Hoddan grimaced.
“I came to arrange a deal on that order,” he observed.
“I don’t think I like it,” said Don Loris peevishly. “I prefer to deal with people direct. I’ll arrange about the landing grid, and for a regular recruiting service which I will conduct, of course. But you…you are irresponsible! I wish you well, but when you carry my men off for pirates, and make my neighbors into my enemies, and infect my daughter with strange notions and the government of a friendly planet asks me in so many words not to shelter you any longer…why that’s the end, Hoddan. So with great regret—”
“The regret is mine,” said Hoddan. Thoughtfully, he aimed a stun-pistol at a slowly opening door. He pulled the trigger. Yells followed its humming, because not everybody it hit was knocked out. Nor did it hit everybody in the corridor. Men came surging out of one door, and then two, to require the attention of his weapons.
Then a spear went past Hoddan’s face and missed him only by inches. It buried its point in the floor. A whirling knife spun past his nose. He glanced up. There were balconies all around the great hall, and men popped up from behind the railings and threw things at him. They popped down out of sight instantly. There was no rhythm involved. He could not anticipate their rising, nor shoot them through the balcony front. And more men infiltrated the hall, getting behind heavy chairs and tables, to push toward him behind them as shovable shields. More spears and knives flew.
* * * *
“Bron!” cried the Lady Fani, throatily.
He thought she had an exit for him. He sprang to her side.
“I…I didn’t want you to come,” she wept.
There was a singular pause in the clangings and clashings of weapons on the floor. For a second the noises continued. Then they stopped. Then one man popped up and hurled a knife. The clang of its fall was a very lonely one. Don Loris fairly howled at him.
“Idiot! Think of the Lady Fani!”
The Lady Fani suddenly smiled tremulously.
“Wonderful!” she said. “They don’t dare do anything while you’re as close to me as this!”
“Do you suppose,” asked Hoddan, “I could count on that?”
“I’m certain of it!” said Fani. “And I think you’d better.”
“Then, excuse me,” said Hoddan with great politeness.
He swung her up and over his shoulder. With a stun-pistol in his free hand he headed down the hall.
“Outside,” she said zestfully. “Get out the side door and turn left, and nobody can jump down on your neck. Then left again to the gate.”
He obeyed. Now and again he got in a pot-shot with his pistol. Don Loris had turned the castle into a very pretty trap. The Lady Fani said plaintively:
“This is terribly undignified, and I can’t see where we’re going. Where are we now?”
“Almost at the gate,” panted Hoddan. “At it, now.” He swung out of the massive entrance to Don Loris’ stronghold. “I can put you down now.”
“I wouldn’t,” said the Lady Fani. “In spite of the end of me that’s uppermost, I think you’d better make for the spaceboat exactly as we are.”
Again Hoddan obeyed, racing across the open ground. Howls of fury followed him. It was evidently the opinion of the castle that the Lady Fani was to be abducted in the place of the seven returned spearmen.
Hoddan, breathing hard, reached the spaceboat. He put Fani down and said anxiously:
“You’re all right? I’m very much in your debt! I was in a spot!” Then he nodded toward the castle. “They are upset, aren’t they? They must think I mean to kidnap you.”
The Lady Fani beamed.
“It would be terrible if you did,” she said hopefully. “I couldn’t do a thing to stop you! And a successful public abduction’s a legal marriage, on Darth! Wouldn’t it be terrible?”
Hoddan mopped his face and patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry!” he said warmly. “You just got me out of an awful fix! You’re my friend! And anyhow I’m going to marry a girl on Walden, named Nedda. Good-by, Fani! Keep clear of the rocket blast.”
He went into the boatport, turned to beam paternally back at her, and shut the port behind him. Seconds later the spaceboat took off. It left behind clouds of rocket smoke.
And, though Hoddan hadn’t the faintest idea of it, it left behind the maddest girl in several solar systems.
X
It is the custom of all men, everywhere, to be obtuse where women are concerned. Hoddan went skyward in the spaceboat with feelings of warm gratitude toward the Lady Fani. He had not the slightest inkling that she, who had twice spoiled her father’s skulduggery so far as it affected him, felt any but the friendliest of feelings toward him. He remembered that he had kept her from the necessity of adjusting to matrimony with the Lord Ghek. It did not occur to him that most girls intend to adjust to marriage with somebody, anyhow, and he did not even suspect that it is a feminine instinct to make a highly dramatic and romantic production of their marriage so they’ll have something to be sentimental about in later years.
As Hoddan drove on up and up, the sky became deep purple and then black velvet set with flecks of fire. He was relieved by the welcome he’d received earlier today from the emigrants, but he remained slightly puzzled by a very faint impression of desperation remaining. He felt very virtuous on the whole, however, and his plans for the future were specific. He’d already composed a letter to his grandfather, which he’d ask the emigrant fleet to deliver. He had another letter in his mind—a form letter, practically a public-relations circular—which he hoped to whip into shape before the emigrants got too anxious to be on their way. He considered that he needed to earn a little more of their gratitude so he could make everything come out even; self-liquidated; everybody satisfied and happy but himself.
