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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8280193 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60683 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60683) diff --git a/old/60683-h.zip b/old/60683-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e87869f..0000000 --- a/old/60683-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60683-h/60683-h.htm b/old/60683-h/60683-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 8be69b2..0000000 --- a/old/60683-h/60683-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1219 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Baker's Dozens, by Jim Harmon. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Baker's Dozens, by Jim Harmon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Baker's Dozens - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: November 13, 2019 [EBook #60683] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAKER'S DOZENS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="344" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Baker's Dozens</h1> - -<h2>By JIM HARMON</h2> - -<p><i>Catching him was no problem; they caught<br /> -him everywhere—and practically all at once!</i></p> - -<p class="ph1">[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1959.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Mr. Street, you are the foremost xenologist on Earth," the director of -Extraterrestrial Investigations said to the tall man.</p> - -<p>"I know," Street said.</p> - -<p>"What do you know about the infamous criminal, Baker, the so-called -'Robin Hood' who is actually a scarlet fiend?"</p> - -<p>"Everything."</p> - -<p>"Surely not how he died."</p> - -<p>"Everything but that."</p> - -<p>The director put his briefcase on his knees. "Mr. Street, my agency -received numerous accounts of his death, or deaths, on various worlds. -Can you tell me which, if any, of these stories is true by studying our -intelligence reports?"</p> - -<p>"Easily," Street said.</p> - -<p>"We have had Baker under observation many times by our planted -Orwells—our peepbugs—but you must understand that we need absolute -<i>proof</i> on him since he has supporters even on Earth, and in waiting -for that proof, we lost contact often at vital moments."</p> - -<p>"I understand perfectly," Street assured him.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">I</p> - -<p>"Are there really space pirates?" Mrs. Fuljohn inquired of him, -giggling furiously.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Virginia, there really are space pirates," Baker assured her.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Fuljohn lowered very long lashes over formidable eyes. "My first -name is Christine. Will they come at us out of the void with all guns -blasting?"</p> - -<p>"I doubt it. They would want to rob the liner, not disintegrate it."</p> - -<p>Baker excused himself and strolled toward the afterdeck of "A" class.</p> - -<p>He had lied to the lady. (The hyper-Orwell focused directly on -him picked up the tiny whisper of his subvocalizations.) He was a -pirate, but there was one part of the cargo he did want to destroy, -not steal—the first-grade readers for the Mission Houses for Alien -Natives on Ignatz XI. Men called him a traitor to the human race, -but he seethed at the corruptive propaganda being fed to the swinoid -youngsters of the planet.</p> - -<p><i>This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home.... -This little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none....</i></p> - -<p>It was insidious, evil. It said in effect that races who shared a -common ancestor with the pig had better trade with Earthmen on their -terms—on <i>any</i> terms—if they hoped to go on being allowed to eat.</p> - -<p>Double-dealing Earthmen with their devious schemes were daily robbing -literal-minded extraterrestrials like the Ignatz swinoids blind. -Sometimes it made him ashamed to be an Earthman. Let some call him a -renegade! He was going to help these sentient beings.</p> - -<p>He had a plan, even if he lacked the armed battle cruiser that the -pirates had in the teletapes. There was a small corvet waiting for him -on Ignatz XI. It lacked the restricted official light-drive of military -and police craft, having only a civilian planetary-field booster, but -if all went well, it would be sufficient for his escape.</p> - -<p>Baker glanced at the dial of his watch—it showed no tell-tale color of -listening devices within his area. (The detector had been sold to him -by an ETI agent and, of course, it lied.) Confident, he stepped over -the chain separating him from the stairs to "B" Deck.</p> - -<p>Wurmong was waiting for him as planned.</p> - -<p>"<i>Si</i>," the fat, swarthy man said, "my brother, my nephews, my -cousins—we will bring our extra luggage to the cargo hold tonight."</p> - -<p>"I'll predispose the guards. Come right into Hold 7. Understand?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Da</i>," Wurmong assured him.</p> - -<p>The man on watch collapsed soundlessly at a beam of nerve pressure on -the neck, and Baker slipped inside, immediately beginning to eject the -first-grade readers through the escape hatch by the gross.</p> - -<p>The mercenary, Wurmong, and his army of family arrived with experienced -stealth and began dumping the new books from their privileged luggage.</p> - -<p>Baker replaced the contents of the opened crates with the variant -readers. These volumes might be the tiny counterbalance needed to -free a world of swinoids from domination by Earth. Who knew the full -extent of the psychological effect of <i>The Three Little Pigs</i> on young, -formative minds?</p> - -<p>His work done, Baker sadly regarded the precious jewels and the -negotiable bonds from the registered mail. There was no way around it. -This had to look like a robbery. It was necessary that he take them. -Quickly, he stuffed everything into his synthetic appendix....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Baker was allowed to disembark on Ignatz XI so that he might be traced -to his alien fellow-conspirators.</p> - -<p>The heavy-jowled biped who greeted him at the smoky tavern was joyous. -"You have done the next best thing for us to enabling us to tell your -busybody missionaries to go home. We look upon you as one of our own -and are hungry for the sight of you. May you remain with us long."</p> - -<p>"Too much work," Baker said, gagging over the native beer. "But I must -ask you a favor. You implied you'd give me your right arm."</p> - -<p>"Anything we have is yours. But would not a cadaver's limb suit you as -well as mine?"</p> - -<p>"I must escape from this world. You can give a private citizen like me -something only a sovereign government can. I want the jump drive."</p> - -<p>"Not that!"</p> - -<p>"Yes! I've earned it, haven't I?"</p> - -<p>The swinoid nodded wearily. "You have. The device will be put in your -spacer. Use it only in deep space."</p> - -<p>He was now in orbit. That was far enough out. Earth patrols could still -pick him up easily. The ETI spy pickup observed him as he reached out -and put a finger to the button of the device given him by the Swinoids, -as Earth ships closed rapidly. He pressed the button.</p> - -<p><i>In a crisping flash of flame, he lit with incredible speed.</i></p> - - -<p class="ph1">II</p> - -<p>"Naturally, we lost contact after the ship went up in flames. If that -man was the true Baker, he was undoubtedly destroyed. Of course, we -have a report from our spies on Klondike II of events running just -about concurrently."</p> - -<p>"If you'll allow one interruption," Street interjected. "As a competent -xenological ethnologist, I can assure you that Baker was, at least, not -completely destroyed by the fire. His somewhat roasted remains would -have been appropriated by the swinoids."