Mission Earth 6: Death Quest

by L. Ron Hubbard

  I hadn't seen Bang-Bang before because nobody had looked at him. He was sitting at the bar pouring Scotch into a saucer for the cat. "Got it, Jet. I'll add a few bombs as well."

  "So much for the land. Have you called all the contractors?" said Heller.

  "They'll meet you at Ochokeechokee. It's the remains of a town and there may even be a hotel there. They're all hot onto it. They got their logistics worked out and all their estimates are firmed. But, Mr. Jet, don't you think a billion dollars is an awful lot to spend on just clean air? And why for a bunch of Florida crackers?"

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  "It's necessary, Izzy. The pollution in the atmosphere will heat this planet up in time. I'm putting in the spores production plant in the Florida area because it's hot and will save fuel. The spores will rise into the trade winds, hit the stratosphere and circulate to both hemispheres. The spores will convert noxious gases into oxygen and it will take an awful lot of them. I'm sorry if you think it is unprofitable."

  "Oh, no, Mr. Jet," said Izzy. "I certainly would never dream of criticizing you. You wound me to think so. Besides, I maybe forgot to tell you, but when you said you were using mud electrical-breakdown for fuel, I enlarged the power plant a little bit and contracted the excess to the City of Miami Power Company for a quarter of a billion dollars a year: they use an awful lot of air conditioning there. Here's the contracts. I forgot to mention it."

  "Well, I'm glad we're going to show a profit," said Heller.

  "No, no, that's not where the profit comes from," said Izzy. "That just retires the project off the books in four years. The profit comes from this other corporation. I'm sorry if I forgot to mention it. I reactivated the original retirement estates corporation and we'll have a campaign to 'retire on your own alligator farm.' They were selling like hot cakes even before we got the place subdivided."

  Bang-Bang spoke up. "The deal is, they feed the tourists to the alligators and sell the alligator hides made up as purses, belts and shoes to the tourists. Perfect perpetual motion machine."

  Izzy said, reprovingly, "That's not true."

  "That's what you told me," said Bang-Bang self-righteously.

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  "Don't listen to him, Mr. Jet," said Izzy. "I was just trying to sell him one of the farms, and what does truth have to do with salesmanship? Actually we make our profit out of constructing posh retirement houses out of the mud we dig from the scenic canals we're going to make to raise the alligators in. So don't you worry about the cost, Mr. Jet. You worry about those Indians."

  "All right," said Heller, getting up off the floor. "Now you, Missy," he said to the Countess Krak, "have you got your clothes together? Sun helmets and bikinis and things?"

  "What?" said Izzy. "You're not taking Miss Joy! Mr. Jet, there's alligators, Indians, mud—oy! A beautiful creature like Miss Joy in a horrible place like that? Forgive me, Mr. Jet, but I think you haven't thought this through. Florida just plain isn't civilized enough."

  "I'm not going," said the Countess Krak.

  "What?" said Heller, aghast.

  "Much as I don't want to be apart from you," said Krak, "we're in a hurry to finish everything up and I have other things to do."

  "Such as?" said Heller.

  Her smile was enigmatic. "I want to pick an item up that I haven't found. It's going to take a lot of search."

  "Oh, shopping," said Heller. "Well, I'll admit that I certainly didn't look kindly at the idea of you in all that mud and up to your knees in alligators. I won't be gone too long. Just to get everything staked out and the contractors started. I'll miss you. But I can see your point. It's all right."

  He was frowning a bit. Suddenly Heller turned to Bang-Bang. "Listen, Bang-Bang, and listen good. You keep an eye on her. You make sure she's safe at all times!"

  "You needn't say the rest of it," said Bang-Bang. "If

  I don't you'll take me to ten thousand feet and drop me with no parachute."

  "Precisely," said Heller.

  "You didn't have to threaten," said Bang-Bang. "Jesus—beggin' your pardon, ma'am—I'd booby-trap my own head to blow it off if anything happened to Miss Joy. Only, you tell her that. She's sort of got a way to arguing around my very best reasons."

  "You mind what Bang-Bang says," said Heller to the Countess Krak.

