The Third Murray Leinster

by Murray Leinster

  Calhoun reasoned that the projector to make the induction cattle fence would be beyond Maya City, somewhere in the mountains the photograph in the spaceport building showed. A large highway went into those mountains for a limited distance only.

  A ground-inductor projector field always formed at a right angle to the projector which was its source. It could be adjusted—the process was analogous to focusing—to come into actual being at any distance desired, and the distance could be changed. To drive the people of Maya City eastward, the projector of a cattle fence—about which they would know nothing; it would be totally strange and completely mysterious—the projector of the cattle fence would need to be west of the people to be driven. Logically, it would belong in the mountains. Practically, it would be concealed. Drawing on broadcast power to do its work, there would be no large power source needed to give it the six million kilowatts it required. It should be quite easy to hide beyond any quick or easy discovery. Hunting it out might require weeks of searching.

  But the people beyond the end of the highway couldn’t wait. They had no food, and holes scrabbled down to ground-water by men digging with their bare hands simply would not be adequate. The cattle fence had to be cut off immediately—while the broadcast of power had to be continued.

  Calhoun made an abrupt grunting noise. Phrasing the thing that needed to be done was practically a blueprint of how to do it. Simple! He’d need the two electronics engineers, of course. But that would be the trick.…

  He drove on at a hundred thirty miles an hour with his lips set wrily. The three other cars came behind him. Murgatroyd watched the way ahead. Mile after mile, half-minute after half-minute, the headlights cast brilliantly blinding beams before the cars. Murgatroyd grew bored. He said, “Chee!” in a discontented fashion and tried to curl up between Allison and Calhoun. There wasn’t room. He crawled over the seat-back. He moved about, back there. There were rustling sounds. He settled down. Presently there was silence. Undoubtedly he had draped his furry tail across his nose and gone soundly off to sleep.

  Allison spoke suddenly. He’d had time to think, but he had no practice in various ways of thinking.

  “How much money have you got?” he asked.

  “Not much,” said Calhoun. “Why?”

  “I—haven’t done anything illegal,” said Allison, with an unconvincing air of confidence, “but I could be put to some inconvenience if you were to accuse me before others of what you’ve accused me personally. You seem to think that I planned a criminal act. That the action I know of—the research project I’d heard of—that it became—that it got out of hand is likely. But I am entirely in the clear. I did nothing in which I did not have the advice of counsel. I am legally unassailable. My lawyers—”

  “That’s none of my business,” Calhoun told him. “I’m a medical man. I landed here in the middle of what seemed to be a serious public health situation. I went to see what had happened. I’ve found out. I still haven’t the answer,—not the whole answer anyway. But the human population of Maya is in a state of some privation, not to say danger. I hope to end it. But I’ve nothing to do with anybody’s guilt or innocence of crime or criminal intent or anything else.”

  Allison swallowed. Then he said with smooth confidence:

  “But you could cause me inconvenience. I would appreciate it if you would—would—”

  “Cover up what you’ve done?” asked Calhoun.

  “No! I’ve done nothing wrong. But you could simply use discretion. I landed by parachute to complete some business deals I’d arranged months ago. I will go through with them. I will leave on the next ship. That’s perfectly open and above board. Strictly business. But you could make a—an unpleasing public image of me. Yet I have done nothing any other business man wouldn’t do! I did happen to know of a research project—”

  “I think,” said Calhoun without heat, “that you sent men here with a cattle-fence device from Texia to frighten the people on Maya. They wouldn’t know what was going on. They’d be scared; they’d want to get away. So you’d be able to buy up practically all the colony for the equivalent of peanuts. I can’t prove that,” he conceded, “but that’s my opinion. But you want me not to state it. Is that right?”

  “Exactly!” said Allison. He’d been shaken to the core, but he managed the tone and the air of a dignified man of business discussing an unpleasant subject with fine candor. “I assure you, you are mistaken. You agree that you can’t prove your suspicions. If you can’t prove them, you shouldn’t state them. That is simple ethics. You agree to that!”

  Calhoun looked at him curiously.

  “Are you waiting for me to tell you my price?”

  “I’m waiting,” said Allison reprovingly, “for you to agree not to cause me embarrassment. I won’t be ungrateful. After all, I’m a person of some influence. I could do a great deal to your benefit. I’d be glad—”

  “Are you working around to guess at a price I’ll take?” asked Calhoun with the same air of curiosity.

  He seemed much more curious than indignant, and much more amused than curious. Allison sweated suddenly. Calhoun didn’t appear to be bribable. But Allison knew desperation.

  “If you want to put it that way—yes,” he said harshly. “You can name your own figure. I mean it!”

  “I won’t say a word about you,” said Calhoun. “I won’t need to. The characters who’re operating your cattle fence will do all the talking that’s necessary. Things all fit together,—except for one item. They’ve been dropping into place all the while we’ve been driving down this road.”

  “I said you can name your own figure!” Allison’s voice was shrill. “I mean it! Any figure! Any!”

  Calhoun shrugged.

