by Ipomoea
"You're suggesting my father was crazy?" "The doctor says not. And he was killed." "So what do we do now?" Sam demanded. "I want action!"
"I came here chasing drugs, not power-crazy economics. Best thing you can do, Hutten, is round up your colleagues —go visit them in person, make yourself known, get them to a conference of some kind. You'll have to do that anyway, to decide on future business. So do it. Maybe we'll be able to spot the bad egg when we have them all together. Meanwhile I intend to track out that damned Ipomoea plant business, right here where it grows. You'll need protection, though. Take Louise."
"No!" Sam's response was reflex and violent, without stop-
ping to think. Then he added, lamely, "You know what I mean?"
"I don't mix business with pleasure, mister. It's your neck* Sam thought hard. "Couldn't I take Joe? And your ship? You won't be needing it for a while."
Venner didn't like it, but there were obvious advantages. "All right. You'll be safe, that's for sure. Joe, you go with Hutten, take care of him, do whatever he says, bring him
back safe."
IX
Four hours later, at nine o'clock on a fine and sunny morning, Sam was sitting down with Max Brandt in penthouse privacy at the very top of the Brandt Building in j Verdan City. Joe, as imperturbable as ever, was seated close rby but merely an onlooker. Brandt, red-faced and overweight but with sharp eyes that missed little, expressed his
f condolences.
"A terrible thing, Mr. Hutten, especially here. You realize that we have very little sensational on Verdan. We are all working hard, making money, building a new world. You say he was killed?"
"It looks that way, but the medical evidence is indecisive. There are suspicious circumstances; let's leave it at that."
"In confidence"—Brandt glanced aside at Joe—"maybe I could tell you something?"
"It would be safe with Joe. I can guarantee that. What?"
"Well, it is no secret that we are growing very quickly here. Look, I'll show you the map." Brandt rose to waddle across to a wall and touch a switch that brought a sketchy map of Verdan glowing on a screen. "You see? So far we have only scratched the surface of the possibilities. Just one small part of one continent. We have room to grow. We will grow—one hundred, one thousand times greater, more wealthy than we are now, and soon!" Brandt led the way back to his desk. "You are fresh from Earth. You must surely know how the authorities there are casting envious eyes at us, how they would like to take over?"
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"Can't say I've heard anything about that, Mr. Brandt."
"No? But then you must be naive. In political matters, I mean. No personal offense."
"I suppose I am, but I don't see where that has anything to do-"
"With your father? Perhaps not. But he was our strong man, you see. How convenient to have him out of the way, to upset our association."
"You mean this could be some kind of assassination, directed by Earth interests?"
"I suggest it, nothing more. I could be wrong. In any case, it is for us to strengthen our ranks, all of us. We must be unanimous."
"That's really why I came to see you, Mr. Brandt. It's my plan to invite all the interested parties to a full-scale conference, to decide what happens next. You see, I have to take over from my father now, and I am hardly equipped, not right away. I need help and advice."
"But of course. Very wise. You can depend on me."
"Right. Shall we say two weeks from today?" Sam was on his feet and ready to leave, but Joe had a word.
"A small matter, Herr Brandt. That is a very fine sun-stone you have there. May I ask where you got it?"
"This?" Brandt opened his palm to show the glowing red fire-ball he held and had been playing with. "You must be mistaken, surely. I have seen sun-stones, of course, but they are not at all like this. Not so big, much more brilliant, wonderful gems. This is just a stone, a lucky piece. For sun-stones you must talk to Fred Lemkov, when you get to Ophir. He is the expert on such things."
"I see." Joe nodded gently. "And where did you get this -stone?"
"I do not remember. I have had it a long time. It is not valuable, I assure you." Brandt dropped the red sphere in his pocket and led Sam to the door and out. It was not until they were once more settled in the charter-plane, with Joe carefully studying charts for their next hop that Sam decided to remark on the peculiar stone.
