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diff --git a/59403-0.txt b/59403-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..417b609 --- /dev/null +++ b/59403-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,943 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59403 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + jekyll-hyde + planet + + BY JACK LEWIS + + _Centifor was a paradise planet, + another Garden of Eden. And Leon + Stubbs was the serpent of temptation...._ + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from + Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1956. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +They came in low, decelerating against dense air, while the passengers +talked, and laughed, and pressed their faces against the observation +ports. + +In the ship's lounge, a squawk box crackled ... "Twenty minutes," a +mechanical voice said ... "We land on Centauri IV in twenty minutes ... +Passengers for Orion, Antares, Cygni, and Polaris, have your transfers +ready." + +Everyone laughed. The speaker clicked and went dead. And the boy who'd +been gripping Claude Marshall's arm looked up. + +"What's he mean, Pop? We don't _really_ have to transfer, do we?" + +Claude Marshall smiled. "No, Billy. This is as far as we're going--as +far as anyone's going." + +"But he said--" + +"He was only joking, Billy. Maybe someday people will be going to those +places, but not now." He glanced at his wife, sitting with her hands +folded in her lap.... "I'm glad it's over, Joan," he said. "It's been a +long trip--a very long trip." + +The woman nodded. She had dark hair, and blue eyes, and minute +lines of maturity around her eyes and mouth that seemed to soften, +rather than age her. She looked almost too young to have mothered a +nine-year-old boy--but of course that was one of the requirements. + +"Is this where we're going to live?" the boy asked. + +Claude looked out the port. "Yes, Billy. This is where we're going to +live." + +"Why?" + +"I've already told you why. Don't you remember when I showed you the +pictures, and asked you how you'd like to live where you'd have lots of +room to play, and wouldn't have to worry about the bombs or anything?" + +"Sure, Pop," the boy said. "I remember. But tell me about it again?" + +Claude looked at his wife; watched her nod, and answer his smile. "All +right," he said. He raised his arm over the foam-cushion seat-back till +it rested on the boy's shoulder. + +"You see, Billy, things back on Earth are pretty bad--have been for +over a hundred years now. There's too many cities, too many wars, and +too many people--it's mostly too many people. They don't have room to +move around any more the way they used to.... + +"To make it worse there are always some people who figure that someone +else has a little more room than they have, so they try to take it away +from them by starting a war. Not that war ever solves anything. It's +just that some people think it will." + +"That's why we left, huh, Pop?" + +"Yes, Billy. That's why we left. The problem was to find some place +new; some place where a man had room to move--room to breathe. For +a long while it didn't look as if there was such a place--not in +our solar system anyhow. But one day a few years before you were +born, a fellow by the name of Vincent Taibi made a trip out here to +Centauri.... It was a long trip. Took him thirteen years to get out +here and back. But the important thing is that he came back with some +news.... He came back and reported that there was an uninhabited planet +out here, just about the size of the Earth, that was as fresh and new +as it was the day God made it." + +"That's when we got on this ship. Right, Pop?" + +Claude frowned. "Well, not exactly. You see, Son, to begin with this is +a long trip--so long, and so expensive, that no one except maybe a few +millionaires would be able to afford it. Anyhow, the government wanted +_young_ people out here: people who could colonize the place.... They +ran a lot of tests, Son." + +"Tests?" + +Claude nodded and turned to his wife. "The tests," he said. "You +remember the tests, Joan?" + +"Yes, Claude. I remember. It's been six years, but I remember them as +if they happened yesterday." + +"I don't, Pop." + +"That's 'cause you were too young, Son. You didn't have to take the +tests.... You were lucky." + +"Claude! Billy's not interested in that. Besides they were necessary." + +"Necessary! All those psychiatrists? Oh come, Joan.... I felt as if +they were picking my brain with an ice pick!" + +"But they had to be