  She smiled her enigmatic smile. "Of course, dear," she replied.

  Chapter 4

  I was flabbergasted at my tremendous luck! Of course, I'd known for some time that Heller was doing something with spores to clean up the planet's air, but I hadn't realized he was going away so soon. I just sat there gaping. The Gods had decided to smile on me at last! Bang-Bang I could discount. Without Heller to guide him, he was nothing. I could hardly believe it. I was actually going to be able to get the Countess Krak killed without any trouble at all! Not only killed but her dead body raped!

  I was so engrossed, Miss Pinch had to call me twice to tell me the first lesbian couple was ready.

  With great aplomb and confidence, I went into the living room. I gave them the treat of watching me take off my clothes.

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  The husband was named Ralph: short-haired and thin of face. She was lying under a sheet, eyes on me, bright and alive.

  With the air of a professional connoisseur, Miss Pinch watched me get into bed.

  The other lesbian flinched as her husband let out a scream.

  Candy grinned, eagerly nodding in rhythm.

  Ralph's mouth opened in a convulsive yell. Then she stiffened and her eyes, wide open, rolled back into her head. She lay there very still. I was staring into blank eyes!

  A wave of horror hit me.

  I thought that she was dead!

  I off-loaded quick and went into the back room.

  Feeling very strange, I stood there staring into the back garden.

  Was something wrong with me? I felt sort of ill. I couldn't understand it.

  Fifteen minutes or more I stood there. Finally Miss Pinch came in. She said, "The other girl is waiting, Ink-switch. What the hell is going on?"

  "I don't feel like it," I said.

  "Jesus Christ, Inkswitch, you can't be rude to company."

  "I don't know what is wrong with me," I said. "I don't think I can make it."

  Miss Pinch went out and shortly came back in. She was carrying a water tumbler full of bubbles. "It's some of the party champagne," she said. "Drink it down. A great aphrodisiac."

  I was thirsty. I gulped it all down. It made me feel warm. Not much more alcoholic content than Turkish sira.

  DEATH QUEST 69

  I peeked into the other room. Ralph was sitting up, fanning herself with her palm. She smiled at me. "Oh, you kid," she said. "To think I got to wait three weeks for another one of those is pure torture."

  I went over to her. I felt her arm. The pulse was strong. She was alive!

  "You got the wrong girl, Inkswitch," said Miss Pinch. "Over here. This is Butter."

  I walked around to the other side of the bed. The lesbian wife, Butter, was lying there sort of panting and eyeing me.

  The girl said, "I'm no virgin. I let a goat do it to me once up on a farm. It wasn't much good but he got my maidenhead. So shove away but I don't think I'll (bleep) like Ralph did."

  Miss Pinch laughed.

  Candy grinned.

  Ralph, watching, began to bob her head knowingly.

  Butter screamed and convulsed. Then her eyes rolled straight up into her head and she stiffened out like a poker.

  I was staring at blank, sightless eyes in a perfectly still face on a rigid body.

  My stomach turned over.

  I pulled off and raced away.

  I got to the bathroom. I began to throw up in the toilet bowl. I threw up everything I'd eaten for days and still tried.

  I collapsed in front of it, still trying from time to time.
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  Dead eyes!

  What was wrong with me?

  It must have been the champagne! But no, I'd begun to feel this way when Ralph did that.

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  Was I going crazy?

  Worse—was I, an Apparatus veteran, developing a conscience? Gods forbid.

  I examined my immediate past. Due to Prahd's operation, I had had a sexual surge. That should have made a difference in my mind. Freud would think it would, for his whole theory was that everything was based on sex.

  With care I reviewed myself to see if there was any real change in my personality. Bit by bit, I went over past experience with myself.

  My motivations didn't seem to have changed. Money, kill songbirds, put the riffraff in its place.

  Mysterious. Comparing past years to present, I had to conclude that my personality had not shifted so much as an id.

  I got to thinking about Torpedo Fiaccola. His psychologist had recommended becoming a necrophile. So obviously, from this evidence and much other psychology reading I had done, it was quite a normal thing to have coitus with a corpse. So that could not be the basis of this strange reaction.

