your_ ship and all, but what if one of them takes a spill into
+the bridge while you're here?"
+
+He grinned. "They know better," he bragged. "Ah, besides, I want them
+close. I mean if anything went wrong."
+
+I said, in a tone that showed as much deep hurt as I could manage:
+"Sir, what could go wrong?"
+
+"Oh, you know." He patted my shoulder limply. "Ah, no offense?" he
+asked.
+
+I shook my head. "Well," I said, "let's go below."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+All of it was done carefully, carefully as could be. The only thing
+was, we forgot about the typewriters. We got everybody, or as near as
+we could, into the Grand Salon where the food was, and right there on
+a table at the end of the hall was one of the typewriters clacking
+away. Vern had rigged them up with rolls of paper instead of sheets,
+and maybe that was ingenious, but it was also a headache just then.
+Because the typewriter was banging out:
+
+LEFT FOUR THIRTEEN FOURTEEN AND TWENTYONE BOILERS WITH A FULL HEAD OF
+STEAM AND THE SAFETY VALVES LOCKED BOY I TELL YOU WHEN THOSE THINGS
+LET GO YOURE GOING TO HEAR A NOISE THATLL KNOCK YOUR HAT OFF
+
+The Major inquired politely: "Something to do with the ship?"
+
+"Oh, _that_," said Vern. "Yeah. Just a little, uh, something to do
+with the ship. Say, Major, here's the bar. Real scotch, see? Look at
+the label!"
+
+The Major glanced at him with faint contempt--well, he'd had the pick
+of the greatest collection of high-priced liquor stores in the world
+for ten years, so no wonder. But he allowed Vern to press a drink on
+him.
+
+And the typewriter kept rattling:
+
+LOOKS LIKE RAIN ANY MINUTE NOW HOO BOY IM GLAD I WONT BE IN THOSE
+WHIRLYBIRDS WHEN THE STORM STARTS SAY VERN WHY DONT YOU EVER ANSWER ME
+Q Q ISNT IT ABOUT TIME TO TAKE OFF XXX I MEAN GET UNDER WEIGH Q Q
+
+Some of the "clerks, typists, domestic personnel and others"--that was
+the way they were listed on the T/O; it was only coincidence that the
+Major had married them all--were staring at the typewriter.
+
+"Drinks!" Vern called nervously. "Come on, girls! Drinks!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Major poured himself a stiff shot and asked: "What _is_ that
+thing? A teletype or something?"
+
+"That's right," Vern said, trailing after him as the Major wandered
+over to inspect it.
+
+I GIVE THOSE BOILERS ABOUT TEN MORE MINUTES SAM WELL WHAT ABOUT IT Q Q
+READY TO SHOVE OFF Q Q
+
+The Major said, frowning faintly: "Ah, that reminds me of something.
+Now what is it?"
+
+"More scotch?" Vern cried. "Major, a little more scotch?"
+
+The Major ignored him, scowling. One of the "clerks, typists" said:
+"Honey, you know what it is? It's like that pross you had, remember?
+It was on our wedding night, and you'd just got it, and you kept
+asking it to tell you limericks."
+
+The Major snapped his fingers. "Knew I'd get it," he glowed. Then
+abruptly he scowled again and turned to face Vern and me. "Say--" he
+began.
+
+I said weakly: "The boilers."
+
+The Major stared at me, then glanced out the window. "What boilers?"
+he demanded. "It's just a thunderstorm. Been building up all day. Now
+what about this? Is that thing--"
+
+But Vern was paying him no attention. "Thunderstorm?" he yelled.
+"Arthur, you listening? Are the helicopters gone?"
+
+YESYESYES
+
+"Then shove off, Arthur! Shove off!"
+
+The typewriter rattled and slammed madly.
+
+The Major yelled angrily: "Now listen to me, you! I'm asking you a
+question!"
+
+But we didn't have to answer, because there was a thrumming and a
+throbbing underfoot, and then one of the "clerks, typists" screamed:
+"The dock!" She pointed at a porthole. "It's moving!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Well, we got out of there--barely in time. And then it was up to
+Arthur. We had the whole ship to roam around in and there were plenty
+of places to hide. They had the whole ship to search. And Arthur was
+the whole ship.
+
+Because it was Arthur, all right, brought in and hooked up by Vern,
+attained to his greatest dream and ambition. He was skipper of a
+superliner, and more than any skipper had ever been--the ship was his
+body, as the prosthetic tank had never been; the keel his belly, the
+screws his feet, the engines his heart and lungs, and every moving
+part that could be hooked into central control his many, many hands.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Search for us? They were lucky they could move at all! Fire Control
+washed them with salt water hoses, directed by Arthur's brain.
+Watertight doors, proof against sinking, locked them away from us at
+Arthur's whim.
+
+The big bull whistle overhead brayed like a clamoring Gabriel, and the
+ship's bells tinkled and clanged. Arthur backed that enormous ship out
+of its berth like a racing scull on the Schuylkill. The four giant
+screws lashed the water into white foam, and then the thin mud they
+sucked up into tan; and the ship backed, swerved, lashed the water,
+stopped, and staggered crazily forward.
+
+Arthur brayed at the Statue of Liberty, tooted good-by to Staten
+Island, feinted a charge at Sandy Hook and really laid back his ears
+and raced once he got to deep water past the moored lightship.
+
+We were off!
+
+Well, from there on, it was easy. We let Arthur have his fun with the
+Major and the bodyguards--and by the sodden, whimpering shape they
+were in when they came out, it must really have been fun for him.
+There were just the three of us and only Vern and I had guns--but
+Arthur had the _Queen Elizabeth_, and that put the odds on our side.
+
+We gave the Major a choice: row back to Coney Island--we offered him a
+boat, free of charge--or come along with us as cabin boy. He cast one
+dim-eyed look at the hundred and nine "clerks, typists" and at Amy,
+who would never be the hundred and tenth.
+
+And then he shrugged and, game loser, said: "Ah, why not? I'll come
+along."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And why not, when you come to think of it? I mean ruling a city is
+nice and all that, but a sea voyage is a refreshing change. And while
+a hundred and nine to one is a respectable female-male ratio, still it
+must be wearing; and eighty to thirty isn't so bad, either. At least,
+I guess that was what was in the Major's mind. I know it was what was
+in mine.
+
+And I discovered that it was in Amy's, for the first thing she did was
+to march me over to the typewriter and say: "You've had it, Sam. We'll
+dispose with the wedding march--just get your friend Arthur here to
+marry us."
+
+"Arthur?"
+
+"The captain," she said. "We're on the high seas and he's empowered to
+perform marriages."
+
+Vern looked at me and shrugged, meaning, you asked for this one, boy.
+And I looked at him and shrugged, meaning, it could be worse.
+
+And indeed it could. We'd got our ship; we'd got our ship's
+company--because, naturally, there wasn't any use stealing a big ship
+for just a couple of us. We'd had to manage to get a sizable colony
+aboard. That was the whole idea.
+
+The world, in fact, was ours. It could have been very much worse
+indeed, even though Arthur was laughing so hard as he performed the
+ceremony that he jammed up all his keys.
+
+                                                   --FREDERIK POHL
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Knights of Arthur, by Frederik Pohl
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