The Seventh Science Fiction Megapack

by Robert Silverberg

  “‘His Unconstitutional Majesty, King Hector I, will attempt to prop up his shaky monarchy by seeking an ambassador from the United States, the Sentry learned today. Such recognition, if obtained, would be followed immediately by a demand for “foreign aid.”

  “‘It is the thesis of the self-proclaimed king—known until 24 hours ago as just plain Hector—that the satellite status of Superior, the traveling townoid, makes it a potentially effective arm of U. S. diplomacy. King Hector will point out to the State Department the benefits of bolstering Superior’s economy, especially during its expected foray over Europe and, barring such misfortune as being shot down en route, into the Soviet domain.

  “‘The King will not suggest in so many words that Superior would make a good spy platform, but the implication is there. It will also be implied that unless economic aid—which in plain English means food and fuel to keep Superior from starving and freezing to death—is forthcoming from the United States, Superior may choose the path of neutrality…’

  “That’s as far as I’ve got,” Clark said.

  “I suppose the ‘path of neutrality’ means Superior might consider hiring itself out to the highest bidder?” Don asked.

  “That would be one way of putting it,” Clark said. “Undiplomatic but accurate.”

  “How does Civek intend to get his message to Washington?” asked Don, aware that it had already been transmitted to the Pentagon via the transceiver under his collar. “Bottle over the side?”

  “My sources tell me they’ve got WCAV working on short wave. That right, Alis?”

  “Don’t ask me. I only live there.”

  “Do you still think Civek is fronting for the Cavalier crowd?” Don asked her.

  “I don’t remember saying that,” she said. “I think I agreed with you when you said Civek was ineffectual. Who do you think is behind him? Do you think he’s king of the kangaroos?”

  “Well,” Don said, “they’re the ones who took him away last night. And when he came back this morning he had all the trappings. He didn’t get that coach-and-six from foreign aid.”

  Ed Clark said, “This is all very fascinating, kids, but it’s not helping me get out my extra. Don, why don’t you take the little lady out to lunch? You can continue your theorizing over the blueplate special at the Riverside Inn. Only place in town still open, they tell me.”

  * * * *

  Doc Bendy was hurrying out of the Riverside Inn as they reached it. He waved to them. “Save your money. His Gracious Majesty is throwing a free lunch for everybody.”

  “Where?”

  “At the palace, of course.”

  “What palace?” Alis asked.

  “The bubble gum factory. He’s taken it over.”

  “Why the gum factory?”

  “Cheeky McFerson offered it to him. Not the factory itself but the big old house near the west wing. The mansion that’s been closed up since the old man died. They say Cheeky’s been given a title as part of the bargain.”

  “Sir Cheeky?” Alis asked, giggling.

  “Something like that. Lord Chicle, maybe, or Baron de Mouthful. Come on. It should be quite a show.”

  Dozens of people were in the streets, all heading in the same direction. Word of the king’s largess spread fast and, on the factory grounds, guards were directing the crowd to a line that disappeared into a side door of the old McFerson mansion.

  A flag flew from the top of a pole at the front of the house. It was whipping in a stiff breeze and Don couldn’t make out the device, except that a crown formed part of it.

  One of the guards recognized Alis Garet and directed her to the front door. She took Doc Bendy and Don by their arms. “Come on,” she said. “We’re VIP’s. Father must have sworn allegiance.”

  The chief of police was sitting behind a desk in the wide front hall but he now wore a military tunic with a chestful of decorations (including the Good Conduct Medal, Sergeant Cort noticed), and the visor of his military cap was overrun with gold curlicues.

  “Well, Vince,” Bendy said. “I see you got in on the ground floor.”

  “General Sir Vincent Grande, Minister of Defense,” Grande said with a stiff little bow, “at your service.”

  “Enchanted,” Bendy said, bowing back. “Tell me, Vince, how do you keep a straight face?”

  “I’ll overlook that, Bendy, and I’ll give you a friendly tip. The country is on a sound basis now and we intend to keep it that way. Obstructionists will be dealt with.”

  “The country, eh? Well, let’s go in and see how it’s being run.”