careful, Claude." + +"Careful, yes.... But eight months of tests--every day!" + +"Claude!" The woman's tone was severe. + +"Why did they have to be careful, Pop?" Billy asked. + +"They wanted to be sure, Son. They didn't want anyone out here who was +sick, or lazy, or who wanted to start a war. They figured if the right +kind of people came out here, Centifor would stay as fresh and clean as +it was the day that Captain Taibi first landed here." + +The boy looked out the porthole. "We'll sure have lots of room here, +won't we, Pop?" + +"Yes, Son. We'll have lots of room. The government's given us title to +a hundred acres of what's just about the best land in the Universe.... +I showed you the pictures of our land, didn't I?" + +"Sure, Pop. Lots of times." + +The woman laughed. "About a thousand times, I'd imagine.... Those +pictures have been looked at so much, they're frayed at the corners." + + * * * * * + +They landed on a concrete apron, nestled between ridges of rolling +hills. The jets belched, hissed, went out, and from a ranch type +structure at the edge of the area, a jeep, towing a portable ramp moved +out to meet them. + +There was a gentle bump. Hatches hissed open. And then the passengers +began to move down the ramp. + +Among the last to emerge into the bright, warm sunshine, were Claude +and Joan Marshall. Each clasping a hand of their son, they stood at +the top of the ramp, breathing deep gulps of sweet-smelling air, and +staring at the boundless horizon of the fresh, new world. + +Clean and unspoiled it was, like an immense green carpet, dotted with +clear, blue lakes, and billions of wildflowers that soaked nourishment +out of topsoil twenty inches deep. + +A paradise planet, free of bustling crowds and concrete cities. +Untainted by littered alleyways, and dirty kiosks, and the abominable +smells of cosmopolitan chaos.... In place of these was a sun-soaked, +fairy-like landscape capped by fleecy white clouds that hung motionless +in a sky of robin's-egg blue. + +Claude stabbed an index finger at the patchwork quilt of green and +yellow. + +"Look Joan.... Our land! You can see it from here!" + +"Where, Claude?" + +"Out there.... See? Way out. Beyond those lakes!" + +"Oh, Claude. How can you be sure?" + +"I remember it from the maps--and the pictures.... Our land is just +twenty-eight miles from this landing strip, and you cross three ridges +of hills to get to it.... See? One ... two ... three!" + +"Is that where we're going to live, Pop?" + +"Yes, Son. That's where we're going to live. And there isn't a better +piece of land anywhere.... I know!" + +At the gentle urging of the attendant, they moved off the ramp and +melted into the group of passengers drifting toward the ranch-type +building at the edge of the area. A sign over the building said: +RECEPTION CENTER, and a man was standing in front of it. The man wasn't +old by Earth standards, but leathery skin, and steel-grey patches +of hair around his temples made him look very ancient alongside the +composite youth of the newly-arrived settlers. + +The older man waited till the group had formed a tight semi-circle +around him. Then he smiled and held up both hands. + +"Welcome to Centifor," he said. "My name is Leon Stubbs, and I am the +Director of Colonization." + +He waited till the undercurrent of muttering had died down, and went +on: "I know how anxious you all are to settle on your own land, but +because immediate transportation is unavailable, there will be a slight +delay. During this time you will be quartered here at the reception +center." + +Claude Marshall leaned close to his wife's ear. "We're lucky, Joan," he +whispered. "We don't have to worry about transportation. We can _walk_ +to _our_ land if we have to." + +Leon Stubbs said: "If any of you have any questions, feel free to speak +up.... That's why I'm here." He stopped, and pointed at a thin-faced +youth with one arm raised while a young, and obviously pregnant girl +held onto the other. + +"Yes, Sir." + +"We've been wondering," the youth said. "Are our building materials +ready yet?" + +"Some of them are," the director said, "and some of them aren't. +Production here isn't quite what it should be yet. When you've been +here a while, you'll realize that because of our relatively small +numbers, and comparative inexperience in economic matters, we're a +tightly-knit group.... We have to be. + +"There is one thing however that works in our favor. There are no +irrationals or psychological deviants on Centifor. The tests took care +of that. They were rough, I know. They were supposed to be rough. And +now that