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RE: 'And Then There Were None' by Eric Frank Russell [Part 1/4]

I want
you to get out your bicycle, ride into town, find the mayor, sheriff,
grand panjandrum, supreme galootie or whatever he is called, and tell
him that he is officially invited to evening dinner along with any other
civic dignitaries he cares to bring. That, of course, includes their
wives.’
‘Very well, sir.’
‘Informal attire,’ added the Ambassador.
Harrison jerked up one ear and drooped the other. ‘What was that,
sir?’
‘They can dress how they like.’
‘I get it. Do I go right now, sir?’
‘At once. Return as quickly as you can and bring me the reply.’
Saluting sloppily, Harrison went out. His Excellency found an easy-chair,
reposed in it at full length, smiled with satisfaction.
‘It’s as easy as that.’ Pulling out a long cigar,
he bit off its end. ‘If we can’t touch their minds we’ll
appeal to their bellies.’ He cocked a knowing eye at Grayder.
‘Captain, see that there is plenty to drink. Strong stuff. Venusian
cognac or something equally potent. Give them lots of hooch and an hour
at a well-filled table and they’ll talk all night. We won’t
be able to shut them up.’ He lit the cigar, puffed luxuriously.
‘That is the tried and trusted technique
of high diplomacy—the insidious seduction of the distended gut.
It always works. You’ll see!’

  Chapter 
      3
    Pedalling briskly down the road, Tenth Engineer Harrison reached the 
      first street on either side of which were small detached houses with 
      neat gardens back and front. A plump, amiable looking woman was trimming 
      a hedge halfway along. He pulled up near to her, politely touched his 
      cap.
    ‘Scuse me, ma’am, I’m looking for the biggest man 
      in town.’
    She part-turned, gave him no more than a casual glance, pointed her 
      clipping-shears southward. 
    ‘That would be Jeff Baines. First on the right and second on 
      the left. It’s a small delicatessen.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    He moved on, hearing the steady snip-snip resume behind him. First 
      on the right. He curved around a long, low, rubber-balled truck parked 
      by the corner. Second on the left. Three children pointed at him dramatically 
      and yelled shrill warnings that his back wheel was going round. He found 
      the delicatessen, propped a pedal on the curb, gave his machine a reassuring 
      pat before he went inside and had a look at Jeff.
    There was plenty to see. Jeff had four chins, a twenty-two inch neck, 
      and a paunch that stuck out half a yard. An ordinary mortal could have 
      got into either leg of his pants without bothering to take off his diving 
      suit. Jeff Baines weighed at least three hundred pounds and undoubtedly 
      was the biggest man in town.
    ‘Wanting something?’ inquired Jeff, lugging it up from 
      far down.
    ‘Not exactly.’ Harrison eyed the succulent food display 
      and decided that anything unsold by nightfall was not thrown out to 
      the cats. ‘I’m looking for a certain person.’
    ‘Are you now? Usually I avoid that sort—but every man to 
      his taste.’ He plucked a fat lip while he mused a moment, then 
      suggested. ‘Try Sid Wilcock over on Dane Avenue. He’s the 
      most certain man I know.’
    ‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ said Harrison. ‘I 
      meant that I’m searching for somebody particular.’
    ‘Then why the blazes didn’t you say so in the first place?’ 
      Jeff Baines worked over the new problem, finally offered, ‘Tod 
      Green ought to fit that specification topnotch. You’ll find him 
      in the shoeshop at the end of this road. He’s particular enough 
      for anyone. He’s downright finicky.’
    ‘You persist in misunderstanding me,’ Harrison told him 
      and then went on to make it plainer, ‘I’m hunting a local 
      bigwig so that I can invite him to a feed.’
    Resting himself on a high stool which he overlapped by a foot all round, 
      Jeff Baines eyed him peculiarly. ‘There’s something lopsided 
      about this. Indeed, it seems crazy to me.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘You’re going to use up a considerable slice of your life 
      finding a fellow who wears a wig, especially if you insist that it’s 
      got to be a big one. And then again, where’s the point of dumping 
      an ob on him merely because he uses a bean-blanket?’
    ‘Eh?’
    ‘It’s plain horse-sense to plant an ob where it will cancel 
      another one out, isn’t it?’
    ‘Is it?’ Harrison let his mouth hang open while his mind 
      struggled with the strange problem of how to plant an ob.
