by John Rickham
“I don’t know. Can’t think, not the way my head is cracking.”
“Sorry about that. Obviously, you’re too big a name, Noble.
Alive, you could raise a stink, but that would simply delay you. Dead, the authorities would step in, and our opponents don’t want that. Clear now? Right. We’ll meet again, soon.
And that was that. I began to appreciate what Miss Knight had said, about his mind taking steps while ordinary people were still gawking at the data. I had no trouble at all playing my part. The law was most cooperative, and I was almost comfortable as I settled down for a couple of hours nap on the monorail. Just one thing bothered me. Obviously Swilly had sold his information to someone, and that someone had managed to identify me, and locate my home address, -and fast! I had reason to believe that Carson was good, but was he as good as our unknown competition?
Thanks to medication, and, I suppose, a clean constitution, I arrived in Britannia with little more than a headache. Frankly, I do not care for the functional city that has been called Britain’s new capital. Better pens than mine have rhapsodized over its advanced design, its architecture, the marvelous view out over the Wash, the reclaiming of fenland to make the world’s most modem land-sea-space terminal, and all the rest of it. Personally, I prefer a little disorder, a sense of the happy chance. In any case I was in no mood, that morning, to dwell on such things. From my father’s office, high up in one of the administration buildings which overlook the sea-city, I could see the dock, and far out in the North Sea, the splash-port where ships came and went carrying goods and merchandise—only these ships went straight up, destination Moonbase and beyond. In a short while, if all went well, I was going to be on one of those ships. Even now, it was hard to believe.
“Well?” My father, finishing up some trivial business, called me back from reverie. “What brings you here? Some trouble, obviously.”
I told him my tale, carefully edited, and he snorted at it, which depressed me a bit. I’m of age, my own master, and there has never been any great deal of affection between us, but I suppose old habits die hard, and I didn’t relish trying to go against his wishes.
“You didn’t come all the way up here, overnight, just to tell me of a break-in by hooligans. What do you really want?”
It came to me that I could do worse than adopt Carson’s style, to tell the truth, as much as was needed. “I want to get off-planet for a while,” I told him, “just for a change. I’m fed up with just idling around.”
“Indeed! They say discontent is a healthy sign. What particular place had you in mind?”
“I had thought of Verlan. I’ve heard it’s fairly civilized.”
“I see!” He fiddled with papers a moment, and I expected him to turn me down flat, but he shook me. “Very well, I think I can accommodate you. As it happens, I was contemplating sending someone to look over the market there.”
“Me?” I was astonished. “But I know nothing about business and trade, you know that!”
‘You know more than you think, Alan. Look!” and he brought up a map on his wall-screen. “Verlan, third planet of Tau Ceti. That continent. Take a good look. The living conditions are almost ideal. The interior is park-like, the climate ranging from subtropical in the south to Scandinavian in the north. Mound the coastline, see, a number of community settlements. They are all different, but they have one thing in common. They are very luxurious. And the business council of Shangri-La, which is what they’ve called the place, has only one objective, to provide what the consumer wants.”
“Sounds ideal.”
‘Exactly. And they have one strict rule. No producer industries, no factories, no workers, no pollution, nothing like that. Wealthy people only, everything imported. So, a fantastic market.” He cut the display and fixed his eye on me. “I hardly expected the day would come when I would need your talent, my boy, but here it is. Every producer business on Earth has an eye on that continent, is itching to provide what they need. But most of them are having difficulty in thinking in terms of sheer pleasure. Businessmen are more apt to think in terms of necessities and essentials, mass markets and mass production. I’m in the same boat. I have expert scouts, men who know their stuff, but they are not ‘rich’ minded. You are. You’ve lived that kind of life ever since you left school. You know that kind of people, you can mix with them, talk their language. You can also keep your eyes and ears open, and make notes of what is needed. What they really want, not what salesmen are trying to sell them. You understand me?”
