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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-27 17:12:06 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-27 17:12:06 -0800 |
| commit | 5e1fd1c0e660b1b69dc66e10c844ed090b841792 (patch) | |
| tree | 39305478432b67935b68e5939925bae7eb8f9f1f /old/60809-0.txt | |
| parent | babcbb8c06dbb1deb6a9e5a69a9a9bdc5559f22f (diff) | |
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diff --git a/old/60809-0.txt b/old/60809-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 001468e..0000000 --- a/old/60809-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1168 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 60809 *** - - GRAVY TRAIN - - By DANIEL F. GALOUYE - - _Ever hear of evil fairies who - grant three wishes? McWorther's - was more efficient. One wish - was plenty to bring catastrophe!_ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1960. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - I - -At one hundred and thirty, life was indeed gratifying for Titus -McWorther. But for one missing detail, it would have been perfect. - -With his wife, Edna, he had planned well for retirement. His -idyllic estate consisted of a second-hand planetoid, thirty miles in -circumference, which was the only habitable piece of matter in its -system. Complete with supplementary gravity generator, a compact -atmosphere, a mantle of lush topsoil and a carefully selected biota, -McWorther's World was both his delight and his pride. - -Its principal asset was, of course, its isolation. - -Well away from the mainstream of galactic civilization, McWorther's -Star was smugly hidden behind a dark nebula, through which he and Edna -plunged twice a year to the fringe of the cluster--just to observe and -mock convention, if for nothing else. - -It was an ideal setup. - -But, after two sedentary years, Titus realized he still needed one item -to make his retirement complete. So he dispatched this tight-beamed -message to the packet order department of Rear-Sobucks and Company in -the West Cluster Federation's Hub City: - - Dear Sir: - - Please send one automatic bather with back-scrubbing attachment - and toy boat docks, as listed in your videolog under order - No. 4678-25C. Charge same to credit account No. W414754-B24D. - - Sincerely yours, - Titus McWorther, Potentate - McWorther's World - -He listed the coordinates of the star and the orbital factor of his -planetoid. - - * * * * * - -Unfortunately, the hyper-spatial line between McWorther's World and -the nearest relay center was partly coincident with the link to the -politically noncommitted world of Gauyuth-VI. - -This condition, together with the fact that components of a -communication are sent by separate pulse, sometimes leads to the -embarrassing phenomenon known as "message interfusion," which is -retransmission of the right text with the wrong signature. - -And it so happened that as Titus McWorther's order was en route, the -system was also being burdened with this intelligence to the Ganymede -Extension of the Western Cluster's State Department: - - Dear Sir: - - This will verify our agreement and authorize implementation of - interstellar aid arrangements as set forth in conferences with your - ambassador. If such arrangements produce mutual satisfaction, we - will quite readily declare concurrence, in principle at least, with - the political aims of the Western Cluster. - - Respectfully yours, - Ogarm Netath, - Prime Minister - Gauyuth-VI - -Appended to the signature were the coordinates of Gauyuth and the -orbital factor of its Number Six planet. - - * * * * * - -Wharton Hoverly, undersecretary of cosmic aid for the Western Cluster, -plucked at his thick, gray mustache as he reread the space-o-gram. - -He punched the videobox stud. "Mallston!" - -The younger and more composed face of his assistant stared from the -screen. "Yes, sir?" - -"Anything yet?" - -"Not a thing. We have no record of a--McWorther's World." - -"What do you suppose?" - -"Well, it seems authentic enough. We do know Ambassador Summerson has -been working in that general area." - -"And you think Summerson signed an aid agreement with this potentate?" - -"I'd say the message speaks for itself." - -Again, Hoverly worried his mustache. "Did you check with Summerson?" - -"He's on extended leave." - -"What do you think we ought to do?" - -"McWorther's World must be a critical area. And evidently we're going -to get what we want out of the deal, since the Potentate speaks of -concurrence with Western Cluster aims." - -Impatiently, the undersecretary glanced out the window. Ganymede was -well out of the Jovian umbra now. If he didn't leave soon, he'd be late -for his conference with the commerce department on Farside Luna. - -"All right, Mallston," he said. "Put McWorther's World on a Class A aid -schedule. That ought to hold the Potentate until Summerson gets back." - - * * * * * - -In the commercial section of Hub City, Rear-Sobucks and Company -occupied a monstrous building whose emblematic tip pierced the clouds. - -On the two hundredth floor, the twenty-seventh vice-president -strode through the rail gate, tossed the secretary a -"don't-bother-to-announce-me" glance and went on into the inner office -of the twenty-sixth vice-president. - -"Got something I thought you'd be interested in, V.R.," he told the -limp-faced man behind the desk. "There may be a promotion angle." - -"What is it?" V.R. asked, not exactly gripping his chair with -anticipation. - -The other placed the space-o-gram on the desk. "It's from an Ogarm -Netath, _prime minister_ of a place called Gauyuth-Six. He wants an -automatic bather." - -V.R. extended a "so what?" glare. - -"Don't you see? Big shots like that don't place personal orders. But -here's