For himself he anticipated only the deep satisfaction of accomplishment. He’d wanted to do great things since he was a small boy, and in electronics since his adolescence, when he’d found textbooks in the libraries of looted spaceships. He’d gone to Walden in the hope of achievement. There, of course, he failed because in a free economy industrialists consider that freedom is the privilege to be stupid without penalty. In other than free economies, of course, stupidity is held to be the duty of administrators. But Hoddan now believed himself in the fascinating situation of having knowledge and abilities which were needed by people who knew their need.
It was only when he’d made contact with the fleet, and was in the act of maneuvering toward a boat-blister on the liner he’d brought back, that doubts again assailed him. He had done a few things—accomplished a little. He’d devised a broadcast-power receptor and a microwave projector and he’d turned a Lawlor drive into a ball lightning projector and worked out a few little things like that. But the first had been invented before by somebody in the Cetis cluster, and the second could have been made by anybody and the third was standard practice on Zan. He still had to do something significant.
When he made fast to the liner and crawled through the boat-tube to its hull, he was in a state of doubt which passed very well for modesty.
* * * *
The bearded old man received him in the skipper’s quarters, which Hoddan himself had occupied for a few days. He looked very weary. He seemed to have aged, in hours.
“We grow more astounded by the minute,” he told Hoddan heavily, “by what you have brought us. Ten shiploads like this and we would be better equipped than we believed ourselves in the beginning. It looks as if some thousands of us will now be able to survive our colonization of the planet Thetis.”
Hoddan gaped at him. The old man put his hand on Hoddan’s shoulder.
“We are grateful,” he said with a pathetic attempt at warmth. “Please do not doubt that! It is only that…that—You had to accept what was given for our use. But I cannot help wishing very desperately that…that instead of unfamiliar tools for metal-working and machines with tapes which show pictures
.… I wish that even one more jungle-plow had been included!”
Hoddan’s jaw dropped. The people of Colin wanted planet-subduing machinery. They wanted it so badly that they did not want anything else. They could not even see that anything else had any value at all. Most of them could only look forward to starvation when the ship supplies were exhausted, because not enough ground could be broken and cultivated early enough to grow food enough in time.
“Would it,” asked the old man desperately, “be possible to exchange these useless machines for others that will be useful?”
“L—let me talk to your mechanics, sir,” said Hoddan unhappily. “Maybe something can be done.”
* * * *
He restrained himself from tearing his hair as he went to where mechanics of the fleet looked over their treasure-trove. He’d come up to the fleet again to gloat and do great things for people who needed him and knew it. But he faced the hopelessness of people to whom his utmost effort seemed mockery because it was so far from being enough.
He gathered together the men who’d tried to keep the fleet’s ships in working order during their flight. They were competent men, of course. They were resolute. But now they had given up hope. Hoddan began to lecture them. They needed machines. He hadn’t brought the machines they wanted, perhaps, but he’d brought the machines to make them with. Here were automatic shapers, turret lathes, dicers. Here were cutting-points for machines these machines could make, to make the machines the colony on Thetis would require. He’d brought these because they had the raw material. They had their ships themselves! Even some of the junk they carried in crates was good metal, merely worn out in its present form. They could make anything they needed with what he’d brought them. For example, he’d show them how to make…say…a lumber saw.
He showed them how to make a lumber saw—slender, rapierlike revolving tool with which a man stabbed a tree and cut outward with the speed of a knife cutting hot butter. And one could mount it so—and cut out planks and beams for temporary bridges and such constructions.
They watched, baffled. They gave no sign of hope. They did not want lumber saws. They wanted jungle-breaking machinery.
“I’ve brought you everything!” he insisted. “You’ve got a civilization, compact, on this ship! You’ve got life instead of starvation! Look at this. I make a water pump to irrigate your fields!”
* * * *
Before their eyes he turned out an irrigation pump on an automatic shaper. He showed them that the shaper went on, by itself, making other pumps without further instructions than the by-hand control of the tools that formed the first.
The mechanics stirred uneasily. They had watched without comprehension. Now they listened without enthusiasm. Their eyes were like those of children who watch marvels without comprehension.
He made a sledge whose runners slid on air between themselves and whatever object would otherwise have touched them. It was practically frictionless. He made a machine to make nails—utterly simple. He made a power hammer which hummed and pushed nails into any object that needed to be nailed. He made—
He stopped abruptly, and sat down with his head in his hands. The people of the fleet faced so overwhelming a catastrophe that they could not see into it. They could only experience it. As their leader would have been unable to answer questions about the fleet’s predicament before he’d poured out the tale in the form it had taken in his mind, now these mechanics were unable to see ahead. They were paralyzed by the completeness of the disaster before them. They could live until the supplies of the fleet gave out. They could not grow fresh supplies without jungle-breaking machinery. They had to have jungle-breaking machinery. They could not imagine wanting anything less than jungle-breaking machinery—
Hoddan raised his head. The mechanics looked dully at him.
“You men do maintenance?” he asked. “You repair things when they wear out on the ships? Have you run out of some materials you need for repairs?”
