Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000

by L. Ron Hubbard

  The baron threw a copy of it on the table. “You should read the fine print.” He turned the copy around so Voraz could read it, though Voraz didn’t bother to, knowing it almost by heart.

  “Note this clause here,” said the baron, “‘Number one hundred nine: In the absence of a director or directors, the head of a planet owned by the said Intergalactic Mining Company shall have the power to make resolutions and his resolutions shall be binding.’”

  Lord Voraz shrugged. “Of course. They had only one additional planet then and the head of it was a royal prince. The directors at that time couldn’t be bothered with business. I don’t see—”

  “But it is a valid clause,” said the baron.

  “Right, right,” said Voraz. “But you are just delaying—”

  “Now take this next clause,” said the baron. “‘Number one hundred ten: In time of emergency and/or threat to the company, and especially at a time of disaster, the head of a planet may dispose of company property.’ Note that it is not further limited nor qualified.”

  “Why should it be?” demanded Voraz. “It was the same royal prince. He wouldn’t take the job away from home otherwise. He was afraid of communication cutoffs or palace revolutions. He could have been left out there holding a claw full of company bills. It was Prince Sco.”

  “But you agree,” said the baron, “that these are valid clauses.”

  “When do I get to repossess this planet?” said Dries wearily. “Nothing in that charter will permit you to wriggle out of paying forty trillion credits!”

  Lord Voraz corrected him, “Forty trillion, nine hundred sixty billion, two hundred seventeen million, six hundred five thousand, two hundred sixteen Galactic credits.”

  “So there’s nothing inaccurate in this royal charter,” persisted the baron.

  “Of course not!” said Lord Voraz.

  Baron von Roth and Andrew MacAdam looked at each other and laughed, startling the other two.

  MacAdam reached down into the papers beside his chair and drew up a thick pack of documents. “This was fully signed and witnessed eleven months after the destruction of the planet Psychlo.” He threw down the stack and it landed like a cannon shot.

  It was all embossed with seals and glaring with huge official red ribbons and scarlet and gold disks.

  It was the Terl contract!

  It sold in full the entirety of Intergalactic Mining Company, all its equipment, assets, planets and accounts.

  MacAdam plopped another document on top of it. “Here is the attest by the last Planet Head of the company that this is a true and valid contract and it adds his total conveyance of the company. It was signed just a few days ago.”

  Another paper was slapped down on top. “And here is the receipt and it says ‘Paid in full.’”

  Dries and Lord Voraz stared, open-mouthed. They had never been that startled before in their whole eventful lives. Seconds went by.

  Then, as one, they seized upon the pile and began to go through it. They read it. They looked for holes in it.

  Finally Lord Voraz said in awe, “It’s valid all right. I even see that it was assigned by the legal government of this planet to the Earth Planetary Bank in payment for loans. Quite regular. Stand up in any court.”

  But Dries shook his head. “To be legal and for it to be of any use to you in preventing the repossession, it would have to be recorded and put on file in the Hall of Legality on Snautch!”

  “Oh, but it is, it is,” said the baron sweetly. And he drew the file copy of the Hall of Legality form from his pocket and threw it down. “Fully recorded just three days ago! In fact, it was the first thing I did when I got through the mobs!”

  Dries had gotten over his shock. “It may give you planets and equipment. It might even give you collateral to borrow money on. However, the bank would take time to make the loan. And we wouldn’t lend on top of an unpaid loan. The document simply proves that now you really owe the debt. I will have to demand instant cash—”

  “We’ll come back to that,” said the baron. “Lord Voraz, how much would you say the Galactic Bank was worth? You know, assets and liabilities, as per your last balance sheet?”

  Voraz bristled. “We are under no obligation to show our bank balance sheets! Particularly in the middle of collecting a debt from a debtor!”

  “You do have a copy of one as of two weeks ago,” said the baron.

  Voraz almost choked. “Have you been rifling my hamper?”