    ‘So you don’t know? You’re exposing your tonsils 
      and looking dopey because you don’t know?’
    Jeff Baines massaged a couple of his chins and sighed. He pointed at 
      the other’s middle. ‘Is that a uniform you’re wearing?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘A genuine, pukka, dyed-in-the-wool uniform?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Ah, said Jeff, ‘That’s where you’ve fooled 
      me—coming here by yourself, on your ownsome. If there had been 
      a gang of you dressed identically the same I’d have known at once 
      that it was a uniform. That’s what uniform means: all alike. Doesn’t 
      it?’
    ‘I suppose so,’ agreed Harrison, who had never given it 
      a thought.
    ‘So you’re from that ship. I ought to have guessed it in 
      the beginning. I must be slow on the uptake today. But I didn’t 
      expect to see one, just one, messing around on a pedal contraption. 
      It goes to show, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Harrison, glancing warily backward to make 
      sure that no opportunist had swiped his bicycle while he was engaged 
      in conversation. ‘It goes to show.’
    ‘All right, let’s have it. Why have you come here and what 
      do you want?’
    ‘I’ve been trying to tell you all along. ‘I’ve 
      been sent to—’
    ‘Been sent?’ Jeff’s eyes widened a little. ‘Mean 
      to say you actually let yourself be sent?’
    Harrison gaped at him. ‘Of course. Why not?’
    ‘Oh, I get it now,’ said Jeff, his puzzled features suddenly 
      clearing. ‘You confuse me with the queer way you talk. What you 
      really mean is that you planted an ob on somebody, eh?’
    Desperately, Harrison asked, ‘For heaven’s sake, what’s 
      an ob?’
    ‘He doesn’t know,’ commented Jeff Baines, looking 
      prayerfully at the ceiling. ‘He doesn’t even know that!’ 
      For a short while he contemplated the ignoramus with condescending pity 
      before he said, ‘You hungry by any chance?’
    ‘Going on that way.’
    ‘All right. I could tell you what an ob is. But I’ll do 
      something better—I’ll show you.’ Heaving himself off 
      the stool, he waddled to the door at back. ‘God alone knows why 
      I should bother to educate a uniform. It’s just that I’m 
      bored. C’mon, follow me.’
    Obediently, Harrison, went behind the counter, paused to give his bicycle 
      a reassuring nod, trailed the other through a passage and into a yard.
    Jeff Baines pointed to a stack of cases. ‘Canned goods.’ 
      He indicated an adjacent store. ‘Bust them open and pile the stuff 
      in there. Stack the empties outside. Please yourself whether you do 
      it or not. That’s freedom, isn’t it?’ He lumbered back into the shop.
    



  Left to himself, Harrison scratched his large ears and thought it over. 
      Somewhere, he felt, there was an obscure sort of confidence trick. A 
      candidate named Harrison was being tempted to qualify for his sucker 
      certificate. But if the play was beneficial to its organizer it might 
      be worth learning because it could then be passed on to other victims. 
      One must speculate in order to accumulate.
    So he dealt with the cases as required. It cost him twenty minutes 
      of hard, slogging work after which he returned to the shop.
    ‘Now,’ explained Baines, ‘you’ve done something 
      for me. That means you’ve planted an ob on me. I don’t thank 
      you for what you have done. There’s no need to. All I have to 
      do is get rid of the ob.’
    ‘Ob?’ 
    ‘Obligation. Why use a long word when a short one is plenty good 
      enough? An obligation is an ob. I shift it this way: Seth Warburton, 
      next door but one, has got half a dozen of my obs saddled on him. So 
      I get rid of mine to you and relieve him of one of his to me by sending 
      you around for a meal.’ He scribbled briefly on a slip of paper. 
      ‘Give him this.’
    Harrison stared at it. In casual scrawl it read, ‘Feed this bum.’
    Slightly dazed, he wandered out, stood by his bicycle and again examined 
      the paper. Bum, it said. He could think of several on the ship who’d 
      explode with wrath at the sight of that. Then his attention drifted 
      to the second shop farther along. It had a window crammed with comestibles 
      and two big words on the sign-strip above: Seth’s Gulper.
    Coming to a decision which was encouraged by his insides, he walked 
      into Seth’s holding the paper as if it were a death warrant. Beyond 
      the door there was a long counter, some steam and a clatter of crockery. 