After a long time a tired-looking man said slowly:
“On the ship I come from, we’re having trouble. Our hydroponic garden keeps the air fresh, o’course. But the water-circulation pipes are gone. Rusted through. We haven’t got any pipe to fix them with. We have to keep the water moving with buckets.”
Hoddan got up. He looked about him. He hadn’t brought hydroponic-garden pipe supplies! And there was no raw material. He took a pair of power snips and cut away a section of cargo space wall-lining. He cut it into strips. He asked the diameter of the pipe. Before their eyes he made pipe—spirally wound around a mandril and line-welded to solidity.
“I need some of that on my ship,” said another man.
The bearded man said heavily:
“We’ll make some and send it to the ships that need it.”
“No,” said Hoddan. “We’ll send the tools to make it. We can make the tools here. There must be other kinds of repairs that can’t be made. With the machines I’ve brought, we’ll make the tools to make the repairs. Picture-tape machines have reels that show exactly how to do it.”
It was a new idea. The mechanics had other and immediate problems beside the overall disaster of the fleet. Pumps that did not work. Motors that heated up. They could envision the meeting of those problems, and they could envision the obtaining of jungle-plows. But they could not imagine anything in between. They were capable of learning how to make tools for repairs.
* * * *
Hoddan taught them. In one day there were five ships being brought into better operating condition—for ultimate futility—because of what he’d brought. Two days. Three. Mechanics began to come to the liner. Those who’d learned first pompously passed on what they knew. On the fourth day somebody began to use a vision-tape machine to get information on a fine point in welding. On the fifth day there were lines of men waiting to use them.
On the sixth day a mechanic on what had been a luxury passenger liner on the other side of the galaxy—but it was scores of years ago—asked to talk to Hoddan by spacephone. He’d been working feverishly at the minor repairs he’d been unable to make for so long. To get material he pulled a crate off one of the junk machines supplied the fleet. He looked it over. He believed that if this piece were made new, and that replaced with sound metal, the machine might be usable!
Hoddan had him come to the liner which was now the flagship of the fleet. Discussion began. Shaping such large pieces of metal which could be taken from here or there—shaping such large pieces of metal.… Hoddan began to draw diagrams. They were not clear. He drew more. Abruptly, he stared at what he’d outlined. Electronics.… He saw something remarkable. If one applied a perfectly well-known bit of pure-science information that nobody bothered with—He finished the diagram and a vast, soothing satisfaction came over him.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” he said. “Not enough room!”
He looked about him. Insensibly, as he talked to the first man on the fleet to show imagination, other men had gathered around. They were now absorbed.
“I think,” said Hoddan, “that we can make an electronic field that’ll soften the cementite between the crystals of steel, without heating up anything else. If it works, we can make die-forgings and die-stampings with plastic dies! And then that useless junk you’ve got can be rebuilt—”
They listened gravely, nodding as he talked. They did not quite understand everything, but they had the habit of believing him now. He needed this and that in the huge cargo spaces of the ship the leader had formerly used.
“Hm-m-m,” said Hoddan. “How about duplicating these machines and sending them over?”
They looked estimatingly at the tool-shop equipment. It could be made to duplicate itself—
The new machine shop, in the ancient ark of space, made another machine shop for another ship. In the other ship that tool shop would make another for another ship, which in turn.…
By then Hoddan had a cold-metal die-stamper in operation. It was very large. It drew on t
he big ship’s drive unit for power. One put a rough mass of steel in place between plastic dies. One turned on the power. For the tenth of a second—no longer—the steel was soft as putty. Then it stiffened and was warm. But in that tenth of a second it had been shaped with precision.
It took two days to duplicate the jungle-plow Hoddan had first been shown, in new sound metal. But after the first one worked triumphantly, they made forty of each part at a time and turned out jungle-plow equipment enough for the subjugation of all Thetis’ forests.
There were other enterprises on hand, of course. A mechanic who stuttered horribly had an idea. He could not explain it or diagram it. So he made it. It was an electric motor very far ahead of those in the machines of Colin. Hoddan waked from a cat nap with a diagram in his head. He drew it, half-asleep, and later looked and found that his unconscious mind had designed a power-supply system which made Walden’s look rather primitive—
* * * *
During the first six days Hoddan did not sleep to speak of, and after that he merely cat-napped when he could. But he finally agreed with the emigrants’ leader—now no longer fierce, but fiercely triumphant—that he thought they could go on. And he would ask a favor. He propped his eyelids open with his fingers and wrote the letter to his grandfather that he’d composed in his mind in the liner on Krim. He managed to make one copy, unaddressed, of the public-relations letter that he’d worked out at the same time. He put it through a facsimile machine and managed to address each of fifty copies. Then he yawned uncontrollably.
He still yawned when he went to take leave of the leader of the people of Colin. That person regarded him with warm eyes.
“I think everything’s all right,” said Hoddan exhaustedly. “You’ve got a dozen machine shops and they are multiplying themselves, and you have got some enthusiastic mechanics, now, who’re drinking in the vision-tape stuff and finding out more than they guessed there was. And they’re thinking, now and then, for themselves. I think you’ll make out.”
The Murray Leinster Megapack Page 159
