Lone Star Planet
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Henry Beam Piper and John Joseph McGuire >> Lone Star Planet
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I'd have to do that, of course. There were a few non-humans and a lot of
non-League people aboard this ship. I couldn't let any of them find out
what we considered a full briefing for a new Ambassador.
So I wrapped them in the original package and went down to the lower
passenger zone, where I found the ship's third officer. I told him that
I had some secret diplomatic matter to be destroyed and he took me to
the engine room. I shoved the package into one of the mass-energy
convertors and watched it resolve itself into its constituent protons,
neutrons and electrons.
On the way back, I stopped in at the ship's bar.
Hoddy Ringo was there, wrapped up in--and I use the words literally--a
young lady from the Alderbaran system. She was on her way home from one
of the quickie divorce courts on Terra and was celebrating her marital
emancipation. They were so entangled with each other that they didn't
notice me. When they left the bar, I slipped after them until I saw them
enter the lady's stateroom. That, of course, would have Hoddy
immobilized--better word, located--for a while. So I went back to our
suite, picked the lock of Hoddy's room, and allowed myself half an hour
to search his luggage.
All of his clothes were new, but there were not a great many of them.
Evidently he was planning to re-outfit himself on New Texas. There were
a few odds and ends, the kind any man with a real home planet will hold
on to, in the luggage.
He had another eleven-mm pistol, made by Consolidated-Martian
Metalworks, mate to the one he was carrying in a shoulder-holster, and a
wide two-holster belt like the one furnished me, but quite old.
I greeted the sight and the meaning of the old holsters with joy: they
weren't the State Department Special Services type. That meant that
Hoddy was just one of Natalenko's run-of-the-gallows cutthroats, not
important enough to be issued the secret equipment.
But I was a little worried over what I found hidden in the lining of one
of his bags, a letter addressed to Space-Commander Lucius C. Stonehenge,
Aggression Department Attache, New Austin Embassy. I didn't have either
the time or the equipment to open it. But, knowing our various Departments,
I tried to reassure myself with the thought that it was only a
letter-of-credence, with the real message to be delivered orally.
About the real message I had no doubts: _arrange the murder of
Ambassador Stephen Silk in such a way that it looks like another New
Texan job...._
Starting that evening--or what passed for evening aboard a ship in
hyperspace--Hoddy and I began a positively epochal binge together.
I had it figured this way: as long as we were on board ship, I was
perfectly safe. On the ship, in fact, Hoddy would definitely have given
his life to save mine. I'd have to be killed on New Texas to give
Klueng's boys their excuse for moving in.
And there was always the chance, with no chance too slender for me to
ignore, that I might be able to get Hoddy drunk enough to talk, yet
still be sober enough myself to remember what he said.
Exact times, details, faces, names, came to me through a sort of hazy
blur as Hoddy and I drank something he called superbourbon--a New Texan
drink that Bourbon County, Kentucky, would never have recognized. They
had no corn on New Texas. This stuff was made out of something called
superyams.
There were at least two things I got out of the binge. First, I learned
to slug down the national drink without batting an eye. Second, I
learned to control my expression as I uncovered the fact that everything
on New Texas was supersomething.
I was also cautious enough, before we really got started, to leave my
belt and guns with the purser. I didn't want Hoddy poking around those
secret holsters. And I remember telling the captain to radio New Austin
as soon as we came out of our last hyperspace-jump, then to send the
ship's doctor around to give me my hangover treatments.
But the one thing I wanted to remember, as the hangover shots brought me
back to normal life, I found was the one thing I couldn't remember. What
was the name of that girl--a big, beautiful blond--who joined the party
along with Hoddy's grass widow from Alderbaran and stayed with it to the
end?
Damn, I wished I could remember her name!
When we were fifteen thousand miles off-planet and the lighters from New
Austin spaceport were reported on the way, I got into the skin-tight
Levis, the cataclysmic-colored shirt, and the loose vest, tucked my big
hat under my arm, and went to the purser's office for my guns, buckling
them on. When I got back to the suite, Hoddy had put on his pistols and
was practicing quick draws in front of the mirror. He took one look at
my armament and groaned.
"You're gonna get yourself killed for sure, with that rig, an' them
popguns," he told me.
"These popguns'll shoot harder and make bigger holes than that pair of
museum-pieces you're carrying," I replied.
"An' them holsters!" Hoddy continued. "Why, it'd take all day to get
your guns outa them! You better let me find you a real rig, when we get
to New Austin...."
There was a chance, of course, that he knew what I was using and wanted
to hide his knowledge. I doubted that.