</p> - -<p>"How so?"</p> - -<p>"These people are as similar to pigs as we are to apes. When one of -their own wishes to die, as they thought Baker did, in their typical -alien literal-mindedness, they dispose of his body in a special way. -Remember how they said they thought of Baker as one of their own and -were hungry even for the sight of him?"</p> - - -<p class="ph1">III</p> - -<p>Baker had been walking for two weeks across the primitive surface of -the mining planet, Klondike II, to reach the shack in the gray shadow -of the granite mountain. It wasn't gold he was after but escape. Unlike -others seeking it, he had headed away from the saloons. But the -peepbug's lens of air had followed him.</p> - -<p>Minutes later, he was knocking on the door. He <i>had</i> to have a means -of transportation at least as good as government ships to do his work -of helping the aliens, and make his escapes. At least as good, and -preferably better.</p> - -<p>The door was cracked by a kind-looking old man. "You got five seconds -to get, before thirty thousand volts of electricity go through those -floorboards you're standing on," the old man said kindly.</p> - -<p>"Professor Gentle," Baker said hastily, "I have many friends. One -of them has told me you have established a major breakthrough in -electronics, that you have in fact invented a machine to transmit -matter as radio and television transmit sound and sight."</p> - -<p>"Some loose-lipped electronics jobber found that out, did he? Step -right in."</p> - -<p>"Do you suppose <i>I</i> might be teleported?" Baker asked tentatively.</p> - -<p>"Of course you can, my boy. But first perhaps you'd like to take a look -at some of the things I have teleported so far."</p> - -<p>Baker looked at the animals—they <i>were</i> animals?—in the cages lining -the laboratory. He had been hungry a minute before. Now he had trouble -just swallowing.</p> - -<p>"Like making the original adjustments on a video set," the old man -explained. "Hard to get your focus, your horizontal and vertical -interlineation just right. There's some distortion sometimes. Sort -of—messy."</p> - -<p>"On soul-searching consideration—" Baker began.</p> - -<p>"Don't take another step toward that door. I've got the floor -checkerboarded with electric grids where I can turn on the juice -wherever you set your foot. Control's in my upper plate. Step in that -coffin, boy. Just my little pet name for it; don't worry."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>With some degree of reluctance, Baker stepped into the left of twin -vertical boxes. The lid closed in his face and locked.</p> - -<p>Before he could have time to begin worrying about his air supply, the -cover sprang open, and he stepped out. "Test over?" There was an echo.</p> - -<p>A man stood in front of the second coffin. Baker had entered the one on -the left and he was still in front of the left box.</p> - -<p>But he was also now in front of the cabinet on the right. He had been -completely duplicated.</p> - -<p>"That damned feedback again," Gentle grumbled.</p> - -<p>In the first shock of this duplication and therefore seeming negation -of his individual ego, Baker almost went mad.</p> - -<p>"You did this to me!" said Baker and Baker to Gentle, each drawing a -concealed weapon and shooting the old man in the heart.</p> - -<p>"You two fellers drop your guns and stand still," the voice behind them -said. "The professor was always saying I was the most simple-minded -assistant he ever had, but I've got brains enough to pull this trigger -on this old shotgun if you move."</p> - -<p>(The ETI chief explained: "The rest is hearsay. Those miners spyproof -their towns.")</p> - -<p>The trial was short with Jeb, the assistant's, testimony, but the -jury deliberation was unaccountably long on the primitive world where -justice ran fast for a blind woman.</p> - -<p>"We waited long enough," Jeb said to the other men in the saloon. -"Let's break them out of the cellar and hang 'em."</p> - -<p>The miners didn't let the jury set a precedent. They hoisted a few -inside the bar and went out of Lone Splyg Hill and hoisted two more.</p> - -<p>"What have you idiots done?" the sheriff yelled as they trooped back -into Klondike City.</p> - -<p>"Anticipated the verdict a mite," Jeb admitted.</p> - -<p>"That's just it," the sheriff groaned. "It was ruled justifiable -homicide. Temporary insanity. At the time of the crime, each of the -defendants was beside himself!"</p> - - -<p class="ph1">IV</p> - -<p>"Obviously," Street said, "this is no more than a folk legend."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure?" the director of the ETI asked, fingering the report.</p> - -<p>"It can't be anything else. Granted that all the other events were -true, I would know Baker was still alive—only one, because neither -could stand the threat of the other, to his ego. You see, the case -would never have come to trial. It would have been immediately -dismissed."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"My dear fellow, both Bakers could not have been put on trial for the -same murder, as any student of law would know. This would have violated -the basic protection of double jeopardy."</p> - - -<p class="ph1">V</p> - -<p>A fast spaceship to put him well ahead of the law, and a place to hide -out until things simmered down, that was all Baker wanted and it was -what he had. He was too hot for more. ("This is how we reconstruct it -from our informant's version," the ETI chief said.)</p> - -<p>For the hundredth time, he located Wister VI on the star map. It had -been discovered by the Gordon-Poul expedition half a century before. -Few people ever knew about it, and most of those had forgotten it. -He would never have known about it himself if it hadn't been on the -credentials of that bank official.</p> - -<p>With those papers he was set to spend several profitable years in the -Great National Bank. He would be an alien, but somehow aliens always -seemed to have more money than natives on any given planet.</p> - -<p>As blastdown time approached, he read the characteristics of Wister -IV and found his greatest inconvenience would be the intense sunlight -from the double suns, not bright enough to burn but brilliant enough to -dazzle. He searched the ship for sunglasses, but all he could find were -snow goggles—a visor of black plastic with twin slits to look through. -He put them on, resolving never to steal an improperly equipped -spaceship again....</p> - -<p>"Howdy, pardner." The humanoid at the spaceport was bald and green. He -wore a wide-brimmed hat, chaps, and a large gun. Nothing else at all. -"Forgive my informal dress. Forgot my kerchief, boots and spurs this -morning. Who might you be?"</p> - -<p>Baker gave the title of his position at the bank, explaining it would -be his job to help arrange for loans to the local ranchers.</p> - -<p>"You'll find this a friendly place. Tumbleweed is an <i>adult</i> Western -town—we know the banker ain't always the head of the gang of rustlers."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As the weeks passed, Baker learned to live with the aliens' strange -obsession with the things and persons of the Old West. They were even -more fanatic than terrestrial Frenchmen over the American Frontier. It -was not exaggerating to say that they regarded the men in the old films -they got from Earth as gods.</p> - -<p>They had appropriated appropriate Western given and surnames, but while -there were plenty of Wills and Davys, and Rogerses and Crocketts, it -was always Will Crockett and Davy Rogers. Anything other than that -would be sacrilege.