you're here you'll all be facing another test.... The test of +practical application. + +"Some of you are fortunate in the respect that you've been awarded +land reasonably close to the spaceport area. Some of you are not so +fortunate, and will have to travel several hundred miles. Perhaps those +of you in this latter category will find some consolation in the fact +that since you left Terra, the government has started a movement to +populate the other side of the planet. As a matter of fact, all future +applications will be assigned to that area." + +Claude looked at his wife. And she looked back at him. They didn't +speak. They didn't have to. It was common knowledge that Centifor was +a planet of contrast. It was a Jekyll and Hyde planet.... One side was +a veritable Utopia. And the other? Claude shuddered at the thought of +hacking a living out of the razor-backed mountains and bare patches of +rocky soil that were frozen stiff nine months out of every thirteen. + +"If there are no other questions," the Director said. "We'll get on +with the business of setting you up in temporary quarters." + + * * * * * + +Twelve hours later, Claude Marshall and his family stood on the ramp of +the spaceport watching the blue-tinted sun edge itself over the rim of +the planet. + +The decision to pack a few immediate necessities and walk to the +homestead instead of waiting for transportation had been arrived at the +night before. It was ridiculous, Claude had argued, to waste time at +the reception center, when the culmination of a ten year dream lay just +twenty-eight miles away. Especially so, since the Director had informed +them that the materials for their prefab home was already waiting for +them on the land. + +Nor were they alone in their eagerness to begin a new way of life. +Other settlers--some of them burdened-down with supplies that almost +equalled their own weight--had already started a trek over the virgin +landscape. In twos and threes, they plodded into the gently-sloping +valley. Some of them moved slowly, some eagerly. All of them looked +like tiny ants on a giant pool table. + +Marshall adjusted the knapsack across his shoulders with an air of +finality. "Let's go, Joan," he said. "Stay close, Billy. We have a +long walk ahead of us." + +They started into the valley. + +Two hours later they stopped to rest. They stopped on a patch of rich, +green turf in the shadow of a broad-leaf tree. The spaceport, flanked +by its low-slung buildings was still visible, but from seven miles +away the buildings looked incredibly tiny. Like miniatures out of a +Christmas kit. But the thing that impressed them most was the quiet--a +strange sort of quiet, free of the whir of copter blades, land-car +horns, and other nerve-shattering noises. Instead, there was only the +rustle of a mild breeze through the tree branches, and the sound of +their own breathing. + +Marshall lay on his back, his fingers laced behind his neck. + +"I feel rested, Joan," he said. "We've just walked seven miles, but I +feel rested." + +"I know, Claude. I feel the same way. It must be the air. The air feels +different." + +"Wouldn't it be nice if it'd always stay this way. Fresh and unspoiled, +I mean. I know it won't, but wouldn't it be nice if it did." + +"It will, Claude. It will for as long as we live anyhow, and for as +long as Billy lives. That's what's important. We're very lucky, Claude." + +"I can't help thinking of the people back on Earth. I feel sorry for +them." + +"They could do what we did. They could take the tests." + +"I know. But even if they did, what would they have? Who'd want to +homestead the _other_ side of this planet? Who'd want to live out +there anyway?" + +"I would, Pop," Billy said. + +"No you wouldn't, Son. Don't you remember those black mountains we saw +from the ship when we came in?" + +"Sure, Pop." + +"Well that's what the other side of the planet is like. Only you +couldn't tell what it was really like because we were too high. You +wouldn't like it if you had to live there. It's cold, and rocky, and +there's only six hours of daylight out of every twenty-six." + +"I wouldn't like it then," the boy said. "I don't like the dark." + +Claude got up and looked at his wife. "Shall we move along," he said. + +They pushed ahead. Eagerly, yet slowly enough to absorb the world's +endless beauty; stopping at the crest of each new hill; kneeling at +the shores of crystal lakes to quench their thirst; and scooping +up handfuls of rich, black soil in spots where the turf had become +dislodged. + +The sun of Centauri was almost at zenith when they approached