Subspace explorers, p.20
Subspace Explorers, page 20
But look! Look in here!" Barbara put in, excitedly. "Not the caste system-above it-Company Agents! Angels, suppose? Or something? None here with the Fleet; all back on the World. Those spotlight-jewels gorgeous! I'd love to wear one of those myself. Power packs, do you think?"
"Maybe," Jones said. "That's certainly something we'll have to look into. But what do we do now, Babe?"
"I know what I'm going to do-report to the boss in person-you people stay right here 'til I get back." Deston disappeared.
Maynard was alone, so Deston 'ported himself unceremoniously into the private office. "I don't want even Doris in on this until you let her in," he explained, then reported everything.
As he listened, Maynard's face turned gray.
"So you see, chief," Deston concluded, "it's an unholy mess. What was it you said? A planet... 'run for years in a way that would make the robber barons of old sick at the stomach.' You said it. You certainly said it. Have you got any idea as to who could be monster enough to pull a stunt like that?"
"More than an idea, son. This explains a lot of things I've wondered about, but I couldn't let my mind run wild enough. Two of 'em are why Plastics, one of the biggest of the big, never played ball, and how they got that way. It's Plastics, and Lord Byron Punsunby is head man."
That makes sense, so I'll do a flit...."
"Not yet... that's such a staggering thing... what year is it, of theirs?"
"Two hundred twenty six."
"Um... um... m. Call it nine generations. At their breeding rate, with a start of only a few hundred thousand, they'll have population. The first three or four generations would know something, but by falsification of records, history, and so on... and no press... brain- washing and hypnosis... it could be done. Definitely. So they've had at least five generations of... of...
"Of serfs. A perfect serf set-up."
"Check. And one of their castes is of top-notch engineers who don't know anything else and put everything they've got into it. And castes of scientists and so on."
"That's right. As a 'troncist I'm here to testify that that locket is one beautiful job of work. Transmits everything except what the guy ate for breakfast, and maybe even that."
"To Central Intelligence... each checked as frequently as desired... or even recorded... God, what a system!" Maynard shook his head. "And those Company Agents. Special castes, too. Charged, of course. Insulated boots. Magic no end. They could even live in a charged environment."
"Could be. I told you, it's a mell of a hess."
"One more thing. You've never thought of the real problem here, apparently. How can we-how can anybody-rehabilitate any race that has been driven that far off coarse?"
Deston's jaw dropped. "Huh? Wow! It's a little soon, though isn't it, to have to think about that?"
"I'll have to think about it, I'm afraid, whether I want to or not... but that's more in my department than yours, I suppose... well, I'll let you go now. Thanks for reporting. Good luck."
"Leek, chief. 'Bye," and Deston 'ported himself back into the main lounge of the Explorer.
Since the Plastics Building was one of the largest office buildings on Earth, it was very easy to find; and it was even easier to find the blatantly magnificent private office of "Lord" Byron Punsunby, the president of Plastics Incorporated. Deston got into his mind and put it through the wringer. Punsunby knew a great deal that was new. He knew all about the business end-by what devious routes the goods were smuggled into the markets of Earth, how and through what underground channels they were sold, how incredibly vast the hidden holdings of Plastics were, and how all this skullduggery had been performed-but even he did not know the general direction from Sol of Plastics' ultra-secret planet, The World, which had never been given a name.
It was and had always been Company policy that no Tellurian should know The World's coordinates. Only two living men were to know them; the Comptroller General of the World, who came to Earth to report to Punsunby after the close of business of each of The World's calendar quarters; and the captain-who was also the only navigating officer-of the one ship that ever made the direct run from The World to Earth and back. There were only two records of those figures in existence; one in each of the personal safe-deposit boxes of those two men.
Deston kept on reading. Yes, there were a few unscheduled vists; more than he liked of late... he didn't like to use subspace radio, it could be tapped... changing conditions... trouble...
