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circling slowly above the plain. Hundreds, no, over a thousand, of them; two
182
and three- and five-hundred-footers, and here and there a thousand-footer that
could have been converted into a hypership if anybody had wanted to take the
trouble. The view changed again; this time from an aircar dropped from the
ship, he supposed; it was down almost to the tops of the ships, and he could
read names and home ports: Pixie, Chloris; Helen O'Loy, Anaitis. They were
from Jurgen. Sky-Rover, Port Saunders; she was from Horvendile. Ships from
Storisende, and Yellowmarsh on Janicot, and . . .
"Now we know where they all went."
It was logical, of course. Most of the hyperships used in the evacuation had
been built here. It had been less trouble to lead the troops and the civilian
workers from Poictesme and the other planets onto small normalspace ships and
bring them here than to take the big ships away on short interplanetary runs
to the other planets.
"Have you screened my father yet?"
"Yes. This is going to knock the bottom out of the companies that are building
those ships at Storisende, I'm afraid."
"Their tough luck."
"It could be everybody's tough luck. Both these companies have been issuing
stock, and there's been a lot of speculation in it. This market's so inflated
now that a puncture at one place might blow the whole thing out."
He knew that. He shrugged. "Father will have to think of something. Tell him
I'll screen him from Sickle Mountain."
Then he went back to his classroom.
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"All right, class dismissed," he said. "You have twenty minutes to get your
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bags packed. We're going to work for real, now."
Airboats and airships flocked to Sickle Mountain; some of them hastened back
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er.txt to Port Carpenter for loads of food, for there was none in the
storehouses at the embarkation camp. They inspected ship after ship, and chose
two three-hundred-footers. They sent airships and freight-scows to the
dozenodd cities and industrial centers that had been already explored, to
gather cargo, as far as possible the items in shortest supply on Poictesme.
"Don't worry about a market smash," his father told him. "We have that taken
care of. Trisystem Investments has just bought up a lot of stock in both of
those companies, and we've set up agreements with them -informally, of course;
we'll have to get them voted on by our own companies-to sell them ships from
Koshchei. In return, the company that's building the ship out of four
air-freighters will go to Janicot, and the company that's building a ship out
of the old Leitzenring Building will go to Jurgen, and they'll both stay off
Koshchei. Sterber, Flynn & Chen-Wong will probably be defending antitrust
suits till the end of time. The Planetary Government has stopped liking us,
you know."
"Then we'll have to get one that will like us. There'll be an election about
this time next year, won't there?"
His father nodded. "To use one of your expressions, we're working on it. How
soon can you get your ships in?"
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"We'll be loaded and ready to lift off in a week. Another week for the trip."
"Well, don't forget that equipment you promised Kurt Fawzi."
"We'll have that on. Jerry Rivas is gathering it up now."
"How are you fixed for arms on Koshchei?"
"Arms? Why, there are some. There was a pretty big force of Space Marines on
duty here, and they left everything they couldn't carry in their hands. Why?
The Armageddonists and the Cybernarchists and Human Supremacy bought all you
had on hand?"
"They're buying, but I wasn't thinking of that. I was thinking that your crews
might need something to argue their way off the ships at Storisende with.
Things are getting just slightly rugged here, now."
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XVII
THERE, WERE no bands or speeches when they came in this time. A lot of
contragravity vehicles circled widely around the spaceport, but except for a
few news-service cars, the police were keeping them back of a two-mile radius
around the landing-pits. A couple of gunboats were making tight circles above,
and on the dock were more vehicles and a horde of police guards.
When Rodney Maxwell came across the bridge from the dock after they opened the
airlocks, he was followed by a dozen Barton-Massarra private police, as
villainous-looking a collection of ruffians as Conn had ever seen. He was
wearing a new suit, with a waistlength jacket instead of the long coat he
usually wore, and there was a holstered automatic on each- hip. In Litchfield,
he never carried more than one pistol, and Storisende was supposed to be an
orderly place where nobody needed to go armed. More than anything else, that
told Conn approximately what had been going on while he had been on Koshchei.
"Ship-guard," his father told Yves Jacquemont. "All your crew can come off;
they'll take care of things. Get your people in that troop carrier over there.
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Everybody will stay at Interplanetary Building. None of the hotels are safe,
not even the Ritz-Gartner. And be sure everybody's well armed when they come
off the ship."
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Jacquemont nodded. "I know the drill; I've been in Port Oberth on Venus and
Skorvann on Loki. Any law we want, we make for ourselves."
"That's about it. I'll see you there. Conn, I wish you'd come with me.
Somebody here wants to talk to you."
He wondered if his mother, or Flora, had come to Storisende. When he asked his
father as they crossed onto the dock, there was a brief twinge of pain in
Rodney Maxwell's face.
"No, they're not having anything to do-Duck;
quick!"
Then his father was diving under a lifter-truck that stood empty on the dock.
The private police were scattering for cover, and an auto-cannon began
pompomming. Conn took one quick look in the direction in which it was firing,
saw an. aircar that had broken through the police line and was rushing toward
them, and dived under the lifter after his father. As he did, he saw a missile
flash out from one of the gunboats like a thrown knife. Then he huddled beside
his father and put his arms over his head.
He felt the heat and shock of the explosion and, an instant later, heard the
roar. When nothing immediately disastrous happened after he had counted
fifteen seconds, he stuck his head out and looked up. The gunboat was
struggling to regain her equilibrium, and the aircar had vanished in a
fireball. They both emerged, straightening. His father was brushing himself
with his hands and saying something about always having to duck under
something when he had a new suit on.
"Robot control, probably; could have been launched from anywhere in town. Why,
no; your mother and
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Flora aren't speaking to either of us, any more. Pity, of course, but I'm glad
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Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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