</p> - -<p>Baker's biggest problem was getting a good mixed martini. Everybody on -Wister VI drank their rotgut straight. But by becoming friendly with -the bartender, Gene Gibson, at the Golden Slipper, he managed to get -his mixed drinks.</p> - -<p>"Which do you think was faster on the draw, Matt Dillon or William S. -Hart?" Tom asked Baker early one evening.</p> - -<p>"I don't give a hoot, Gibson," Baker snarled, reaching for his martini.</p> - -<p>Shocked faces along the bar turned toward him, and hands moved toward -loaded guns.</p> - -<p>"I meant pictures," Baker said hastily. "I wouldn't give one of my -pictures of Hoot Gibson for two each of Ken Maynard and Tim McCoy."</p> - -<p>"Everybody to his own taste," Gibson said agreeably.</p> - -<p>Baker exhaled and gulped his drink. It had been a close one.</p> - -<p>But as time wore on, the habits of the West-loving aliens grated more -and more on Baker's soul. He was particularly irritated by the weekly -ritual every male had of riding into the sunset. Since there were -two sunsets in opposite directions, it was a long and involved and -thoroughly annoying process.</p> - -<p>Tom Wayne had kept Baker waiting an hour at the Golden Slipper to -discuss his loan. Baker was exasperated and dry. Local custom regarded -it as friendly to not begin your drinking before your companion arrived.</p> - -<p>Gibson laid out the ingredients of the martini on the bar. "You going -to wait any longer for Tom to finish riding into the sunset before I -start mixing?"</p> - -<p>Baker whirled angrily. "Nuts to Tom! <i>Mix!</i>"</p> - -<p>Before the blasphemous words died on his lips, Baker saw death in the -rising barrels of the vengeful six-shooters.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">VI</p> - -<p>"I doubt this story very much," Street said to the director.</p> - -<p>"The planet and its conditions have been verified," the director -replied.</p> - -<p>"Even better reason to doubt that Baker died there. He probably was -worshipped as one of the gods."</p> - -<p>"Why do you think that?" the director asked the xenologist.</p> - -<p>"Think it out for yourself. Imagine the reception that would be given -to a man who stepped out of a spaceship, wearing what would appear to -be a black mask, and who told these people he was the loan arranger."</p> - - -<p class="ph1">VII</p> - -<p>Baker jammed the accelerator of the groundcar down until his thumbnail -turned white. The eye of the ETI peepbug observed the police car of the -native authorities behind Baker's vehicle, closing fast.</p> - -<p>This is how it happens, he subvocalized. A great career in -interplanetary crime ends with an arrest by hick cops for selling dirty -books. Why had he ever sunk so low? That was easy—it took a stake to -do anything big and he had to get a pile by selling books, after <i>that</i> -had happened to him on Wellington I.</p> - -<p><i>The Decameron</i>, <i>Forever Amber</i>, <i>Pierre Louys</i>, all the old classics -like that still went over with some of the humanoid and biped races. -(He had none of the newer stuff, only titles in the public domain—he -couldn't force himself to fall to the level of a <i>literary</i> pirate.) -But here on Lintz III he was slaying braces of fowl with a single -stone. Lintzians were highly stimulated by intricate philosophy and -mathematics. This allowed him to sell banned copies of Korzybski at -outrageous prices, while at the same time introducing the native -intellectuals to human semantics, a definite aid to the natives in -throwing off the verbal domination by Earthmen.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Humans First Lobby in the Galactic Legislature was willing to live -with the difficulties caused by the absolute literal-mindedness of most -extraterrestrials, so long as they could continue to make them believe -in lifetime guarantees and unbreakable toys for inventive youngsters.</p> - -<p>True, many a human traveler had lived to regret a chance remark to -the effect he could eat a horse, and nobody likes to think of what -happened to people who exclaimed a preference for being damned within -range of obliging natives, but all in all, those were minor liabilities -in the path of the infernal machine of progress. The ETI was working -double-shifts to find human renegades who were teaching the semantic -variations in words of human speech to aliens. On a world where -philosophy and higher math were themselves proscribed because of the -limiting factor of narcotic colloidal reaction, he also had to reckon -with native cops.</p> - -<p>He wasn't going to be able to outrun this squadcar. Baker let it -pull alongside and dialed himself regretfully toward the embankment. -Then as the police matched his maneuver, he switched on emergency -power and sideswiped them with an ear-jarring crash. Thrown from the -counterbalance of its gravitic suspension system, the squadcar sailed -off as helplessly as a balloon....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Ryshid!" Baker yelled on entering his quarters. "Get my smoking -jacket! Isn't dinner prepared yet?"</p> - -<p>The turbaned, green-skinned native did what might have been called a -<i>salaam</i> if he had been a Moslem instead of a Hindu. "Everything is in -readiness, <i>Sahib</i>."</p> - -<p>Baker was sorry he had spoken so shortly, but somehow he always did. -Ryshid understood. Baker was under a terrible strain, not knowing when -the ETI might descend on him. There was also the matter of Malissa, his -wife, whom he missed very much. But as a Hinduphile, a true convert, -Ryshid was of a gentle and forgiving nature.</p> - -<p>As Baker settled back in his easy chair, someone started smashing in -the back door.</p> - -<p>By the time the police of Lintz reached the living room, Baker was gone.</p> - -<p>"Alas," the sergeant-major intoned, "if only the sinner had repented -his purchase of the forbidden book before instead of after he finished -reading it."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As soon as he lifted the curtain of his own modest dwelling in the -native quarter, Ryshid knew there was someone in the darkness, waiting -for him.</p> - -<p>"I hope you don't mind, old boy," Baker said. "Didn't know where else -to go to escape being hunted down."</p> - -<p>"I am overjoyed to find you well, <i>Sahib</i>. How did you escape?"</p> - -<p>Baker told him about his escape, but somehow his talk kept coming back -to Malissa, his wife. "I tell you it would take Kathleen Windsor to -describe her. She's—but I'm a bore, Ryshid."</p> - -<p>Ryshid drew the gun with a graceful movement. "As you say, <i>Sahib</i>. I -have read of our traditional life in India, and as a Hindu I know what -I must do when I find my home has been invaded by a hunted boar."</p> - -<p>Ryshid squeezed the trigger.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">VIII</p> - -<p>"The shot," the chief said to Street, "unfortunately destroyed our -peepbug."</p> - -<p>"You were taken there," Street replied. "There is only one way to -describe verbally Baker's attitude toward his man, proving this was all -an act. A good Hindu would never harm Baker. His wife is built like a -cow."</p> - - -<p class="ph1">IX</p> - -<p>Thorsen checked his gun inside his cummerbund. That was about the only -place a man or woman had to hide a weapon in these times of relatively -tight fashions on Earth. The gun was still there, safety off, as he -firmly expected.</p> - -<p>He settled back in his chair and glanced across the restaurant at -Hastings, the traitor. An infamous outlaw such as Baker could count on -few friends—one less than even he expected. The reward on the criminal -had grown sizable. Not that Thorsen was going to get any of it. All he -had to do was kill the poor devil on sight. It would be foolish to say -that he didn't like killing; it was his job in the ETI, but sometimes -he wearied of his work.