AM That was what Deston wanted. There hadn't been enough generations yet to wipe out all the genes of throwbacks to the independent, intractable type. Conditioning might not hold; it was possible that some of them were even smart enough to pose as tractable, although the electronicists swore that their instruments were far too sensitive and comprehensive for that. Whatever the cause, in any case of real trouble checking the lockets even once every day wasn't enough. Occasionally Punsunby himself had to go to The World to order whatever steps might have to be taken to be sure of the elimination of all mals before too much harm was done.
Deston pulled back and set his jaw. "Now ain' t that a damn something!" he gritted. "Well, the regular quarterly visit is only twelve clays away-and maybe there'll be an emergency-I hope!-so we'll sit here and keep Lord Byron under surveillance every minute. I know you girls don't like this kind of Peeping Tomming, so you'll be excused. Perce?"
"Sure." "Here?" "Okay by me."
"That's three. Talk to some of the graduates, will you, Perce, so we won't have to maker the shifts too long? I'll take the first shift, starting now."
Chapter 18
HUNCHERS
COMPANY AGENT A C B A A B A was a busy girl. She mated a dozen more couples that afternoon, then shot her aircar out to Suburb Fourteen, which was under construction. It was a beautiful layout, the girl thought, as she brought her car to a halt and looked the suburb over from a height of ten thousand feet. Rolling, heavily-wooded hills, a nice lake sparkling in the sunshine, and two winding streams. Lovely landscaping and curving, contoured drives. Over sixteen hundred of its two thousand homes should be done now-but were they? There wasn't a single house on Thirtieth Drive yet!
Frowning, she took a map of the suburb out of a compartment and scanned it. Then she compared it carefully with the terrain below. There was no one at work there this afternoon, of course, but she knew the call-code of the foreman of the project, so she punched it forthwith.
Her screen brightened, showing the head and shoulders of a man, who put both hands flat on his head and said, "Be happy, Agent."
"Be happy, Kubey! You're 'way, 'way behind sked on Sub Fourteen. How come?"
"I know, Agent, but there wasn't a thing I could do about it. Five of my best people went mal on me last week and the replacements they sent me were absolute gristle-heads. All five of 'em fouled up their machines so bad I had to get a whole crew of...
"That's enough. Be happy, Kubey!" "Be happy, Agent."
She snapped the set off and gnawed at her lower lip. An Agent didn't yap at damn stupid dumb jerks of People-it wouldn't do any good to, anyway, they didn't know anything -A B F A D A A was the lout who'd let this job get all fouled up-she'd do her yapping high enough up so it might do some good. She punched buttons viciously and a blue-jeweled, billiard-ball-bald man grinned at her.
"Keep your tights on, Acey," the Blue advised her, before she could say a word. "The World is not coming to an end."
"But what the hell's with it, Sub Fourteen being so damn far minus on sked?" she demanded. "Keep on fouling off and I'm going to have to start installing on it before it's finished!"
"So what? There'll be all the finished houses you'll need, long before you'll need 'em, so..."
" 'So what?' " she almost screamed. "Because it never happened before with anybody else and because it's absolutely contra-Regs, that's what! And you know it as well as I do! It's your business to keep ahead of me, and by..."
"Shut up!" The man's grin had disappeared; his face was stern and cold. "I know my business as well as you know yours, Acey."
"Well, then, why... Oh! But Abie, if you're having as much mal trouble as that, why didn't you tell me?" "You just said why not. It's Abie business, not Acey, so just keep your tights on. And keep all this under your headband if you don't want to get hopped bow-legged." He cut cam; and after a moment of lip-biting indecision, she did the same.
Then, shrugging her shapely shoulders, she set course for Suburb One and the immense apartment house in which she and eight-hundred-odd other AC's lived. She landed on the roof, parked her little speedster in its stall, and walked a hundred yards or so to a canopied, but unguarded hole with a stainless-steel pipe emerging from it. She slid unconcernedly down the slide-pole's three-hundred-foot length to the thirty fourth floor, where the general offices were. She walked seventy yards along a main corridor, turned left into a narrower one, went fifty yards along that, and turned left again into a large room half full of desks. Some twenty girls, of about her own age and size-and with pretty much her own spectacular shape-and as many young men, were already there. Some were at desks, working; some were at scanners, studying; some were sitting or standing by couples or in groups, talking or playing games; some singles were reading. All wore the headlight-like green jewels. The girls all wore the same uniform she did; the men all wore yellow whipcord battle-jackets, black whipcord breeches, and high-laced red-leather boots.
