C9 IX

~ NORMALLY, AT OVERDRIVE CRUISING SPEED, it would be a week’s journey from Walden to the planet Krim. Hoddan made it in five days. There was reason. He wanted to beat the news of his piracy to Krim. He could endure suspicion, and he wouldn’t mind doubt, but he did not want certainty of his nefarious behavior to interfere with the purposes of his call.

The space yacht, sealed tightly, floated in an orbit far out in emptiness. The big ship went down alone by landing grid. It glittered brightly as it descended. When it touched ground and the grid’s force fields cut off, it looked very modern and very crisp and strictly businesslike. Actually, the capture of this particular liner was a bit of luck, for Hoddan. It was not one of the giant inter-cluster ships which make runs of thousands of light-years and deign to stop only at very major planets. It was a medium ship of five thousand tons burden, designed for service in the Horsehead Nebula region. It was brand-new and on the way from its builders to its owners when Hoddan interfered. Naturally, though, it carried cargo on its maiden voyage.

Hoddan spoke curtly to the control room of the grid.

“I’m non-sked,” he explained. “New ship. I got a freak charter party over on Walden and I have to get rid of my cargo. How about shifting me to a delay space until I can talk to some brokers?”

The force fields came on again and the liner moved very delicately to a position at the side of the grid’s central space. There it would be out of the way.

Hoddan dressed himself carefully in garments found in the liner’s skipper’s cabin. He found Thal wearing an apron and an embittered expression. He ceased to wield a mop as Hoddan halted before him.

“I’m going ashore,” said Hoddan crisply. “You’re in charge until I get back.”

“In charge of what?” demanded Thal bitterly. “Of a bunch of male housemaids! I run a mop! And me a Darthian gentleman! I thought I was being a pirate! What do I do? I scrub floors! I wash paint! I stencil cases in cargo holds! I paint over names and put others in their places! Me, a Darthian gentleman!”

“No,” said Hoddan. “A pirate. If I don’t get back, you and the others can’t work this ship, and presently the police of Krim will ask why. They’ll recheck my careful forgeries, and you’ll all be hung for piracy. So don’t let anybody in. Don’t talk to anybody. If you do— pfft! “

He drew his finger across his throat, and nodded, and went cheerfully out the crew’s landing-door in the very base of the ship. He went across the tarmac and out between two of the gigantic steel arches of the grid. He hired a ground vehicle.

“Where?” asked the driver.

“Hm-m-m,” said Hoddan. “There’s a firm of lawyers.... I can’t remember the name—”

“There’s millions of ‘em,” said the driver.

“This is a special one,” explained Hoddan. “It’s so dignified they won’t talk to you unless you’re a great-grandson of a client. They’re so ethical they won’t touch a case of under a million credits. They’ve got about nineteen names in the firm title and—”

“Oh!” said the ground-car driver. “That’ll be— Hell! I can’t remember the name either. But I’ll take you there.”

He drove out into traffic. Hoddan relaxed. Then he tensed again. He had not been in a city since he stopped briefly in this on the way to Darth. The traffic was abominable. And he, who’d been in various pitched battles on Darth and had only lately captured a ship in space— Hoddan grew apprehensive as his ground-car charged into the thick of hooting, rushing, squealing vehicles. When the car came to a stop he was relieved.

“It’s yonder,” said the driver. “You’ll find the name on the directory.”

Hoddan paid and went inside the gigantic building. He looked at the directory and shrugged. He went to the downstairs guard. He explained that he was looking for a firm of lawyers whose name was not on the directory list. They were extremely conservative and of the highest possible reputation. They didn’t seek clients—

“Forty-two and forty-three,” said the guard, frowning. “I ain’t supposed to give it out, but—floors forty-two and-three.”

Hoddan went up. He was unknown. A receptionist looked at him with surprised aversion.

“I have a case of space piracy,” said Hoddan polite. “A member of the firm, please.”

Ten minutes later he eased himself into the easiest of easy-chairs. A gray-haired man of infinite dignity said:

“Well?”

“I am,” said Hoddan modestly, “a pirate. I have a ship in the spaceport with very convincing papers and a cargo of Rigellian furs, jewelry from the Cetis planets, and a rather large quantity of bulk melacynth. I want to dispose of the cargo and invest a considerable part of the proceeds in conservative stocks on Krim.”

The lawyer frowned. He looked shocked. Then he said carefully:

“You made two statements. One was that you are a pirate. Taken by itself, that is not my concern. The other is that you wish to dispose of certain cargo and invest in reputable businesses on Krim. I assume that there is no connection between the two observations.”