the crest +of the ridge that bounded the Marshall homestead. + +Claude's pace, which had been quickening steadily for the final mile, +burst into a jagged trot for the final hundred uphill yards. At the top +of the hill he stopped, staring into the lush, green valley, ignoring +his family who'd been unable to keep pace with his eagerness. + +The homestead was all that the color photos had advertised--and more. +It was all there. The flat, rich turf, the stream running through the +center of the valley, and the grove of trees under which he'd build the +prefab house. + +He'd anticipated the moment so many times, it was hard to believe it +had really arrived. But it was real--it was. Everything was exactly as +he'd expected to find it ... except for one thing. + +Always in his imagination, the land had been waiting for him to claim +it. Him alone--and his wife and son. + +But they weren't alone.... There were other people on the land. On his +land! + +And they were acting as if they lived there! + + * * * * * + +There were three of them--a man, a woman, and a boy of about nineteen. +The woman appeared to be cooking a meal over a wood fire, while the man +and boy were arranging a foundation pattern with part of the stack of +building materials which had been ear-marked for the house. + +For his house! + +Joan and Billy drew up alongside him, and together they stared at the +intruders. + +"Who are they, Claude?" his wife said. "What does it mean?" + +"I don't know, honey. Maybe they just stopped here to eat. That's what +it must be." + +"But the men. The way they're measuring.... As if they're going to +build." + +"We'll straighten it out, Joan.... Probably some mistake. I have our +land title. That'll prove they've made a mistake. Come on. We'll talk +to them." + +The intruders stopped what they were doing as they approached, and the +man--a huge, block-shouldered fellow in a leather jacket--pushed out a +hand. + +The man said: "Hello. My name's Whiting--Bruce Whiting." + +Claude took the hand. "Claude Marshall," he said. "And this is my wife +and my son." + +The man who called himself Whiting nodded, and looked over at his wife. +"We're fixing dinner," he said. "Why don't you and your family join us +before you push on?" + +Claude watched the man's face while he spoke. It was an open face. +Guileless. With ruddy skin and mild, grey eyes that twinkled a bit at +the corners. + +"We're not _pushing_ on," he said evenly. "We're staying. This is +_our_ land." + +Bruce Whiting smiled. "There must be some mistake. This land is ours. +The boy and I are just fixing to start building." + +Claude shook his head. "Not here you're not. Not on this land." He +spoke quietly; trying to keep his voice pitched below the emotion that +churned up inside him. + +"What's wrong, Dad?" The man's son joined them.... He was a big +strapping lad, with sandy hair and very bright skin. + +"These people are looking for their homestead," the man with the jacket +said. "They think _this_ is their site." + +"You think wrong, Mister," the youth said. "We double checked this +location three times before we made camp.... Right?" He turned to the +older man for confirmation. + +Whiting nodded. "The boy's right. This land is ours. We've got a deed +to prove it." + +"So have I," Claude said frowning. "It's right here in the luggage.... +Wait. I'll show you...." He bent over, unzipping the knapsack and +rummaged around till he produced the manila envelope that held the +title papers. + +Bruce Whiting examined them carefully; first the neat rows of fine +print, then the dozen glossy color-photos which had been taken on the +property from strategic angles. He shook his head and turned to his son. + +"Get _our_ titles, Frank," he said. + +The boy left, returning within seconds with a similar manila envelope. +Bruce Whiting opened it and pushed a handful of papers at Claude. + +While his wife and son watched, Claude Marshall went through the papers +methodically.... They were all there. All the measurements; looking +like duplicates, backed up by photos that had apparently been developed +from the same negatives.... He glanced at his wife. + +"Something's wrong, Joan," he said. "Mr. Whiting has a claim on this +land too. It's just like ours.... Exactly!" + +"But I don't understand, Claude." + +"It's not too hard to understand, Mrs. Marshall," Whiting said. "It +just means that someone in Washington loused up the detail. They're +always making mistakes like that.... I figure some clerk--" + +"But what are we supposed to _do_?" + +Bruce Whiting moved his shoulders. "I don't