  A clattery hubbub came from the big room on the right. To Don it sounded like any GI mess hall. It also looked like one. The line of people coming in through the side door helped themselves to tin trays and silverware, then moved slowly past a row of huge pots from which white-coated men and women ladled out food. At the end of the serving line stood Cheeky McFerson, splendid in purple velvet. He was putting a piece of bubble gum on each tray.

  On the other side of the room, opposite the servers, King Hector sat on a raised chair, crown on head, scepter in hand, nodding benevolently to anyone who looked at him. On each side of the king, sitting in lower chairs, were members of what must have been his court. Professor Osbert Garet was one of them, and Maynard Rubach, president of the Cavalier Institute of Applied Sciences, was another.

  “Oh, dear, there’s Father,” Alis said in dismay. “What is that silly hat he’s wearing? It makes him look like Merlin.”

  “But Civek doesn’t look a bit like King Arthur,” Bendy said. “Let’s go pay our respects. Straight faces, now.”

  “Ah, my dear,” the king said when he saw Alis. “And gentlemen. Welcome to our court. May we introduce two of our associates? Sir Osbert Garet, Royal Astronaut, and Lord Rubach, Minister of Education.”

  “Father!” Alis spoke sharply to the Royal Astronaut. “How silly can you get?”

  “Now, now, child,” the king said reprovingly. “You must not risk our displeasure. For the time being our rule must be absolute—until the safety of our kingdom has been assured. Sir Osbert,” he said, “we trust that at a more propitious time you will have a serious talk with your charming but impetuous daughter.”

  “My liege, I shall deal with her,” the Royal Astronaut said, glowering at Alis. “As Your Majesty has so wisely observed, she is but a slip of a girl.”

  Her father’s apparent sincerity left Alis speechless. She looked from Bendy to Don, but they seemed to consider discretion and masklike faces the better part of candor.

  “Well spoken, Sir Osbert,” the king said. He clapped his hands and a servant jumped. “Dinner for these three. Find a table, my friends, and you will be served.”

  Don firmly guided Alis away. She had seemed about to explode. They found an empty table out of earshot of the king, and three footmen looking like refugees from Alice in Wonderland immediately began to serve them.

  Bendy spread a napkin over his lap. “Let’s curb our snickers and fill our stomachs,” he said, “and later we can go out behind the barn and laugh our heads off. Meanwhile, keep your eyes open.”

  They were eating meat loaf and potatoes. The meat loaf was so highly spiced that it could have been almost anything.

  “I wonder where His Worship got all the grub,” Alis said.

  “I don’t know,” Don said, “but it certainly doesn’t look as if he needs any foreign aid.”

  Alis put down her fork suddenly and her eyes got big. She said, “You don’t suppose—”

  “Suppose what?” Bendy said, spearing a small potato.

  “I just had a horrible thought.” She laughed feebly. “It’s ridiculous, of course, but I wondered if by any chance we were eating Joe Negus.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Don said, but he put down his fork too.

  “Of course it’s ridiculous,” Bendy said. “Hector only put Negus to sleep. He didn’t kill him. Besides, Joe Negus wouldn’t stretch far enough to feed this crowd.”
/>   “Is that why you’re not eating any more?” Alis asked him.

  “Why, no,” Bendy said. “It’s merely that I’ve had enough. It’s true that Hector could have used his scepter on other transgressors, but—no, I refuse to admit that he’s turned cannibal.”

  “He isn’t eating,” Don pointed out.

  “I’ll guarantee you he has, though. I’ve never known Hector to miss a meal. No. Hector may be a fool and a dupe, and power-hungry to boot, but he’s not a cruel man, or a deranged one.”

  “No?” Alis said. “I dare you to ask him what’s in the meat loaf.”

  “All right.” Bendy got up. “I’ll ask to see the kitchen—to compliment the chef. Want to come?”

  “No, thanks. I might be mean to Father again.”

  She and Don watched Doc Bendy go to the improvised throne and talk to Civek. The king laughed and stood up and he and Bendy crossed the room. They went through a door behind the line of servers.

