The Great Explosion, page 11
Now the carts started forward and lumbered down the slope with brake-blocks squeaking. The Consul and his staff straggled behind without rhythm or array as is customary with civilians. D Company slung weapons from shoulders, started a precise march made difficult by the slow pace of those ahead of them, a funereal tread more suitable for following a coffin with a flag over it. A torrent of fond farewell's rained upon them from the ship's open ports.
"Where's the body?"
"Hey, Markovitch, you've left your pants on."
"Give 'em hell, boys!"
"Bellies in, chests out—c'mon, smarten up, you bums!"
"Onward Christian soldiers."
"Silence!" roared Bidworthy.
"Ain't nobody here named Silas," informed a voice from the ship.
"Who's that?" Bidworthy yelled, trying to survey two hundred ports at once.
"Who dat say 'Who dat'?" responded the voice mockingly. "Is you where you is or is you ain't?"
Bidworthy made a vengeful dash for the gangway, raced up it, shot through the airlock with a brief, "Pardon me, Colonel," and disappeared into the ship.
"Look out!" warned another voice. "The bull has broken loose!"
Grayder remarked meditatively, "Discipline is the thing."
Shelton said nothing.
-
When the last of the cavalcade had ambled from sight the Ambassador said, "That's that!" He returned with the others to the lounge, poured himself a generous drink, sprawled in a chair. "We have now a foothold on Hygeia. It is Terra's responsibility to enlarge and strengthen it as time goes on."
"Yes, Your Excellency," said Shelton.
"I'll make out an official report describing what has been done. Will you have it transmitted as swiftly as possible, Captain?"
"Certainly, Your Excellency," assured Grayder.
"Good!" He sipped his drink, went on, "Now that this job is finished we might as well push on to the next one. I know of no irresistible attractions that make it worth our while to remain here. We have nothing to gain by hanging around. What do you say?"
"I'll have to see First Mate Morgan before we can go."
"Morgan? Why? What has he got to do with it? He is not in charge of this ship."
"The men are entitled to liberty. I cannot deprive them of that right without their consent. Morgan organizes the rosters and only he can tell me whether the men are willing to go on or whether they insist on taking their leave in full."
The Ambassador pulled a face. "All right, you consult him. Tell him we want to depart as soon as possible."
Grayder phoned for Morgan and when he arrived said, "Mr. Morgan, we plan to boost away just as soon as the men are ready—what is the position with regard to their liberty?"
"Not so good, sir. The fellows want lots of life, female company and fun. They aren't getting it. Some refuse to exhibit themselves naked. Those who are willing to undress have found that they aren't allowed in town. That leaves them with nothing to do except lie in the grass or mooch around the fields. I think most of them are pretty fed up."
"They may be luckier next time," Grayder suggested. "It's hardly likely that yet another planet will view us as vermin."
"No, sir," agreed Morgan, frowning.
"See the men and put it to them," ordered Grayder. "Let me know as soon as you can whether they are willing to forego their remaining leave for the sake of getting someplace better."
It was two hours before Morgan returned with the news. "All the fellows I can find, sir, are in favor of leaving this world and trying the next one. But a party of ten had left for a walk to the forest and said they wouldn't be back before late in the afternoon."
"Why have they gone there?" asked Grayder. "Just for the stroll?"
"That's right, sir. They said they didn't think any big, fat cops would be waiting to heave them out of the woods. Sergeant Gleed's squad is also absent, sir. He marched them away to a nearby farm about an hour ago."
"What for?" put in Shelton suspiciously.
"Tenth Engineer Harrison tells me that Sergeant Gleed got talking to two local nudies named Boogie and Pincuff who were working in the fields this morning. He fed them a story about how we'd lacked a balanced diet since birth and how the Terran authorities kept us in subjection by depriving us of nourishment." Morgan showed the embarrassment of one not sure whether he was being sneaky. "He complimented them repeatedly on their magnificent manhood, made a number of envious remarks about their physique and finally cadged from them two cartloads of fresh vegetables and fruit. He's taken his squad to help load up."
Shelton clapped a hand to his forehead. "A space-trooper panhandling like a hobo. A sergeant behaving like a whining mendicant. A sergeant of all people."
"He should be a lieutenant at least," opined the Ambassador, smacking his lips as thought of fruit and fresh vegetables.
"I'll have him on the carpet for this," swore Shelton. "I'll—"
"No you won't," the Ambassador contradicted. "We cannot share the loot without condoning the crime. And I intend to share the loot."
"But, Your Excellency, discipline—"
"Discipline my fanny," said the Ambassador rudely. "Fruit is really something. I am more than tired of dog-food out of a can. For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful." He brightened as another thought struck him and added, "If a sergeant can cadge two cartloads a colonel should be able to get ten."