know, Mrs. Marshall. I just +don't know.... After all we were here _first_. Why don't you take it up +with the Colonization Director?... Maybe there's another tract he could +give you." + +"I don't want another tract," Claude said flatly. "I want this one." + +"So do I, Mr. Marshall." + +"But the land's mine!" + +"Is it? How about _my_ title? It's just as valid as yours." + +"That'll be for the law to decide," Claude said grimly. "And we'll +fight you on it. By God, we'll fight you on it all the way from here to +Washington and back!" + +"That's up to you, of course. In the meantime, may I remind you that I +hold possession?" + +Claude Marshall bit his lip. + +"Let's go Joan," he said. + +"Where, Claude?" + +"Back to the spaceport. We'll get a ruling on this." + +"But it's getting dark. Can't we make camp someplace and go back +tomorrow?" + +"I'm hungry," Billy said. + +"We can eat later, Son." + +Bruce Whiting continued to regard them sullenly. Then abruptly, his +face softened. "Wait," he said. "Don't go. Your wife's right, Mr. +Marshall. You can't make the trip after dark. Why don't you and your +family camp here for the night.... Alice has supper nearly ready and +there's more than enough to go around...." + +"We have our own rations," Claude said. + +Bruce Whiting spread out his hands. "Look, Mr. Marshall. I know how you +feel. I know, because it's the same way _I_ feel. I guess a man can't +help the way he feels when something threatens the thing he's been +dreaming about all his life. But it isn't my fault that this happened +any more than it's your fault. Since the problem concerns both of us, I +suggest we sit down and discuss it like intelligent human beings." + +"Mr. Whiting's right," Joan said. "After all it isn't his fault--" + +"Another thing," Bruce Whiting went on. "I'm expecting a half-trac out +here tomorrow with some supplies. If you and your family wanted to, +there's no reason why we couldn't all ride back with him.... Maybe we +could get this thing straightened out then and still be friends." + +Claude flicked a look toward the far-off hills that were haloed by the +last rays of a strange sun. Within moments it would be dark. And a few +yards away a woman threw another log on the fire and the pungent aroma +of boiling coffee drifted across his nostrils. + +"I'm hungry," Billy repeated. + +Claude held out his hand. + +"I'm sorry," he said. "As you say: this isn't our fault. We're just +caught in the middle." + + * * * * * + +They ate picnic-style, off plastic dishes, while Bruce Whiting kept up +a continuous stream of conversation, aided from time to time by his +comely wife. + +The Whiting's story was a familiar one. He'd been with an advertising +agency when the colonization urge had struck him.... That was ten years +ago.... He'd talked it over with his wife, and together they'd weighed +the chances of surviving the rigid tests that eliminated 97% of the +applicants. + +The story had a pattern you could play by ear. Just another man, and +another woman, and another boy now in his teens, who'd grown tired of +the struggle for survival in a world that begrudged a man the space +occupied by his own body. + +And when the meal was over, Joan helped Alice Whiting with the dishes, +while the men sat around the fire and smoked. It was dark out now--a +strange kind of darkness, split only by billions of incredibly bright +stars and the nearby glow of the crackling wood fire. + +Bruce Whiting's cordiality was contagious too. Claude found himself +talking now; describing his wants, his ideas, and his ideals. And when +the women returned to the circle, the conversation turned to other +subjects. They discussed clothes, their children, and the future of the +planet. + +Only one subject was carefully avoided. + +And that was the one that was foremost in the minds of all of them. + +They were still talking when the fire had settled into weary heaps +of smouldering embers. Then the two families excused themselves and +retired to the canvas lean-to's wondering what the next day would hold +in store for them. + + * * * * * + +The blue sun of Centauri was almost at zenith the next day, when the +half-trac arrived with the supplies. + +The driver--an amiable man--listened patiently while Bruce and Claude +related the mixup, and as had been expected, agreed to transport them +back to the base. + +The two families rode together in the open back of the vehicle as it +jounced over the mildly sloping terrain. And yet the ride was not +unpleasant. The immensity of the planet was breathtaking. It was +exactly as the colorcasts had pictured it--only