  I just couldn't get to the bottom of it at all.

  Hours later, it seemed, Miss Pinch came looking for me. I heard myself babble, "Is Butter alive?"

  She laughed at me. "You're not good enough to kill them dead, Inkswitch. They both went home long ago."

  "You're not fooling me? You didn't dispose of her corpse somewhere, did you?"

  She saw I was serious. And she couldn't get me out of the bathroom. She phoned the couple and put Butter on the phone.

  "Are you a live girl?" I said.

  "What's your opinion, Inkswitch? But man, I'm here to tell you, you were better than the goat."

  "You're alive, then. You weren't dead."

  "Hell, you want me to come back, Inkswitch?"

  "Give me that phone," said Pinch, who had had her ear pressed near.

  "No, no," I said. "Put Ralph on."

  She did and I said, "Are you alive, Ralph?"

  "Half dead," said Ralph.

  It was the wrong answer. I shoved the phone at Miss Pinch. She said something into the mouthpiece and hung up. Then she said, "Take a shower, Inkswitch. The goat rubbed off on you. We're waiting."

  I took a shower. I washed and washed and washed, which is very unusual for me.

  Miss Pinch finally came into the bathroom again. "For Christ's sake, Inkswitch, come on!"

  She got me out and towelled me and got me into the other room.

  "No," I said. "Wait a moment." I found my hands were very shaky.

  "Look," I begged, "promise me you'll keep moving."

  Chapter 5

  In the chilly light of dawn, after a bad night of introspection, I decided it was all nonsense. There was nothing wrong with me at all.

  I got into the closet with my viewers. And one sight

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  of the Countess Krak through Heller's viewer returned to me my full resolve.

  They were taking him to the airport in the old, orange cab. She and Heller were seated in the back. Izzy was hunched up on the front seat looking studiously ahead. Bang-Bang was driving as he always did—like a madman.

  Heller and Krak had their arms around each other. She was sort of sniffling. But she said, "I know it's rough to be apart even for a few days. I've just got to steel up to it, that's all. We've got to get this mission finished and get off this planet. I feel it like an ache."

  So there she was, using all her woman's wiles to rush Heller along and get something done. And she didn't care a single (bleep) that I'd be killed if Heller succeeded in straightening out the place, for he could only do so by ruining every control point on which Lombar depended.

  I was right. She was the one I had to get rid of first. And quick. It was my firm duty to have her shot and I must not waver for a moment.

  That put my mind at rest. But something else at once unstabilized it. Heller's 831 Relayer! (Bleep) Raht! I'd be out of communication like a shot, with Heller in Florida.

  I got on the radio. Raht answered in a sleepy voice. "Listen, you lazy (bleep)!" I screamed. "Pay attention to your duties for a change! I've had enough of being cut off from seeing what he does. He's dangerous! Get over to the Empire State Building and get all those gadgets off of that antenna. You're just leaving them there to spite me! Since you know where it is, smart (bleep), deliver Krak's and Crobe's to me here in this apartment right away. Then draw money and a ticket at the office and fly today down to Ochokeechokee, Florida, keep your eye on

  that man and stay within two hundred miles of him. Repeat this all back quick so I'll know you're awake and I'm not talking to a snore."

  He did. I clicked off.

  I looked back at the viewers. They were unloading Heller's bags in the parking lot. Heller tried to help them but Izzy and Bang-Bang pushed him aside and struggled manfully with the big cases.

  I got disoriented. I was so used to going in and out of JFK that I didn't know where they were until I spotted a sign, La Guardia. Ah, domestic flights, of course.

  They got up to a line waiting at a counter. Izzy handed Heller a ticket. Heller looked at it. "Hey, what's this? Pretty Boy Floyd?"

  "Bang-Bang said that was your travelling name," said Izzy. "And listen, you're not connected to any of those corporations we have there. The contractors think your name is Floyd, too. And I advise you to use war paint on your face so if the Indians jump you, they'll think you're one of them."

  "Brilliant thinking, Izzy," said Heller. "I'll do just that. Now listen, I don't think there's much in the way of telephones down at Ochokeechokee and I may be out in the swamp mostly. So if you call and an alligator answers, hang up."