"I would not demean myself by telling lies to the natives," declared Shelton.
"Not even for a big, beautiful melon all to yourself?"
"Positively not!"
"Then it's a good thing we've got sergeants," said the Ambassador.
Grayder ended the discussion with, "Mr. Morgan, we'll leave when the last man has returned. Advise me immediately the roll is complete."
"Very well, sir."
By eventide everyone was aboard. So also were the fresh vegetables and fruit. Bidworthy caught the load going through the airlock, goggled as six sacks of rosy apples were lugged past him.
"Sergeant Gleed, where did you procure all this stuff?"
"From that farm over there, Sergeant Major."
"With the farmer's knowledge and consent?"
"Good heavens, Sergeant Major," said Gleed wounded to the soul, "you don't think we'd rob the place during his absence, do you?"
"I have been in the space service for twenty-five years," informed Bidworthy, "which is plenty long enough to teach me that the only crime is that of being found out." He put on a look of deep cunning. "All right, Gleed how much did you pay this farmer and with what did you pay him?"
"I didn't give him anything."
"You persuaded him to donate two cartloads of fresh food?"
"That's right."
"For nothing?"
"That's right."
"He was fascinated by your personal charm, I suppose?"
"That's right," said Gleed with equanimity.
"You're a liar," stated Bidworthy. "And you know you're a liar. Furthermore, you know that I know you're a liar." He challenged the other with his eyes. "Don't you?"
"Yes, Sergeant Major," said Gleed.
"I am now going to check weapons and stores," announced Bidworthy. "If I find any gaps where you have swapped government material for this dollop of fodder you may expect the balloon to go up. The Colonel will tear off your stripes with his own two hands."
So saying, he dipped fingers into a passing sack, took out a crimson, juicy apple half the size of his head, and clanked away.
An hour later the gangway was drawn in. The airlock closed, the warning siren sounded and the ship lifted. Trooper Casartelli gazed wistfully through an observation-port as the planet shrank beneath.
"Man," he enthused, "that world has most everything: good, solid earth, sunshine, clear air, fruit and flowers. Also several millions of luscious pin-ups wearing nothing but their glorious hair. An Eden crammed with wonderful Eves."
"I didn't see any," said Trooper O'Keefe. "Did you?"
"No, unfortunately. But they're there, man, they're there."
He gave a deep sigh. "Those fellows in D Company were born lucky."
Trooper Yarrow put in with malice, "I didn't notice you falling over yourself in your haste to volunteer."
"Ruthless Rufus didn't give me the chance."
"Ha-ha," said Yarrow sceptically.
"Anyway, if I had offered my name he'd have turned me down dead flat. You know what he's like. He can smell a rat where there isn't one."
"Maybe it's just as well," opined Yarrow. "The Hygeian lovelies will fall only for a healthy mind in a healthy body. You've got neither."
"Speak for yourself, Emaciated," snapped Casartelli.
He remained watching through the port while Hygeia diminished to a tiny half-moon barely discernible alongside a blazing sun. Then he pussyfooted along to Bidworthy's little cabin and swiped that person's apple.
-
Chapter 7
The next world had a sun younger and bigger than Sol. It was sixth in a family of eleven planets, had about the same size and mass as Terra. Seven tiny moons circled it closely.
Viewing it in the visiscreen, the Ambassador asked, "Which one is this?"
"Kassim," said Grayder. "What is known about it?"
"Very little. It was confiscated by three-quarters of a million followers of a crank named Kassim who tried to unite Mohammedanism and Buddhism by claiming to be the reincarnation of the Prophet of Allah. The Moslem world gave them a rough time until they cleared out."
"They were Asiatic religious nuts, so to speak?"
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Then we know in advance what to expect. They'll insist that we wear slippers and remove them every time we cross a doorstep. They'll demand that we carry prayer-rugs with us wherever we go. Ten times a day they'll want us to prostrate ourselves and salaam to the east. They won't recognize me unless I become teetotal and wash myself only with my left hand."
"I wouldn't be surprised," admitted Grayder.
"That means I shall have to find a consul dopey enough to conform," continued the Ambassador morbidly. "I can choose for myself the world on which I shall take up residence in person. I don't fancy living among a crowd of off-beat Moslems."
"So far as our present trip is concerned, Your Excellency," said Grayder, "you have little choice left. It's either this world or the next one. Four widely spaced planets are as many as we can visit before we return to Terra for a complete overhaul."
"I know. There were only four on the list."
"Well, if none of them pleases you I'm afraid you'll have to wait until our next journey to seek one that does. I don't know when that will be. Neither do I know where we'll be going."