"Sure, you State Department guys always know everything," he went on.
"Like them microfilm-books you was readin'. I try to tell you what
things is really like on New Texas, an' you let it go in one ear an' out
the other."
Then he wandered off to say good-bye to the grass widow from Alderbaran,
leaving me to make the last-minute check on the luggage. I was hoping
I'd be able to see that blond ... what _was_ her name; Gail
something-or-other. Let's see, she'd been at some Terran university, and
she was on her way home to ... to New Texas! Of course!
I saw her, half an hour later, in the crowd around the airlock when the
lighters came alongside, and I tried to push my way toward her. As I
did, the airlock opened, the crowd surged toward it, and she was carried
along. Then the airlock closed, after she had passed through and before
I could get to it. That meant I'd have to wait for the second lighter.
So I made the best of it, and spent the next half-hour watching the disc
of the planet grow into a huge ball that filled the lower half of the
viewscreen and then lose its curvature, and instead of moving in toward
the planet, we were going down toward it.
CHAPTER III
New Austin spaceport was a huge place, a good fifty miles outside the
city. As we descended, I could see that it was laid out like a wheel,
with the landings and the blast-off stands around the hub, and high
buildings--packing houses and refrigeration plants--along the many
spokes. It showed a technological level quite out of keeping with the
accounts I had read, or the stories Hoddy had told, about the simple
ranch life of the planet. Might be foreign capital invested there, and I
made a mental note to find out whose.
On the other hand, Old Texas, on Terra, had been heavily industrialized;
so much so that the state itself could handle the gigantic project of
building enough spaceships to move almost the whole population into
space.
Then the landing-field was rushing up at us, with the nearer ends of the
roadways and streets drawing close and the far ends lengthening out away
from us. The other lighter was already down, and I could see a crowd
around it.
There was a crowd waiting for us when we got out and went down the
escalators to the ground, and as I had expected, a special group of men
waiting for me. They were headed by a tall, slender individual in the
short black Eisenhower jacket, gray-striped trousers and black homburg
that was the uniform of the Diplomatic Service, alias the Cookie
Pushers.
Over their heads at the other rocket-boat, I could see the gold-gleaming
head of the girl I'd met on the ship.
I tried to push through the crowd and get to her. As I did, the Cookie
Pusher got in my way.
"Mr. Silk! Mr. Ambassador! Here we are!" he was clamoring. "The car for
the Embassy is right over here!" He clutched my elbow. "You have no idea
how glad we all are to see you, Mr. Ambassador!"
"Yes, yes; of course. Now, there's somebody over there I
have to see, at once." I tried to pull myself loose from his grasp.
Across the concrete between the two lighters, I could see the girl push
out of the crowd around her and wave a hand to me. I tried to yell to
her; but just then another lighter, loaded with freight, started to lift
out at another nearby stand, with the roar of half a dozen Niagaras. The
thin man in the striped trousers added to the uproar by shouting into my
ear and pulling at me.
"We haven't time!" he finally managed to make himself heard. "We're
dreadfully late now, sir! You must come with us."
Hoddy, too, had caught hold of me by the other arm.
"Come on, boss. There's gotta be some reason why he's got himself in an
uproar about whatever it is. You'll see her again."
Then, the whole gang--Hoddy, the thin man with the black homburg, his
younger accomplice in identical garb, and the chauffeur--all closed in
on me and pushed me, pulled me, half-carried me, fifty yards across the
concrete to where their air-car was parked. By this time, the tall
blond had gotten clear of the mob around her and was waving frantically
at me. I tried to wave back, but I was literally crammed into the car
and flung down on the seat. At the same time, the chauffeur was jumping
in, extending the car's wings, jetting up.
"Great God!" I bellowed. "This is the damnedest piece of impudence I've
ever had to suffer from any subordinates in my whole State Department
experience! I want an explanation out of you, and it'd better be a good
one!"
There was a deafening silence in the car for a moment. The thin man
moved himself off my lap, then sat there looking at me with the
heartbroken eyes of a friendly dog that had just been kicked for
something which wasn't really its fault.
"Mr. Ambassador, you can't imagine how sorry we all are, but if we
hadn't gotten you away from the spaceport and to the Embassy at once, we
would all have been much sorrier."
"Somebody here gunnin' for the Ambassador?" Hoddy demanded sharply.
"Oh, no! I hadn't even thought of that," the thin man almost gibbered.
"But your presence at the Embassy is of immediate and urgent necessity.