  "Why?" said Izzy.

  "Why?" echoed Heller. "I should think that would be obvious. You might put all the alligators on my trail, too!"

  Izzy looked puzzled.

  Bang-Bang said, "Izzy, it's a joke. You know, J-O-K-E, joke, as in oy."

  "It's no joke going amongst alligators and Indians,"

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  said Izzy. "You be careful, Mr. Jet. I'm still responsible for you."

  I had a sudden thought. Raht, the idiot, would lose his man for sure. I buzzed hastily on the radio.

  "Yes?" said Raht and there was a howl of wind in the microphone.

  "Listen, he's travelling under the name of Pretty Boy Floyd and he'll be wearing war paint."

  "You almost knocked me off this antenna."

  "Don't you fall off and break those relayers!" I snarled at him.

  "Wait, listen. I don't have your address, really. Can you talk me in?"

  "You can't soar from there to here!" I snapped. What an idiot. What did he think he was using? A space-trooper sled? I gave him the address.

  I looked back at the viewers. As you could expect, Heller and Krak were off to the side waiting for the plane, and she was crying. Women are always crying when people leave and when people get married. I can understand crying when getting married: that's an awful tragedy. But not just getting on a plane.

  "I feel too bad even to be cross with you about those women," she was saying.

  "Women?"

  "That protest at the United Nations. The ones carrying your picture with 'Pretty Boy' on it. You use that name on tickets."

  "Oh, honey, I can explain...."

  "No, no. You don't have to. I love you, Jettero. You're my man and I love you. And I'm being an idiot to stay behind and not go to Florida with you. But I've got to do all I can to speed things up and help us get home. And then we can get married and live happily

  ever after in some civilized place. There's a nice surprise waiting for us both when we get home. I promised I wouldn't tell you and I
won't. But hurry and finish up this mission, Jettero. And I'll do all I can."

  "You sit quietly and wait for me," said Heller.

  "They're calling your plane," said the Countess Krak.

  She kissed him and cried some more.

  Then he was gone.

  They saw the plane off from the observation platform and went back to the cab. She was still crying.

  Oh, there was no doubt at all left in my mind that she had to be killed. Pushing him, pushing him, egging him on. And all to connect up with Royal proclamations that were forgeries. But that was not the surprise they were going to get.

  The Countess Krak would be dead before Heller ever saw her again!

  Chapter 6

  About half an hour after Candy and Miss Pinch had departed for work, Raht showed up. I let him in. He handed me two sets of units, Crobe's and Krak's: they were all scummed up with soot from their long tenure in the weather; I found a rag and started to clean them up.

  Raht wandered around the apartment, staring at the clam shells and phallic symbols and sea foam. "Who lives here?" he said. "Some whore?"

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  I was certainly sick of his insolence. "If you did your duty as well as I do mine," I raged at him, "we'd get someplace. And you're not getting to Florida where you belong!"

  "There's no second plane until noon," he said. "Place sure stinks of flowers. Smells like a mortuary."

  That did it. "Get out!" I screamed at him and kicked him out the door.

  Having abreacted my hostilities, I felt better. I went to Krak's viewer to check it. The picture was not quite as good with the activator-receiver in this low place but it was adequate. I got interested in what Krak was doing.

  They had returned to the office and Krak was sitting at a white secretarial desk looking in the white pages of the New York telephone directory. Her finger was travelling down a page. She was muttering, "Rocha... Rochelle... Rock... Rocket... Rockford ..." She looked up. She muttered, "A-B-C-D-E-F. E-F..."

  Bang-Bang's voice. "Miss Joy." She looked up. He was sitting at the bar drinking a cup of coffee. "If you tell me what you're trying to do, maybe I can help."

  "I'm trying to find the personal telephone number of Delbert John Rockecenter."

  "WHAT?" said Bang-Bang, slopping his coffee.

  "Well, you needn't look so surprised," said Krak. "On a civilized planet, nearly everybody has a communication call sign. How otherwise would you get in touch with them if you had some vital news about their family?"