</p> - -<p>What did Baker look like?</p> - -<p>It was a good question and it would give him something to think about -while he waited. On the face of the existing evidence, it was obvious -that Baker had somewhere discovered some means of superlative disguise. -He could so change himself with stretching, shrinking, fattening, and -slenderizing that if a man knew <i>he</i> wasn't Baker, he had to doubt -everybody and anybody else.</p> - -<p>Orders were to kill the first man who came up to Hastings at his table. -He would have to shoot if it were his own father, or the director of -the ETI, and there wasn't too much difference, he reflected.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was seated where he could see both the entrance and the door to the -men's room. Other agents were covering the back way. Baker would have -to come from the tiered front.</p> - -<p>Would Thorsen be able to kill Baker? If he got off the first shot, he -would. Evening fashions were too tight for meteor shields. If he were -wearing an electronic cuirass, he could tell it immediately by the -twin spheres that gave that football-shoulder effect. Moreover, had -anyone entered wearing such obvious armor, it would have been flashed -to him. In that case, a hand bomb would have to be used, which would be -unfortunate for Hastings, and possibly Thorsen.</p> - -<p>Hastings wasn't showing his fear—he had been doped to hide that—but -he was growing more alert. Baker must be coming!</p> - -<p>Thorsen forced himself not to give things away by reaching for his -weapon yet. He fastened his attention on the two doors into the cafe.</p> - -<p>The shot blew most of Thorsen's lungs away, but the electronic wiring -in his muscles kept the shock from killing him outright. He turned and -managed to get off one shot before death started climbing up his arms -from his fingers, and the weapon fell.</p> - -<p>He should have kept in mind that no one had ever seen Baker and lived -to tell it. Now he had seen Baker and he was not going to live either. -But then Baker was dead even now, in spite of Thorsen's mistake.</p> - -<p>Before he died, Thorsen took one last look at the figure with the long -golden hair lying on the threshold of the ladies' room.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">X</p> - -<p>"This story is absolutely authentic," the director said. "Several ETI -agents saw the whole thing. But somehow in the confusion somebody stole -Baker's body."</p> - -<p>"Really, Director!" Street said. "You don't actually believe Baker was -a woman."</p> - -<p>"Are you suggesting a disguise?"</p> - -<p>"It <i>had</i> to be. Baker's body disappeared by getting up and walking -away. The only way it could do that was for it to be armored. The only -way Baker could get into that building was for his armor to be hidden. -There was only one way he could hide the two spheres of electronic -equipment necessary to project the cuirass field, and he couldn't do it -if he <i>really</i> had been a woman."</p> - - -<p class="ph1">XI</p> - -<p>The director leveled his gun at Street.</p> - -<p>"I am at last convinced that there is only one way in which you could -be so certain that Baker is not dead. You know he is alive, and you -know it because you are Baker."</p> - -<p>"You are correct," Street said. "I am the celebrated Robin Hood of -space. It is too great an honor to deny."</p> - -<p>"I will go into confinement for many years because of what I am about -to do, but I must see the Galaxy rid of you."</p> - -<p>The director fired the lethal charge at point-blank range and the tall -man tumbled to the floor.</p> - -<p>"I had to do it," the director said over the body. "It was well enough -to frame you for Baker's crimes due to your suspicious knowledge of -him, but I didn't know you were going to fail to protest, that you were -going to go along with the lie. I couldn't stand another man living to -take the honor for being Baker. There can be no living Baker but <i>me</i>."</p> - - -<p class="ph1">XII</p> - -<p>The tall man rolled over on the floor and sat up. "Then you admit that -you are Baker? No, never mind firing again. I am wearing meteor armor -under my clothes. It's sufficient to stop a gun blast."</p> - -<p>"You are a clever devil," the director snarled.</p> - -<p>"A man has to be clever to be Baker."</p> - -<p>"You are NOT Baker!" the director shrieked. "I am!"</p> - -<p>"Are you?" the tall man said superciliously. "Think why you came here. -You've been working too hard, Director. You received too many stories -about Baker. You began envying him his freedom of movement. Soon you -began thinking you <i>were</i> Baker. Your analyst sent you to me, to make -you see through this legend of Baker. It was to my advantage to do so."</p> - -<p>The director wavered. "If I'm not Baker, who is?"</p> - -<p>"I told you," the tall man said, drawing a gun and shooting the -director in the head. "I am."</p> - -<p>He smiled down at the body. "You weren't wearing armor, were you?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Street reversed the dial on his gun and shot the director a second -time. Quickly, he stirred from his paralysis.</p> - -<p>"Sorry I had to do that, Director," Street said, "but I could see you -were about to strangle me with naked hands. The important thing was to -fix the idea firmly in your mind that I was Baker. If you thought I -was, you would have to realize that you couldn't be."</p> - -<p>"I do," the director said miserably as he climbed to his feet and -dusted off his breeches. "But if I'm not Baker and you're not Baker, -who is Baker?"</p> - -<p>"Director, just as telling your stories and hearing my answers to them -cured you of believing you were Baker, the events of this story are -designed to make someone remember the true identity of Baker—that very -person who now believes in a different personality of his own."</p> - -<p>"Who is this person who is really Baker?" the director asked.</p> - -<p>"<i>The person who is now reading this story</i>," Street said.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">XIII</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid it won't do, Mr. Street," the editor of <i>Man's True Space</i> -said across his desk. "It's fiction. There can be only one Baker and -tens of thousands would read the story in my magazine."</p> - -<p>"You are missing the point, Mr. Trent," Street said. "There is only one -manuscript and it is in your hands. <i>You</i> are Baker."</p> - -<p>"No," Trent said. "No."</p> - -<p>"Yes," Street said relentlessly. "Just as the director realized that -<i>he</i> was not Baker, you must realize <i>you</i> are."</p> - -<p>Trent lay back in his swivel, gasping. "All right, all right, I admit -it. I am Baker."</p> - -<p>"But you aren't really, Mr. Trent," Street said calmly. "I know you -thought at one time you were Baker and then repressed the idea. But I -knew at some future time the delusion might return and you would begin -claiming to be Baker once more. As you said, there can only be one -Baker. <i>I</i> am Baker."</p> - -<p>"You lie," Trent snarled. "I know the truth now. I am Baker, and there -<i>can</i> only be one."</p> - -<p>The editor jerked the gun up from his desk drawer. The shots crashed at -the same instant. Trent ran the letter spindle through his chest as he -fell across the desk. Street settled back into his chair comfortably, -death in his lungs from the gas bullet that had exploded against his -armor.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">XIV</p> - -<p>The director of Extraterrestrial Investigations opened the closet door -and stepped into the office. "The fools," Baker said to himself.