  “Ach, Gott, no!” said the baron. “No reason to. I was told you had one. In any event, here is a current copy from your accounts office.” He pulled the immense, closely tabulated machine copy from his pile of papers and tossed it on the table. “Counting all buildings, real estate owned, and accounts actually collectible and subtracting bills owed, taxes yet to be paid, and all that, it seems to come to roughly one quadrillion credits.”

  “They had no right to give this out,” said Voraz. “But I admit it is correct. Roughly, one quadrillion.”

  “Providing we overlook the fact that you are about to go broke,” said MacAdam.

  “The bank would liquidate for that!” snapped Voraz.

  “If you could get to the branches in other universes, which you can’t,” said MacAdam.

  The baron waved a big hand airily, “But we are in a generous mood, aren’t we, Andrew?” He smiled at Jonnie. “Aren’t we?”

  Jonnie had his eyes riveted on the scene. It was like watching a bullfight.

  “Our two friends here,” said MacAdam, indicating the small gray men, “don’t seem to be very generous.”

  “But we’ll be big,” said the baron. “Voraz, you desperately need somebody to back you, you need visible assets. Without them you will fold. Right?”

  Voraz looked at him, glaring. Then he hung his head. “True.”

  MacAdam said, “So we’re willing to bail you out. Right, Jonnie?”

  Jonnie shrugged. Let them go ahead. There was going to be more to this fight.

  Voraz looked from MacAdam to the baron, very watchfully.

  The baron said, “So the Earth Planetary Bank is offering to buy two-thirds of the Galactic Bank.”

  “What?” cried Voraz. “That’s a controlling interest! You would control the whole vast empire of the Galactic Bank!” He thought about it for a moment. “And with what?”

  The baron smiled. “We will buy it with two-thirds of a quadrillion credits worth of planets.” He drew another sheet from the papers beside him. “Pending further evaluation, a planet is worth a minimum of sixty trillion credits.”

  Voraz said, “To be honest, most are worth considerably more.”

  The baron said, “You’d have assets, then. You could back your currency with reserves which you don’t now have. The Psychlos never let you own planets, but you can now. We will turn over eleven planets that are worth sixty trillion credits for the ownership of two-thirds of the Galactic Bank, all its assets, debts, everything.”

  Lord Voraz was wavering. But he had not said yes.

  MacAdam leaned back easily. “And we will put 199,989 planets and all company assets into a trust to be managed by the Galactic Bank. That gives you back your fund transfer profits. That lets you lease out mining rights. That surely saves your bank!”

  “Wait,” said Lord Voraz. And they thought he was going to turn it down. “I must be honest with you. You took your list of planets from the Intergalactic Coordinate Firing Table. It does not include the mine reserve planets. To push off all the planets it could on Intergalactic, and to bleed the company, there was an Imperial Decree that Intergalactic Mining Company had to own five planets for every one it actively mined. There is a list of one million additional planets recorded in the Hall of Legality, with their coordinates, unexploited by Intergalactic. Also I am afraid Dries never gave you the actual purchase contract for this planet. You keep speaking of it in the singular. It includes nine other planets in this system and all moons, mentioned in passing because they are
deemed worthless. There are also suns and nebulae and clusters. There is obviously an awful lot of Intergalactic property you don’t know about. Would you leave it up to us to ferret it out and include that in the bank-managed trust also?”

  MacAdam smiled. “Seem all right to you, Baron? Find any flaws in that, Jonnie?”

  Jonnie thought about it. There was another situation here they were evidently overlooking. But he saw nothing wrong with what the Earth bank was doing.

  With a hand outstretched to Lord Voraz, MacAdam said, “We agree.”

  Voraz had made his point. He started to reach for the hand and then he drew back. “Such a deal has to be ratified by a Galactic Bank board meeting.”

  The baron laughed. “Good. Let’s hold one. They can be convened anywhere in sixteen universes according to your charter.”