"Now you are pulling coincidences," he said curiously. "Twice. You're sure that was a sun-stone, aren't you?"
"I would need a laboratory test to be absolutely certain, but I'm reasonably sure. It is cut all wrong. One doesn't cut that kind of stone en cabochon. That wastes all the refractive quality. One might do it with a defective gem, to get as-terism, but there was no sign of that."
is usually seen in rubies or sapphires; an internal dazzle effect like a six-point star. It's due to microscopic inclusions aligned along the hexagonal lattice. But that stone didn't have it. As a gem-stone it should have been brilliant-cut anyway. For electromagnetic purposes it would be cut altogether differently again, only one wouldn't use a stone as big and as valuable as that in radio work."
"Whatever you say." Sam shrugged and forgot it until they were airborne and on course. This time they were heading straight out to sea in a southwesterly direction, aiming across three hundred miles of ocean to the island mass which Eklund had converted into one huge livestock preserve. Below them they saw the white-foam trail of a busy cargo-hydrofoil heading back to Verdan. When they were well on course, Sam tried again.
"That coincidence. Eklund's daughter was wearing a stone just like Brandt's. Said her father gave it to her."
"Perhaps he can tell us where he got it. Since we have already had an encounter with Miss Eklund, perhaps we had better work out a plausible story for this visit. I'd better be Adam Orbert again."
By the time that was done to their satisfaction they were in sight of the island. According to the chart it was roughly oval in shape, about five hundred miles by one hundred fifty, and the harbor was right in front of them as they flew, but when Joe raised ground control on the radio and asked for Eklund he was given coordinates for inland. Below them now was the natural harbor, as yet unnamed, and ahead it was obvious that a low mountain peak dominated the island's center. The terrain here was quite* different from what they had flown over in going to and from Northwheat "Uneven," Joe commented, sparing a glance for it. "Plenty of scrub and brush. Pretty good cattle country but not much use for anything else without considerable smoothing out Eklund must need an extensive staff to keep track of his stock."
"You seem to know all about everything," Sam declared, unable to keep just a tinge of sharpness out of his voice. Joe kept a straight face.
"I have eidetic recall, and no personal bias," he said, then cocked an eye at his radar. "We should be almost
there."
They came swiftly up into the lee of the craggy peak of the mountain, and now they could see, ahead and below,
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where some skilled hand had carved a park-like estate out of the wilderness. It lay like a neat apron in front and to either side of a gleaming white villa that was backed into the side of the mountain itself. Sam studied it.
"Does himself well, our cattle baron," he decided, comparing this magnificence with his father's humbler, more functional estate. "Reminds me of something Roman." Joe sent out another radio query and put the jet into a slow turn. Within seconds the reply came in a rich and rolling voice, full of chest-notes even through the little speaker.
"Here is Eklund. Who comes?"
Sam took the microphone. "Hello, Mr. Eklund. This is Sam Hutten."
"Hutten? Sam Hutten, the son of my dear old friend, Rex?"
"Nice to know that you've heard of me, Mr. Eklund."
"But—how can this be? The last word I had was that you had been killed in some disaster or other!"
"It's not true, but it almost was. May I have your permission to come down and ta
lk with you?"
"By Thor! Sam Hutten! But of course, my dear boy, you must descend. You are most welcome. Can you see the field, to the south of the villa? It is equipped with ground-approach automatics. One moment, I will give you the coordinate references." He reeled off figures and Joe noted them, put up his thumb to confirm. The big voice resumed. "Do you ride, Mr. Hutten?"
"Ride? You mean on a horse?"
"That's right. Do you?"
"I've had lessons, but I haven't been across a saddle in years, why?"
"I will send someone to meet you, with a mount."
The connection went, and Sam replaced the microphone thoughtfully. Once, several years ago, he had taken a course in riding, more from a desire to get the mounted man's viewpoint than from any desire to gallop away anywhere. He had not enjoyed it very much, had never been able to feel that he was in command of the plunging beast. Then he shook his head.