      He chose a seat at a marble-topped table occupied by a gray-eyed brunette.
    ‘Do you mind?’ He inquired politely as he lowered himself 
      into the chair.
    ‘Do I mind what?’ She examined his ears as if they were 
      curious phenomena. ‘Rabies, dogs, aged relatives or standing around 
      in the rain?’
    ‘Do you mind me sitting here?’
    ‘I can please myself whether or not I endure it. That’s 
      freedom, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Harrison, ‘sure it is.’ He fidgeted 
      in his seat, feeling that he’d made a move and promptly lost a 
      pawn. He sought around for something else to say and at that point a 
      thin-featured man in a white coat dumped before him a large plate loaded 
      with fried chicken and three kinds of unfamiliar food. The sight unnerved 
      him. He couldn’t remember how many years it had been since he’d 
      last seen fried chicken or how many months since he’d been offered 
      vegetables in other than powder form.
    ‘Well,’ demanded the waiter, mistaking his fascinated reaction, 
      ‘doesn’t it please you?’
    ‘Yes.’ Harrison handed over the slip of paper. ‘Sure 
      it does. You bet it does.’
    Glancing at the note, the other called to somebody semi-visible at 
      one end of the counter. ‘You’ve wiped out one of Jeff’s.’ 
      He strolled away, tearing the slip into small pieces.
    That was a fast pass,’ commented the brunette, nodding at the loaded 
    plate. ‘He dumps a heavy feed-ob on you and you bounce it straight 
    back, leaving all quits. I’ll have to wash dishes to get rid of 
    mine. Or kill one Seth has got on somebody else.’
    ‘I stacked a ton of canned stuff.’ Harrison picked up knife 
      and fork, his mouth watering. There were no knives and forks on the 
      ship; they weren’t needed for powders and pills. ‘Don’t 
      give you much choice here, do they? You take what you get.’
    ‘Not if you’ve got an ob on Seth,’ she informed. 
      ‘When you have, he must work it off the best way he can. You should 
      have put that to him instead of waiting for fate and complaining afterward.’
    ‘But I’m not complaining.’
    ‘It’s your right. That’s freedom, isn’t it?’ 
      She mused a bit, went on, ‘It isn’t often I’m an ob 
      ahead of Seth but when I am I scream for iced pineapple and he comes 
      running. When he’s one ahead I do the running.’ Her gray 
      eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. ‘You’re listening as 
      if all this is new to you.’
      ‘Are you a stranger here?’
    He nodded, his mouth full of chicken. A little later he managed, ‘I’m 
      off that spaceship.’
    ‘Good grief!’ She froze considerably. ‘An Antigand! 
      I wouldn’t have thought it. Why, you look almost human.’
    ‘I’ve long taken pride in that similarity.’ He chewed, 
      swallowed, looked inquiringly around. The white-coated man came up. 
      ‘What’s to drink?’ Harrison asked.
    ‘Dith, double-dith, shemak or coffee.’
    ‘Coffee. Big and black.’
    ‘Shemak is better,’ advised the brunette as the waiter 
      went to get it. ‘But why should I tell you?’
    The coffee came in a pint-sized mug. Putting it down, the waiter said, 
      ‘It’s your choice seeing that Seth is working one off. What’ll 
      you have for after—apple pie, yimpik delice, grated tarfelsoufers 
      or canimelon in syrup?’
    ‘Iced pineapple.’
    ‘Ugh ! ’The other blinked at him, gave the brunette an 
      accusing stare, brought it and dumped it on the table.
    Harrison pushed it across. ‘Take the plunge and enjoy yourself.’
    ‘It’s yours.’
    ‘Couldn’t eat it if I tried.’ He dug up another load 
      of chicken, stirred his coffee, he began to feel at perfect peace with 
      this world. ‘Got as much as I can manage right here.’ He 
      made an inviting motion with his fork. ‘Go on, be greedy and to 
      heck with the waistline.’
    ‘No.’ Firmly she pushed the pineapple back at him. ‘If 
      I ate my way through that I’d be saddled with an ob.’
    ‘So what?’
    ‘I don’t let strangers dump obs on me.’
    ‘Quite right, too. Very proper of you,’ approved Harrison. 
      ‘Strangers often have strange notions.’
    ‘You’ve been around,’ she remarked. ‘Though 
      I don’t know what’s strange about the notions.’