He paused. Hoddan said nothing. The lawyer went on, with dignity:

“Of course our firm is not in the brokerage business. However, we can represent you in your dealing with local brokers. And obviously we can advise you—”

“I also wish to buy,” said Hoddan, “a complete shipload of agricultural machinery, a microfilm technical library, machine tools, vision-tape technical instructors and libraries of tape for them, generators, and such things.”

“Hm-m-m,” said the lawyer. “I will send one of our clerks to examine your cargo so he can deal properly with the brokers. You will tell him in detail what you wish to buy.”

Hoddan stood up.

“I’ll take him to the ship now.”

He was mildly surprised at the smoothness with which matters proceeded. He took a young clerk to the ship. He showed him the ship’s papers as edited by himself. He took him through the cargo holds. He discussed in some detail what he wished to buy.

When the clerk left, Thal came to complain again.

“Look here!” he said bitterly, “we’ve scrubbed this ship from one end to the other! There’s not a speck or a fingermark on it. And we’re still scrubbing! We captured this ship! Is this pirate revels?”

Hoddan said:

“There’s money coming. I’ll let you boys ashore with some cash in your pockets presently.”

Brokers came, escorted by the lawyer’s clerk. They squabbled furiously with him. But the dignity of the firm he represented was extreme. There was no suspicion—no overt suspicion anyhow—and the furs went. The clerk painstakingly informed Hoddan that he could draw so much. More brokers came. The jewelry went. The lawyer’s clerk jotted down figures and told Hoddan the net. The bulk melacynth was taken over by a group of brokers, none of whom could handle it alone.

Hoddan drew cash and sent his Darthians ashore with a thousand credits apiece. With bright and shining faces, they headed for the nearest bars.

“As soon as my ship’s loaded,” Hoddan told the clerk, “I’ll want to get them out of jail.”

The clerk nodded. He brought salesmen of agricultural machinery. Representatives of microfilm libraries. Manufacturers of generators, vision-tape instructors and allied lines. Hoddan bought, painstakingly. Delivery was promised for the next day.

“Now,” said the clerk, “about the investments you wish to make with the balance?”

“I’ll want a reasonable sum in cash,” said Hoddan reflectively. “But.... well ... I’ve been told that insurance is a fine, conservative business. As I understand it, most insurance organizations are divided into divisions which are separately incorporated. There will be a life-insurance division, a casualty division, and so on. Is that right? And one may invest in any of them separately?”

The clerk said impassively:

“I was given to understand, sir, that you are interested in risk-insurance. Perhaps especially risk-insurance covering piracy. I was given quotations on the risk-insurance divisions of all Krim companies. Of course those are not very active stocks, but if there were a rumor of a pirate ship acting in this part of the galaxy, one might anticipate—”

“I do,” said Hoddan. “Let’s see. ... My cargo brought so much.... Hm-m-m.... My purchases will come to so much. Hm-m-m.... My legal fees, of course.... I mentioned a sum in cash. Yes. This will be the balance, more or less, which you will put in the stocks you’ve named, but since I anticipate activity in them. I’ll want to leave some special instructions.”

He gave a detailed, thoughtful account of what he anticipated might be found in news reports of later dates. The clerk noted it all down, impassively. Hoddan added instructions.

“Yes, sir,” said the clerk without intonation when he was through. “If you will come to the office in the morning, sir, the papers will be drawn up and matters can be concluded. Your new cargo can hardly be delivered before then, and if I may say so, sir, your crew won’t be ready. I’d estimate two hours of festivity for each man, and fourteen hours for recovery.”

“Thank you,” said Hoddan. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He sealed up the ship when the lawyer’s clerk departed. Then he felt lonely. He was the only living thing in the ship. His footsteps echoed hollowly. There was nobody to speak to. Not even anybody to threaten. He’d done a lot of threatening lately.

He went forlornly to the cabin once occupied by the liner’s former skipper. His loneliness increased. He began to feel those daunting self-doubts such as plague the most unselfish and conscientious people. His actions to date, of course, did not trouble him. Today’s actions were the ones which bothered his conscience. He felt that they were not quite adequate. The balance left in the lawyer’s hands would not be nearly enough to cover a certain deficit which in justice he felt himself bound to make up. It had been his thought to make this enterprise self-liquidating—everybody concerned making a profit, including the owners of the ship and cargo he had pirated. But he wasn’t sure.