  Don pushed his plate away. “You’ve certainly spoiled my appetite.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alis said. “Maybe it’s hereditary. Look at Father in that idiot hat. Sir Osbert! Honestly, Don, if we ever get back to Earth I’m going to get out of Superior as fast as I can. What’s it like in Washington?”

  “Dull,” he said. “Humid in the summer. And when you’ve exhausted the national monuments there’s nothing to do.”

  “Nothing? Don’t tell me you don’t have a girl friend back there. No, don’t tell me—I don’t want to know. Oh, Don, what a terribly boring place this must be for you.”

  “Boring!” he said. “I’ve never had such a wild, crazy time in my life. Furthermore,” he said, “there’s nobody like you back in Washington.”

  She beamed. “I’d kiss you right here, only Doc Bendy’s coming back. Heck, I’ll kiss you anyway.”

  She did.

  “Ahem,” said Bendy. “Also cough-cough. If you two can spare the time, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “We’re through, for now,” Alis said. “Who?”

  “One of our hosts. The power behind the shaky throne of Hector the First. I think you’ll like him. He has a magnificent tail.”

  * * * *

  “Hector was very co-operative,” Doc Bendy said. “I guess he figured he couldn’t keep it a secret for long anyhow, so he decided to be frank. After all, half the town saw them take him away.”

  “You mean Civek admits he’s only a figurehead?” Don asked.

  “Oh, he wouldn’t admit that. His story is that it’s a working arrangement—a treaty of sorts. He’s absolute monarch as far as the human inhabitants are concerned, but the kangaroos control Superior as a piece of geography.”

  “I knew Father couldn’t have done it,” Alis murmured.

  They went down a flight of stairs off the main hall to a basement room. It was luxuriously furnished, as every room in the mansion must have been. There was a rug over inlaid linoleum and a blazing fireplace. A huge round mahogany table stood in the center of the room.

  Hector Civek sat in one of the half-dozen leather armchairs drawn up to the table. In another sat a furry, genial-looking blue-gray kangaroo.

  Only it wasn’t really a kangaroo, Don realized. It was more human than animal in several ways. Its bearing, for instance, had dignity, and its round eyes had intelligence. A thick tail at least three feet long stuck through a space under the backrest of the armchair. As Doc Bendy had said, the tail was magnificent.

  Civek nodded and smiled, apparently willing to forget his flare-up at Alis. “I’ll introduce you,” Civek said. “I mean we’ll introduce you. Oh, the hell with the royal ‘we,’ as long I’m among friends. This is Gizl, and what I’m trying to say is that he doesn’t speak English. Doesn’t talk at all, as far as I can tell. But he understands the language and he can read and write it. That’s why all this.”

  He indicated the letter and number squares on the table. They were from sets of games—Scrabble, Anagrams, I-Qubes, Lotto and poker dice.

  “My granddaughter met Gizl, you’ll recall,” Doc Bendy said. “Either this one or one like him. We don’t know yet whether Gizl is a personal name or a generic one.”

  “Let’s find out,” Don said. He sat down at the table and began to form squares into a question.

  “Wait a minute.” Doc Bendy broke up Don’s sequence. “The amenities first. Spell out ‘Greetings,’ or some such things. Manners, boy.”

  “Sorry.” Don started over. He spelled Greetings, then Alis Garet, then Don Cort, and pointed from the squares to Alis and himself. “I assume you’ve already introduced yourself?” he asked Bendy.

  Bendy nodded and the kangaroo-like creature inclined his furry head in acknowledgment to Alis and Don. Then he—Don had already stopped thinking of the creature as an “it”—formed two words with his tapering, black-nailed fingers.

  Pleasant, he communicated. “Gizl.” And he tapped his chest.

  Don turned to Bendy. “Now can I ask him?”

  “With His Majesty’s permission,” Bendy said solemnly.

  Hector nodded. Don left the three names intact, distributing the rest, then put three squares together to spell Man. He pointed to the word and then to Civek, Bendy, Alis and himself, excluding the creature.

  “Well, I like that!” Alis said. “Do I look like a man?”

  “Let’s keep it simple, woman,” Don said.

