The Duplicators

by Murray Leinster

  “When you put bog-iron in the duplier,” said Link harassedly, “and the duplier makes a knife, the bog-iron crumbles because the iron’s been taken away.” Link was irritated, now. “The idea is to make a series of knives, adding different rock samples to each one, until you get a good knife. Then the rock that contained the alloy-metal you wanted will be crumbled like the iron. See?”

  “Wonderful!” said Thana, pleased. “I should have thought of it! I’ll try it tomorrow!”

  There was a faint noise outside. It was a shrill, ululating sound. Link paid no attention. Instead, he said urgently:

  “And I think I can work out some ways that might get electricity back!”

  “That would be marvelous,” said Thana. “You must tell Harl what they are! At dinner, Link. Tell him about them at dinner. He’s busy now, arranging about the torchlight for the hanging. But I thank you very kindly for telling me the trick to make better knives. I’m sure it will work! But I really do have to get dinner ready!”

  The noise outside grew louder. There were shouts. It sounded like a first-class riot beginning. Thana tilted her head on one side, listening.

  “The uffts are putting on a demonstration,” she said without particular interest. “Why don’t you go watch it, Link? You can tell Harl all your new ideas when we have dinner! I think it’s wonderful of you to think of things like this! You’ve no idea how important it will be! Excuse me now?”

  She bustled away. Link ground his teeth. If Thistlethwaite escaped, he must, too. Thistlethwaite might carry out the bargain with Old Man Addison and try to astrogate back to Trent. The emergency wasn’t that he might not make it, but that he might.

  Link made his way in the general direction of the tumult. It was dark inside the big building, now. Once away from the feeble oil-wick lamps, he seemed merely to run into walls and partly-opened doors and heavy, misplaced furniture. Once he heard a heavy clattering of small hoofs indoors, somewhere inside the building. A remarkable number of uffts seemed to be racing madly up stairs and down a hallway to the open air. The sound of their hoofs changed as they went out-of-doors. The noises from outside changed as they left the door open behind them. Link had heard only the background noise, a continual shrill yapping, but now he heard individual voices.

  “Down with humans! Down With the Murderers of Interstellar Travelers! Uffts forever! Men go home!” There was a particularly loud outburst. “We want freedom! We want freedom!” Then a squealing from a myriad voices from small pig-like throats. “Yah! Yah! Yah! Men have hands! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

  Link reached the open door. Darkness had fallen with the suddenness only observable in the tropics of some ten thousand planets. It occurred to him that the troop of uffts he’d heard in the building was probably Thistlethwaite’s special rescue squad. If they’d had to rush past or through a human guard at the doorway, such a guard would now be in poor condition to resist his own exit. And it was dark and there was enough confusion to cover one man, even a man supposed to be hanged, while he left the householder’s residence.

  He was right. Starlight showed hundreds of small, rotund bodies galloping madly up and down the street, shrilling squealed insults at the human race in general and Harl in particular. There was one especial focus of tumult. Three men on unicorns were its center. They were apparently Harl’s retainers returning from a hunt for an alleged new deposit of bog-iron. They’d been caught in the village street by the suddenly erupting disorder. They were surrounded by uffts, running around them like a merry-go-round, squealing denunciations at the tops of their voices.

  “Men have hands. Shame! Shame! Shame! Down with murderers of interstellar travelers! Uffts forever! Down with men! Down—”

  The retainers’ ungainly mounts tried to find a way through the squealing mob of uffts. But they were timorous. They lifted their large splay feet with a certain fearful suddenness and put them down with an attempt at delicacy. They managed to make their way along the ufft-covered street until they were almost opposite the doorway in which Link waited for a chance to leave without being instantly bowled over.

  Then a unicorn made a misstep. A foot came down on an ufft. The galloping small animal squealed, “He tramped on me!” and ran away shrieking its complaint.

  The sound of uproar doubled. Link went out into the darkness, to escape. He saw torches burning where men were at work building something which was plainly a gallows. Until this instant they had taken the noise and galloping calmly. They’d continued to work, though from time to time they looked with mild interest at the milling, racing small creatures which raced up and down the street, making all the noise they possibly could.