He reflected that his grandfather would not have been disturbed about such a matter. That elderly pirate would have felt wholly at ease. It was his conviction that piracy was an essential part of the working of the galaxy’s economic system. Hoddan, indeed, could remember him saying precisely, snipping off the ends of his words as he spoke:

“I tell y’, piracy’s what keeps the galaxy’s business thriving! Everybody knows business suffers when retail trade slacks down. It backs up the movement of inventories. They get too big. That backs up orders to the factories. They lay off men. And when men are laid off they don’t have money to spend, so retail trade slacks off some more, and that backs up inventories some more, and that backs up orders to factories and makes unemployment and hurts retail trade again. It’s a feed-back. See?” It was Hoddan’s grandfather’s custom, at this point, to stare shrewdly at each of his listeners in turn.

“But suppose somebody pirates a ship? The owners don’t lose. It’s insured. They order another ship built right away. Men get hired to build it and they’re paid money to spend in retail trade and that moves inventories and industry picks up. More’n that, more people insure against piracy. Insurance companies hire more clerks and bookkeepers. They get more money for retail trade and to move inventories and keep factories going and get more people hired.... Y’see? It’s piracy that keeps business in this galaxy goin’!”

Hoddan had known doubts about this, but it could not be entirely wrong. He’d put a good part of the proceeds of his piracy in risk-insurance stocks, and he counted on them to make all his actions as benevolent to everybody concerned as his intentions had been, and were. But it might not be true enough. It might be less than ... well ... sufficiently true in a particular instance. And therefore—

Then he saw how things could be worked out so that there could be no doubt. He began to work out the details. He drifted off to sleep in the act of composing a letter in his head to his grandfather on the pirate planet Zan.

When morning came on Krim, catawheel trucks came bringing gigantic agricultural machines of a sort that would normally never be shipped by space freight. There came generators and turbines and tanks of plastic, and vision-tape instructors and great boxes full of tape for them. There were machine tools and cutting tips—these last in vast quantity—and very many items that the emigrants of Colin probably would not expect, and might not even recognize. The cargo holds of the liner filled.

He went to the office of his attorneys. He read and signed papers, in an atmosphere of great dignity and ethical purpose. The lawyer’s clerk attended him to the police office, where seven dreary Darthians with oversized hangovers tried dismally to cheer themselves by memories of how they got that way. He got them out and to the ship. The lawyer’s clerk produced a rather weighty if small box with an air of extreme solemnity.

“The currency you wanted, sir.”

“Thank you,” said Hoddan. “That’s the last of our business?”

“Yes, sir,” said the clerk. He hesitated, and for the first time showed a trace of human curiosity. “Could I ask a question, sir, about piracy?”

“Why not?” asked Hoddan. “Go ahead.”

“When you ... ah ... captured this ship, sir,” said the clerk hopefully, “did you ... ah ... shoot the men and keep the women?”

Hoddan sighed.

“Much,” he said regretfully, “as I hate to spoil an enlivening theory—no. These are modern days. Efficiency has invaded even the pirate business. I used my crew for floor-scrubbing and cookery.”

He closed the ship port gently and went up to the control room to call the landing grid operators. In minutes the captured liner, loaded down again, lifted toward the stars.

And all the journey back to Darth was as anticlimactic as that. There was no trouble finding the space yacht in its remote orbit. Hoddan sent out an unlocking signal, and a keyed transmitter began to send a signal on which to home. When the liner nudged alongside it, Hoddan’s last contrivance operated and the yacht clung fast to the larger ship’s hull. There were four days in overdrive. There were three or four pauses for position-finding. The stop-over on Krim had cost some delay, but Hoddan arrived back at a positive sight of Darth’s sun within a day or so of standard space drive direct from Walden. Then there was little or no time lost in getting into orbit with the junk yard space fleet of the emigrants. Shortly thereafter he called the leader’s ship with only mild worries about possible disasters that might have happened while he was away.

“Calling the leader’s ship,” he said crisply. “Calling the leader’s ship! This is Bron Hoddan, reporting back from Walden with a ship and machinery contributed for your use!”

The harsh voice of the bearded old leader of the emigrants seemed somehow broken when he replied. He called down blessings on Hoddan, who could use them. Then there was the matter of getting emigrants on board the new ship. They didn’t know how to use the boat-blister lifeboat tubes. Hoddan had to demonstrate. But shortly after there were twenty, thirty, fifty of the folk from Colin, feverishly searching the ship and incredulously reporting what they found.

“It’s impossible!” said the old man. “It’s impossible!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Hoddan. “It’s unlikely, but it’s happened. I’m only afraid it’s not enough.”

“It is ... many times what we hoped,” said the old man humbly. “Only—” He stopped. “We are more grateful than we can say.”