  “Ah, wait,” said Lord Voraz. “There are twelve other board members: rich, influential Selachees who are—”

  “Scared to death,” the baron finished for him. “The state of the bank and the riots made them believe that they would lose all their personal property and fortunes if the bank went under. So they thought this was a great offer!”

  Voraz gaped. “But they can’t hold a board meeting behind my back!”

  “Oh, they didn’t,” said the baron. “They gave me all their proxies and these delegate to me the right to place their votes.” He reached down and threw another pack of documents on the table. “There they are.”

  Lord Voraz stared at them. He recognized the personal seals. They had even been filed at the Hall of Legality.

  “So, as chairman,” said the baron, “would you please convene a board meeting of the Galactic Bank at once and move that the Earth Planetary Bank buy two-thirds of the Galactic Bank—”

  “It will have to be a typed resolution,” said Voraz. “I do hereby convene the meeting. I even have my seals. But—”

  “Here’s the resolution,” said the baron. “All typed. I’m awfully glad you’re convening the meeting, for it saves the trouble of going back to Snautch and getting you fired.”

  Voraz laughed suddenly. “You are a pair of hard rock eels! That was typed by my own secretary! That’s her initial!”

  “Right, right,” said the baron. “A charming girl. She was trying to save your and her jobs! Now just sign there as chairman of the board and president—”

  “Wait,” said Voraz, suddenly sober and worried. “This is all very well. But there are three things that could ruin this whole deal and all of us.”

  Dries interjected, “The first is how do I get my money, cash right now, for the mortgage here!”

  “Oh, that,” said MacAdam. He scooped up a huge sheet of paper which unfolded yards long. “This is the Intergalactic Mining money transfer summary from your bank. It says that on Day 92 of last year, there were certain Intergalactic funds in process of transfer. They were given over to the bank for further relay, but the bank, of course, was thereafter unable to relay them. Payments for metals, salaries . . . they’re all listed here. They are still in your bank. It’s all Intergalactic money. When we were in Snautch, we started an account for the Earth Planetary Bank. Let’s see, the total of received and unrelayed funds from two hundred thousand planets for their past month was C209,438,971,438,643 credits. That’s our money. Just subtract the mortgage from it and it still leaves us about one hundred sixty-eight trillion.”

  MacAdam rummaged around in his pile of papers. “Here’s our letter of authorization and here is the receipt for you to sign, Dries.”

  The small gray man was sitting there, speechless. He was trying to realize he was solvent. He had not thought to recover more than ten trillion in a forced sale. He sat up and grabbed a pen to sign the receipt.

  Lord Voraz stopped his hand. “That’s all very well,” he said in a worried voice. “But there are two other matters.” He turned to Jonnie. “Can you forgive us for trying to treat you as a hired hand, Sir Lord Jonnie? It is quite true that we cannot operate at all without transshipment rigs and consoles. We are cut off. We used to ship all bank business on the Psychlo rigs, using our own bank boxes. They charged us heavily, but to deliver a dispatch by spaceship can cost fifty thousand credits and takes ages! Are you going to help us in this?”

  “That’s all Jonnie’s,” said MacAdam. “We at the bank don’t own any part of it. Jonnie, we can make you a loan at low interest and help you set up a manufacturing plant. A separate company that you own. How about it?”

  2

  Jonnie roused himself. He had been so intent upon finance that he had to consciously force himself to think about technical matters.

  It would be dangerous to Earth to have these consoles scattered through sixteen universes—thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of rigs in not always friendly or well-meaning hands, run by other races.

  You could do a lot of things with a console. You could transport people, send dispatch boxes, ship ores, ship finished goods, send food. But you could also send bombs as he himself had proven so fatally to the Psychlos, and as would have been the end of the Tolneps.

  He had not thought much about the problem. Many other things had been very urgent. Yes, one console out there, much less half a million, could be very dangerous to this planet.

  “Give me a moment,” he said.

  Mr. Tsung also had his uses for the moment and brought them some tea and a tray of bites-between-meals. It was nearing lunchtime. It also, as he had wisely noted, gave Jonnie a needed moment to think.