  “What would a Med Ship man do with money? Forget it!”

  He drove on. The highway turnoff to Tenochitlan appeared. Calhoun went steadily past it. The other connection with the road through the town appeared. He left it behind.

  Allison’s teeth chattered again.

  The buildings of Maya City began to appear, some twenty minutes later. Calhoun slowed and the other cars closed up. He opened a window and called:

  “We want to go to the landing-grid first. Somebody lead the way!”

  A car went past and guided the rest assuredly to a ramp down from the now-elevated road, and through utterly dark streets, of which some were narrow and winding, and came out abruptly where the landing-grid rose skyward. At the bottom its massive girders looked huge and cyclopean in the starlight, but the higher courses looked like silver lace against the stars.

  * * * *

  They went to the control building. Calhoun got out. Murgatroyd hopped out after him, dust clinging to his fur. He shook himself, and a ten-thousand-credit interstellar credit certificate fell to the ground. Murgatroyd had made a soft place for sleeping out of the contents of Allison’s attache case. It was assuredly the most expensive if not the most comfortable sleeping cushion a tormal ever had. Allison sat still as if numbed. He did not even pick up the certificate.

  “I need you two electronics men,” said Calhoun. Then he said apologetically to the others, “I only figured out something on the way here. I’d believed we might have to take some drastic action, come daybreak. But now I doubt it. I do suggest, though, that you turn off the car headlights and get set to do some shooting if anybody turns up. I don’t know whether they will or not.”

  He led the way inside. He turned on lights. He went to the place where dials showed the amount of power actually being used of the enormous amount available. Those dials now showed an extremely small power drain, considering that the cities of a planet depended on the grid. But the cities were dark and empty of people. The demand needle wavered back and forth, rhythmically. Every two seconds the demand for power went up by six million kilowatts, approximately. The demand lasted for half a second, and stopped. For a second and a
half the power in use was reduced by six million kilowatts. During this period only automatic pumps and ventilators and freezing equipment drew on the broadcast power for energy. Then the six-million-kilowatt demand came again for half a second.

  “The cattle fence,” said Calhoun, “works for half a second out of every two seconds. It’s intermittent or it would simply paralyze animals that wandered into it. Or people. Being intermittent, it drives them out instead. There’ll be tools and parts for equipment here, in case something needs repair. I want you to make something new.”

  The two electronics technicians asked questions.

  “We need,” said Calhoun, “an interruptor that will cut off the power broadcast for the half-second the ground-induction field is supposed to be on. Then it should turn on the broadcast power for the second and a half the cattle fence is supposed to be off. That will stop the cattle-fence effect, and I think a ground car should be able to work with power that’s available for three half-seconds out of four.”

  The electronics men blinked at him. Then they grinned and set to work. Calhoun went exploring. He found a lunch box in a desk with three very stale sandwiches in it. He offered them around.

  It appeared that nobody wanted to eat while their families—at the end of the highway—were still hungry.

  The electronics men called on the two mechanics to help build something. They explained absorbedly to Calhoun that they were making a cutoff which would adjust to any sudden six-million-kilowatt demand, no matter what time interval was involved. A change in the tempo of the cattle-fence cycle wouldn’t bring it back on.

  “That’s fine!” said Calhoun. “I wouldn’t have thought of that!”

  He bit into a stale sandwich and went outside. Allison sat limply, despairingly, in his seat in the car.

  “The cattle fence is going off,” said Calhoun without triumph. “The people of the city will probably begin to get here around sunrise.”

  “I—I did nothing legally wrong!” said Allison, dry-throated. “Nothing! They’d have to prove that I knew what the—consequences of the research project would be. That couldn’t be proved! It couldn’t! So I’ve done nothing legally wrong.…”

  Calhoun went inside, observing that the doctor who was also tennis champion, and the policeman who’d come to help him, were keeping keen eyes on the city and the foundations of the grid and all other places from which trouble might come.

  There was a fine atmosphere of achievement in the power-control room. The power itself did not pass through these instruments, but relays here controlled buried massive conductors which supplied the world with power. And one of the relays had been modified. When the cattle-fence projector closed its circuit, the power went off. When the ground-inductor went off, the power went on. There was no longer a barrier across the highways leading to the east. It was more than probable that ground cars could run on current supplied for one and a half seconds out of every two. They might run jerkily, but they would run.

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, the amount of power drawn from the broadcast began to rise smoothly and gradually. It could mean only that cars were beginning to move.

  Forty-five minutes later still, Calhoun heard stirrings outside. He went out. The two men on guard gazed off into the city. Something moved there. It was a ground-car, running slowly and without lights. Calhoun said undisturbedly:

  “Whoever was running the cattle fence found out their gadget wasn’t working. Their lights flickered, too. They came to see what was the matter at the landing-grid. But they’ve seen the lighted windows. Got your blasters handy?”

  But the unlighted car turned and raced away. Calhoun only shrugged.

  “They haven’t a prayer,” he said. “We’ll take over their apparatus as soon as it’s light. It’ll be too big to destroy, and there’ll be fingerprints and such to identify them as the men who ran it. And they’re not natives. When the police start to look for the strangers who were living where the cattle-fence projector was set up.… They can go into the jungles where there’s nothing to eat, or they can give themselves up.”

  He moved toward the door of the control building once more. Allison said desperately:

  “They’ll have hidden their equipment. You’ll never be able to find it!”

  Calhoun shook his head in the starlight.

  “Anything that can fly can spot it in minutes. Even on the ground one can walk almost straight to it. You see, something happened they didn’t count on. That’s why they’ve left it turned on at full power. The earlier, teasing uses of the cattle fence were low-power. Annoying, to start with, and uncomfortable the second time, and maybe somewhat painful the third. But the last time it was full power.”

  He shrugged. He didn’t feel like a long oration. But it was obvious. Something had killed the plants of a certain genus of which small species were weeds that destroyed Earth-type grasses. The ground-cover plants—and the larger ones, like the one Calhoun had seen decaying in a florist’s shop which had had to be grown in a cage—the ground-cover plants had motile stems and leaves and blossoms. They were cannibals. They could move their stems to reach, and their leaves to enclose, and their flowers to devour other plants, even perhaps small animals. The point, though, was that they had some limited power of motion. Earth-style sensitive vines and flycatcher plants had primitive muscular tissues. The local ground-cover plants had them too. And the cattle-fence field made those tissues contract spasmodically. Powerfully. Violently. Repeatedly. Until they died of exhaustion. The full-power cattle-fence field had exterminated Mayan ground-cover plants all the way to the end of the east-bound highway. And inevitably—and very conveniently—also up to the exact spot where the cattle-fence field had begun to be projected. There would be an arrow-shaped narrowing of the wiped-out ground-cover plants where the cattle-field had been projected. It would narrow to a point which pointed precisely to the cattle-fence projector.

  “Your friends,” said Calhoun, “will probably give themselves up and ask for mercy. There’s not much else they can do.”

  Then he said:

  “They might even get it. D’you know, there’s an interesting side effect of the cattle fence. It kills the plants that have kept Earth-type grasses from growing here. Wheat can be grown here now, whenever and as much as the people please. It should make this a pretty prosperous planet, not having to import all its bread.”

  * * * *

  The ground cars of the inhabitants of Maya City did begin to arrive at sunrise. Within an hour after daybreak, very savagely intent persons found the projector and turned it off.

  By noon there was still some anger on the faces of the people of Maya, but there’d been little or no damage, and life took up its normal course again. Murgatroyd appreciated the fact that things went back to normal. For him it was normal to be welcomed and petted when the Med Ship Esclipus Twenty touched ground. It was normal for him to move zestfully in admiring human society, and to drink coffee with great gusto.

  And while Murgatroyd moved in human society, enjoying himself hugely, Calhoun went about his business. Which, of course, was conferences with planetary health officials, politely receiving such information as they thought important, and tactfully telling them about the most recent developments in medical science.

  What else was a Med Ship man for?

  THE SENTIMENTALISTS

  Originally published in Galaxy Science Fiction, April 1953.

  Rhadampsicus and Nodalictha were on their honeymoon, and consequently they were sentimental. To be sure, it would not have been easy for humans to imagine sentiment as existing between them. Humans would hardly associate tenderness with glances cast from sets of sixteen eyes mounted on jointed eye stalks, nor link langorous thrills with a coy mingling of positronic repulsion blasts—even when the emission of positron blasts from beneath one’s mantle was one’s normal personal mode of locomotion. And w
hen two creatures like Rhadampsicus and Nodalictha stood on what might be roughly described as their heads and twined their eye stalks together, so that they gazed fondly at each other with all sixteen eyes at once, humans would not have thought of it as the equivalent of a loving kiss. Humans would have screamed and run—if they were not paralyzed by the mere sight of such individuals.

  Nevertheless, they were a very happy pair and they were very sentimental, and it was probably a good thing, considered from all angles. They were still newlyweds on their wedding tour—they had been married only seventy-five years before—when they passed by the sun that humans call Cetis Gamma.

  Rhadampsicus noted its peculiarity. He was anxious, of course, for their honeymoon to be memorable in every possible way. So he pointed it out to Nodalictha and explained what was shortly to be expected. She listened with a bride’s rapt admiration of her new husband’s wisdom. Perceiving his scientific interest, she suggested shyly that they stop and watch.

  * * * *

  Rhadampsicus scanned the area. There were planets—inner ones, and then a group of gas giants, and then a very cosy series of three outer planets with surface temperatures ranging from three to seven degrees Kelvin.

  They changed course and landed on the ninth planet out, where the landscape was delightful. Rhadampsicus unlimbered his traveling kit and prepared a bower. Nitrogen snow rose and swirled and consolidated as he deftly shifted force-pencils. When the tumult subsided, there was a snug if primitive cottage for the two of them to dwell in while they waited for Cetis Gamma to accomplish its purpose.