    ‘Cynic!’ The pineapple got another pass in her direction. 
      ‘If you feel that I’ll be burdening you with an ob that 
      you’ll have to pay off you can do it in seemly manner here and 
      now. All I want is some information.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Just tell me where I can put my finger on the ripest cheese 
      in this locality.’
    ‘That’s easy. Go round to Alec Peters’ 
      place, middle of Tenth Street.’ With that she 
      helped herself to the dish.
    ‘Thanks. 
      I was beginning to think that everyone was dumb or afflicted 
      with the funnies.’
    



  He carried on with his own meal, finished it, lay back expansively. 
      Unaccustomed nourishment persuaded his brain to work a bit more dexterously 
      for after a minute an expression of chronic doubt clouded his face and 
      he inquired, ‘Does this Peters run a cheese warehouse?’
    ‘Of course.’ Emitting a sigh of pleasure, she pushed the 
      empty dish aside.
    He groaned low down, then informed, ‘I’m chasing the mayor.’
    ‘What is that?’
    ‘Number one. The big boss. The sheriff, pohanko, or what-ever 
      you call him.’
    ‘I’m still no wiser,’ she said, genuinely puzzled.
    ‘The man who runs this town. The leading citizen.’
    ‘Make it a little clearer,’ she suggested, trying hard 
      to help him. ‘Who or what should this citizen be leading?’
    ‘You and Seth and everyone else.’ He waved a hand to encompass 
      the entire burg.
    Frowning, she asked, ‘Leading us where?’
    ‘Wherever you’re going.’
    She gave up, beaten, and signed the white-coated waiter to come to 
      her assistance.
    ‘Matt, are we going any place?’
    ‘How should I know?’
    ‘Well, ask Seth then.’
    He went away, came back with, ‘Seth says he’s going home 
      at six o’clock and what’s it to you?’
    ‘Anyone leading him there?’ she inquired.
    ‘Don’t be daft,’ Matt advised. ‘He knows his 
      own way and he’s cold sober.’
    Harrison chipped in. ‘Look, I don’t see why there should be so much difficulty about all this. 
      Just tell me where I can find an official, any official—the 
      police chief, the city treasurer, the mortuary keeper or even a mere 
      justice of the peace.’
    ‘What’s an official?’ asked Matt, openly baffled.
    ‘What’s a justice of the peace?’ added the brunette.
    His mind side-slipped and did a couple of spins. It took him quite 
      a time to reassemble his thoughts and try another tack.
    ‘Let us suppose,’ he said to Matt, ‘that this joint 
      catches fire. What would you do?’
    ‘Fan it to keep it going,’ retorted Matt, fed up and making 
      no effort to conceal the fact. He returned to the counter with the air 
      of one not inclined to waste words on a congenital halfwit.
    ‘He’d put it out,’ informed the brunette . ‘What 
      else would you expect him to do?’
    ‘Suppose that he couldn’t?’
    ‘He’d call in others to help him.’
    ‘And would they?’
    ‘Of course.’ She surveyed him with a touch of pity. ‘They’d 
      jump at the chance. They’d be planting a nice, big crop of strong 
      obs, wouldn’t they?’
    ‘Yes, I guess so.’ He began to feel completely stalled, but made a last desperate shot 
      at the problem. ‘What if the fire were much too big and 
      fast for passers-by to tackle?’
    ‘Seth would summon the fire squad.’
    Defeat receded, triumph replaced it.
    ‘Ah, so there is a fire squad? That’s what I mean by some-thing 
      official. That’s what I’ve been after all along. Quick, 
      tell me where I can find its headquarters.’
    ‘Bottom end of Twelfth Avenue. You can’t miss it.’
    ‘Thanks!’ He got up in a hurry. ‘See you again sometime.’ 
      Going out fast, he grabbed his bicycle, shoved off from the curb.
    The fire depot proved to be a big place containing four telescopic 
      ladders, a spray tower and two multiple pumps, all motorized on the 
      usual array of fat rubber balls. Inside, Harrison came face to face 
      with a small man wearing immense plus fours.
    ‘Looking for someone?’ asked the small man.
    ‘Yes, the fire chief.’
    ‘Who’s he?’
    By now prepared for this sort of thing, Harrison spoke as one would 
      to a child. ‘See here, Mister, this is a fire-fighting outfit. 