one who thinks so much of a Rear-Sobucks item that he forgets -all about convention." - -"And so, Wheeler, you want to capitalize on his good name in some sort -of promotion gimmick," V.R. said through taut lips. - -Wheeler shrank. "But I thought--" - -"Never mind what you thought. Fill his order. Send it compliments -of--let's see, Gauyuth-Six is uncommitted--compliments of the Western -Cluster." - - * * * * * - -It was a fine morning on McWorther's World. Cotton-candy clouds floated -over the fields. Dreaming herons, balanced on slender legs, gave -the shallows of the lake a tufted appearance. A delightful breeze, -artificially generated at the equator, wafted flowering stalks and -rocked the air car and spaceabout at their moorings. - -Titus snorted on the veranda and reached for his julep. He was a chunky -little man, with the ruddiness of good health tinting his face and -overflowing onto his partly bald pate. - -"Where are you, Titus?" an anxious voice disturbed the quiet of the -house. - -"Out here, Love." - -Edna appeared in the doorway. Despite her age, there was still the -fascination in her timeless eyes that had snared Titus more than ninety -years ago. - -"The chef burned the beans again," she said, frowning. - -"Guess I'll have to fix it." - -"You know it's not the cooker. It's that darned gravity." - -He realized now it was a weight fluctuation that had nudged him from -his nap. - -"I've got it _set_ that way, Love," he explained. "We did not get -clouds in the contract. But by varying the gravity control we can have -them for nothing. It all has to do with atmospheric pressure." - -Edna cast a resigned glance skyward. "If that's the way you want -it--fleecy clouds and burnt beans--" - -The guttural scream of braking jets rattled the windows and sent the -herons winging for the safety of the other hemisphere. Hesitating on -the fringe of the atmosphere, the freighter altered its approach and -landed beside the house. - -Titus went out to meet the skipper and his three assistants whose arms -were filled with printed forms. - -"You Potentate McWorther?" the skipper asked. - -Titus smiled in embarrassment. "It's a gag. I just call myself that." - -"We got your order," the other snapped. "Where do you want it?" - -Titus' small eyes widened with an inner vision of the automatic -bather--a vision which went on in speculation to dispose of the crude -shower-masseur, for which he and Edna were getting a bit too old. - -"If you'll put it on the veranda--" He paused and shouted back toward -the house. "Edna, get out the grapplers. We're in business." - -"Fun-ny," the skipper observed with dry derision. Then he signaled to -his waiting assistants. - -They came forward and, one by one, thrust their stacks of printed -forms against Titus' chest. His arms came up in a reflex to accept the -offerings. But, as the third assistant's contribution sent the stack -soaring in front of his face, he went down under the weight. - -When he had extricated himself from the mound of paper, the men had -returned to their ship. And now its sides were folding down and scores -of huge crates were drifting out on repulsor beams and fluttering to -the ground. - -Soon the freighter was gone and Edna was at his side. - -"What _have_ you gotten us into now, Titus?" - -"Honest, Love--I don't know." - -Suddenly his ears were splitting with the thunderous roar of a thousand -ships plunging down to the surface as far as he could see around the -perimeter of his small world. Each pulled to a halt a few feet from the -ground, opened its sides and disgorged vast mounds of crates and sacks, -boxes and barrels, naked hills of coarse material that hissed like -gravel as it spewed from chutes, gleaming masses of machinery. - -Confounded, Titus seized one of the slips of paper. It was an invoice -listing two hundred earth movers, seventy-five instant pavers, five -hundred concrete mixers. - -Matching his frown, Edna read a second sheet and demanded, "What on -earth do you expect to do with a hundred thousand barrels of wheat germ -oil? Four thousand kegs of eight-penny nails? Forty-five hundred tons -of soybeans?" - - * * * * * - -At his secluded villa, Prime Minister Netath was entertaining his -foreign minister, Ugaza Bataul. - -Netath leaned against the terrace bar and proposed a toast. "To an era -of plenty." - -Bataul smiled. "At the expense of the Western Cluster." - -They gulped the drinks and Netath stared down into his empty glass. -"We're quite fortunate that the Western Cluster's aspirations are -extending to this sector." - -"As long as we can be sure that there won't be any _military_ -advances." Bataul added the qualification with misgiving. - -"Oh, there's no danger of that. Actually, we're lucky we didn't try to -get on the Eastern Cluster's gravy train. We'd have had to make a lot -of concessions." - -Heralding its own approach with a sputtering rumble, the station -'copter came in low over the trees and dropped down on the lawn. Netath -walked over as his chauffeur climbed out of the cab and used antigrav -grapples to float a large crate out of the freight compartment. - -"Just picked it up at the space terminal," the man explained. "Must be -that aid shipment." - -Bataul laughed. "You mean the first batch of credit certificates, -maybe." - -The chauffeur pressed the "unpack" stud. The sides of the crate fell -outward. - -"What _is_ it?" Netath drew back, surveying the ivory, tanklike thing -with its sparkling fixtures and flexible appendages. - -Bataul bent and read the words on the inscription plate: "Deluxe -Automatic Bather--4678-25C." - -By then, Netath had found the torn, soiled delivery tag. He read the -part of the writing that was still legible: - - "... _sincerely hope this expression of Western amity