I did. He had me all wrong, but I had the sense to keep my mouth shut and let him sell me. Of the old-fashioned school, my father. He disapproved of my idle ways, but, by gum, if he could use them to his advantage, he was going to do that. And he did, with the result that, after a telephoned word here and a discreet command there, money and prestige had their way, and I was riding the shuttle-boat out to the splash-port, on my way to the Moon. Unfortunately, all the money in the world couldn’t buy off the devilish harmonics of the hypox drive, which seemed to strike some instant harmony with my headache, and I was never so glad of anything as I was to see the arrival signal go up in the cabin set aside for me. Feeling as if my head had melted and was slowly solidifying again, with fractional gravity threatening to finish off my partial disintegration, I managed to make my way to the reception station, a vast and noisy space full of mechanicals and distressed travelers like myself.
As I fell into an easy chair and felt its comfort, a buzzing little mechanical approached. I shoved my travel-card at it, pushed it into a slot, and it spoke courteously.
“I am programmed to answer any or all of the questions listed on my screen, if you depress the appropriate button.”
I saw the list, and was trying to focus my eyes to read it when a sleek young woman in skintight silver came gliding up, removed the card, sent the machine away, and smiled upon me.
“Mr. Noble. Can I be of service to you?”
“I hope so. If there is an equivalent to travel-sickness in space, I’ve got it. Something in a glass might help.”
“Of course!” She went away with a self-conscious wriggle, and I sat back and wondered how I had ever let myself be talked into such a mess. It had dawned on me during that fiendish ride that I was certainly hours ahead of my time, that Carson would not expect me to get moving this fast. And that, of course, meant that I would be traveling to Verlan alone. I think I touched rock bottom at that point. Then the gorgeous silver-clad creature returned with a tall glass and a worried look. She waited until I had imbibed half the potion, then she coughed discreetly.
“We have a slight difficulty, sir, with regard to your passage to Verlan. That will be on the Imperial Queen, the director’s suite, of course.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, feeling better with every breath.
“A party of scientific people needing urgent passage had already been assigned that accommodation. You have priority, of course, and we can fill them in on a later flight—”
“What'd you want me to do, share with them? How much room is there?”
“There’s space for four, and only two in the scientific party. Of course, if you would rather not, you give word for them to be taken off—”
“They are already aboard?”
“Yes, sir. The Queen lifts in twenty minutes!”
“Oh, Lord!” I put away the rest of the drink and tried to think. It speaks for the state of my faculties that it took almost a full minute before the obvious truth dawned on me. A scientific party of two! The young woman stood patiently, ready to dash away at my least word. I managed a smile.
“It’s all right,” I told her. “Let them stay. I don’t mind sharing a cabin, in a good cause. Do you think I could have another of those magic potions?”
“Certainly, sir, and thank you very much. It will save a lot of trouble. I will arrange for a mechanical to come for you.
After all that fuss, the quarters were hardly palatial. I was delivered to a m
iniscule cabin with bunks for four and enough room in the middle for the same four to stand, provided they weren’t too fat. And, of course, Carson and Miss Knight. He turned his easy smile on me, but put up a hand.
“You were fast, Noble. Maybe too fast. The co-pilot has just told us that we may have to get off. Apparently some V.I.P wants this suite!”
“Doesn’t it make you want to puke?” she muttered. “Just because some bloated business tycoon suddenly gets a desire to travel in search of even more wealth, we have to wait. So much for the prestige of science!”
It struck me as funny, and I laughed. She was furious. I had always considered “blazing blue eyes” a literary exaggeration, but she proved me wrong on that. For a moment I thought she was going to haul off and hit me.
“I’m sorry”—I hastened to soothe her—”it just struck me as comical that you should blast somebody about his lawful business, while you are using your so-called scientific prestige for illegal purposes.”