better, incredibly +better. No TV travelogue could adequately describe the tang of the air, +or the scent of the sweet-smelling grass. + +God had indeed been generous with this portion of the planet. + +It was hard to believe that the opposite side was a rocky wasteland +that would probably fight colonization for another thousand years. + +Almost before they knew it, they were at the spaceport. Sometime during +the night, another ship had arrived. It stood majestically at the far +end of the apron, towering over a knot of tiny figures grouped around +the rudder stanchions. + +The driver swooped past them and brought the half-trac to a halt in +front of the reception center where they observed the Colonization +Director watching them through the window of his office. + +Inside, Leon Stubbs greeted them cordially and ushered them into an +inner office containing a metal desk and a dozen file cabinets. + +The Director listened patiently, shaking his head from time to time +and muttering remarks about government inefficiency.... When they'd +finished, he ran his hand through his greying hair. + +"This, of course, is an outrage, Gentlemen," he said. "But before I +can do anything, I'll have to check both your claims." He indicated +the file cabinets. "It may take a little time but I'll get at it right +away. As a matter of fact I believe they're serving lunch at the mess +hall now. Why don't you all have lunch and come back in about an hour. +I'll know more about the situation then." + +Leon Stubbs shuffled through some papers on the desk, indicating +dismissal. The two men joined their families in the anteroom. + +After an awkward silence, Bruce Whiting and his family excused +themselves, leaving the Marshall's alone. + +"What did he say, Claude? Tell me! What did he say?" + +"He doesn't know yet, honey. He's checking the claims. We're supposed +to come back in an hour." + +"But it will be all right, won't it. It's got to be all right!" + +"I don't know, Joan. So help me, I don't know.... We can't both have +the land. That's for sure. One of us will have to settle for someplace +else." + +"Suppose we _did_ have to take another tract, Claude. Would you be +disappointed--I mean, really disappointed.... After all, isn't the +important thing the fact that we're here?" + +Claude managed a smile. "I suppose so," he admitted. "It's just that +it comes as sort of a letdown. For almost seven years now we've been +looking at the pictures of _this_ land. We knew where we'd build the +house, what portion we'd farm.... I know every tree, every square inch +of it.... And now--" + +"But there's other land. We've only seen a small portion of the planet." + +He shook his head. + +"Not like this. This claim has everything. What's more, Whiting knows +it. That's why he'll fight us on it all the way." + +"They seem like nice people. Claude. Couldn't we talk to them ... make +some sort of deal?" + +"A deal? What sort of deal?" + +"A hundred acres is a lot of land--an awful lot of land.... Maybe the +Whitings would--" + +"Uh uh. No good. I've already felt him out on that. I had the same idea +last night, so I came right out and asked him if he'd settle for fifty +acres apiece.... He refused. Oh, he was nice enough about it. But he +gave me to understand it was all or nothing with him." + +"I'm hungry," Billy said. + +Claude looked at his wife. "So am I. Let's go over to the mess hall. +That's where the Whitings went, I think." + +"Claude?" + +"Yes, Joan." + +"Let's not sit with them, if we meet them there." + +"All right, honey. Let's not." + +They were halfway to the door when Leon Stubbs came out of the inner +office. He smiled. + +"Mind stepping inside a moment?" he said. + +When Claude hesitated, he added: "Perhaps Mrs. Marshall had better come +in too." + +They followed him inside where the Director indicated two chairs +alongside the desk. + +"I've been checking your claims," he said. "And since you were still +here, I didn't think it advisable to prolong the suspense." + +Claude glanced at his wife. + +"You mean it's all right ... the land is ours?" + +The Director sat down and spread open a pair of folders on the desk. +For a long while he stared at them--comparing them. He shook his head. + +"I'm afraid not, Mr. Marshall. I'm afraid it isn't all right." + +"But our claim. It's valid, isn't it?" + +Leon Stubbs ran a hand through his greying hair. "I don't know," he +said. "Naturally the fault for processing duplicate claims lies with +the colonization bureau in Washington. Eventually, I suppose it will +be up to them to decide on the disposition of this