</p> - -<p>He had no doubt that <i>he</i> was the true, the original Baker. He -remembered clearly that he had stepped out of the left cabinet of -Gentle's transmatter, the one which he had first entered. (He did -remember that, didn't he? Yes! Doubting himself was the first stride -down the road these two had taken.) His act to shock "Street" into -realizing they were <i>both</i> Baker had been elaborate, but "Street" had -gone schizoid.</p> - -<p>He was no copy, but there were copies of Baker, dozens of them, all -helping the downtrodden aliens from terrestrial exploitation and making -fortunes for themselves. There were fat ones, thin ones, tall ones, -short ones, all kinds of Bakers, thanks to the refinement of Gentle's -distortion factors in matter-duplicating to an exact science, a desired -result, not an accident like the duplication itself. Unfortunately, in -a few, physical distortion meant mental disorientation. These no longer -had to merely pretend to be other people than Baker.</p> - -<p>It was too bad about them—and about all the other Bakers who had -died. He really had died in all those ways on all those worlds in all -those bodies, despite "Street's" clever excuses. Still it wasn't a bad -life—helping the helpless and himself to all they could get.</p> - -<p>Yes, Baker decided, dying was a good way to make a living.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Baker's Dozens, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAKER'S DOZENS *** - -***** This file should be named 60683-h.htm or 60683-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/6/8/60683/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Baker's Dozens - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: November 13, 2019 [EBook #60683] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAKER'S DOZENS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Baker's Dozens - - By JIM HARMON - - _Catching him was no problem; they caught - him everywhere--and practically all at once!_ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1959. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -"Mr. Street, you are the foremost xenologist on Earth," the director of -Extraterrestrial Investigations said to the tall man. - -"I know," Street said. - -"What do you know about the infamous criminal, Baker, the so-called -'Robin Hood' who is actually a scarlet fiend?" - -"Everything." - -"Surely not how he died." - -"Everything but that." - -The director put his briefcase on his knees. "Mr. Street, my agency -received numerous accounts of his death, or deaths, on various worlds. -Can you tell me which, if any, of these stories is true by studying our -intelligence reports?" - -"Easily," Street said. - -"We have had Baker under observation many times by our planted -Orwells--our peepbugs--but you must understand that we need absolute -_proof_ on him since he has supporters even on Earth, and in waiting -for that proof, we lost contact often at vital moments." - -"I understand perfectly," Street assured him. - - - I - -"Are there really space pirates?" Mrs. Fuljohn inquired of him, -giggling furiously. - -"Yes, Virginia, there really are space pirates," Baker assured her. - -Mrs. Fuljohn lowered very long lashes over formidable eyes. "My first -name is Christine. Will they come at us out of the void with all guns -blasting?" - -"I doubt it. They would want to rob the liner, not disintegrate it." - -Baker excused himself and strolled toward the afterdeck of "A" class. - -He had lied to the lady. (The hyper-Orwell focused directly on -him picked up the tiny whisper of his subvocalizations.) He was a -pirate, but there was one part of the cargo he did want to destroy, -not steal--the first-grade readers for the Mission Houses for Alien -Natives on Ignatz XI. Men called him a traitor to the human race, -but he seethed at the corruptive propaganda being fed to the swinoid -youngsters of the planet. - -_This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home.... -This little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none...._ - -It was insidious, evil. It said in effect that races who shared a -common ancestor with the pig had better trade with Earthmen on their -terms--on _any_ terms--if they hoped to go on being allowed to eat. - -Double-dealing Earthmen with their devious schemes were daily robbing -literal-minded extraterrestrials like the Ignatz swinoids blind. -Sometimes it made him ashamed to be an Earthman. Let some call him a -renegade! He was going to help these sentient beings. - -He had a plan, even if he lacked the armed battle cruiser that the -pirates had in the teletapes. There was a small corvet waiting for him -on Ignatz XI. It lacked the restricted official light-drive of military -and police craft, having only a civilian planetary-field booster, but -if all went well, it would be sufficient for his escape. - -Baker glanced at the dial of his watch--it showed no tell-tale color of -listening devices within his area. (The detector had been sold to him -by an ETI agent and, of course, it lied.) Confident, he stepped over -the chain separating him from the stairs to "B" Deck. - -Wurmong was waiting for him as planned. - -"_Si_," the fat, swarthy man said, "my brother, my nephews, my -cousins--we will bring our extra luggage to the cargo hold tonight." - -"I'll predispose the guards. Come right into Hold 7. Understand?" - -"_Da_," Wurmong assured him. - -The man on watch collapsed soundlessly at a beam of nerve pressure on -the neck, and Baker slipped inside, immediately beginning to eject the -first-grade readers through the escape hatch by the gross. - -The mercenary, Wurmong, and his army of family arrived with experienced -stealth and began dumping the new books from their privileged luggage. - -Baker replaced the contents of the opened crates with the variant -readers. These volumes might be the tiny counterbalance needed to -free a world of swinoids from domination by Earth. Who knew the full -extent of the psychological effect of _The Three Little Pigs_ on young, -formative minds? - -His work done, Baker sadly regarded the precious jewels and the -negotiable bonds from the registered mail. There was no way around it. -This had to look like a robbery. It was necessary that he take them. -Quickly, he stuffed everything into his synthetic appendix.... - - * * * * * - -Baker was allowed to disembark on Ignatz XI so that he might be traced -to his alien fellow-conspirators. - -The heavy-jowled biped who greeted him at the smoky tavern was joyous. -"You have done the next best thing for us to enabling us to tell your -busybody missionaries to go home. We look upon you as one of our own -and are hungry for the sight of you. May you remain with us long." - -"Too much work," Baker said, gagging over the native beer. "But I must -ask you a favor. You implied you'd give me your right arm." - -"Anything we have is yours. But would not a cadaver's limb suit you as -well as mine?" - -"I must escape from this world. You can give a private citizen like me -something only a sovereign government can. I want the jump drive." - -"Not that!" - -"Yes! I've earned it, haven't I?" - -The swinoid nodded wearily. "You have. The device will be put in your -spacer. Use it only in deep space." - -He was now in orbit. That was far enough out. Earth patrols could still -pick him up easily. The ETI spy pickup observed him as he reached out -and put a finger to the button of the device given him by the Swinoids, -as Earth ships closed rapidly. He pressed the button. - -_In a crisping flash of flame, he lit with incredible speed._ - - - II - -"Naturally, we lost contact after the ship went up in flames. If that -man was the true Baker, he was undoubtedly destroyed. Of course, we -have a report from our spies on Klondike II of events running just -about concurrently." - -"If you'll allow one interruption," Street interjected. "As a competent -xenological