Hoddan took a deep breath.

“I’d like to take my crew back home,” he explained. “And come back and ... well ... perhaps I can be useful explaining things. And I’d like to ask a great favor of you ... for my own work.”

“But naturally,” said the old man. “Of course. We will await your return. Naturally! And ... perhaps we can ... we can arrange something—”

Hoddan was relieved. There did seem a slightly strange limitation to the happiness of the emigrants. They were passionately rejoiceful over the agricultural machinery. But they seemed rather dutifully than truly happy over the microfilm library. The vision-tape instructors were the objects of polite comment only. Hoddan felt a vague discomfort. There seemed to be a sort of secret desperation in the atmosphere, which they would not admit or mention. But he was coming back. Of course.

He brought the spaceboat over to the new liner. He hooked onto a lifeboat blister and his seven Darthians crawled through the lifeboat tube. Hoddan pulled away quickly before somebody thought to ask why there were no lifeboats in the places so plainly made for them.

He headed downward when the landmarks on Darth’s surface told him that Don Loris’ castle would shortly come over the horizon. He was just touching atmosphere when it did. The boat’s rocket-tanks had been refilled, and he burned fuel recklessly to make a dramatic landing within a hundred yards of the battlements where Fani had once thoughtfully had a coil of rope ready for him.

Heads peered at the lifeboat over those same battlements now, but the gate was closed. It stayed closed. There was somehow an atmosphere of suspicion amounting to enmity. Hoddan felt unwelcome.

“All right, boys,” he said resignedly. “Out with you and to the castle. You’ve got your loot from the voyage"—he’d counted out for each of them rather more actual cash than any of them really believed in—"and I want you to take this box to Don Loris. It’s a gift from me. And I want to—consult with him about co-operation between the two of us in ... ah ... some plans I have. Ask if I may come and talk to him.”

His seven former spearmen tumbled out. They marched gleefully to the castle gate. Hoddan saw them tantalizingly displaying large sums in cash to the watchers above them. Thal held up the box for Don Loris. It was the box the lawyer’s clerk had turned over to him, with a tidy sum in cash in it. The sum was partly depleted, now. Hoddan had paid off his involuntary crew with it—had paid them, in fact, as if they’d done the fighting they’d expected and he’d thought would be necessary. But there was still more in it than Don Loris would have gotten from Walden for selling him out.

The castle gate opened, as if grudgingly. The seven went in. With the box.

Time passed. Much time. Hoddan went over the arguments he meant to use on Don Loris. He needed to make up a very great sum, and it could be done thus-and-so, but thus-and-so required occasional piratical raids, which called for pirate crews, and if Don Loris would encourage his retainers— He could have gone to another Darthian chieftain, of course, but he knew what kind of scoundrel Don Loris was. He’d have to find out about another man.

Nearly an hour elapsed before the castle gate opened again. Two files of spearmen marched out. There were eight men with a sergeant in command. Hoddan did not recognize any of them. They came to the spaceboat. The sergeant formally presented an official message. Don Loris would admit Bron Hoddan to his presence, to hear what he had to say.

Hoddan felt excessively uncomfortable. Waiting, he’d thought about that secret despair in the emigrant fleet. He worried about it. He was concerned because Don Loris had not welcomed him with cordiality, now that he’d brought back his retainers in good working order. In a sudden gloomy premonition, he checked his stun-pistols. They needed charging. He managed it from the lifeboat unit.

He went forebodingly toward the castle with the eight spearmen surrounding him as cops had once surrounded him on Walden. He did not like to be reminded of it. He frowned to himself as he went in the castle gate, and along a long stone passage, and up stone stairs into the great hall of state. Don Loris, as once before, sat peevishly by the huge fireplace. This time he was almost inside it, with its hood and mantel actually over his head. The Lady Fani sat there with him.

Don Loris seemed to put aside his peevishness only a little to greet Hoddan.

“My dear fellow,” he said complainingly, “I don’t like to welcome you with reproaches, but do you know that when you absconded with that spaceboat, you made a mortal enemy for me? It’s a fact! My neighbor, on whose land the boat descended, was deeply hurt. He considered it his property. He had summoned his retainers for a fight over it when I heard of his resentment and partly soothed him with apologies and presents. But he still considers that I should return it to him, whenever you appear here with it!”

“Oh,” said Hoddan. “That’s too bad.”

Things looked ominous. The Lady Fani looked at him strangely. As if she tried to tell him something without speaking it. She looked as if she had wept lately.

“To be sure,” said Don Loris fretfully, “you gave me a very pretty present just now. But my retainers tell me that you came back with a ship. A very fine ship. What became of it? The landing grid has been repaired at last and you could have landed it. What happened to it?”

“I gave it away,” said Hoddan. He saw what Fani was trying to tell him. One corridor ... no, two ... leading toward the great hall was filled with spearmen. His tone turned sardonic. “I gave it to a poor old man.”

Don Loris shook his head.

“That’s not right, Hoddan! That fleet overhead, now. If they are pirates and want some of my men for crews, they should come to me! I don’t take kindly to the idea of your kidnaping my men and carrying them off on piratical excursions! They must be profitable! But if you can afford to give me presents like that, and be so lavish with my retainers ... why I don’t see why—”

Hoddan grimaced.

“I came to arrange a deal on that order,” he observed.

“I don’t think I like it,” said Don Loris peevishly. “I prefer to deal with people direct. I’ll arrange about the landing grid, and for a regular recruiting service which I will conduct, of course. But you ... you are irresponsible! I wish you well, but when you carry my men off for pirates, and make my neighbors into my enemies, and infect my daughter with strange notions and the government of a friendly planet asks me in so many words not to shelter you any longer ... why that’s the end, Hoddan. So with great regret—”

“The regret is mine,” said Hoddan. Thoughtfully, he aimed a stun-pistol at a slowly opening door. He pulled the trigger. Yells followed its humming, because not everybody it hit was knocked out. Nor did it hit everybody in the corridor. Men came surging out of one door, and then two, to require the attention of his weapons.

Then a spear went past Hoddan’s face and missed him only by inches. It buried its point in the floor. A whirling knife spun past his nose. He glanced up. There were balconies all around the great hall, and men popped up from behind the railings and threw things at him. They popped down out of sight instantly. There was no rhythm involved. He could not anticipate their rising, nor shoot them through the balcony front. And more men infiltrated the hall, getting behind heavy chairs and tables, to push toward him behind them as shovable shields. More spears and knives flew.

“Bron!” cried the Lady Fani, throatily.

He thought she had an exit for him. He sprang to her side.

“I ... I didn’t want you to come,” she wept.

There was a singular pause in the clangings and clashings of weapons on the floor. For a second the noises continued. Then they stopped. Then one man popped up and hurled a knife. The clang of its fall was a very lonely one. Don Loris fairly howled at him.

“Idiot! Think of the Lady Fani!”

The Lady Fani suddenly smiled tremulously.

“Wonderful!” she said. “They don’t dare do anything while you’re as close to me as this!”

“Do you suppose,” asked Hoddan, “I could count on that?”

“I’m certain of it!” said Fani. “And I think you’d better.”

“Then, excuse me,” said Hoddan with great politeness.

He swung her up and over his shoulder. With a stun-pistol in his free hand he headed down the hall.

“Outside,” she said zestfully. “Get out the side door and turn left, and nobody can jump down on your neck. Then left again to the gate.”

He obeyed. Now and again he got in a pot-shot with his pistol. Don Loris had turned the castle into a very pretty trap. The Lady Fani said plaintively:

“This is terribly undignified, and I can’t see where we’re going. Where are we now?”

“Almost at the gate,” panted Hoddan. “At it, now.” He swung out of the massive entrance to Don Loris’ stronghold. “I can put you down now.”

“I wouldn’t,” said the Lady Fani. “In spite of the end of me that’s uppermost, I think you’d better make for the spaceboat exactly as we are.”

Again Hoddan obeyed, racing across the open ground. Howls of fury followed him. It was evidently the opinion of the castle that the Lady Fani was to be abducted in the place of the seven returned spearmen.

Hoddan, breathing hard, reached the spaceboat. He put Fani down and said anxiously:

“You’re all right? I’m very much in your debt! I was in a spot!” Then he nodded toward the castle. “They are upset, aren’t they? They must think I mean to kidnap you.”

The Lady Fani beamed.

“It would be terrible if you did,” she said hopefully. “I couldn’t do a thing to stop you! And a successful public abduction’s a legal marriage, on Darth! Wouldn’t it be terrible?”

Hoddan mopped his face and patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry!” he said warmly. “You just got me out of an awful fix! You’re my friend! And anyhow I’m going to marry a girl on Walden, named Nedda. Good-by, Fani! Keep clear of the rocket blast.”

He went into the boatport, turned to beam paternally back at her, and shut the port behind him. Seconds later the spaceboat took off. It left behind clouds of rocket smoke.

And, though Hoddan hadn’t the faintest idea of it, it left behind the maddest girl in several solar systems.