  But the stepped-on shrieking ufft, complaining to high heaven of the indignity put upon him, which did not lessen his speed or his voice, changed everything. Uffts came swarming more thickly than ever about the mounted men. They seemed to climb over each other to get closer to the unicorns and squeal more ferociously than before.

  And the unicorns panicked. Link saw a huge, pillowy forefoot lift with an ufft clinging to it, biting viciously. The ufft let go and bounced off its fellows on the ground. Other uffts bit at the unicorns’ feet. One of them went down to its knees and its rider toppled off. The three awkward animals bolted. All three fled crazily from the village with gigantic, splay-footed strides. The man who’d been thrown was buried under squealing uffts, while the greater number of the demonstrators went galloping after the runaway unicorns. The riders of two unicorns tried frantically to control them, but the saddle of the third was empty.

  Link heard the covered-up man swearing blood-curdlingly.

  He found himself plunging toward his fellow human. Quite automatically, his hands grasped two ufftian hind-legs and threw two uffts away over the heads of their fellows. Two more. Two more. Squealings from the thrown uffts seemed suddenly to terrify those who had been most valiant and most vocal in the attack.

  Link again threw away two more and two more still, and suddenly the creatures were running insanely in all directions. Some ran between his legs in wild, shrill terror. They jammed that opening and Link went down with a crash, still hanging on to a kicking hind-leg. The man he’d come to rescue continued to swear, now without uffts to muffle his words, which were remarkable. And there were men running to the scene with torches.

  Link let go of the ufft he held captive. He had to, to get up. The ufft went streaking for the far horizon at the top of his voice. Harl came out of the Household, fuming.

  “Sput!” he fumed. “Those uffts! They bit through the lashin’s of that whiskery man’s cage an’ let him loose! All this fuss was gettin’ him escaped! Sput! I was figurin’ on havin’ a real spectacular hangin’! An’ he’s got away!”

  The man to whose rescue Link had gone now got to his feet. He spoke, with a depth of feeling and aptness of expression that put Harl’s indignation in the shade. His garments were shreds. He’d been nipped at until he was practically nude. The arriving torches even showed places where blood flowed from deeper nips than usual.

  “And it was goin’ to be a swell hangin’,” mourned Harl indignantly. “Torchlight an’ stuff! I was just waitin’ for all the fellas to get back, and the fella had to escape! But there’s—”

  He stared.

  “Link!”

  Chapter 6

  “This,” said Link, at once with dignity and with passion, “this is no time to be fooling around with hangings!”

  Harl blinked at him in the starlight.

  “What’s the matter, Link? What’ you doin’ outside the house? That fella got away, but there’s—”

  “Me, yes!” snapped Link. “But we can’t spare the time for that now! Get some men mounted! We’ve got to catch Thistlethwaite!”

  “We don’t know where he went,” objected Harl.

  “I do!” Link snapped at him. “He went to the ship! If for nothing else, to get some pants! Then he’ll go to Old Man Addison’s. The uffts’ll take him. He’ll make a business deal with him!
A trade! A bargain!”

  It was an absurd time and place for an argument. Men with torches lighted one small part of the street. They’d come to help a fellow human momentarily buried under swarming, squealing uffts. Link had gotten there first. Then Harl. Now Link, with clenched fists, faced Harl in a sort of passionate frustration.

  “Don’t you see?” he demanded fiercely. “He was on Sord Three last year! He made a deal with Old Man Addison then! He’s brought a shipload of unduplied stuff to trade with Old Man Addison for dupliers! Don’t you see?”

  Harl wrinkled his forehead.

  “But that’d be… that wouldn’t be mannerly!” he objected. “That’d be—sput, Link! That’d be… business!”

  He used the term as if it were one only to be used in strictly private consultation with a physician, as if it were a euphemism for something unspeakable.

  “That’s exactly what it is!” rasped Link. “Business! And bad business at that! He’ll sell the contents of his ship to Old Man Addison and be paid in dupliers! And with the dupliers—”

  “Sput!” Harl waved his hands. He bellowed, “Everybody out! Big trouble! Everybody out! Bring y’spears!”