ethnologist, I can assure you that Baker was, at least, not -completely destroyed by the fire. His somewhat roasted remains would -have been appropriated by the swinoids." - -"How so?" - -"These people are as similar to pigs as we are to apes. When one of -their own wishes to die, as they thought Baker did, in their typical -alien literal-mindedness, they dispose of his body in a special way. -Remember how they said they thought of Baker as one of their own and -were hungry even for the sight of him?" - - - III - -Baker had been walking for two weeks across the primitive surface of -the mining planet, Klondike II, to reach the shack in the gray shadow -of the granite mountain. It wasn't gold he was after but escape. Unlike -others seeking it, he had headed away from the saloons. But the -peepbug's lens of air had followed him. - -Minutes later, he was knocking on the door. He _had_ to have a means -of transportation at least as good as government ships to do his work -of helping the aliens, and make his escapes. At least as good, and -preferably better. - -The door was cracked by a kind-looking old man. "You got five seconds -to get, before thirty thousand volts of electricity go through those -floorboards you're standing on," the old man said kindly. - -"Professor Gentle," Baker said hastily, "I have many friends. One -of them has told me you have established a major breakthrough in -electronics, that you have in fact invented a machine to transmit -matter as radio and television transmit sound and sight." - -"Some loose-lipped electronics jobber found that out, did he? Step -right in." - -"Do you suppose _I_ might be teleported?" Baker asked tentatively. - -"Of course you can, my boy. But first perhaps you'd like to take a look -at some of the things I have teleported so far." - -Baker looked at the animals--they _were_ animals?--in the cages lining -the laboratory. He had been hungry a minute before. Now he had trouble -just swallowing. - -"Like making the original adjustments on a video set," the old man -explained. "Hard to get your focus, your horizontal and vertical -interlineation just right. There's some distortion sometimes. Sort -of--messy." - -"On soul-searching consideration--" Baker began. - -"Don't take another step toward that door. I've got the floor -checkerboarded with electric grids where I can turn on the juice -wherever you set your foot. Control's in my upper plate. Step in that -coffin, boy. Just my little pet name for it; don't worry." - - * * * * * - -With some degree of reluctance, Baker stepped into the left of twin -vertical boxes. The lid closed in his face and locked. - -Before he could have time to begin worrying about his air supply, the -cover sprang open, and he stepped out. "Test over?" There was an echo. - -A man stood in front of the second coffin. Baker had entered the one on -the left and he was still in front of the left box. - -But he was also now in front of the cabinet on the right. He had been -completely duplicated. - -"That damned feedback again," Gentle grumbled. - -In the first shock of this duplication and therefore seeming negation -of his individual ego, Baker almost went mad. - -"You did this to me!" said Baker and Baker to Gentle, each drawing a -concealed weapon and shooting the old man in the heart. - -"You two fellers drop your guns and stand still," the voice behind them -said. "The professor was always saying I was the most simple-minded -assistant he ever had, but I've got brains enough to pull this trigger -on this old shotgun if you move." - -(The ETI chief explained: "The rest is hearsay. Those miners spyproof -their towns.") - -The trial was short with Jeb, the assistant's, testimony, but the -jury deliberation was unaccountably long on the primitive world where -justice ran fast for a blind woman. - -"We waited long enough," Jeb said to the other men in the saloon. -"Let's break them out of the cellar and hang 'em." - -The miners didn't let the jury set a precedent. They hoisted a few -inside the bar and went out of Lone Splyg Hill and hoisted two more. - -"What have you idiots done?" the sheriff yelled as they trooped back -into Klondike City. - -"Anticipated the verdict a mite," Jeb admitted. - -"That's just it," the sheriff groaned. "It was ruled justifiable -homicide. Temporary insanity. At the time of the crime, each of the -defendants was beside himself!" - - - IV - -"Obviously," Street said, "this is no more than a folk legend." - -"Are you sure?" the director of the ETI asked, fingering the report. - -"It can't be anything else. Granted that all the other events were -true, I would know Baker was still alive--only one, because neither -could stand the threat of the other, to his ego. You see, the case -would never have come to trial. It would have been immediately -dismissed." - -"Why?" - -"My dear fellow, both Bakers could not have been put on trial for the -same murder, as any student of law would know. This would have violated -the basic protection of double jeopardy." - - - V - -A fast spaceship to put him well ahead of the law, and a place to hide -out until things simmered down, that was all Baker wanted and it was -what he had. He was too hot for more. ("This is how we reconstruct it -from our informant's version," the ETI chief said.) - -For the hundredth time, he located Wister VI on the star map. It had -been discovered by the Gordon-Poul expedition half a century before. -Few people ever knew about it, and most of those had forgotten it. -He would never have known about it himself if it hadn't been on the -credentials of that bank official. - -With those papers he was set to spend several profitable years in the -Great National Bank. He would be an alien, but somehow aliens always -seemed to have more money than natives on any given planet. - -As blastdown time approached, he read the characteristics of Wister -IV and found his greatest inconvenience would be the intense sunlight -from the double suns, not bright enough to burn but brilliant enough to -dazzle. He searched the ship for sunglasses, but all he could find were -snow goggles--a visor of black plastic with twin slits to look through. -He put them on, resolving never to steal an improperly equipped -spaceship again.... - -"Howdy, pardner." The humanoid at the spaceport was bald and green. He -wore a wide-brimmed hat, chaps, and a large gun. Nothing else at all. -"Forgive my informal dress. Forgot my kerchief, boots and spurs this -morning. Who might you be?" - -Baker gave the title of his position at the bank, explaining it would -be his job to help arrange for loans to the local ranchers. - -"You'll find this a friendly place. Tumbleweed is an _adult_ Western -town--we know the banker ain't always the head of the gang of rustlers." - - * * * * * - -As the weeks passed, Baker learned to live with the aliens' strange -obsession with the things and persons of the Old West. They were even -more fanatic than terrestrial Frenchmen over the American Frontier. It -was not exaggerating to say that they regarded the men in the old films -they got from Earth as gods. - -They had appropriated appropriate Western given and surnames, but while -there were plenty of Wills and Davys, and Rogerses and Crocketts, it -was always Will Crockett and Davy Rogers. Anything other than that -would be sacrilege. - -Baker's biggest problem was getting a good mixed martini. Everybody on -Wister VI drank their rotgut straight. But by becoming friendly with -the bartender, Gene Gibson, at the Golden Slipper, he managed to get -his mixed drinks. - -"Which do you think was faster on the draw, Matt Dillon or William S. -Hart?" Tom asked Baker early one evening. - -"I don't give a hoot, Gibson," Baker snarled, reaching for his martini. - -Shocked faces along the bar turned toward him, and hands moved toward -loaded guns. - -"I meant pictures," Baker said hastily. "I wouldn't give one of my -pictures of Hoot Gibson for two each of Ken Maynard and Tim McCoy." - -"Everybody to his own taste," Gibson said agreeably. - -Baker exhaled and gulped his drink. It had been a close one. - -But as time wore on, the habits of the West-loving aliens grated more -and more on Baker's soul. He was particularly irritated by the weekly -ritual every male had of riding into the sunset. Since there were -two sunsets in opposite directions, it was a long and involved and -thoroughly annoying process. - -Tom Wayne had kept Baker waiting an hour at the Golden Slipper to -discuss his loan. Baker was exasperated and dry. Local custom regarded -it as friendly to not begin your drinking before your companion arrived. - -Gibson laid out the ingredients of the martini on the bar. "You going -to wait any longer for Tom to finish riding into the sunset before I -start mixing?" - -Baker whirled angrily. "Nuts to Tom! _Mix!