case.... However, +because of the time-lag in communications, I have full authority to +pass down temporary decisions in matters of this type.... And because +Mr. Whiting's claim is dated several days ahead of yours, I must in all +fairness award the land to him.... You and your wife can appeal that +decision of course." + +"We'll appeal, Mr. Stubbs," Claude said angrily. "After all, this mess +is the government's fault. Not ours! It's up to them to straighten it +out." + +"That's up to you," Leon Stubbs said. "Although I'm sure you realize +that in the meantime you'll have to make some temporary arrangements." + +"Temporary arrangements?" + +"Yes, Mr. Marshall. Even assuming the government decides in your +favor--which I doubt--you'll have to live _somewhere_ while the case is +being processed.... And that will take some time." + +"How long?" + +Leon Stubbs shuffled through the papers again. + +"You know about the time-lag, don't you?" + +"No. What about the time-lag?" + +The Director met his stare. "I thought you knew. Actually the only +communication we have with Terra short of space travel, is by short +wave radio, and radio waves as you may know travel at approximately the +speed of light. Since we are approximately 4.4 light-years away from +Earth, a round trip message to Washington would take about nine years. +This of course does not take into consideration the time needed to +process your case." + +Claude kept watching the Director's face while he spoke. He _looked_ +like an honest man. To all intents and purposes he was simply a public +servant performing a distasteful duty. Yet there was something about +his voice that had an all-too-familiar ring.... Something that hinted +he was leading up to an offer. + +Claude cleared his throat. "All right, Mr. Stubbs. So you've convinced +me of the futility of appealing the claim. What now?" + +Leon Stubbs bit off the end of a cigar and lit it before answering. + +"I've arranged to give you and your family an alternate claim, Mr. +Marshall. Of course it isn't quite as desirable as the original one. +But under the circumstances--" He let the sentence trail off. + +"I see," Claude said. "And where is this alternate claim?" + +Stubbs examined the end of his cigar. + +"It's on the other side of the planet, Mr. Marshall. I'm sorry, but +that's the best I can do." + +At his elbow, Claude caught the sharp intake of his wife's breath. + +"It really isn't _too_ bad," the Director went on. "Many of the reports +about the cold-side have been exaggerated." + +"I'm sure they have," Claude said bitterly. "I'm sure it's just the +place to bring up a nine-year-old boy." + +"Please Mr. Marshall. Don't be bitter. It isn't my fault." + +Claude got up placing his palms on the edge of the metal desk. He +leaned forward till his face was only inches away from the Director's +cigar, and said: "Isn't it?" + +The Director didn't answer. Instead he got up and walked over to the +open window. For ten full seconds he stared out at the lush valley that +flanked the spaceport. Then he turned. + +"You want my advice, Mr. Marshall?" + +Claude shrugged his shoulders. + +"Go home," Leon Stubbs said. "You can't bring up a boy on the +cold-side. It just wouldn't work." + +"But we just got here," Joan said. "We sold everything we had to come +here!" + +Stubbs nodded. "I know," he said. He indicated the folders. "It's all +there in your records. Six years ago you left Terra with six-thousand +credits. But surely with that kind of money you could get a fresh start +almost anywhere." + +"But we want to stay here, Mr. Stubbs." + +Stubbs took a drag out of the cigar. + +"I know," he said woodenly. + +Claude remained silent, regarding the conversation carefully. A pattern +was beginning to form now--a familiar pattern. He walked over to where +the Director was standing. + +"Perhaps you could make a suggestion, Mr. Stubbs. Surely there must be +opportunities on _this_ side of the planet for a man with six-thousand +credits?" + +"I'm not quite sure what you're getting at," Leon Stubbs said. + +"I think you do, Mr. Stubbs," Claude retorted. "I think we're both +getting at the same thing. Suppose we dispense with the subtleties and +get down to cases." + +The Director sat down at the desk pyramiding his fingertips. + +"Very well, Mr. Marshall," he said. "I'll be blunt. It's occurred to me +that if the date on your claim were changed, the land would naturally +be yours. The difficulty of course lies in the fact that there are +duplicate records on Terra and we'd have to take care of the man who +handles them. Otherwise the discrepancy would show