  Men came out of houses. Some of them wore shirts such as Link wore no longer. They were pleased with them. Since the article duplicated was relatively new, the replicas of it had all the properties of new shirts, though the raw stuff of the thread involved had previously had the properties of the centuries-old sample from which it had been duplied, and which hadn’t been new since before the art of weaving was forgotten. New-shirted retainers came out of houses to hear Link’s commands.

  “Get mounted!” roared Harl. “We’ ridin’ to that ship that come down today. What’s in it’s goin’ to Old Man Addison if we don’t get there first! Take y’spears! Get movin’! The uffts are goin’ too far!”

  There was confusion. More men appeared and ran out of sight. Some of them came back riding unicorns. Some led them. The three animals that had been ringed in and whose tender feet had been bitten by the uffts now came limping back into the village. The two riders had somehow managed to subdue their own beasts, and then had overtaken and caught the riderless animal.

  “A unicorn for Link!” roared Harl, in what he evidently considered a military manner. “Get him a spear!”

  “Hold it!” said Link grimly. “That stun gun you took from Thistlethwaite! You were carrying it. I’ll take that, Harl! I know how to use it!”

  “I ain’t had time to figure it out,” said Harl, agreeing.

  He roared. “Get that funny dinkus the whiskery man was carryin’ this mornin’! Give it to Link!”

  Confusion developed further. Since his first sight of Harl, riding up to the ship with five unicorn mounted men at his back, Link had made innumerable guesses about the social and economic system of Sord Three. Most of them had been wrong. He’d been sure, though, that the organization into Households was a revival or reinvention of a feudal system, in which a Householder was responsible for the feeding and clothing of his retainers, and in return had an indefinite amount of power. Harl had the power, certainly, to order strangers hanged.

  But it became clear that whether it was feudal or not, the system was not designed for warfare. Harl was in command, but nobody else had secondary rank. There were no under-officers or non-commissioned ones. Harl’s howled and bellowed orders got a troop of mounted men assembled. Confusedly and raggedly, they grouped themselves. They carried spears and wore large knives. Harl bellowed additional orders and whoever heard them obeyed them more or less. With great confusion, the group of armed and mounted men got ready to start out in the moonlight.

  Just as he was about to give the order to march, Thana’s voice came from the building which was the Householder’s residence.

  “Harl! Harl! If you go off now, dinner will get cold!”

  “Let it!” snapped Harl. “We got to catch that whiskery fella!”

  He roared for his followers to march, and march they did in a straggling column behind him. Somebody confusedly searched for and found Link, riding next to Harl, to give him the stun gun which was the only weapon that had been aboard the Glamorgan. He felt it over in the darkness.

  “It seems to be in working order,” he told Harl. “Thanks.”

  “What—” Then Harl saw the stun gun. The starlight was moderately bright, but it was not possible to see the details of anything, whether of the armed party or the landscape. “Oh. You got that thing. I was layin’ off to figure out what it was, but I didn’t have time. What’s it do, Link?”

  “It knocks a man or an animal out,” said Link curtly. “It shoots an electric charge. But you can set the charge not to stun him, but only sting him up more or less.”

  “’Lectric? asked Harl. “That’s interestin’! How far does it throw?”

  “That depends,” said Link.

  “Mmmmm. Uh, Link, how did you find out that that whiskery fella is makin’ a deal with Old Man Addison?”

  “Uffts told me,” said Link grimly. “Old Man Addison is going to pay three thousand bottles of beer for Thistlethwaite’s delivery to him. It’s a written contract. Thistlethwaite wouldn’t promise anything like that if he didn’t know his value to Old Man Addison!”

  Harl shook his head.

  “You spoiled a good hangin’ by not tellin’ me!” he said reproachfully. “He got away. But how d’you know he’s headin’ for the ship?”

  “I told you!” said Link. “He wants pants. He wants a shirt. He wants clothes. He wants to be dressed like a business man when he does business with Old Man Addison!”

  Harl considered.

  “It looks reasonable,” he admitted. “Right reasonable!”

