by Jack Vance
Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_ July 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Within the text, [=o] represents a lowercase _o_ with an upper macron.
_Wilbur Murphy sought romance, excitement, and an impossible Horseman of Space. With polite smiles, the planet frustrated him at every turn--until he found them all the hard way!_
SJAMBAK
By Jack Vance
Illustrated by VIRGIL FINLAY
Howard Frayberg, Production Director of _Know Your Universe!_, was a manof sudden unpredictable moods; and Sam Catlin, the show's ContinuityEditor, had learned to expect the worst.
"Sam," said Frayberg, "regarding the show last night...." He paused toseek the proper words, and Catlin relaxed. Frayberg's frame of mind wasmerely critical. "Sam, we're in a rut. What's worse, the show's dull!"
Sam Catlin shrugged, not committing himself.
"_Seaweed Processors of Alphard IX_--who cares about seaweed?"
"It's factual stuff," said Sam, defensive but not wanting to go too farout on a limb. "We bring 'em everything--color, fact, romance, sight,sound, smell.... Next week, it's the Ball Expedition to the MixtupMountains on Gropus."
Frayberg leaned forward. "Sam, we're working the wrong slant on thisstuff.... We've got to loosen up, sock 'em! Shift our ground! Give 'emthe old human angle--glamor, mystery, thrills!"
Sam Catlin curled his lips. "I got just what you want."
"Yeah? Show me."
Catlin reached into his waste basket. "I filed this just ten minutesago...." He smoothed out the pages. "'Sequence idea, by Wilbur Murphy.Investigate "Horseman of Space," the man who rides up to meet incomingspace-ships.'"
Frayberg tilted his head to the side. "Rides up on a _horse_?"
"That's what Wilbur Murphy says."
"How far up?"
"Does it make any difference?"
"No--I guess not."
"Well, for your information, it's up ten thousand, twenty thousandmiles. He waves to the pilot, takes off his hat to the passengers, thenrides back down."
"And where does all this take place?"
"On--on--" Catlin frowned. "I can write it, but I can't pronounce it."He printed on his scratch-screen: CIRGAMESC.
"Sirgamesk," read Frayberg.
Catlin shook his head. "That's what it looks like--but those consonantsare all aspirated gutturals. It's more like 'Hrrghameshgrrh'."
"Where did Murphy get this tip?"
"I didn't bother to ask."
"Well," mused Frayberg, "we could always do a show on strangesuperstitions. Is Murphy around?"
"He's explaining his expense account to Shifkin."
"Get him in here; let's talk to him."
* * * * *
Wilbur Murphy had a blond crew-cut, a broad freckled nose, and a serioussidelong squint. He looked from his crumpled sequence idea to Catlin andFrayberg. "Didn't like it, eh?"
"We thought the emphasis should be a little different," explainedCatlin. "Instead of 'The Space Horseman,' we'd give it the workingtitle, 'Odd Superstitions of Hrrghameshgrrh'."
"Oh, hell!" said Frayberg. "Call it Sirgamesk."
"Anyway," said Catlin, "that's the angle."
"But it's not superstition," said Murphy.
"Oh, come, Wilbur ..."
"I got this for sheer sober-sided fact. A man rides a horse up to meetthe incoming ships!"
"Where did you get this wild fable?"
"My brother-in-law is purser on the _Celestial Traveller_. At Riker'sPlanet they make connection with the feeder line out of Cirgamesc."
"Wait a minute," said Catlin. "How did you pronounce that?"
"Cirgamesc. The steward on the shuttle-ship gave out this story, and mybrother-in-law passed it along to me."
"Somebody's pulling somebody's leg."
"My brother-in-law wasn't, and the steward was cold sober."
"They've been eating _bhang_. Sirgamesk is a Javanese planet, isn't it?"
"Javanese, Arab, Malay."
"Then they took a _bhang_ supply with them, and _hashish_, _chat_, and afew other sociable herbs."
"Well, this horseman isn't any drug-dream."
"No? What is it?"
"So far as I know it's a man on a horse."
"Ten thousand miles up? In a vacuum?"
"Exactly."
"No space-suit?"
"That's the story."
Catlin and Frayberg looked at each other.
"Well, Wilbur," Catlin began.
Frayberg interrupted. "What we can use, Wilbur, is a sequence onSirgamesk superstition. Emphasis on voodoo or witchcraft--naked girlsdancing--stuff with roots in Earth, but now typically Sirgamesk. Lots ofcolor. Secret rite stuff...."
"Not much room on Cirgamesc for secret rites."
"It's a big planet, isn't it?"
"Not quite as big as Mars. There's no atmosphere. The settlers live inmountain valleys, with air-tight lids over 'em."
Catlin flipped the pages of _Thumbnail Sketches of the InhabitedWorlds_. "Says here there's ancient ruins millions of years old. Whenthe atmosphere went, the population went with it."
Frayberg became animated. "There's lots of material out there! Go getit, Wilbur! Life! Sex! Excitement! Mystery!"
"Okay," said Wilbur Murphy.
"But lay off this horseman-in-space. There _is_ a limit to publiccredulity, and don't you let anyone tell you different."
* * * * *
Cirgamesc hung outside the port, twenty thousand miles ahead. Thesteward leaned over Wilbur Murphy's shoulder and pointed a long brownfinger. "It was right out there, sir. He came riding up--"
"What kind of a man was it? Strange-looking?"
"No. He was Cirgameski."
"Oh. You saw him with your own eyes, eh?"
The steward bowed, and his loose white mantle fell forward. "Exactly,sir."
"No helmet, no space-suit?"
"He wore a short Singhalut vest and pantaloons and a yellow Hadrasi hat.No more."
"And the horse?"
"Ah, the horse! There's a different matter."
"Different how?"
"I can't describe the horse. I was intent on the man."
"Did you recognize him?"
"By the brow of Lord Allah, it's well not to look too closely when suchmatters occur."
"Then--you _did_ recognize him!"
"I must be at my task, sir."
Murphy frowned in vexation at the steward's retreating back, then bentover his camera to check the tape-feed. If anything appeared now, andhis eyes could see it, the two-hundred million audience of _Know YourUniverse!_ could see it with him.
When he looked up, Murphy made a frantic grab for the stanchion, thenrelaxed. Cirgamesc had taken the Great Twitch. It was an illusion, apsychological quirk. One instant the planet lay ahead; then a man winkedor turned away, and when he looked back, "ahead" had become "below"; theplanet had swung an astonishing ninety degrees across the sky, and theywere _falling_!
Murphy leaned against the stanchion. "'The Great Twitch'," he mutteredto himself, "I'd like to get _that_ on two hundred million screens!"
Several hours passed. Cirgamesc grew. The Sampan Range rose up like adark scab; the valley sultanates of Singhalut, Hadra, New Batavia, andBoeng-Bohot showed like glistening chicken-tracks; the Great Rift Colonyof Sundaman stretched down through the foothills like the trail of aslug.
A loudspeaker voice rattled the ship. "Attention p
assengers forSinghalut and other points on Cirgamesc! Kindly prepare your luggage fordisembarkation. Customs at Singhalut are extremely thorough. Passengersare warned to take no weapons, drugs or explosives ashore. This isimportant!"
* * * * *
The warning turned out to be an understatement. Murphy was plied withquestions. He