  The creature nodded and pointed again to Gizl, then to himself, “He doesn’t understand,” Don said.

  “It’s quite possible his people don’t have individual names,” Bendy said. “Let’s call him Gizl for now and go on.”

  “Okay.” Don thought for a moment, then formed a question. “Might as well get basic,” he said.

  Q. Are you from earth.

  A. No.

  At the risk of irritating the others, Don repeated the questions and answers aloud for the benefit of his eavesdropper in the Pentagon.

  Q. Are you from solar system

  A. Not yours

  Q. When did you reach earth

  A. 1948 your calendar

  Q. Why

  A. Friendship

  Q. Why has no one seen you sooner

  A. Fear

  Q. You mean you frightened our people

  A. No I mean fear of your people

  Q. Why

  A. Gizl resemble earth animals

  Q. Was superior the first place you landed

  A. No

  Q. Where was it

  A. Australia

  “The home of the kangaroo,” Doc Bendy said. “No wonder they had a bad time. I can imagine some stockman in the outback taking umbrage at a kangaroo asserting its equality. Let me talk to him a while, Don.”

  Q. How many are there of you

  A. Many

  Q. How many

  A. No specific comment

  Q. Are you responsible for raising superior

  A. Entirely

  Q. How

  A. Impossible to explain with these

  Q. Where is superior going

  A. East for now

  Q. And later

  A. No specific comment

  Q. 3000 lives are in your hands

  A. Gizls have no malevolent designs

  Q. Thanks. You said friendship brought you. What else.

  A. Trade. Cultural exchange

  Q. What have you to trade

  A. Will discuss this later with duly constituted authority

  Q. Who. King Hector

  A. Terminating interview with good will assurances

  “Wait,” Alis said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.” She formed letters into words. “I don’t think he’s being very frank with us but I have a few random questions.”

  Q. How many sexes have Gizls

  A. Three

  Q. Male female and

  A. Neuter

  Q. Are there babies among you

  A. Babies are neuter and develop according to need

&nbs
p; Q. Confidentially what do you think of fathers science

  A. Unfathomable our meager knowledge

  Q. Flatterer

  A. Ending conversation with pleasant regard

  Q. Likewise

  Gizl slid back his chair and got up. King Hector stood and bowed as Gizl, who had nodded politely to each in turn, walked manlike, without hopping, to a corner of the room which then sank out of sight.

  “He’s quite a guy, that Gizl,” Hector said, taking off his crown and putting it on the table. “Makes me sweat,” he said, wiping his forehead.

  “Are you the duly constituted authority?” Bendy asked him.

  “Who else? Somebody’s got to be in charge till we get Superior back to Earth.”

  “Sure,” Bendy said, “but you don’t have to rig yourself up in ermine. I also have a sneaking suspicion that you aren’t exactly anxious to get Superior down in a hurry.”

  “I’ll overlook that remark for old time’s sake. But I defend the kingship. A show of force was necessary to prevent crime from running rampant.”

  “Maybe,” Bendy said. “Anyhow I appreciate your frankness in introducing us to Gizl and what he modestly describes as his meager knowledge. Since you’ve already admitted that he’s the one who provided the big feed, will you ease Alis’s mind now and assure her that what she was eating wasn’t Negusburger?”

  “Negusburger?” The king laughed. “Is that what you thought, Alis?”

  “Not really,” she said. “But I couldn’t help wondering where all the food came from all of a sudden.”

  “Over here.” The king led them to the corner where Gizl had sunk from sight. The top of the elevator, now level with the floor, blended exactly with the linoleum tile. “I don’t know how it works, but Gizl and his people have their headquarters down there somewhere. All I have to do is place the order and up comes food or whatever I need. Would you like to try it?”

  “Love to,” Bendy said. “What shall I ask for?”

  “Anything.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything at all.”

  “Well.” Bendy looked impressed. “This will take a moment of thought. How about a gallon—no, as long as I’m asking I might as well ask for a keg—of rum, 151 proof.”

  Up it came, complete with spigot and tankard.

  “Fabulous!” Bendy said. He rolled it out of the elevator and the elevator went down again.