  “I was offered a deal to escape, too,” said Link sourly. “The uffts wanted five thousand bottles of beer to take me to Old Man Addison’s Household.”

  “You wouldn’t like him,” said Harl sagely. “He’s hardly got any more manners than an ufft. Anybody who’s mannerly like you are couldn’t get along with him, Link. You showed sense in stayin’ with me.”

  “To be hanged!” said Link bitterly. “But—”

  “Hold on!” said Harl in astonishment. “Didn’t I admire that shirt o’ yours? An’ didn’t I accept it as a gift? I could make a gift to a man I was goin’ to hang, Link. That’d be just manners! But I couldn’t accept a gift an’ then hang him! That’d be disgraceful!” He paused and said in an injured tone, “I’ve heard of Old Man Addison doin’ things like that, but I never thought anybody’d suspect it of me!”

  Link waved his hand impatiently. It was remarkable that the discovery that plans for his hanging were changed should make so little difference in this thinking. But right now he was concerned with the prevention of a disaster vastly more important than any concern of his own.

  “I doubt,” he said, “that we’d better go through the ufft city. We’d better circle it. We’d be delayed at best, and Thistlethwaite is in a hurry to settle his bargain with Old Man Addison. He’ll hurry.”

  Harl cleared his throat and bellowed toward the skies. The trailing cavalcade of ungainly unicorns changed direction to follow him.

  The mounted party was probably fifty men and animals strong. In the dimness of starlight alone, it was an extraordinary sight. The men rode in clumps of two or three or half a dozen, on steeds whose gait was camel-like and awkward. The unicorns wobbled as they strode. Their limp and fleshy horns swayed and swung. Link, looking back and observing the total tack of discipline, felt an enormous exasperation.

  He didn’t like the situation he was in, even when immediate hanging was no longer included. In all his life before he’d been carefree and zestfully concerned only with doing things because they were novel or exciting, and on occasion because they involved some tumult. In anybody his age, that was a completely normal trait. But now he had a responsibility of intolerable importance. The future of very many millions of human beings would depend on what he did, but he’d get no thanks for h
is trouble. It went against the grain of Link’s entire nature to dedicate himself to a tedious and exacting task like this. If he were successful it would never be known. In fact, it was a condition of success that it must never be known anywhere off of Sord Three. And it mustn’t be understood there!

  At least an hour after their starting out a high, shrill clamor set up, very far away.

  “That’s uffts,” said Harl. “Somethin’s happened an’ they feel all happy an’ excited.”

  “It’s Thistlethwaite,” said Link. “He got to the ship. He probably passed out some gifts to the uffts.”

  The cavalcade went on. The faint shrill clamor continued.

  “Uh, Link,” said Harl, in a tone at once apologetic and depressed, “I thought of somethin’ that might make the uffts feel good. If like you said he gave presents to the uffts, maybe it was unduplied things. They couldn’t use ’em, havin’ hoofs instead of hands. But they’d know us humans ’ud have to buy ’em. They like to bargain. They enjoy makin’ humans pay too much. It makes ’em feel smart and superior. He could ha’ made a lot of trouble for us humans! A lot o’ trouble!”

  The long, somehow lumpy line of men and animals went on through the darkness. Harl said unhappily:

  “The uffts were tryin’ to make me pay ’em for news of where there was a lot of bog-iron. You figure what they’d make me pay for somethin’ unduplied! If that fella’s passin’ out that kinda gifts, the uffts feel swell. They feel happy. But I don’t!”

  Link said nothing. It would be reasonable for Thistlethwaite to feel that he had to get samples of his cargo aground to ensure his deal with Old Man Addison, and then to have a train of armed men and animals come to unload the Glamorgan and carry its specially purchased cargo away. If he opened a cargo compartment to get samples, the uffts could well have demanded samples for themselves. Or they could simply take them.

  “And,” Harl fumed, “when they got something they’ll ask fifty bottles of beer for, they won’t bother bringin’ in greenstuff, and how’ll I get the beer to pay ’em? They’ll bring in knives an’ cloth and demand beer! And if I don’t have the beer, they’ll take the stuff to another Household.”