diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/60809-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60809-h/60809-h.htm | 1280 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60809-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 280977 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60809-h/images/illus.jpg | bin | 208064 -> 0 bytes |
3 files changed, 0 insertions, 1280 deletions
diff --git a/old/60809-h/60809-h.htm b/old/60809-h/60809-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 0505c26..0000000 --- a/old/60809-h/60809-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1280 +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=UTF-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gravy Train, by Daniel F. Galouye. - </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; } - -.ph2 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - -.ph3 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph3 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 60809 ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="340" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>GRAVY TRAIN</h1> - -<h2>By DANIEL F. GALOUYE</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><i>Ever hear of evil fairies who<br /> -grant three wishes? McWorther's<br /> -was more efficient. One wish<br /> -was plenty to bring catastrophe!</i></p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1960.<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 class="ph3">I</p> - -<p>At one hundred and thirty, life was indeed gratifying for Titus -McWorther. But for one missing detail, it would have been perfect.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Its principal asset was, of course, its isolation.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It was an ideal setup.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Dear Sir:</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="ph2">Sincerely yours,<br /> -Titus McWorther, Potentate<br /> -McWorther's World</p> -</div> - -<p>He listed the coordinates of the star and the orbital factor of his -planetoid.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Dear Sir:</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="ph2">Respectfully yours,<br /> -Ogarm Netath,<br /> -Prime Minister<br /> -Gauyuth-VI</p> -</div> - -<p>Appended to the signature were the coordinates of Gauyuth and the -orbital factor of its Number Six planet.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Wharton Hoverly, undersecretary of cosmic aid for the Western Cluster, -plucked at his thick, gray mustache as he reread the space-o-gram.</p> - -<p>He punched the videobox stud. "Mallston!"</p> - -<p>The younger and more composed face of his assistant stared from the -screen. "Yes, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Anything yet?"</p> - -<p>"Not a thing. We have no record of a—McWorther's World."</p> - -<p>"What do you suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it seems authentic enough. We do know Ambassador Summerson has -been working in that general area."</p> - -<p>"And you think Summerson signed an aid agreement with this potentate?"</p> - -<p>"I'd say the message speaks for itself."</p> - -<p>Again, Hoverly worried his mustache. "Did you check with Summerson?"</p> - -<p>"He's on extended leave."</p> - -<p>"What do you think we ought to do?"</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the commercial section of Hub City, Rear-Sobucks and Company -occupied a monstrous building whose emblematic tip pierced the clouds.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"What is it?" V.R. asked, not exactly gripping his chair with -anticipation.</p> - -<p>The other placed the space-o-gram on the desk. "It's from an Ogarm -Netath, <i>prime minister</i> of a place called Gauyuth-Six. He wants an -automatic bather."</p> - -<p>V.R. extended a "so what?" glare.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"And so, Wheeler, you want to capitalize on his good name in some sort -of promotion gimmick," V.R. said through taut lips.</p> - -<p>Wheeler shrank. "But I thought—"</p> - -<p>"Never mind what you thought. Fill his order. Send it compliments -of—let's see, Gauyuth-Six is uncommitted—compliments of the Western -Cluster."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Where are you, Titus?" an anxious voice disturbed the quiet of the -house.</p> - -<p>"Out here, Love."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"The chef burned the beans again," she said, frowning.</p> - -<p>"Guess I'll have to fix it."</p> - -<p>"You know it's not the cooker. It's that darned gravity."</p> - -<p>He realized now it was a weight fluctuation that had nudged him from -his nap.</p> - -<p>"I've got it <i>set</i> 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."</p> - -<p>Edna cast a resigned glance skyward. "If that's the way you want -it—fleecy clouds and burnt beans—"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Titus went out to meet the skipper and his three assistants whose arms -were filled with printed forms.</p> - -<p>"You Potentate McWorther?" the skipper asked.</p> - -<p>Titus smiled in embarrassment. "It's a gag. I just call myself that."</p> - -<p>"We got your order," the other snapped. "Where do you want it?"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"Fun-ny," the skipper observed with dry derision. Then he signaled to -his waiting assistants.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Soon the freighter was gone and Edna was at his side.</p> - -<p>"What <i>have</i> you gotten us into now, Titus?"</p> - -<p>"Honest, Love—I don't know."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At his secluded villa, Prime Minister Netath was entertaining his -foreign minister, Ugaza Bataul.</p> - -<p>Netath leaned against the terrace bar and proposed a toast. "To an era -of plenty."</p> - -<p>Bataul smiled. "At the expense of the Western Cluster."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>"As long as we can be sure that there won't be any <i>military</i> -advances." Bataul added the qualification with misgiving.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Just picked it up at the space terminal," the man explained. "Must be -that aid shipment."</p> - -<p>Bataul laughed. "You mean the first batch of credit certificates, -maybe."</p> - -<p>The chauffeur pressed the "unpack" stud. The sides of the crate fell -outward.</p> - -<p>"What <i>is</i> it?" Netath drew back, surveying the ivory, tanklike thing -with its sparkling fixtures and flexible appendages.</p> - -<p>Bataul bent and read the words on the inscription plate: "Deluxe -Automatic Bather—4678-25C."</p> - -<p>By then, Netath had found the torn, soiled delivery tag. He read the -part of the writing that was still legible:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"... <i>sincerely hope this expression of Western amity meets with your -satisfaction. If we can serve you again, please don't hesitate.</i>..."</p></div> - -<p>Infuriated, he imparted a vindictive kick to the crate and crumpled the -paper.</p> - -<p>"<i>That's</i> the cosmic aid we were expecting?" Bataul sputtered.</p> - -<p>"Capitalist Western dogs!" Netath exclaimed. "They were just trifling -with our planetary honor!"</p> - -<p>"It's an insult against our racial character!" the foreign minister -said severely. "They <i>know</i> we have no use for a bather, shedding our -skin as we do once a day."</p> - -<p>Netath forced restraint into his features. "We will not lose our -diplomatic poise. There is always the chance a mistake has been made."</p> - -<p>He drew the contacter out of his pocket and shouted into its grid, -"Miss Yalera?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir?" came the instant answer.</p> - -<p>"Take a space-o-gram to Solaria."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">II</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Dear Sir:</p> - -<p>Needless to say, we are somewhat disappointed over the Western -Cluster's meager response to our desperate need.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Ambassador Summerson misrepresented our agreement. In that -event, we feel sure that consultation with his Excellency will set the -record straight.</p> - -<p>We would appreciate prompt attention to this detail. Otherwise, in the -interest of our people, we shall feel compelled to seek satisfaction -elsewhere.</p> - -<p class="ph2">Respectfully yours,<br /> -Titus McWorther,<br /> -Potentate</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Did you take care of the McWorther World aid consignment?" he asked.</p> - -<p>Mallston nodded. "Delivery should have been made day before yesterday. -Full Class A schedule."</p> - -<p>"Well, it wasn't enough!" Hoverly extended a stiff finger toward the -space-o-gram. "Read that."</p> - -<p>Looking up finally, Mallston said, "Evidently we dropped the ball."</p> - -<p>"Indeed we did. Ambassador Summerson must have promised the Potentate -the whole works."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>Mallston pondered the gravity of the space-o-gram. "Maybe we should lay -the McWorther development before the President."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>Mallston started out, but paused at the door. "How about cultural -exchange?"</p> - -<p>"We'll play it safe by assuming Summerson shot the works in that -category too. Round up every uncommitted cultural group in the cluster."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Shaking his head deprecatingly, the twenty-seventh vice-president -stood before the desk of the next highest official in the Rear-Sobucks -hierarchy.</p> - -<p>"Well, Wheeler," V.R. clipped without looking up. "What is it this -time?"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid Netath didn't take too kindly to our gesture."</p> - -<p>"Netath? Netath?" V.R. milked the name for its significance.</p> - -<p>"Ogarm Netath. The prime minister of that Gauyuth place. The automatic -bather."</p> - -<p>"Oh, <i>that</i> one."</p> - -<p>Wheeler handed over the space-o-gram and V.R. muttered through the -message:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Dear Sir:</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="ph2">Yours in disappointment,<br /> -Ogarm Netath,<br /> -Prime Minister</p> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>had</i> a bath. Send him a Supplementary Manual of Operating -Instructions."</p> - -<p>Wheeler started for the door.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Three days," he mumbled, dragging himself up the stairs.</p> - -<p>Edna received him with hands on hips. "Three days—what?"</p> - -<p>"Getting things balanced again."</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do about all that stuff cluttering up our -beautiful planetoid?" She was near tears.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"Seems to me," Edna persisted, "that the invoices will show that." She -gestured at what remained of the stacks of printed forms.</p> - -<p>The rest of the slips were strewn over the ground as far as he could -see. "Only the <i>first</i> sheet will show the origin—<i>if</i> we could ever -find it," Titus explained.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He started for home around the daylight side.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Scores of Pullman crafts were packed so tightly around his house that -the blunt noses of several were sticking out over the veranda.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>His wife stood helplessly by, still gripping the autobroom which -she had evidently wielded without success in an attempt to rout the -intruders.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Edna swept out to meet him. "Titus, they just won't leave!"</p> - -<p>"Who are they? What do they want?"</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"You're cute," the dancer tittered. "You got the word on this place, -Pudgy? What is it—a stopover station?"