meets with - your satisfaction. If we can serve you again, please don't - hesitate._..." - -Infuriated, he imparted a vindictive kick to the crate and crumpled the -paper. - -"_That's_ the cosmic aid we were expecting?" Bataul sputtered. - -"Capitalist Western dogs!" Netath exclaimed. "They were just trifling -with our planetary honor!" - -"It's an insult against our racial character!" the foreign minister -said severely. "They _know_ we have no use for a bather, shedding our -skin as we do once a day." - -Netath forced restraint into his features. "We will not lose our -diplomatic poise. There is always the chance a mistake has been made." - -He drew the contacter out of his pocket and shouted into its grid, -"Miss Yalera?" - -"Yes, sir?" came the instant answer. - -"Take a space-o-gram to Solaria." - - - II - -When the initial error was made at the hyper-spatial relay station, -a pattern had been set. Committed categorically to the memory banks -were the false associations between the State Department's Ganymede -Extension and Potentate McWorther, between Premier Netath and -Rear-Sobucks. - -Thus, it was somewhat to be expected that Undersecretary Hoverly should -find himself chewing on the under-bristles of his mustache as he read -the latest space-o-gram. - - Dear Sir: - - Needless to say, we are somewhat disappointed over the Western - Cluster's meager response to our desperate need. - - Perhaps Ambassador Summerson misrepresented our agreement. In that - event, we feel sure that consultation with his Excellency will set - the record straight. - - We would appreciate prompt attention to this detail. Otherwise, in - the interest of our people, we shall feel compelled to seek - satisfaction elsewhere. - - Respectfully yours, - Titus McWorther, - Potentate - -Hoverly tossed the message on his desk, punched the audio-com button -and called for his assistant. When Mallston arrived, the undersecretary -was still pacing. - -"Did you take care of the McWorther World aid consignment?" he asked. - -Mallston nodded. "Delivery should have been made day before yesterday. -Full Class A schedule." - -"Well, it wasn't enough!" Hoverly extended a stiff finger toward the -space-o-gram. "Read that." - -Looking up finally, Mallston said, "Evidently we dropped the ball." - -"Indeed we did. Ambassador Summerson must have promised the Potentate -the whole works." - -Hoverly resumed pacing. "I should have guessed as much. President -Roswell only last week hinted that the Western Cluster should level its -galactic commerce sights on that entire sector." - -Mallston pondered the gravity of the space-o-gram. "Maybe we should lay -the McWorther development before the President." - -Bristling, the undersecretary said, "And call attention to our own -incompetence? We'll straighten this matter out by doing what we should -have done in the first place--by putting the Potentate on the double-A -priority list. Full and immediate delivery under Class B through K -schedules." - -Mallston started out, but paused at the door. "How about cultural -exchange?" - -"We'll play it safe by assuming Summerson shot the works in that -category too. Round up every uncommitted cultural group in the cluster." - - * * * * * - -Shaking his head deprecatingly, the twenty-seventh vice-president -stood before the desk of the next highest official in the Rear-Sobucks -hierarchy. - -"Well, Wheeler," V.R. clipped without looking up. "What is it this -time?" - -"I'm afraid Netath didn't take too kindly to our gesture." - -"Netath? Netath?" V.R. milked the name for its significance. - -"Ogarm Netath. The prime minister of that Gauyuth place. The automatic -bather." - -"Oh, _that_ one." - -Wheeler handed over the space-o-gram and V.R. muttered through the -message: - - Dear Sir: - - I'm sure you made a mistake filling my order. You've got to come - pick up your shipment right away. We're up to our ears and it's - shaking us to pieces. - - Yours in disappointment, - Ogarm Netath, - Prime Minister - -Growling, V.R. dropped an effervescent pill into a glass of water. "You -can't get anywhere with these back-planet bumpkins. I doubt that this -Netath ever _had_ a bath. Send him a Supplementary Manual of Operating -Instructions." - -Wheeler started for the door. - -But V.R. called after him. "And bill the prime minister for that -article. It'll teach him to show a little bit of appreciation." - - * * * * * - -Titus winced before the persistent tremors that came through the floor -of his cellar. He made another adjustment on the gravity control -deflecting the planetoid's center of pseudomass another few feet. The -ground beneath him finally quieted. - -"Three days," he mumbled, dragging himself up the stairs. - -Edna received him with hands on hips. "Three days--what?" - -"Getting things balanced again." - -"What are you going to do about all that stuff cluttering up our -beautiful planetoid?" She was near tears. - -With Edna dogging his steps, he returned to the veranda, where his -julep was now quite thin and warm in the rays of the setting sun. - -"We'll have to find out where it came from first," he said, staring -dismally over the mountains of machinery and grain, the tumbled stacks -of crates and barrels and kegs, the lesser rows of wheeled and winged -vehicles. - -"Seems to me," Edna persisted, "that the invoices will show that." She -gestured at what remained of the stacks of printed forms. - -The rest of the slips were strewn over the ground as far as he could -see. "Only the _first_ sheet will show the origin--_if_ we could ever -find it," Titus explained. - -He went out to the air car, warmed it up and sent it churning skyward. -Near the attenuated top of the atmosphere, he was able to see exactly -how much extraneous stuff had been dumped on his