"Hi, Bee-ay!" one of the men called. (Since everyone in the house was an Acey, other letters of each symbol were used infra-house). "You jump a mean knight; come on over and play me some chess."
"Not enough time on the chron, Apey, I've got to red-tape it for a good hour yet," and she strode purposefully to her desk.
She had hardly seated herself, however, when a big, good-looking, fair-haired young fellow came over and perched hip-wise on the corner of her desk.
"Hi, beautiful," he said, swinging one big boot in a small arc. "What do you know for real sure that's new?" "Hi, Crip-mental, that is-nothing at all. Should I?" "Hope. Everything is perfect in this our perfect World." He squared his shoulders as though he had made a momentous decision and glanced quickly around. No one was within earshot; no one was paying any attention to their customary fete-d-fete.
Reaching into his pocket, he took out two soft, almost transparent pouches. He bent over, pulled his locket out from under his jacket, said, "Well, beautiful, I'll see you after," slipped one of the pouches over his locket, tightened its drawstring, and put the now insulated locket back where it had been. Then, handing her the other pouch, he indicated silently that she was to do the same.
The girl's eyes widened and her face went suddenly stiff, but she pouched her locket and replaced it under her sweater, between her boldly outstanding breasts. "So we're both mals," she said, quietly. "Mals of the worst type-hunchers. I've been afraid you were, too ... and you, too, for me, I suppose... well, there goes the last secret between us-I hope? Except I mean of course..."
He managed a grin. "Of course. As far as I know, sweetheart. What held me up was-well, I may get flamed for this, and I didn't want you to be, too... but you've been flirting with the flamers and if you go there's nothing left for me. That's the way you look at it, too, isn't it?"
"Of course, darling. I wouldn't live an hour, after. You came out because you noticed I was going off the beam?" "How could I help but notice? But I wonder-is your hunch the same as mine? Something so wild-so utterly utter-that there are no words for it? That goes, some way or other, clear up to the Company itself?"
"That sounds like the same pattern, so I guess it's the same hunch. Something 'way out; beyond all understanding, sense or reason. I can't get even a clue to it. But these... ?" She indicated the lockets. "Coms? Up to the Three-A's, maybe? And you blocked 'em? I'd never have thought of anything like that-but of course girl Sciencers First don't really..."
"I don't know that they're corns; I was afraid to do any testing. But I knew something was riding you and I had to do something. But all I blocked was audio-if anybody is on us they're getting everything else and the well-known fact that we're in love will account for tension and so on-I think. I suppose you've heard the gossip that twelve Aceys from this house went absento -probably mal and probably flamed?"
"I've heard-and with that and this horrible hunch I've been jittering like a witch. It got so bad that I yapped at a Blue this afternoon-Old Baldy A B F A D A A himself."
"Almighty Company fend you!" he gasped. "You are asking for a flame!"
"Not in that, Beedy. No fear of him howling. He can't howl. He's so far minus sked on Sub Fourteen that I'm going to have to go contra-Regs...." She explained the housing situation...... so I could kick him right in the face and he couldn't even kick me back because I'm strictly on sked. He said he'd bop me bow-legged if I leaked about it, but that was all."
The man whistled softly through his teeth. "That much mal trouble?" He thought for a moment, then threw off his dark mood. "Retrieve the insulator and slip it to me when I get back."
He moved quietly away, then came back with appropriate noise. He resumed his former position, put both pouches into his pocket, and said, "I just had a cogent and gravid idea, my proud and haughty beauty. How about us taking five and going down stairs and tilting us a couple of flagons?"
"I'd love to, my courteous and sprightly knave, but I've simply got to get this red tape out first. An hour, say?"
"An hour's a date, you beautiful thing, you." He took his leg off the desk and straightened up. "I've got somered-taping of my own to do. So, as Old Baldy would say, keep your..."
Beedy! Is that nice?" She laughed up at him; two deep dimples appeared. "Besides, as you very well know, I always do!"
In an hour the paper-work was done. (While People all got half a shift off on Compday, Company Agents got theirs on any day other than Compday). Bee-ay and Beedy tilted their flagons, ate supper together, and went to their rooms. Not only to separate rooms, but to separate wings of the immense building.
She, however, did not sleep at all well; and when she went to work Sonday morning she was still keyed up and tense-for no real reason whatever.
The job went along strictly as usual until, at hour sixteen plus fifty, she had just finished installing her last pair of newmates of the day and was getting into her aircar to go home. While she was getting into the front seat a pair of heavily-insulated arms went around her and a strong gloved hand went over her mouth. She bit and fought, but the glove was bite-proof and the man was big and fast and immensely strong. He dragged her out of the driver's seat and into the back, where he let her struggle; holding her only tightly enough to prevent her escape. In the meantime a smaller man, also dressed in a full-coverage suit that looked like asbestos but wasn't, cut three wires of the aircar's power supply and got into the front seat. The car shot straight up out of sight of the ground, darted northward, and came to ground on the flat top of a high, bare-rock mesa.
"Are you going to behave yourself?" the big man asked.
She nodded behind the glove and he released her completely.
"What the hell goes on?" she demanded, sitting up properly and putting her hair to rights with her fingers. "You'll get the flame for this."
"I think not," he said, quietly. "You're not frightened, I'm very glad to see."
Frightened? Me? Of any person or People ever born? High Company beyond!"
"Good girl. We've made a few poor picks, but you and your friend A C B D will make out."
"Beedy? You've got him, too? Where are you taking us, I if I may ask?" The last phrase was pure sneer.
"You may not ask," was the calm reply.
Then the big man, working deftly despite his heavy gloves, lifted the girl's locket and cut its chain with a heavy angle-nose cutter. He then twitched the band from her head, tied the locket to the band with the chain, and threw the bundle, in a high are, out and away. When it came down there was a flare of greenish brilliance brighter than the sun, the white glare of a small pool of incandescent lava, and after a few seconds, the odor of volatilized rock.
"So?" the girl asked, quietly. "So there goes a bit of Company power. But you... Oh!" She broke off sharply as she saw the smaller man touching the aircar here and there with the looped end of a heavy wire held in one gloved hand. "Oh? High resistance? How high?"
"One point two five megohms," the big man said. "We have no intention whatever of doing you-any harm whatever."
"You know, some way or other, I've rather gathered that?" and she extended a beautifully-shaped bare arm for the wire's touch. A minute later, while both men were shedding their insulation, she spoke again. "You're going to give me some explanation of all this, I suppose?"
"We are indeed, Miss Acey Bee-ay, as soon as we get to where we're going and your friend joins us. It's altogether too long and too deep and too involved to go into twice for the two of you. We'll take off now."
The aircar went straight up to twelve thousand feet, then hurtled north northeast at its top speed. It held course and speed for over three hours. It crossed mountain ranges, lakes, forests, and rivers. Finally, however, it slanted sharply downward, slowed, stopped, and descended vertically into a canyon-a crevasse, rather but little wider than the car was long and half a mile deep.
It landed near a man wearing a greenish-gray uniform, who had a sidearm in a holster at his hip. This guard saluted crisply and put his hand against a slight projection of the rock, whereupon a section of the canyon's wall swung inward, revealing a long, straight, brightly lighted tunnel. The three got out of the car and the guard stepped aside, drawing his weapon as he did so. "As usual," the big man told the guard. "It's harmless and its transmitters have been cut. You won't need the artillery." He glanced quizzically at the girl. "Will he'?" "No," she said, flatly. "I know that you can handle me alone. You know as much judo as I do and you're a lot bigger."