"I forgot about you, Joe. I should have mentioned you. Do you ride?"
"Yes. Quite well. It seems that Eklund likes to live his part with all the detailed touches."
They were circling down into range now. Sam watched as Joe picked up the approach-beacon and set up the auto-
matte responses, then lifted his hands from the controls. The plane swooped in and down over a trotting herd of beefy animals that looked like cows but with subde differences. Ahead was a long strip of green as neat and smooth as a lawn. The machine touched and rolled. The motor died.
Joe raised a hand to point.
"Eklund flies," he said. "There's a hangar. The way it's
landscaped, I couldn't see it from above."
As they climbed out there came the distant pounding of hooves and here came a Valkyrie, silver hair streaming in the wind, mounted on a great black stallion that moved like a tiger. No expert on horseflesh, even Sam could appreciate that this was a wonderful beast. So, too, were the silver grays she led, one on either side. He had never seen such horses, or such riding, and was quite properly awed as she brought the thundering cavalcade right up to where they stood and reined in her mount at the last minute into a plunging halt. The grays danced to her shrill commands, and sidled away. She leaned over, flung a long leg, and slid down to the turf, and as she turned to come toward them, Sam recognized her.
This was Corinne Eklund, but transformed. Gone now was the facade of cool hauteur she had shown as a stewardess, traces of which had still remained when interrogated by Joe on the warp-ship. Now she was all radiant and alive, a goddess, a child of Nature—the futile words jumbled together in his mind as she came to a halt before him. Her hair, rippled by the breeze, caressed her shoulders. Her only garment, apart from leg-laced sandals, was a brief loincloth in paper-white silky stuff. Warm sunlight glowed from her magnificent curves, and there was another warmth, all her own, which came to him as she put out her hand in greeting.
"Welcome, Mr. Hutten. I am so glad to see you again. When my father told me—I could hardly believe it. I saw
the Ceti Queen—it was awful. I believed you deadl"
"I certainly would have been but, as luck would have it,
I had just accepted the offer of a lift, privately, from a
friend. Need I say I'm glad I did? And I am certainly very
glad to see you again, although I never expected—like this—"
Sam let go her hand and tried to regain self-control. There
was witchcraft in this girl, an immense attractiveness that
was only indirectly to do with her visible charms. She
smiled, and the magic grew stronger.
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"You are surprised that I would play-act at being a stewardess?"
"I'm puzzled, certainly. Not that it's any of my affair."
"It's no mystery!" She laughed, and he felt quite foolish in his inability to hold back a laugh along with her. "My father will tell you, if you give him the chance, that I am a wicked girl. Headstrong and impulsive. According to him. But, very simply, it is just that I get dreadfully bored here. It is a beautiful place, and my home, but so dull after a while. Don't you find it a drag, sometimes, to be so rich?"
"It has drawbacks," Sam allowed, with feeling.
"You see?" She shrugged devastatingly, and laughed again. "People behave differently when one is in a lowly position. It makes interest."
Remembering the conventions with something of an effort, Sam turned to nod. "I believe you've already met Mr. Or-bert?"
She turned her smile on Joe. "I remember. You were so curious about my fire-ball stone. Be welcome to my home, Mr. Orbert."
"Thank you." Joe nodded pleasantly, and Sam noticed, on the side, how slightly, subtly but positively, his whole poise had changed. He said, "You're not wearing it now."
"But I always carry it," she said, "for good luck. See?" and she dipped fingertips into a fold of her loincloth garment, brought out the delicate chain and its attached stone, let it fall into Joe's palm. He took it close, studied it for about ten seconds, then returned it to her.
"Thank you. You brought two extra mounts. Guesswork?"
"Partly. It was likely that Mr. Hutten would be piloted, you see. But more because both Edda and Hilda need a run, and there would be a choice." She turned and snapped her fingers to the head-tossing grays. "They are both very well behaved. Not like my Wotan, who can be a devil sometimes, even with me. If you are ready?"