"Your succeeding jaunts are not for me," the Ambassador replied. "My instructions are to establish myself on one world as chief executive over the other three. Terra has a mile long line-up of consuls and ambassadors ready for other ships and other journeys. I'm stuck with this lot. Naturally, I want to select the best of the four. If the next two are even less attractive than the last two—"
"What will you do then?" inquired Grayder interestedly.
"I think I'll transfer the fellow on Hygeia and take over there myself. It would give me a definite pain in the neck but at least I'd have the consolation of knowing that the other places are worse."
"Hygeia is a paradise compared with some places I've heard about," observed Grayder.
"I suppose so. I'll take it for lack of anything better. That is my right. I'm the senior Terran representative. The consuls are comparative juniors. A junior must suffer to qualify as a senior. I don't believe in people gaining promotion the easy way, do you, my dear Captain?"
"Certainly not," said Grayder.
He went to the control-room and took charge. Already cameras were recording the approach. Soon they began taking hemispheric pictures as the ship swung round the sunlit side and back again into the dark. Carefully the great vessel closed in, circling the world at rapidly decreasing altitude.
Land and seas expanded, revealing more and more details. Soon it could be seen that this planet was far more lush than the previous ones. The hot sun burned through thin banks of cloud upon sparkling oceans and shining rivers, cast light and shadow over huge masses of tangled vegetation.
Here and there, mostly alongside or near to rivers, were vaguely discernible clearings marked with what might be roads and buildings; the characteristic markings of humanity at work. But these areas were small and their number was few. The ship went lower while cameras continued to operate. It circled the world another ten times and then went up.
Soon afterward the Ambassador arrived in the control-room. "I've been having a look, Captain. There is an awful lot of jungle."
"Sure is, Your Excellency."
"And not much else. It surprises me. All these years and they've practically nothing to show for them. You said that three-quarters of a million came here, didn't you?"
"That is what's in the ancient records."
"Perhaps the records are unreliable. It doesn't look to me as if their total strength amounts to that many even today. They've hardly scratched the place." He took a glance through the nearest port in spite of the fact that the ship was now far too high for accurate observation. "There is something mighty peculiar about this. It isn't like Asiatics to reduce their numbers so drastically. I expected to find this world exceptionally well-populated."
"So did I."
"Oh, well, we'll solve the mystery before long. Have you found a good landing-place, Captain?"
"Not yet, Your Excellency. I am waiting for the enlargements of our closest photographs."
"Yes, of course. You'll have to choose with great care. We cannot afford to spend weeks laboriously hacking our way to the nearest village."
He sat down and frowned thoughtfully until the photos arrived. Grayder spread them on his desk, examined them in silence one by one, passing each in turn to the Ambassador. Finally Grayder put his finger in the middle of a picture.
"Have a look at this, Your Excellency."
The Ambassador stared at the part indicated. "H'm! Quite a large village. Not a good, sharp picture, though. It is badly blurred."
"You haven't the trained eyes for these blown-up jobs taken from directly above." Grayder pointed to a wall cabinet. "Put it in that stereoscopic viewer and have another look."
Doing as instructed, the Ambassador fitted his face into the rubber eyepiece, gazed at the scene now shown clearly in three dimensions. He let go a hoarse grunt.
"Deserted and overgrown," he reported. "All the buildings are ruins. Don't look as if they've been used for many years. No roads or paths leading anywhere. The jungle has closed in."
"That's one," said Grayder grimly. "All the others are the same." He handed across a bunch of photographs to prove it and after the Ambassador had scanned them, prompted, "Well?"
"It's sheer guesswork but it seems to me this world has been dead for at least a century. I can't see the slightest evidence of present life."
"Neither can I."
"Something must have caused it."
"Something must," agreed Grayder.
The Ambassador displayed sudden alarm. "What we have been fearing may already have happened. They've been attacked without warning and destroyed to the last man."
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"Any lifeform capable of extending its wars into cosmic space," said Grayder patiently, "must have a good deal of intelligence even if no morals. Intelligent people don't attack and destroy just for the hell of it. They need a motive. Usually the motive is conquest." He jerked a thumb toward the port. "If unknown aliens have wiped out every human being on that planet they'd now be in possession. And we'd see plenty of evidence of their existence." Then he added dryly, "In fact we'd be darned lucky not to be attacked ourselves."
"I can agree with your first point but not with your last," said the Ambassador. "Their war-fleet could have dumped a small number of colonists and moved on. After all, there are plenty of Terran worlds quite incapable of defending themselves against an unexpected intruder."
"Anything is possible, Your Excellency," allowed Grayder. He pointed to the photographs. "But there is not one sign of alien occupation. Moreover, it is obvious that those villages have been or are being destroyed by time and the jungle, not by warfare."