</p> - -<p>Before he could answer, one of the tumblers shouted, "It's snowing!"</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>Perplexed, Titus stared at the dancing snowflakes. But that was -impossible! It <i>never</i> snowed here on McWorther's World!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He picked up one of the "flakes."</p> - -<p><i>Popcorn!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">III</p> - -<p>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?"</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"Never heard of it."</p> - -<p>"That's what's so insidious about this whole capitalist plot. They've -kept it under their hats."</p> - -<p>"And why is it so vital?"</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>"Why—why—" the Emperor stammered. "That outflanks us completely!"</p> - -<p>"What concerns me is how many other undisclosed but settled worlds lie -in that same general area."</p> - -<p>"A whole raft of them, no doubt," the Emperor said pessimistically.</p> - -<p>"What are we going to do?"</p> - -<p>"In this critical sector we've got to make friends—and fast! We'll -begin with the McWorther place."</p> - -<p>"How far do you want to go?"</p> - -<p>"All the way. Empty the surplus bins. Clear out the warehouses. Let -McWorther have every available pound of material and equipment."</p> - -<p>"Terms?"</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Titus splashed into the cellar and struck out for the hypertransmitter.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Syrup!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He altered course for the pumps.</p> - -<p>And, like ships in convoy, a score of virtuosos invaded the cellar, -paddling in his wake.</p> - -<p>The soprano's piercing voice assailed his ears. "In all my theatrical -experience, I have never been subjected to such indignity! I insist—"</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>"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!"</p> - -<p>Ignoring them, Titus trudged on to the pumps and set them for maximum -drain-off.</p> - -<p>The Simalean ballerina did a series of rapid turns and watched the -spray and the pattern of ripples that issued from her darting feet.</p> - -<p>"Exquisite!" she exuberated. "I shall have to speak with the <i>maître de -ballet</i> about a nymphal sequence!"</p> - -<p>"Come on, Pop." One of the tumblers confronted Titus. "What's the -gimmick? Why are they keeping us loafing around here?"</p> - -<p>"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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>No results. It was obviously shorted out from the flood. And none of -the Pullman crafts was equipped with long-range communications gear.</p> - -<p>Titus waded from the cellar, plodded through the house, leaving pools -of syrupy water in his wake, and stalked onto the veranda.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Only he was drowning in the gravy.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>President Roswell, an angular man with a troubled face, drummed his -fingertips together. "Gentlemen, this is most serious."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"To sum up, then," said the President, "you, Hoverly, authorized aid -for a McWorther's World in the 47-126 area."</p> - -<p>The undersecretary glanced away uneasily.</p> - -<p>"But you, Summerson," Roswell continued, "have no record of having -signed aid agreements with such a place."</p> - -<p>"That's right," the ambassador verified. "But deciding to accommodate -McWorther's World was the most fantastic stroke of good luck -imaginable."</p> - -<p>Hoverly squinted. "I don't follow you."</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"A stroke of sheer luck," President Roswell concurred.</p> - -<p>The roving ambassador leaned back smiling. "The chance timing was -perfect too. We beat them by less than two weeks."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>Summerson rose. "This, then, gentlemen, is it."</p> - -<p>"It certainly is." Roswell's voice was heavy with despondency. "The -most God-awful aid war the cluster has ever seen."</p> - -<p>"We can't back out," the ambassador warned. "We've got to get busy and -face up to the task."</p> - -<p>"With every resource at our disposal. To ignore the challenge would be -to surrender this entire section of the galaxy to the Easties."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>"I think you'd better call on the Potentate personally," Summerson -proposed.</p> - -<p>"That," said Roswell, "is exactly what I intend to do."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"Then we'd better order double production quotas on every world that -flies the Eastern flag."</p> - -<p>"<i>Triple</i> quotas. And have my space yacht refitted by tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"You're going somewhere, Highness?" asked the adviser.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"It's a bill!" Netath's voice quivered. "They sent us a bill for that -damned bather monstrosity!"</p> - -<p>Bataul's brow, to all appearances, was ready for spring planting. "Let -me have another look at it."</p> - -<p>Netath stood there trembling while the foreign minister sent his eyes -darting over the paper.</p> - -<p>"It's from Rear-Sobucks!" Bataul exclaimed. "A retail concern that -obviously handles automatic bathers!"</p> - -<p>"But it was our aid shipment, wasn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Apparently not. It says here, '... for merchandise previously extended -<i>in behalf of</i> the Western Cluster....'"</p> - -<p>"I don't understand."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>Netath stiffened. "And you think—?"</p> - -<p>"I think both we and McWorther are victims of message interfusion," -Bataul said flatly.</p> - -<p>"And our aid shipments—?"</p> - -<p>"I'd bet McWorther must be wringing his hands over more loot than he'll -ever be able to count."