world. The main area -of disposal seemed to have been within a two-mile radius of the house. - -An ever-widening helical course, wending its way alternately from night -to day, eventually brought him on a great circle that sliced over both -poles. Then, with his searchlights still burning, he spiraled inward, -covering the other hemisphere. The rest of his world was in primal -order. - -He started for home around the daylight side. - -But even above the noise of his own rotorjets, the stridence of -descending freighters erupted in a pandemonium of sound all around him. -Great clouds of rockets, clustered in fleets, were darkening the sky -and raining down onto the surface. - -He barely managed to pull out from under one of the formations before -it could pinch him against the ground. Swearing in oaths that he had -not used in years, he headed for the nearest group of ships. Before he -could close in, they had discharged their cargoes and thundered off -into space again. - -He altered course for another detachment of freighters, only to meet -with the same frustrating results. By the time he had aimed his craft -at a third group, all the ships had blasted away, leaving everywhere -great, gleaming mounds and stacks and irregular rows of crates and -containers that completely obscured the surface. - -Enraged, Titus gunned the craft for home. He picked his way between -several monstrous peaks of grain, some of them soaring nearly all the -way up through the six-hundred-foot-thick atmosphere, and threw on his -brakes to avoid collision with a tremendous pyramid of what looked like -corn kernels. - -With stark apprehension, he envisioned his world shaking apart under -the eccentric forces. But he quelled his fears with logic: This new -addition of mass, apparently distributed evenly over all but the four -square miles that had already served as a dumping ground, would be -unbalanced only to a negligible degree. - - * * * * * - -Titus flicked on his landing lights as he headed into the night. But -from over the horizon came a glare considerably stronger than the -candlepower of his own electrical system. As he pulled up to the -mooring pylon, the explanation was evident. - -Scores of Pullman crafts were packed so tightly around his house that -the blunt noses of several were sticking out over the veranda. - -He cut off the idling jets. The militant strains of a Venurian march, -blaring from the instruments of a hundred-piece symphony, swelled up -mightily all around him. The orchestra itself was wedged between two -residential crafts while the roof of McWorther's generating house -served as the conductor's podium. - -On the veranda, a full troupe of Simalean Ballet dancers swirled and -caracoled, not seeming to mind that they were occasionally overflowing -the tiles and flouncing not so lightly through Edna's caladiums. - -His wife stood helplessly by, still gripping the autobroom which -she had evidently wielded without success in an attempt to rout the -intruders. - -Dismayed, Titus elbowed his way through a dedicated choral group that -was patriotically rendering the "Fayothian Anthem," sidestepped a -tumbling foursome obviously from one of the Lesser Javapa planets and -pushed aside a debating team which was having little luck making itself -heard above the general cacophony. - -Edna swept out to meet him. "Titus, they just won't leave!" - -"Who are they? What do they want?" - -"I don't know." She was having a difficult time restraining herself. -"They asked for the ministry of something or other. Then they said they -were cooped up so long that they had to get some practice." - -Titus bellowed for attention. But nobody turned an ear, except a -pirouetting ballerina who whirled to a stop nearby, glissaded over in -front of him and made a theatrical display of bending over and planting -a set of lip-prints on his forehead--a gesture that fed considerable -fuel to Edna's vexation. - -"You're cute," the dancer tittered. "You got the word on this place, -Pudgy? What is it--a stopover station?" - -Before he could answer, one of the tumblers shouted, "It's snowing!" - -The choral group broke reverently into the ancient carol "Noel" while -the orchestra paused on an upbeat and swung into a jazzed-up "Jingle -Bells." - -Perplexed, Titus stared at the dancing snowflakes. But that was -impossible! It _never_ snowed here on McWorther's World! - -Then he remembered the grain peak he had skirted on the way home. It -had extended high above the infrared and ultraviolet shields--into the -naked, hot zone where restless winds had wafted the kernels eastward. - -He picked up one of the "flakes." - -_Popcorn!_ - - - III - -Many light years away, the Emperor of the Eastern Cluster whirled -around, kicked his bejeweled train out of the way and faced his chief -adviser. "So they've opened up a new aid offensive?" - -"And a most vital one." The adviser blew on his spectacles and -burnished the lenses against his sleeve. "A place called McWorther. Our -intelligence got its coordinates from their consignment documents." - -"Never heard of it." - -"That's what's so insidious about this whole capitalist plot. They've -kept it under their hats." - -"And why is it so vital?" - -The adviser directed the Emperor's attention to a space globe suspended -from the ceiling. He pressed two buttons on the wall and twin beams of -light intersected within the sphere. "That's McWorther's location." - -"Why--why--" the Emperor stammered. "That outflanks us completely!" - -"What concerns me is how many other undisclosed but settled worlds lie -in that same general area." - -"A whole raft of them, no doubt," the Emperor said pessimistically. - -"What are we going to do?" - -"In this critical sector we've got to make friends--and fast! We'll -begin with the McWorther place." - -"How far do you want to go?" - -"All the way. Empty the surplus bins. Clear out the warehouses. Let -McWorther have every available pound of material and equipment." - -"Terms?" - -"Terms be damned! We let the Western Cluster steal a march on us. -We've got to recoup. Everything goes as an outright gift--with all the -cultural trimmings thrown in." - - * * * * * - -Titus splashed into the cellar and struck out for the hypertransmitter. - -It was a peculiar flood. Suffusing the water was a thick scum that -flashed iridescently as it caught the glint of light from the ceiling. -He stuck his finger into the dross and applied it to the tip of his -tongue. - -Syrup! - -He thought of the thousands of barrels that had been dumped into the -lake and surmised that the contaminated water was backing up through -the drainage system. - -He altered course for the pumps. - -And, like ships in convoy, a score of virtuosos invaded the cellar, -paddling in his wake. - -The soprano's piercing voice assailed his ears. "In all my theatrical -experience, I have never been subjected to such indignity! I insist--" - -But a violinist pushed forward, wielding his bow like a stiff finger. -"You, sir, are holding back on us. No doubt you know what our future -instructions are." - -"I've never seen such fascist highhandedness," complained a diminutive -choreographer in the uniform of a Palosov Rocket Dancer. "In the name -of the ministry of culture of the Eastern Federation, I demand to see a -representative of His Imperial Highness!" - -Ignoring them, Titus trudged on to the pumps and set them for maximum -drain-off. - -The Simalean ballerina did a series of rapid turns and watched the -spray and the pattern of ripples that issued from her darting feet. - -"Exquisite!" she exuberated. "I shall have to speak with the _maître de -ballet_ about a nymphal sequence!" - -"Come on, Pop." One of the tumblers confronted Titus. "What's the -gimmick? Why are they keeping us loafing around here?" - -"Why?" roared a dramatist, allowing his voice full rein in the acoustic -inadequacy of the cellar. "I'll tell you: It's a capitalist scheme to -abduct the top talent of the glorious workers' federation!" - -Hands clamped over his ears, Titus finally made it to the -hypertransmitter. He jiggled its dials, beat on the cabinet, lifted a -foot from the water and gave it a couple of kicks broadside. - -No results. It was obviously shorted out from the flood. And none of -the Pullman crafts was equipped with long-range communications gear. - -Titus waded from the cellar, plodded through the house, leaving pools -of syrupy water in his wake, and stalked onto the veranda. - -The scene was no less hectic than it had been. There were two -orchestras now. And they were waging a war of decibels to determine -whether the "East Cluster Blastoff March" or the "West Cluster Anthem" -should prevail over McWorther's World. - -Two debating teams were holding forth on the comparative benefits of -proletarian solidarity and the free enterprise system. Beyond the -caladium bed, Edna, who seemed to have finally succumbed to frustrated -abandon, had struck a face-to-the-sun and wind-in-her-hair posture for -a portraitist who was drowning futility in artistic endeavor. - -But there was neither wind nor sun to accommodate the pose, Titus -lamented. For, after yesterday's deliveries by the bright red cargo -ships, which had obviously been from the Eastern Cluster, there was -little left of McWorther's World that could be recognized. - -The immediate area around the house had been spared in the deluge of -material. But, beyond, great sloping expanses of grain and crates, -barrels, boxes, machinery, bulging sacks and drums stretched up and -away like the inner walls of a crater. - -Fortunately, disposal onto the surface of McWorther's World had -stopped. But not delivery to the system. Coruscating pinpoints -of flame, far out in space, signified the presence of thousands -upon thousands of cargo carriers that were dropping off their -freight in solar orbit. The items of merchandise themselves were -indistinguishable. But their composite existence was beginning to take -on the appearance of a great ring of fragmented particles stretching -around the sun. - -And Titus supposed that it was only the reliability of the mass-fending -generators attached to each article that tentatively kept them all -separate and prevented them from plunging like a devastating hailstorm -onto the surface of his world. - -He slumped to the ground and bracketed his cheeks between his palms. -For some unaccountable reason, it seemed that the productivity of the -entire universe was being showered down on his private planetoid in one -vast gravy-train effect. - -Only he was drowning in the gravy. - - * * * * * - -"And that's my story." Undersecretary of Cosmic Aid Hoverly laid his -hands on the conference table. "And we now have McWorther's World on a -total aid schedule." - -President Roswell, an angular man with a troubled face, drummed his -fingertips together. "Gentlemen, this is most serious." - -On his right, Ambassador Summerson's head bobbed in accord. The gesture -spread next to the chief of intelligence, then to Hoyerly, thus making -the circuit back to Roswell. - -"To sum up, then," said the President, "you, Hoverly, authorized aid -for a McWorther's World in the 47-126 area." - -The undersecretary glanced away uneasily. - -"But you, Summerson," Roswell continued, "have no record of having -signed aid agreements with such a place." - -"That's right," the ambassador verified. "But deciding to accommodate -McWorther's World was the most fantastic stroke of good luck -imaginable." - -Hoverly squinted. "I don't follow you." - -"When you sent aid to the Potentate, not only did you pick what will -undoubtedly develop into the most critical political area of the -millennium, but you also beat the Easties to the draw in a sector that -they had staked out all for themselves." - -"A stroke of sheer luck," President Roswell concurred. - -The roving ambassador leaned back smiling. "The chance timing was -perfect too. We beat them by less than two weeks." - -But the intelligence chief's face was rigid with dejection. "We got -there 'firstest,' to use an ancient expression, but not with the -'mostest.' Our agents in Imperial City report that the amount of aid -authorized for McWorther's World is unbelievable. The entire Eastern -Cluster is going on a full austerity basis to support the program." - -"That shows what value they place on McWorther's World and the sector -it opens up," Roswell offered. "When they found out we'd moved in ahead -of them, their reaction was frantic." - -Summerson rose. "This, then, gentlemen, is it." - -"It certainly is." Roswell's voice was heavy with despondency. "The -most God-awful aid war the cluster has ever seen." - -"We can't back out," the ambassador warned. "We've got to get busy and -face up to the task." - -"With every resource at our disposal. To ignore the challenge would be -to surrender this entire section of the galaxy to the Easties." - -The President was silent a moment. "Gentlemen, I am herewith sounding a -call to economic arms. Cancel all other aid commitments and activity. -Throw everything we have got, everything we can ever hope to produce, -at McWorther's World." - -"I think you'd better call on the Potentate personally," Summerson -proposed. - -"That," said Roswell, "is exactly what I intend to do." - - * * * * * - -Adjusting the drape of his robe, the Emperor sent his eyes flicking -over the report. Finally he lurched from his chair with a resounding -"Eureka!" - -"So you see how it is, Your Imperial Highness," his chief adviser -offered. "By cutting in on their McWorther World operation, we have -indeed touched a sensitive Western spot." - -"There's no question about that," the Emperor said lustily. He was a -portly man whose sartorial excesses made him seem even more imposing. -His eyes, recessed under thickset brows, flared with triumph as he -said, "McWorther's World must figure prominently in their planning. -From the way they cut loose with everything they had when they found -out we were stepping in too, damned if I'm not convinced this new -system will be the pivotal point of their entire future strategy." - -"Then we'd better order double production quotas on every world that -flies the Eastern flag." - -"_Triple_ quotas. And have my space yacht refitted by tomorrow." - -"You're going somewhere, Highness?" asked the adviser. - -"This Potentate McWorther is likely to be the third most important -political figure in the galaxy. I'm not going to lose any time getting -over there and pumping his hand." - - * * * * * - -His face flushed with rage, Ogarm Netath tossed the space-o-gram at his -foreign minister, then snatched it back out of Bataul's hands before he -had a chance to read it. - -"It's a bill!" Netath's voice quivered. "They sent us a bill for that -damned bather monstrosity!" - -Bataul's brow, to all appearances, was ready for spring planting. "Let -me have another look at it." - -Netath stood there trembling while the foreign minister sent his eyes -darting over the paper. - -"It's from Rear-Sobucks!" Bataul exclaimed. "A retail concern that -obviously handles automatic bathers!" - -"But it was our aid shipment, wasn't it?" - -"Apparently not. It says here, '... for merchandise previously extended -_in behalf of_ the Western Cluster....'" - -"I don't understand." - -Bataul's features struggled through a gamut of expressions. "I think -I'm just beginning to. Do you remember last year when we had that -communications survey made? Between here and the nearest Western relay -station, there was that single system. I think some crackpot had laid -claim--of course. McWorther's his name. Calls himself a potentate." - -Netath stiffened. "And you think--?" - -"I think both we and McWorther are victims of message interfusion," -Bataul said flatly. - -"And our aid shipments--?" - -"I'd bet McWorther must be wringing his hands over more loot than he'll -ever be able to count." - -Netath started punching buttons on his desk. "We've got work to do." - -"What kind?" - -"First you're going to get off a message to this Rear-Sobucks bunch -and tell them what they can do with their bill _and_ their automatic -bather--if it'll fit. You can also explain what's happened." - -"This time we'll send the message around the _right_ leg of the -cluster," Bataul assured. - -"Then we're hopping over to this McWorther system and laying down the -law to that character. _That_ I want to do personally." - - * * * * * - -"This," said Twenty-Seventh Vice-President Wheeler of Rear-Sobucks, -"explains it all." - -"Communications interfusion?" the twenty-sixth vice-president asked. - -"Absolutely, V.R. Just like Premier Netath says." - -"Then there's a Rear-Sobucks customer who has been unnecessarily -inconvenienced and still hasn't been satisfied?" - -With a curt nod, Wheeler confirmed the other's fear. - -V.R. rose from his desk and wagged a finger at the other. "I still -don't understand it all, Wheeler. But I can't avoid the impression that -you're somehow responsible for the mess." - -Wheeler cowered. - -"_You're_ going to take a trip--now!" V.R. went on, gathering steam. -"_You're_ going to deliver a bather personally to this Potentate -McWorther. _You're_ going to extend the apologies of the entire -Rear-Sobucks organization!" - - - IV - -Titus poured his tenth consecutive julep--directly from the bottle, -without the benefit of