_" - -Before the blasphemous words died on his lips, Baker saw death in the -rising barrels of the vengeful six-shooters. - - - VI - -"I doubt this story very much," Street said to the director. - -"The planet and its conditions have been verified," the director -replied. - -"Even better reason to doubt that Baker died there. He probably was -worshipped as one of the gods." - -"Why do you think that?" the director asked the xenologist. - -"Think it out for yourself. Imagine the reception that would be given -to a man who stepped out of a spaceship, wearing what would appear to -be a black mask, and who told these people he was the loan arranger." - - - VII - -Baker jammed the accelerator of the groundcar down until his thumbnail -turned white. The eye of the ETI peepbug observed the police car of the -native authorities behind Baker's vehicle, closing fast. - -This is how it happens, he subvocalized. A great career in -interplanetary crime ends with an arrest by hick cops for selling dirty -books. Why had he ever sunk so low? That was easy--it took a stake to -do anything big and he had to get a pile by selling books, after _that_ -had happened to him on Wellington I. - -_The Decameron_, _Forever Amber_, _Pierre Louys_, all the old classics -like that still went over with some of the humanoid and biped races. -(He had none of the newer stuff, only titles in the public domain--he -couldn't force himself to fall to the level of a _literary_ pirate.) -But here on Lintz III he was slaying braces of fowl with a single -stone. Lintzians were highly stimulated by intricate philosophy and -mathematics. This allowed him to sell banned copies of Korzybski at -outrageous prices, while at the same time introducing the native -intellectuals to human semantics, a definite aid to the natives in -throwing off the verbal domination by Earthmen. - - * * * * * - -The Humans First Lobby in the Galactic Legislature was willing to live -with the difficulties caused by the absolute literal-mindedness of most -extraterrestrials, so long as they could continue to make them believe -in lifetime guarantees and unbreakable toys for inventive youngsters. - -True, many a human traveler had lived to regret a chance remark to -the effect he could eat a horse, and nobody likes to think of what -happened to people who exclaimed a preference for being damned within -range of obliging natives, but all in all, those were minor liabilities -in the path of the infernal machine of progress. The ETI was working -double-shifts to find human renegades who were teaching the semantic -variations in words of human speech to aliens. On a world where -philosophy and higher math were themselves proscribed because of the -limiting factor of narcotic colloidal reaction, he also had to reckon -with native cops. - -He wasn't going to be able to outrun this squadcar. Baker let it -pull alongside and dialed himself regretfully toward the embankment. -Then as the police matched his maneuver, he switched on emergency -power and sideswiped them with an ear-jarring crash. Thrown from the -counterbalance of its gravitic suspension system, the squadcar sailed -off as helplessly as a balloon.... - - * * * * * - -"Ryshid!" Baker yelled on entering his quarters. "Get my smoking -jacket! Isn't dinner prepared yet?" - -The turbaned, green-skinned native did what might have been called a -_salaam_ if he had been a Moslem instead of a Hindu. "Everything is in -readiness, _Sahib_." - -Baker was sorry he had spoken so shortly, but somehow he always did. -Ryshid understood. Baker was under a terrible strain, not knowing when -the ETI might descend on him. There was also the matter of Malissa, his -wife, whom he missed very much. But as a Hinduphile, a true convert, -Ryshid was of a gentle and forgiving nature. - -As Baker settled back in his easy chair, someone started smashing in -the back door. - -By the time the police of Lintz reached the living room, Baker was gone. - -"Alas," the sergeant-major intoned, "if only the sinner had repented -his purchase of the forbidden book before instead of after he finished -reading it." - - * * * * * - -As soon as he lifted the curtain of his own modest dwelling in the -native quarter, Ryshid knew there was someone in the darkness, waiting -for him. - -"I hope you don't mind, old boy," Baker said. "Didn't know where else -to go to escape being hunted down." - -"I am overjoyed to find you well, _Sahib_. How did you escape?" - -Baker told him about his escape, but somehow his talk kept coming back -to Malissa, his wife. "I tell you it would take Kathleen Windsor to -describe her. She's--but I'm a bore, Ryshid." - -Ryshid drew the gun with a graceful movement. "As you say, _Sahib_. I -have read of our traditional life in India, and as a Hindu I know what -I must do when I find my home has been invaded by a hunted boar." - -Ryshid squeezed the trigger. - - - VIII - -"The shot," the chief said to Street, "unfortunately destroyed our -peepbug." - -"You were taken there," Street replied. "There is only one way to -describe verbally Baker's attitude toward his man, proving this was all -an act. A good Hindu would never harm Baker. His wife is built like a -cow." - - - IX - -Thorsen checked his gun inside his cummerbund. That was about the only -place a man or woman had to hide a weapon in these times of relatively -tight fashions on Earth. The gun was still there, safety off, as he -firmly expected. - -He settled back in his chair and glanced across the restaurant at -Hastings, the traitor. An infamous outlaw such as Baker could count on -few friends--one less than even he expected. The reward on the criminal -had grown sizable. Not that Thorsen was going to get any of it. All he -had to do was kill the poor devil on sight. It would be foolish to say -that he didn't like killing; it was his job in the ETI, but sometimes -he wearied of his work. - -What did Baker look like? - -It was a good question and it would give him something to think about -while he waited. On the face of the existing evidence, it was obvious -that Baker had somewhere discovered some means of superlative disguise. -He could so change himself with stretching, shrinking, fattening, and -slenderizing that if a man knew _he_ wasn't Baker, he had to doubt -everybody and anybody else. - -Orders were to kill the first man who came up to Hastings at his table. -He would have to shoot if it were his own father, or the director of -the ETI, and there wasn't too much difference, he reflected. - - * * * * * - -He was seated where he could see both the entrance and the door to the -men's room. Other agents were covering the back way. Baker would have -to come from the tiered front. - -Would Thorsen be able to kill Baker? If he got off the first shot, he -would. Evening fashions