You have no idea of the state into which things have gotten.... Oh,
pardon me, Mr. Ambassador. I am Gilbert W. Thrombley, your charge
d'affaires." I shook hands with him. "And Mr. Benito Gomez, the
Secretary of the Embassy." I shook hands with him, too, and started to
introduce Mr. Hoddy Ringo.
Hoddy, however, had turned to look out the rear window; immediately, he
gave a yelp.
"We got a tail, boss! Two of them! Look back there!"
There were two black eight-passenger aircars, of the same model,
whizzing after us, making an obvious effort to overtake us. The
chauffeur cursed and fired his auxiliary jets, then his rocket-booster.
Immediately, black rocket-fuel puffs shot away from the pursuing
aircars.
Hoddy turned in his seat, cranked open a porthole-slit in the window,
and poked one of his eleven-mm's out, letting the whole clip go.
Thrombley and Gomez slid down onto the floor, and both began trying to
drag me down with them, imploring me not to expose myself.
As far as I could see, there was nothing to expose myself to. The other
cars kept coming, but neither of them were firing at us. There was also
no indication that Hoddy's salvo had had any effect on them. Our
chauffeur went into a perfect frenzy of twisting and dodging, at the
same time using his radiophone to tell somebody to get the goddamn
gate open in a hurry. I saw the blue skies and green plains of New
Texas replacing one another above, under, in front of and behind us.
Then the car set down on a broad stretch of concrete, the wings were
retracted, and we went whizzing down a city street.
We whizzed down a number of streets. We cut corners on two wheels, and
on one wheel, and, I was prepared to swear, on no wheels. A couple of
times, with the wings retracted, we actually jetted into the air and
jumped over vehicles in front of us, landing again with bone-shaking
jolts. Then we made an abrupt turn and shot in under a concrete arch,
and a big door banged shut behind us, and we stopped, in the middle of a
wide patio, the front of the car a few inches short of a fountain. Four
or five people, in diplomatic striped trousers, local dress and the
uniform of the Space Marines, came running over.
Thrombley pulled himself erect and half-climbed, half-fell, out of the
car. Gomez got out on the other side with Hoddy; I climbed out after
Thrombley.
A tall, sandy-haired man in the uniform of the Space Navy came over.
"What the devil's the matter, Thrombley?" he demanded. Then, seeing me,
he gave me as much of a salute as a naval officer will ever bestow on
anybody in civilian clothes.
"Mr. Silk?" He looked at my costume and the pistols on my belt in
well-bred concealment of surprise. "I'm your military attache,
Stonehenge; Space-Commander, Space Navy."
I noticed that Hoddy's ears had pricked up, but he wasn't making any
effort to attract Stonehenge's attention. I shook hands with him,
introduced Hoddy, and offered my cigarette case around.
"You seem to have had a hectic trip from the spaceport, Mr. Ambassador.
What happened?"
Thrombley began accusing our driver of trying to murder the lot of us.
Hoddy brushed him aside and explained:
"Just after we'd took off, two other cars took off after us. We speeded
up, and they speeded up, too. Then your fly-boy, here, got fancy. That
shook 'em off. Time we got into the city, we'd dropped them. Nice job of
driving. Probably saved our lives."
"Shucks, that wasn't nothin'," the driver disclaimed. "When you drive
for politicians, you're either good or you're good and dead."
"I'm surprised they started so soon," Stonehenge said. Then he looked
around at my fellow-passengers, who seemed to have realized, by now,
that they were no longer dangling by their fingernails over the brink of
the grave. "But gentlemen, let's not keep the Ambassador standing out
here in the hot sun."
So we went over the arches at the side of the patio, and were about to
sit down when one of the Embassy servants came up, followed by a man in
a loose vest and blue Levis and a big hat. He had a pair of automatics
in his belt, too.
"I'm Captain Nelson; New Texas Rangers," he introduced himself. "Which
one of you-all is Mr. Stephen Silk?"
I admitted it.
The Ranger pushed back his wide hat and grinned at me.
"I just can't figure this out," he said. "You're in the right place and
the right company, but we got a report, from a mighty good source, that
you'd been kidnapped at the spaceport by a gang of thugs!"
"A blond source?" I made curving motions with my hands. "I don't blame
her. My efficient and conscientious charge d'affaires, Mr. Thrombley,
felt that I should reach the Embassy, here, as soon as possible, and
from where she was standing, it must have looked like a kidnapping.
Fact is, it looked like one from where I was standing, too.
Was that you and your people who were chasing us? Then I must apologize
for opening fire on you ... I hope nobody was hurt."
"No, our cars are pretty well armored. You scored a couple of times on
one of them, but no harm done. I reckon after what happened to Silas
Cumshaw, you had a right to be suspicious."
I noticed that refreshments, including several bottles, had been placed
on a big wicker table under the arched veranda.
"Can I offer you a drink, Captain, in token of mutual amity?" I asked.
"Well, now, I'd like to, Mr. Ambassador, but I'm on duty ..." he began.
"You can't be. You're an officer of the Planetary Government of New
Texas, and in this Embassy, you're in the territory of the Solar
League."
"That's right, now, Mr. Ambassador," he grinned. "Extraterritoriality.
Wonderful thing, extraterritoriality." He looked at Hoddy, who, for the
first time since I had met him, was trying to shrink into the
background. "And diplomatic immunity, too. Ain't it, Hoddy?"
After he had had his drink and departed, we all sat down. Thrombley
began speaking almost at once.
"Mr. Ambassador, you must, you simply must, issue a public statement,
immediately, sir. Only a public statement, issued promptly, will relieve
the crisis into which we have all been thrust."
"Oh, come, Mr. Thrombley," I objected. "Captain Nelson'll take care of
all that in his report to his superiors."
Thrombley looked at me for a moment as though I had been speaking to
him in Hottentot, then waved his hands in polite exasperation.
"Oh, no, no! I don't mean that, sir. I mean a public statement to the
effect that you have assumed full responsibility for the Embassy. Where
is that thing? Mr. Gomez!"
Gomez gave him four or five sheets, stapled together. He laid them on
the table, turned to the last sheet, and whipped out a pen.
"Here, sir; just sign here."
"Are you crazy?" I demanded. "I'll be damned if I'll sign that. Not till
I've taken an inventory of the physical property of the Embassy, and
familiarized myself with all its commitments, and had the books audited
by some firm of certified public accountants."
Thrombley and Gomez looked at one another. They both groaned.
"But we must have a statement of assumption of responsibility ..." Gomez
dithered.
"... or the business of the Embassy will be at a dead stop, and we can't
do anything," Thrombley finished.
"Wait a moment, Thrombley," Stonehenge cut in. "I understand Mr. Silk's
attitude. I've taken command of a good many ships and installations, at
one time or another, and I've never signed for anything I couldn't see
and feel and count. I know men who retired as brigadier generals or
vice-admirals, but they retired loaded with debts incurred because as
second lieutenants or ensigns they forgot that simple rule."
He turned to me. "Without any disrespect to the charge d'affaires, Mr.
Silk, this Embassy has been pretty badly disorganized since Mr.
Cumshaw's death. No one felt authorized, or, to put it more accurately,
no one dared, to declare himself acting head of the Embassy--"
"Because that would make him the next target?" I interrupted. "Well,
that's what I was sent here for. Mr. Gomez, as Secretary of the Embassy,
will you please, at once, prepare a statement for the press and telecast
release to the effect that I am now the authorized head of this Embassy,
responsible from this hour for all its future policies and all its
present commitments insofar as they obligate the government of the Solar
League. Get that out at once. Tomorrow, I will present my credentials to
the Secretary of State here. Thereafter, Mr. Thrombley, you can rest in
the assurance that I'll be the one they'll be shooting at."
"But you can't wait that long, Mr. Ambassador," Thrombley almost wailed.
"We must go immediately to the Statehouse. The reception for you is
already going on."
I looked at my watch, which had been regulated aboard ship for Capella
IV time. It was just 1315.
"What time do they hold diplomatic receptions on this planet, Mr.
Thrombley?" I asked.
"Oh, any time at all, sir. This one started about 0900 when the news
that the ship was in orbit off-planet got in. It'll be a barbecue, of
course, and--"
"Barbecued supercow! Yipeee!" Hoddy yelled. "What I been waitin' for for
five years!"
It would be the vilest cruelty not to take him along, I thought. And it
would also keep him and Stonehenge apart for a while.
"But we must hurry, Mr. Ambassador," Thrombley was saying. "If you will
change, now, to formal dress ..."
And he was looking at me, gasping. I think it was the first time he had
actually seen what I was wearing.
"In native dress, Mr. Ambassador!"
Thrombley's eyes and tone were again those of an innocent spaniel caught
in the middle of a marital argument.
Then his gaze fell to my belt and his eyes became saucers. "Oh, dear!
And armed!"
My charge d'affaires was shuddering and he could not look directly at
me.
"Mr. Ambassador, I understand that you were recently appointed from the
Consular Service. I sincerely hope that you will not take it amiss if I
point out, here in private, that--"
"Mr. Thrombley, I am wearing this costume and these pistols on the
direct order of Secretary of State Ghopal Singh."
That set him back on his heels.
"I ... I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "An ambassador is _never_
armed."
"Not when he's dealing with a government which respects the comity of
nations and the usages of diplomatic practice, no," I replied. "But the
fate of Mr. Cumshaw clearly indicates that the government of New Texas
is not such a government. These pistols are in the nature of a
not-too-subtle hint of the manner in which this government, here, is
being regarded by the government of the Solar League." I turned to
Stonehenge. "Commander, what sort of an Embassy guard have we?" I asked.
"Space Marines, sergeant and five men. I double as guard officer, sir."
"Very well. Mr. Thrombley insists that it is necessary for me to go to
this fish-fry or whatever it is immediately. I want two men, a driver
and an auto-rifleman, for my car. And from now on, I would suggest,
Commander, that you wear your sidearm at all times outside the Embassy."
"Yes, sir!" and this time, Stonehenge gave me a real salute.
"Well, I must phone the Statehouse, then," Thrombley said. "We will have
to call on Secretary of State Palme, and then on President Hutchinson."
With that, he got up, excused himself, motioned Gomez to follow, and
hurried away.
I got up, too, and motioned Stonehenge aside.
"Aboard ship, coming in, I was told that there's a task force of the
Space Navy on maneuvers about five light-years from here," I said.
"Yes, sir. Task Force Red-Blue-Green, Fifth Space Fleet. Fleet Admiral
Sir Rodney Tregaskis."
"Can we get hold of a fast space-boat, with hyperdrive engines, in a
hurry?"
"Eight or ten of them always around New Austin spaceport, available for
charter."
"All right; charter one and get out to that fleet. Tell Admiral
Tregaskis that the Ambassador at New Austin feels in need of protection;
possibility of z'Srauff invasion. I'll give you written orders. I want
the Fleet within radio call. How far out would that be, with our
facilities?"
"The Embassy radio isn't reliable beyond about sixty light-minutes,
sir."
"Then tell Sir Rodney to bring his fleet in that close. The invasion, if
it comes, will probably not come from the direction of the z'Srauff
star-cluster; they'll probably jump past us and move in from the other
side. I hope you don't think I'm having nightmares, Commander. Danger of
a z'Srauff invasion was pointed out to me by persons on the very highest
level, on Luna."
Stonehenge nodded. "I'm always having the same kind of nightmares, sir.
Especially since this special envoy arrived here, ostensibly to
negotiate a meteor-mining treaty." He hesitated for a moment. "We don't
want the New Texans to know, of course, that you've sent for the fleet?"
"Naturally not."
"Well, if I can wait till about midnight before I leave, I can get a
boat owned, manned and operated by Solar League people. The boat's a
dreadful-looking old tub, but she's sound and fast. The gang who own her
are pretty notorious characters--suspected of smuggling, piracy, and
what not--but they'll keep their mouths shut if well paid."
"Then pay them well," I said. "And it's just as well you're not leaving
at once. When I get back from this clambake, I'll want to have a general
informal council, and I certainly want you in on it."
On the way to the Statehouse in the aircar, I kept wondering just how
smart I had been.
I was pretty sure that the z'Srauff was getting ready for a sneak attack
on New Texas, and, as Solar League Ambassador, I of course had the right
to call on the Space Navy for any amount of armed protection.
Sending Stonehenge off on what couldn't be less than an eighteen-hour
trip would delay anything he and Hoddy might be cooking up, too.
On the other hand, with the fleet so near, they might decide to have me
rubbed out in a hurry, to justify seizing the planet ahead of the
z'Srauff.
I was in that pleasant spot called, "Damned if you do and damned if you
don't...."
CHAPTER IV
The Statehouse appeared to cover about a square mile of ground and it
was an insane jumble of buildings piled beside and on top of one
another, as though it had been in continuous construction ever since the
planet was colonized, eighty-odd years before.
At what looked like one of the main entrances, the car stopped. I told
our Marine driver and auto-rifleman to park the car and take in the
barbecue, but to leave word with the doorman where they could be found.
Hoddy, Thrombley and I then went in, to be met by a couple of New Texas
Rangers, one of them the officer who had called at the Embassy. They
guided us to the office of the Secretary of State.
"We're dreadfully late," Thrombley was fretting. "I do hope we haven't
kept the Secretary waiting too long."
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