      Somebody bosses it. Somebody organizes the whole affair, fills forms, 
      presses buttons, shouts orders, recommends promotions, kicks the shiftless, 
      grabs all the credit, transfers all the blame and generally lords it 
      around. He’s the most important man in the bunch and everybody 
      knows it.’ His forefinger tapped imperatively on the other’s 
      chest. ‘And he is the fellow I’m going to talk to if it’s 
      the last thing I do.’
    ‘Nobody is more important than anyone else. How can he be? I 
      think you’re crazy.’
    ‘You’re welcome to think what you please but I am telling 
      you that—’
    A shrill bell clamoured, cutting off his sentence. Twenty men appeared 
    as if by magic, boarded a ladder and a multiple pump, roared into the 
    street.
    Squat, basin-shaped helmets formed the only article of attire that 
      the crew had in common. Apart from these, they plumbed the depths of 
      sartorial iniquity. The man with the plus fours, having gained the pump 
      in one bold leap, was whirled out standing between a fat fire-fighter 
      wearing a rainbow-hued cummerbund and a thin one sporting a canary yellow 
      kilt. A late-comer decorated with ear-rings resembling little bells 
      hotly pursued the pump, snatched at its tailboard, missed, sourly watched 
      the outfit disappear from sight. He mooched back, swinging his helmet 
      from one hand.
    ‘Just my lousy luck,’ he griped at the gaping Harrison. 
      ‘The sweetest, loveliest call of the year. A big brewery. The 
      sooner they get there the bigger the obs they’ll plant on it.’ 
      Licking his lips at the thought, he sat on a coil of canvas hose. ‘Oh, 
      well, maybe it’s for the good of my health.’
    ‘Tell me something, Harrison probed, ‘How do you earn a 
      living?’
    ‘There’s a dopey question. You can see for yourself. I’m 
      on the fire squad.’
    ‘I know. What I mean is, who pays you?’
    ‘Pays me?’
    ‘Gives you money for all this.’
    ‘You talk mighty peculiar. What is money?’
    Harrison rubbed his cranium to assist the circulation of blood through 
      the brain. What is money? Yeouw! He tried another angle.
    ‘If your wife needs a new coat, how does she get it?’
    ‘Goes to a store that’s carrying fire-obs, of course. She 
      knocks off one or two for them.’
    ‘But what if no clothing store has had a fire?’
    ‘You’re pretty ignorant, brother. Where in this world do 
      you come from?’ His ear-bells swung as he studied the other a 
      moment. ‘Almost all stores have fire-obs. If they’ve any 
      sense they allocate so many per month by way of insurance. They look 
      ahead, just in case, see? They plant obs on us in advance so that when 
      we rush to the rescue we’ve got to wipe out a dollop of theirs 
      before we can plant any new ones of our own. That stops us overdoing 
      it and making hogs of ourselves. Sort of cuts down the stores’ 
      liabilities. It makes sense, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Maybe, but—’
    ‘I get it now,’ interrupted the other, narrowing his eyes. 
      ‘You’re from that spaceship. You’re a lousy Antigand.’
    ‘I’m a Terran,’ informed Harrison with suitable dignity. 
      ‘What’s more, all the folk who originally settled this planet 
      were Terrans.’
    ‘Are you trying to teach me history?’ He gave a harsh laugh. 
      ‘You’re wrong. There was a five per cent strain of Martian.’
    ‘Even the Martians are descended from Terran stock,’ Harrison 
      riposted.
    ‘So what? That was a devil of a long time ago. Things change, 
      in case you haven’t heard. We’ve no Terrans or Martians 
      on this world except for your crowd which has barged in unasked. We’re 
      all Gands here. And you noseypokes are Antigands.’
    ‘We aren’t anti-anything that I know of. Where did you 
      get that idea?’
    ‘Myob!’ said the other, suddenly determined to refuse further 
      argument. He tossed his helmet to one side, spat on the floor.
      ‘You heard me. Go trundle your scooter.’
    Harrison gave up and did just that. Gloomily he cycled back to the 
      ship.
    His Excellency pinned him with an authoritative optic. ‘So you’re 
      back at last, Mister. How many are coming and at what time?’
    ‘None, sir,’ said Harrison, feeling kind of feeble.
    ‘None?’ August eyebrows lifted querulously. ‘Do you 
      mean that they have refused my invitation?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Come out with it. Mister,’ urged the Ambassador. ‘Don’t 
      stand there gawping as if your push-and-puff contraption has just given 
      birth to a roller-skate. You say they have not refused my invitation—but 
      nobody is coming. What am I supposed to make of that?’
    ‘I didn’t ask anyone.’
    ‘So you didn’t ask?’ Turning, he said to Grayder, 
      Shelton and the others, ‘He didn’t ask!’ His attention 
      came back to Harrison. ‘You forgot all about it, I presume? Intoxicated 
      by liberty and the power of man over machine, you flashed around the 
      town at nothing less than eighteen miles per hour, creating consternation 
      among the citizenry, tossing their traffic laws into the ash-can, putting 
      children and elderly persons in peril of their lives, not even troubling 
      to ring your bell or—’
    ‘I don’t have a bell, sir,’ stated Harrison, inwardly 
      resenting this list of enormities. ‘I have a whistle operated 
      by the rotation of the rear wheel.’
    ‘There!’ said the Ambassador like one abandoning all hope. 
      He sat down and smacked his forehead several times. ‘I am reliably 
      informed that somebody is going to get a bubble-pipe.’ He pointed 
      at Harrison. ‘And now I learn that he possesses a whistle.’
    ‘I designed it myself, sir,’ Harrison said helpfully.
    ‘I’m sure you did. I can imagine it. I would expect it 
      of you.’ The Ambassador took a fresh grip on himself. ‘See 
      here, Mister, I would like you to tell me something in strict confidence, 
      just between the two of us.’ Leaning forward, he put the question 
      in a whisper that ricochetted seven times around the room. ‘Why 
      didn’t you ask anyone?’
    ‘I couldn’t find out who to ask, sir. I did my level best 
      but nobody seemed to know what I was talking about. Or they pretended 
      they didn’t.’
    ‘Humph!’ The Ambassador glanced out of the nearest port, 
      consulted his watch. ‘The light is fading already. Night will 
      be upon us pretty soon. It’s too late for further action.’ 
      An annoyed grunt. ‘Another day gone to pot. Two days here and 
      we’re still fiddling around.’ Then he added with grim resignation. 
      ‘All right, Mister. We’re wasting time anyway so we might 
      as well hear your story in full. Tell us what happened in complete detail. 
      That way, we may be able to dig some sense out of it.’
    Harrison told it, finishing, ‘It seemed to me, sir, that I could 
      carry on for weeks trying to argue it out with people whose brains are 
      oriented east-west while mine points north-south. One can talk with 
      them from now to doomsday, become really friendly and enjoy the conversation—without 
      either side fully understanding what the other is saying.’
    ‘So it appears,’ said the Ambassador dryly. He turned to 
      Grayder. ‘You’ve been around a lot and seen many new worlds 
      in your time. What do you make of all this twaddle, if anything?’
    ‘It’s a problem in semantics,’ diagnosed Grayder, 
      who had been compelled by circumstances to study that subject. ‘One 
      comes across it on many worlds that have been long out of touch, though 
      usually it hasn’t developed far enough to become tough and unsolvable. 
      For instance, the first fellow we met on Basileus said, cordially and 
      in what he imagined to be perfect Terran, “Joy you unboot now!” 
      ’
    ‘Yes? And what did that mean?’
    ‘Come inside, put on your slippers and be happy. In other words, 
      welcome. It wasn’t difficult to understand, Your Excellency, especially 
      when one expects that sort of thing.’ Grayder cast a thoughtful 
      glance at Harrison and continued, ‘Here, the problem seems to 
      have developed to a greater extreme. The language remains fluent and 
      retains enough surface similarities to conceal underlying changes, but 
      basic meanings have been altered, concepts discarded and new ones substituted, 
      thought-forms re-angled and, of course, there is the inevitable impact 
      of locally created slang.’
     ‘Such as “myob”, ’ offered the Ambassador. 
      ‘Now there is a queer word without recognizable Earth-root. I 
      don’t like the sarcastic way they use it. They make it sound downright 
      insulting. Obviously it has some kind of connection with these obs they 
      keep throwing around. It means “my obligation” or something 
      like that, but the real significance eludes me.’
    ‘There is no connection, sir,’ put in Harrison. He hesitated, 
      saw that they were waiting for him to go on. ‘On my way back I 
      met the lady who had directed me to Baines’ place. She asked whether 
      I’d found him and I told her I had. We chatted a short while. 