ice, sugar or mint--and leaned back in his -chair. His occupancy of a corner of the veranda had been a hard-won -concession. - -Almost indifferent now, he stared at the hundreds of virtuosos and -shouted, "Go home!" - -But there was little zing in his voice and the words were, of course, -lost in the confused sea of sound--musical, argumentative, operatic and -otherwise. Heedless, the orchestras played, the ballet dancers whirled, -painters sketched, gymnasts tumbled, dramatists soliloquized and the -vocalists made it plain that they would give no quarter. - -McWorther's World shud-shuddered. And the towering peaks of machinery -and grain, cases and crates rumbled ominously as their slopes shifted. -Titus' ears popped and he suddenly felt a giddiness that was all out of -proportion to the number of juleps he had consumed. - -An all-too-brief silence fell over the multitude. Then, as stability -returned to the planetoid, they dived back into their various -activities. - -They were damned fools, McWorther thought. Even if it meant risking -their lives, they would be willing to stay there and consort in their -Olympian ecstasy of artistic communion. It was a field day, old home -week, esoteric _anschluss_, a fraternal blowout--all rolled into one. - -A distant explosion rent what was left of the compact atmosphere. And, -as an immediate consequence, additional hundreds of tons of grain -_hissed_ down a nearby slope and eased into the lake. - -Somewhat concerned, Titus stared at the myriad points of light -coruscating deep out in space. What was happening was obvious: There -were millions, perhaps billions of articles of freight in the same -orbit--all maintaining their distances from the planetoid and from -one another by virtue of their mass-repulsion generators. And, where -that many electronic units were concerned, the breakdown factor became -a predictable quantity. McWorther's World could now expect to be the -target of a plunging chunk of cargo once every four or five minutes. - -Another few hours, Titus realized, and that interval would be reduced -to four or five seconds. For he could readily see the infinite streams -of freighters that were still arriving and dropping off additional -cargo. - -As a matter of fact, it was so thick out there now that only a faint, -diffused light was coming through from McWorther's Sun. - -Titus poured himself another mintless, sugarless, iceless julep. - - * * * * * - -The insigne of the Western Cluster emblazoned on its side, a giant ship -felt its way down through the atmosphere, sidled this way and that as -it squeezed through the barrier of anchored Pullman crafts, pulled up -and hovered over the southern edge of the veranda. - -At that particular moment, Titus had been quite fascinated with the -tumblers' practice session. One of the gymnasts, preparing for a -back-flip, had taken a boost from the cupped hands of another. Only -the resulting arc through the air was executed with slow-motion rhythm -that took the performer to a height of perhaps twenty feet before he -floated back to the ground. - -At the same time, Titus' ears popped again and he had the odd sensation -that the deck chair was shrinking away beneath him. - -The newly arrived ship lowered an escalator to the surface and the -pilot glided down, landing only a few feet from McWorther. - -"There seems to be some mistake," he said. "I was given -these coordinates and orbital factor for a--" he checked his -notebook--"McWorther's World." - -"This," said Titus stiffly, "_is_ McWorther's World." - -Cupping his hands, the pilot called back into the ship. "We're on the -right place." - -An alarmed face poked out of the hatch. - -"_This_ is it?" - -Titus lurched to his feet, returning an equally startled expression. -The man coming clown the escalator was President Vance Roswell of the -Western Federation! He had seen the face on thousands of newscasts. - -Roswell, sickened, stared at the mountains of supplies on the obscured -surface of the planetoid. He tilted his head back and took in the -glimmering sea of cargo out in space, the flaring trails of exhaust -jets that criss-crossed in an infinite pattern as endless streams of -ships jockeyed into position to discharge more freight. Then he dropped -to the veranda railing and buried his face hopelessly in his hands. - -By then, one of the orchestra conductors, who had also recognized the -President, had abruptly brought his baton down to terminate the "Lyraen -Overture." He led his ensemble into a stirring rendition of the "West -Cluster Anthem." - -Without interrupting his misery, Roswell elevated a limp hand and -signaled for quiet. - -But even before the musicians tapered to silence on a jagged, perplexed -note, the other orchestra blared forth with the "East Cluster Blastoff -March," all its members standing and facing the northern edge of the -veranda. - -Titus watched the impressive vessel float to the surface, its almost -invisible repulsor beams jostling the lesser Pullman ships out of its -way. Splashed across its side was the fist-clutching-galaxy symbol of -the Eastern Federation. - -He was still gawking when the hatch opened, ushering onto the tiled -surface none other than the Emperor himself--an immense, brilliantly -robed man who swept like a bowling ball through his retinue of aides. - - * * * * * - -There were two distant explosions, one close on the heels of the other, -and the planetoid convulsed. That time, Titus imagined, he had seen one -of the masses of cargo plunging to the surface. - -The Emperor drew up before Titus. But although his lips moved, no -audible sound came from his mouth, since he was in the immediate range -of the Eastern Symphony Orchestra's bass section. - -Scowling, he whirled, threw up this arms and bellowed for silence. -Quiet came as though someone had pulled a plug. - -"Now," he said, propping his fists on his hips and flaring his robe -out even further, "perhaps someone will enlighten me. I'm looking for -McWorther's World. It's supposed to be here." - -Titus poured a triple, undiluted julep and gulped down half of it. He -said, "You're standing on it." - -"_This!