“All the same,” Carson said, “it’s a bit hard to be held up now, after making such good time. Especially you. I never expected—here, just a moment! I’m slipping. Last minute annexation of the director’s suite, and then you turn up—am I right?”
“Absolutely. You can unpack. Your bloated business tycoon has agreed to share his luxurious accommodation with you.
Miss Knight was deflated, and Carson was quick to rub it in. “You have to admit, Fiona, that he is pulling his weight so far.”
“Oh, shut up!” she muttered, and began unpacking her case.
“How long,” I asked, looking around, “are we to be confined in this decorated shoe box?”
“One hundred sixty hours,” Carson said. “And if you think this is a box, you should see the lower decks!”
“How do they stand it for a whole week?”
“They don’t. Nor will we. We use this.” He popped open a small cabinet next to the toilet-cubicle. From it he produced a coil of plastic that had oval green pills embedded in it at regular intervals. “Slow down, in the jargon. Metabolic retardants. You take one, wait what seems like an hour—and it’s tomorrow. You feel hungry, you eat and drink, take another—and that’s the way it is.”
To be accurate, it wasn’t quite like that. We worked. We tried our best to learn the Verlan tongue, we studied maps of the planet, and we got to know each other a little better. Apart from her rather breathtaking candor and her equally breathtaking shape, I discovered that Fiona had a wit almost as keen as Carson’s, and an appetite for work equal to his. They were thorough, those two, and I had to go like mad to keep up with them. So it wasn’t all dull and sodden with time-passing drugs. But I am now an expert on space-travel, as much as anyone is, and I can tell you, there’s nothing to it. Literally.
III
WE HUNG ABOUT in orbit around Verlan for quite a while awaiting landing clearance, and my V.I.P. status got us the chance to see the place through the only available viewers, in the main control cabin. I will admit that some of the credit ought to go to Fiona, who turned on her charm full-blast, and was exhibiting herself in a nothing-dress of some peculiar stuff that looked transparent one moment and rainbow-crazy the next. Shangri-La looked very like a more rounded version of Australia, and Carson spotted our island for us.
“That’s it,” he murmured, “but don’t point. There, like a dog’s paw, see? That’s our destination, eventually, after we’ve done other things.”
Then we were slipping away over the main continent again, and Fiona had to sigh at it.
“A beautiful place. I don't wonder that locals want to save it from spoilage. Where do we land?” This last was for the captain, who was only too pleased to point and explain.
“There. Port Salutation. Everyone enters by that gate and is recorded.” A junior approached him with a hurried word and he nodded, and then came back to us apologetically.
“You’ll have to return to your cabins now, please. We are going down. Landing in about thirty minutes. You’ll be first off, so he ready when the chime sounds.”
The atmosphere of this part of Verlan was not only tinted with gauzy hues, it was delicately perfumed, as we discovered when we made our way to the landing gangway and down into the trimaran that came scooping alongside to collect us. And it was hot enough to make us immediately uncomfortable as we moved forward to give room for our fellow travelers to come aboard.
‘This is almost tropical,” Fiona complained. “I hope there aren’t any silly bylaws against exposure. I shall be cooked if I don’t peel something off soon!”
“Better get used to it,” Carson advised. “It’s going to be a lot warmer than this where we’re going.”
She had a cutting retort ready, but I touched her arm. “Look over your shoulder, and feel easy,” I said.
“Welcome to Salutation!” The young woman who had emerged from the forward cabin addressed us in a round and rich contralto that caught every ear and every eye, too, and small wonder. A wisp of white synthetic twisted about her hips like a loincloth was all that stood between her and the admiring stare of the passengers. She was tall, with a shape that would have driven a Norse goddess green with envy, and from her heavy gold tresses down to her bare feet she was smoothly tanned the color of old honey. As she moved now, to grab a handful of brochures and come among us to distribute them, she was so artfully and utterly right that she disarmed any possible reaction to her near-nudity. Back on her tiny elevation again, she said, “The brochure gives you a map of Salutation and all the information you need to find your way around. If you should be in any difficulty or doubt whatever, just ask anyone. We are all good friends, in Shangri-La.” With that, and a beautiful smile, she stepped down into her seat and the engines growled into life. Carson frowned at his gift, at the back page, where there was a general map of the continent.