"I'm no rider," Sam warned. "Is it far?"
"Less than a mile. It is nothing!"
Nothing for her, Sam thought, but he was glad to see the veranda front of the villa draw near. He would have appreciated better circumstances in which to study it. A lot of marble, and artistry, had gone into the creation, and he was reminded more and more of ancient Rome. For a wonder, the man who stood at the top of the steps waiting to greet them was a fair match for the magnificence of the setting. He topped Sam's six feet by a clear three inches, his shoulders were beam-broad and his stance lordly; his head would have delighted any classical sculptor; there was firm power in the hand that he extended in welcome, and his eyes were as blue as the morning sky as he said, •Welcome to my home, Mr. Hutten. This is a pleasure I had not hoped for, after such dreadful news. How is your father? Why did he not come with you?"
•"Then you haven't heard yet? More bad news, I'm afraid, Mr. Eklund. My father is dead."
"NoI" Eklund said it strongly, almost indignantly. "But you would not joke about such a thing, so it must be true. And terrible. How? And when? You must forgive me, I get so very few visitors, and even less news, here. You must tell me all about it."
"There isn't a lot to tell. May I introduce Mr. Orbert?" Sam waved a hand. "He happened to meet your daughter, and he's interested in the stone she was wearing, so I brought him along."
"Ah yes. Corinne told me of you. Welcome, Mr. Orbert. But please come inside and be comfortable. I forget my manners. This way."
Eklund led off at a fast stride, his long white toga-like garment swirling in the breeze of his movement, bringing them to a long and airy room bright with color and luxurious with long low couches. A purring robot came in response to his signal. When they had been properly settled and served, he gestured to Sam.
"Now, you will please tell me all about this dreadful thing."
Sam told him what there was, omitting any speculation and playing down the mystery. Corinne, opposite him, was wide-eyedly attentive, her agitation obvious.
"Then you do not know, really, what happened—or how?" she demanded, when the tale was finished.
"That's it. There's possibility of foul play, as they say in the dramas. The local police are looking into that angle. I don't know what to think."
"Police!" Eklund snorted. "Here? We have no police worthy of the word, nor have we needed them before. This is not Earth, Hutten. Here we are peace-loving, hard-working—shall I say it?—wholesome. This is a fair planet, not like that stinking rat-heap we came from. Mark me, my young friend, if the truth is ever discovered it will be f
ound that your father was done to death by some Earth interest. Does that surprise you?"
"Not really," Sam admitted. "Not now. I can't see it myself, but I paid a visit to Max Brandt just before coming to see you, sir, and he said something very much the same. You see," and he dragged his eyes away from Corinne to concentrate on her father, "no matter how, or why, now that my father is dead it is up to me to carry on in his place. And, frankly, I'm not up to it on my own. I shall need help. I'm now on my way calling on all my father's associates with the idea of arranging a policy conference, so that we can work something out. That's why I visited Brandt, and why I am here. I need your help."
"You are very wise, my boy. And quite right. It is proper that you should go to see everyone, in person. And we must have a conference, of course. But where? Had you thought of that?"
"Not yet, no. Things are happening so fast—"
"Then allow me to suggest—why not here? I have ample room, and seclusion. Privacy. The others have all been my guests at one time or another and will be pleased to come. And I will be delighted, too, to be able to help. You accept?"
"I don't see why not. That's very kind of you."
"It is notJiing. My boy, listen to me." Eklund leaned forward and the force of his personality was a tangible thing now. "We must preserve a common purpose here. This planet, this whole system, is mankind's chance to start again, to build a new and better world. I am not ashamed to ask you to look around—to look at me, and my lovely daughter—and realize that I have a great affection and admiration for the ideals of Ancient Greece. I do not say that we should try to go back—that is not possible. But it is true that humanity * reached its glorious peak at that time, and has declined ever since. I say we have the chance, here, to start again and go forward, and achieve the greatness that is in us. But I also say this:
