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diff --git a/32004-8.txt b/32004-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..74d1a8a --- /dev/null +++ b/32004-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2436 @@ +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: ISO-8859-1 + +*** 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 _Liberté_ 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. + +"_Touché_, 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNIGHTS OF ARTHUR *** + +***** This file should be named 32004-8.txt or 32004-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/0/0/32004/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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