were too tight for meteor shields. If he were -wearing an electronic cuirass, he could tell it immediately by the -twin spheres that gave that football-shoulder effect. Moreover, had -anyone entered wearing such obvious armor, it would have been flashed -to him. In that case, a hand bomb would have to be used, which would be -unfortunate for Hastings, and possibly Thorsen. - -Hastings wasn't showing his fear--he had been doped to hide that--but -he was growing more alert. Baker must be coming! - -Thorsen forced himself not to give things away by reaching for his -weapon yet. He fastened his attention on the two doors into the cafe. - -The shot blew most of Thorsen's lungs away, but the electronic wiring -in his muscles kept the shock from killing him outright. He turned and -managed to get off one shot before death started climbing up his arms -from his fingers, and the weapon fell. - -He should have kept in mind that no one had ever seen Baker and lived -to tell it. Now he had seen Baker and he was not going to live either. -But then Baker was dead even now, in spite of Thorsen's mistake. - -Before he died, Thorsen took one last look at the figure with the long -golden hair lying on the threshold of the ladies' room. - - - X - -"This story is absolutely authentic," the director said. "Several ETI -agents saw the whole thing. But somehow in the confusion somebody stole -Baker's body." - -"Really, Director!" Street said. "You don't actually believe Baker was -a woman." - -"Are you suggesting a disguise?" - -"It _had_ to be. Baker's body disappeared by getting up and walking -away. The only way it could do that was for it to be armored. The only -way Baker could get into that building was for his armor to be hidden. -There was only one way he could hide the two spheres of electronic -equipment necessary to project the cuirass field, and he couldn't do it -if he _really_ had been a woman." - - - XI - -The director leveled his gun at Street. - -"I am at last convinced that there is only one way in which you could -be so certain that Baker is not dead. You know he is alive, and you -know it because you are Baker." - -"You are correct," Street said. "I am the celebrated Robin Hood of -space. It is too great an honor to deny." - -"I will go into confinement for many years because of what I am about -to do, but I must see the Galaxy rid of you." - -The director fired the lethal charge at point-blank range and the tall -man tumbled to the floor. - -"I had to do it," the director said over the body. "It was well enough -to frame you for Baker's crimes due to your suspicious knowledge of -him, but I didn't know you were going to fail to protest, that you were -going to go along with the lie. I couldn't stand another man living to -take the honor for being Baker. There can be no living Baker but _me_." - - - XII - -The tall man rolled over on the floor and sat up. "Then you admit that -you are Baker? No, never mind firing again. I am wearing meteor armor -under my clothes. It's sufficient to stop a gun blast." - -"You are a clever devil," the director snarled. - -"A man has to be clever to be Baker." - -"You are NOT Baker!" the director shrieked. "I am!" - -"Are you?" the tall man said superciliously. "Think why you came here. -You've been working too hard, Director. You received too many stories -about Baker. You began envying him his freedom of movement. Soon you -began thinking you _were_ Baker. Your analyst sent you to me, to make -you see through this legend of Baker. It was to my advantage to do so." - -The director wavered. "If I'm not Baker, who is?" - -"I told you," the tall man said, drawing a gun and shooting the -director in the head. "I am." - -He smiled down at the body. "You weren't wearing armor, were you?" - - * * * * * - -Street reversed the dial on his gun and shot the director a second -time. Quickly, he stirred from his paralysis. - -"Sorry I had to do that, Director," Street said, "but I could see you -were about to strangle me with naked hands. The important thing was to -fix the idea firmly in your mind that I was Baker. If you thought I -was, you would have to realize that you couldn't be." - -"I do," the director said miserably as he climbed to his feet and -dusted off his breeches. "But if I'm not Baker and you're not Baker, -who is Baker?" - -"Director, just as telling your stories and hearing my answers to them -cured you of believing you were Baker, the events of this story are -designed to make someone remember the true identity of Baker--that very -person who now believes in a different personality of his own." - -"Who is this person who is really Baker?" the director asked. - -"_The person who is now reading this story_," Street said. - - - XIII - -"I'm afraid it won't do, Mr. Street," the editor of _Man's True Space_ -said across his desk. "It's fiction. There can be only one Baker and -tens of thousands would read the story in my magazine." - -"You are missing the point, Mr. Trent," Street said. "There is only one -manuscript and it is in your hands. _You_ are Baker." - -"No," Trent said. "No." - -"Yes," Street said relentlessly. "Just as the director realized that -_he_ was not Baker, you must realize _you_ are." - -Trent lay back in his swivel, gasping. "All right, all right, I admit -it. I am Baker." - -"But you aren't really, Mr. Trent," Street said calmly. "I know you -thought at one time you were Baker and then repressed the idea. But I -knew at some future time the delusion might return and you would begin -claiming to be Baker once more. As you said, there can only be one -Baker. _I_ am Baker." - -"You lie," Trent snarled. "I know the truth now. I am Baker, and there -_can_ only be one." - -The editor jerked the gun up from his desk drawer. The shots crashed at -the same instant. Trent ran the letter spindle through his chest as he -fell across the desk. Street settled back into his chair comfortably, -death in his lungs from the gas bullet that had exploded against his -armor. - - - XIV - -The director of Extraterrestrial Investigations opened the closet door -and stepped into the office. "The fools," Baker said to himself. - -He had no doubt that _he_ was the true, the original Baker. He -remembered clearly that he had stepped out of the left cabinet of -Gentle's transmatter, the one which he had first entered. (He did -remember that, didn't he? Yes! Doubting himself was the first stride -down the road these two had taken.) His act to shock "Street" into -realizing they were _both_ Baker had been elaborate, but "Street" had -gone schizoid. - -He was no copy, but there were copies of Baker, dozens of them, all -helping the downtrodden aliens from terrestrial exploitation and making -fortunes for themselves. There were fat ones, thin ones, tall ones, -short ones, all kinds of Bakers, thanks to the refinement of Gentle's -distortion factors in matter-duplicating to an exact science, a desired -result, not an accident like the duplication itself. Unfortunately, in -a few, physical distortion meant mental disorientation. These no longer -had to merely pretend to be other people than Baker. - -It was too bad about them--and about all the other Bakers who had -died. He really had died in all those ways on all those worlds in all -those bodies, despite "Street's" clever excuses. Still it wasn't a bad -life--helping the helpless and himself to all they could get. - -Yes, Baker decided, dying was a good way to make a living. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Baker's Dozens, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAKER'S DOZENS *** - -***** This file should be named 60683.txt or 60683.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/6/8/60683/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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