_ That's impossible! What's the population?" - -"Two--not counting the transients." Titus started to offer the Emperor -the rest of his julep, thought better of it and drank it himself. - -Roswell withdrew from his dejection, looked up and nodded, verifying -the Emperor's stark suspicion. It was apparent that the President was -only then aware of the Emperor's identity. And the latter was obviously -no less surprised on recognizing his counterpart from the Western -Cluster. - -They only stared uncertainly at each other while the hundreds of -virtuosos, sensing the propriety of demonstrating their loyalty, split -into two groups and took sides behind their respective leaders. - -Roswell laughed finally. It was a high-pitched, unnatural sound that -conveyed no glee at all and grew only more ragged as his shifting stare -once again took in the completely ruined merchandise on the surface, -the practically irretrievable cargoes adrift in space. His pitiable -outburst suggested an infinity of futility over the wanton waste. It -spoke wordlessly of sterility for hundreds of productive worlds over -the years ahead--economic sterility, and its inevitable consequence of -military impotence. - -The Emperor watched him for a moment, then dropped to the veranda -rail beside him. He didn't join in the almost hysterical laughter. -But his glum features reflected sympathetic appreciation of Roswell's -predicament. And in his heavy silence was the admission that the -circumstances were mutual. - -McWorther's World trembled again. Titus inclined his head to one side, -jiggling a finger in his ear to stop it from popping. He could have -sworn, too, that he had seen the Emperor and the President levitate a -good several inches off the rail. - -Edna stalked from the house, surveyed the new arrivals without giving -any indication she had recognized them and wagged a finger in her -husband's face. - -"Titus, this has gone far enough!" she exclaimed. "If you don't--" - -"Later, Love," he pacified. "Something's going wrong." - -She was taken aback by his understatement. But he hadn't meant it that -way. He had merely expressed suspicion over his recurrent sensations of -lightness. - - * * * * * - -Almost at the same time, two other ships dropped down at the edge of -the veranda. The hatch of the first sprang open and disgorged a thin -man in a swallow-tail coat who drew rigidly erect and announced: - -"His Most August Excellency, Prime Minister Netath of Gauyuth-Six!" - -Ogarm Netath, indignation branding his features, strode out. "Where's -this Potentate McWorther character?" he demanded. - -A hundred extended fingers singled out Titus, who was just then pouring -a thirteenth julep. - -Netath stomped over. "You, sir, have got _my_ aid consignments!" - -By that time, the other ship had thrown open its hatch and a short, -stout man in a business suit emerged. - -"I am Wheeler of Rear-Sobucks and Company," he disclosed, standing to -one side so that two men working with antigrav grapples could wrestle -a large crate onto the veranda. "I have an apology and an automatic -bather for Potentate McWorther." - -But Titus turned his back on the man, abruptly facing his wife. "Good -God! What day is it?" - -She frowned in puzzlement. "Why, Wednesday." - -There was a sharp explosion nearby as another article of cargo came -hurtling down from space. - -"And it's almost noon!" - -She nodded, still perplexed. - -"Get into the spaceabout, Love--_quick_!" - -She hesitated and he gave her a shove. - -But he paused and faced the others. "You got just about fifteen minutes -to climb into your contraptions and clear out--all of you! Because by -then we'll be fresh out of gravity!" - -And they'd be lucky if they had _that much_ time, he realized as he -followed Edna into the small craft. He had known he would have to face -the inevitable crisis on Wednesday. But all along he had been off one -day in his calculations, such that he had been sure today was only -Tuesday. - -"What is it, Titus?" his wife asked as he strapped himself in beside -her. - -"The supplementary gravity generator hasn't been refueled! It's -sputtering out!" - -From space, he watched the end of McWorther's World. - -The atmosphere went first, _swooshing_ outward as a result of abrupt -decompression and leaving a halo of frozen water crystals in its wake. -Then the cargo that was piled on the surface recoiled from its own -cumulative pressure and shot out into space. The topsoil followed suit, -dispersing like a dust storm, while the lakes boiled in one instant and -their vapor froze in the next. - -Before any of the hurtling mess could reach his spaceabout, Titus -followed the Pullman crafts, the Rear-Sobucks delivery vehicle and the -Presidential and Imperial yachts into hyperspace. - - * * * * * - -Titus and Edna McWorther have given up rustic retirement. Instead they -are living out their declining years in a floating villa just off the -Jersey coast. - -Life is still gratifying, with the exception of one detail. - -But Titus is resolved that he and his wife will have to be content with -the shower-masseur for the rest of their lives. - -At any rate, he'll be damned if he'll put in another order for an -automatic bather, with or without a back-scrubbing attachment. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gravy Train, by Daniel F. Galouye - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 60809 *** |