“It’s changed some in the five years since I was here last, but you’ll notice almost all the city-complexes are to the north of here, all around the coast. This southern end of the continent is a shade too warm for most folks.”
“That’s to our benefit, surely?” I suggested, and he nodded.
“In a way, sure. Reduces the risk of interference from the local law. Not that they’re all that strong on law here. But it also means we’re on our own. No chance of screaming for help if we get in a jam.”
He put the folder away, and we looked up to meet Fiona’s stare, with one eyebrow slightly raised to mean she had been waiting to get in her contribution.
“Just to make sure,” she aimed the remark at me, “about something. That near-naked Venus who is piloting us. You don’t mind? I mean, about a girl making herself comfortable?”
I glanced away, over the sparkling sea where a group of young people were dashing toward us, apparently skating on the water, but in reality riding on small motor-powered surfboards. Take all the seven or eight of them together and there wasn’t enough clothing to make a small handkerchief. “Judging by that,” I said, “it doesn’t seem to matter much whether I mind or not. Anything goes, here.”
“That’s not what I meant. Never mind them, I’m talking about us. Will it bother you? Damn it, you know what I mean, and I can’t help being female.”
“Look”—I chose words with care, because I could see a smothered grin of unholy glee on Carson’s face, out of range of her eyes—”let me put it this way. Some people need to be concealed because they offend, or because they have some kind of illusion to maintain. You don’t need that. Ornamentation, for you, is gilding the lily. Co ahead and be comfortable, please. You won’t upset me at all. But don’t expect me not to look and admire. That would be like taunting a thirsty man with wine and then not letting him drink.”
She turned to Carson. “Isn’t he nice? I ask a simple question and I get a poem in reply.”
“It was a silly question,” he told her mildly. “And you know it. You just can’t help trying to make a man squirm. It’s your nature. Watch it, we’re going alongside. You much
of a swimmer, Noble?”
The question lifted the tension before it could sting. We scrambled out of the trimaran and onto a quayside that gave us a view of really beautiful buildings and tree-lined vistas, all of it looking as clean and freshly scrubbed as if it had just been gone over for our benefit.
“Not a good swimmer,” I told him, as we started a slow stroll toward the city center. “I can keep afloat, and make some progress, for quite a while, but I’m no performer. Any special reason why?”
“No. Just useful data. Islands, swimming—just association of ideas. That looks like the registration center.”
Our documents enabled us to comply with the formalities very quickly, but Carson pointed out, as we left the building again, “That’s a very neat system. We are now officially here, and we stay here until we leave through that machine. So you have, at one stroke, a complete population check and breakdown and an instant reference for data about imports. No guessing at the market. But I’d dearly love to backtrack on their records over the past few months.”
“You have master-criminals on the brain,” Fiona scoffed, and he just gave a shrug and a smile and led us away to a bench in a beautiful plaza. Out came the map again, on his knee, while we sat at either side. “We’re here,” he said, with his finger on Salutation, “and we want to be here.” The finger moved clear across the lower stretch of the continent to Outpost One. “That’s to start with. That’s where Fiona will pull her weight, will establish our scientific bona fides and get us a little help, maybe. Current information, at least.”
“And then,” she added, in rich scorn, “we go jumping off into the mist to try and locate Gamut’s semi-mythical pack. Frankly, Neil, I think that is the craziest part of the whole plan. If Gallint himself couldn’t find old Uhurneelee again, what chance have we got?”
“I must admit,” I said, “that I feel the same way on that. You’ve talked of the time factor, and I can appreciate that, so why must we waste some of it on a hopeless quest?”