  The Psychlos had had Psychlo operators. It didn’t make much difference about the platform and rig.

  The same security measures could be used in the console itself. Possibly even improved a bit.

  If he put a camera in the armored front of the case that would shoot a picture of every cargo . . .

  Aha! Metal analysis detectors. If they were built into the platform itself, they could analyze a cargo from all sides, above and below, and if that were connected to a circuit no one could get at in the console and if that circuit had a metal tracer . . . Yes. If anything in a cargo matched forbidden traces like uranium or this ultimate bomb heavy element, the match of the circuit would separate a relay and the console would not fire . . .

  It was a trifle difficult to think with all these faces staring at him, waiting. He didn’t have to be told the fate of the banks depended upon it. And they hadn’t mentioned a thing which could queer the whole deal.

  If he got with Allen and MacKendrick and worked out disease . . . they said it had an aura. Anyway, there were disease viruses and bacterial traces, and he could work those in, whether disease had an aura or not, and if anything on the platform matched, they would trigger that relay and the console wouldn’t fire.

  He could rig it so if any of such items were put on platforms for Earth, he could tie in the coordinates of Earth so that the console would blow up.

  Then if a sign were put on every console in plain view like, “Any attempt to fire contraband cargo with this console will render it inoperative. . . .” No list of things or else somebody might try to mask the trace. And if one added, “Any attempt to use this console in an act of war against Earth will cause it to explode. . . .” Maybe even put out that the console could read evil intentions. . . .

  Yes, he could build a foolproof console.

  And if the console seemed to be finally assembled in a place which was not known, by people who could not be found . . .

  He could make the construction areas very heavily defended. He would let only a very trusted, unbribable few do the final assembly. . . . Start a school for extraterrestrial operators who knew only how to operate it. . . .

  “I think I can do that,” he told them.

  They all brightened up. Mr. Tsung took the tray away.

  “However,” said Jonnie, “the rigs will be a bit expensive.”

  Unimportant.

  “And I will not sell them. I will only lease them. Every five years a console will have to be exchange
d for a new one.” That would keep going an Earth that had no real income, and it would permit an inspection of views of cargos that had been shipped. “Some extraterrestrial firm will have to be brought in to make components and cases. Otherwise it will take too long to build one.”

  “You can provide consoles?” asked Lord Voraz.

  “He said he could,” said the baron. “If Jonnie says he is going to do something, watch it! He will!”

  “All right,” said Lord Voraz. “That brings us now to the most serious block of all.” He pointed in the direction of the big conference room. “Those emissaries!”

  Voraz looked very gloomy. “You are almost in the intergalactic banking business now and will be if this resolution is signed. You had better understand that it is very tricky business handling such as those!

  “As you noted,” he continued, “right now they have countries in riot. Their economies are in rags. But they are of such a nature that they will just sit there square in the middle of their prejudices, cling to their most arrogant opinions, and ignore everything else.

  “Right this minute, I have better reason than you to know, they are absolutely counting on war to save their economies and their states. They think that war powers and war hysteria will distract the people and secure their own positions. It is their only formula.

  “This bank lived in the shadow of the powerful even if hated Psychlos. They are gone. You, and even the Gredides, are small planets. You have no great military force. To be blunt, those lords will not respect you.

  “I read the ripples in the water with Lord Schleim. He supposed the bank was no longer the power it had been. He thought he could violate a conference. He failed. But that kind of thinking couldn’t have existed a mere thirteen months ago. Others among those haughty lords will get the same ideas sooner or later.”

  He pointed to the papers. “You have here more than one million, two hundred thousand habitable, useful worlds. It is very tasty bait for very big fish.

  “Since these lords are bent on war to save their regimes, they will find a pretext not to respect the ownership of Intergalactic, Earth or the bank. They will raid these planets. They will quarrel over them. They will throw good sense and order to the winds and waves. The harder they are driven at home by economic chaos, the more they will seek a pretext to take outlaw actions.”