</p> - -<p>Netath started punching buttons on his desk. "We've got work to do."</p> - -<p>"What kind?"</p> - -<p>"First you're going to get off a message to this Rear-Sobucks bunch -and tell them what they can do with their bill <i>and</i> their automatic -bather—if it'll fit. You can also explain what's happened."</p> - -<p>"This time we'll send the message around the <i>right</i> leg of the -cluster," Bataul assured.</p> - -<p>"Then we're hopping over to this McWorther system and laying down the -law to that character. <i>That</i> I want to do personally."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"This," said Twenty-Seventh Vice-President Wheeler of Rear-Sobucks, -"explains it all."</p> - -<p>"Communications interfusion?" the twenty-sixth vice-president asked.</p> - -<p>"Absolutely, V.R. Just like Premier Netath says."</p> - -<p>"Then there's a Rear-Sobucks customer who has been unnecessarily -inconvenienced and still hasn't been satisfied?"</p> - -<p>With a curt nod, Wheeler confirmed the other's fear.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>Wheeler cowered.</p> - -<p>"<i>You're</i> going to take a trip—now!" V.R. went on, gathering steam. -"<i>You're</i> going to deliver a bather personally to this Potentate -McWorther. <i>You're</i> going to extend the apologies of the entire -Rear-Sobucks organization!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">IV</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Almost indifferent now, he stared at the hundreds of virtuosos and -shouted, "Go home!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="650" height="386" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>An all-too-brief silence fell over the multitude. Then, as stability -returned to the planetoid, they dived back into their various -activities.</p> - -<p>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 <i>anschluss</i>, a fraternal blowout—all rolled into one.</p> - -<p>A distant explosion rent what was left of the compact atmosphere. And, -as an immediate consequence, additional hundreds of tons of grain -<i>hissed</i> down a nearby slope and eased into the lake.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Titus poured himself another mintless, sugarless, iceless julep.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At the same time, Titus' ears popped again and he had the odd sensation -that the deck chair was shrinking away beneath him.</p> - -<p>The newly arrived ship lowered an escalator to the surface and the -pilot glided down, landing only a few feet from McWorther.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"This," said Titus stiffly, "<i>is</i> McWorther's World."</p> - -<p>Cupping his hands, the pilot called back into the ship. "We're on the -right place."</p> - -<p>An alarmed face poked out of the hatch.</p> - -<p>"<i>This</i> is it?"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>Without interrupting his misery, Roswell elevated a limp hand and -signaled for quiet.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Scowling, he whirled, threw up this arms and bellowed for silence. -Quiet came as though someone had pulled a plug.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>Titus poured a triple, undiluted julep and gulped down half of it. He -said, "You're standing on it."</p> - -<p>"<i>This!</i> That's impossible! What's the population?"</p> - -<p>"Two—not counting the transients." Titus started to offer the Emperor -the rest of his julep, thought better of it and drank it himself.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Titus, this has gone far enough!" she exclaimed. "If you don't—"</p> - -<p>"Later, Love," he pacified. "Something's going wrong."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"His Most August Excellency, Prime Minister Netath of Gauyuth-Six!"</p> - -<p>Ogarm Netath, indignation branding his features, strode out. "Where's -this Potentate McWorther character?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>A hundred extended fingers singled out Titus, who was just then pouring -a thirteenth julep.</p> - -<p>Netath stomped over. "You, sir, have got <i>my</i> aid consignments!"</p> - -<p>By that time, the other ship had thrown open its hatch and a short, -stout man in a business suit emerged.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>But Titus turned his back on the man, abruptly facing his wife. "Good -God! What day is it?"</p> - -<p>She frowned in puzzlement. "Why, Wednesday."</p> - -<p>There was a sharp explosion nearby as another article of cargo came -hurtling down from space.</p> - -<p>"And it's almost noon!"</p> - -<p>She nodded, still perplexed.</p> - -<p>"Get into the spaceabout, Love—<i>quick</i>!"</p> - -<p>She hesitated and he gave her a shove.</p> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>And they'd be lucky if they had <i>that much</i> 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.</p> - -<p>"What is it, Titus?" his wife asked as he strapped himself in beside -her.</p> - -<p>"The supplementary gravity generator hasn't been refueled! It's -sputtering out!"</p> - -<p>From space, he watched the end of McWorther's World.</p> - -<p>The atmosphere went first, <i>swooshing</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Life is still gratifying, with the exception of one detail.</p> - -<p>But Titus is resolved that he and his wife will have to be content with -the shower-masseur for the rest of their lives.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 60809 ***</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/60809-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/60809-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5ce9bcf..0000000 --- a/old/60809-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60809-h/images/illus.jpg b/old/60809-h/images/illus.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e5c7a8a..0000000 --- a/old/60809-h/images/illus.jpg +++ /dev/null |