up eventually. +Actually, I want nothing for myself but these people in Washington--" + +"Yeah, I know," Claude interrupted. "It's someone else who's getting +the money. It's _always_ someone else who's getting the money." + +"It would take quite a bit, I'm afraid," the Director said ignoring the +sarcasm. + +"How much?" + +The Director stubbed out the end of his cigar. "About five thousand," +he said. "Yes. Five thousand ought to do it." + +Claude looked at his wife. + +And she looked back at him. + +Outside, Billy had tired of the seven-year-old magazine and was +hammering on the door for admittance. + +"Can we have a few minutes to think it over?" Claude said. + +"Certainly," Stubbs said amiably. "And I want to make it quite clear, +Mr. Marshall, that this money is not for me. There's this fellow--" + +"Yeah, I know. There's this fellow in Washington. Come on Joan. Let's +step outside a moment." + + * * * * * + +Ten minutes later, Leon Stubbs answered their knock and ushered them +to the desk chairs. After they were seated, he said: "I take it you've +talked it over." + +Claude nodded. "Yes, Mr. Stubbs. My wife and I talked it over and we +came to a decision." + +"I'm glad," the Director said. "And may I say I think you're doing a +wise thing. Centifor's a beautiful place. Simply beautiful...." + +"Yes it is," Claude agreed. "It is beautiful. That's why we'd like to +see it stay that way." + +The Director raised an eyebrow. + +"My wife and I talked it over," Claude went on, "and we decided that +taking someone else's land whether it's done by theft, force, or +bribery is wrong. We thought of this place as something fresh and +clean. We thought all those tests we took were designed to keep people +like you out of here. Now it appears we were mistaken. We've talked it +over, Mr. Stubbs, and we've decided to go back to Earth and expose you." + +"But you can't," the Director said. "You've--" + +"Yes we can," Claude said. "The ships go back practically empty. A +return berth will be no trouble at all. We're returning on the first +ship out." + +"Perhaps we could make a better deal," Stubbs said. "Perhaps five +thousand is too much. Perhaps--" + +"No. No deals! Let's go Joan." + +They went outside, into the fresh warm sunshine, staring at the torpedo +shaped spaceship standing in the clearance area half-a-mile away. + +They'd just started toward it, when a jeep squealed up alongside them. +Bruce Whiting was at the wheel. + +"Hi," he said. "Hop in. I'll give you a lift." + +"Thanks," Claude said without bitterness. He helped his wife and son +into the rear seat and climbed in beside the driver. + +"I suppose congratulations are in order," he said as the other man +threw the vehicle into gear. "Stubbs tells me the land is yours now." + +The driver nodded, inching down on the accelerator. The vehicle leaped +forward. At seventy miles an hour, they swooped past the spaceship and +the knot of people standing in the shadow of the rudder stanchions. + +"Hey. Slow up!" Claude yelled. "We're getting off here. We're booking +return passage on that ship!" + +Whiting didn't answer. + +The low slung buildings of the clearance area leaped up at them and +passed into the background. They were heading into open country now. + +"Whiting! Turn around. We're staying here in the clearance area!" + +Whiting's foot slacked off the accelerator. The speedometer dropped to +fifty. But the vehicle kept moving into open country. The man at the +wheel flicked a look at Claude and smiled. + +"Congratulations, Mr. Marshall," he said. "You've passed the final +test." + +"Test? I don't understand." + +"Let me explain then," Bruce Whiting said. "In the first place my name +isn't Whiting.... It's Reed--Paul Reed. I work for the government. This +final test--the one you just went through--was designed to weed out any +undesirables who might have slipped through our screening processes +back on Earth." + +"You mean this whole build up was just a test?" + +The other man nodded. "We give it to every new arrival here. Now that +you've passed, I'm driving you out to your homestead site." + +Claude looked back at the newly-arrived spaceship and the tiny figures +who were huddled at its base. + +"All those people," he said. "You mean they still have to go through +what we did?" + +The driver shook his head. + +"No. Those people are going back to Earth. You see, Mr. Marshall, those +are the people who offered Leon Stubbs the bribe." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jekyll and Hyde Planet, by Jack Lewis + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59403 *** |