      I asked her what “myob” meant. She said it was initial-slang.’ 
      He stopped and fidgeted uneasily.
    ‘Keep going,’ urged the Ambassador. ‘After some of 
      the sulphurous comments I’ve heard emerging from the Blieder-room 
      ventilation-shaft, I can stomach anything. What does it mean?’
    ‘M-y-o-b,’ informed Harrison, slightly embarrassed. ‘Mind-your-own-business.’
    ‘Ah!’ The other gained colour. ‘So that is what they’ve 
      been telling me all along?’
    ‘I’m afraid so, sir.’
    ‘Evidently they’ve a lot to learn.’ His neck swelled 
      with undiplomatic fury, he smacked a fat hand upon the table and declaimed 
      loudly. ‘And they’re going to learn it!’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Harrison, becoming more uneasy and anxious 
      to get out. ‘May I go now and tend to my bicycle?’
    ‘Yes, you may,’ said the Ambassador in the same noisy tones. 
      He performed a couple of meaningless gestures, turned a florid face 
      on Captain Grayder. ‘Bicycle! Does anyone on this vessel own a 
      slingshot?’
    ‘I doubt it, Your Excellency, but I will make inquiries, 
      if you wish.’
    ‘Don’t be an imbecile,’ ordered the Ambassador. ‘We 
      have our full quota of hollow-heads already.’ 
    



  Chapter 
      4
     Postponed until early morning, the next conference was relatively 
      short and sweet. The Ambassador took a seat, harumphed importantly, 
      straightened his tie, frowned around the table.
    ‘Let us have another look at what we’ve got. We know that 
      this planet’s mules call themselves Gands, don’t take any 
      interest in their Terran origin and insist on referring to us as Antigands. 
      This implies an education and resultant outlook inimical to ourselves. 
      They’ve been trained from childhood to take it for granted that 
      whenever we appeared upon the scene we would prove to be against whatever 
      they are for.’
    ‘And we haven’t the remotest notion of what they are for,’ 
      put in Colonel Shelton, quite unnecessarily. But it served to show that 
      he was among those present, paying attention, and ready to lend the 
      full support of his powerful intellect.
    ‘I am only too aware of our ignorance in that respect,’ 
      said the Ambassador, with a touch of acid. ‘They are maintaining 
      a conspiracy of silence about their prime motivation. We have got to 
      break it somehow.’
    ‘That,’ offered Shelton, unabashed, ‘is the problem.’
    Taking no notice, the Ambassador continued, ‘They have a peculiar, 
      moneyless economic system which, in my opinion, manages to function 
      only because it is afflicted with large surpluses. It won’t survive 
      a day when over-population brings serious shortages. This economic set-up 
      appears to be based on a mixture of co-operative techniques, private 
      enterprise, a kindergarten’s honour system and plain unadorned 
      gimme. That makes it a good deal crazier than the food-in-the-bank system 
      they use on Epsilon’s four outer planets.’
    ‘But it works,’ observed Grayder pointedly.
    ‘After a fashion. That flap-eared engineer’s bicycle works—and 
      so does he while riding it. A motorized job would save him a lot of 
      sweat.’ Highly pleased with this analogy, the Ambassador enjoyed 
      the flavour of it for a few seconds before he continued. ‘This 
      local scheme of economics—if you can call it a scheme—almost 
      certainly is the end-result of the haphazard development of some hick 
      eccentricity imported by the original settlers. It is long overdue for 
      motorizing, so to speak. They know it as well as we do. But they don’t 
      want it because mentally they’re four hundred years behind the 
      times. They are afraid of change, improvement, efficiency—like 
      many backward peoples. Moreover, there’s little doubt that some 
      of them have a vested interest in keeping things exactly as they are.’ 
      He sniffed loudly to express his contempt. ‘They are antagonistic 
      toward us simply because they don’t want to be disturbed.’
    His stare went round the table, daring one of them to remark that this 
      might be as good a reason as any other. They were too disciplined to 
      fall into that trap. None offered a comment and so he went on.
    ‘In due time, after we have gained a proper grip on affairs, 
      we’re going to have a long and tedious task on our hands. We’ll 
      have to overhaul their entire educational system with a view to eliminating 
      anti-Terran prejudices and bringing them up to date on the facts of 
      life. That’s had to be done on several other planets though not 
      to anything like the extent as will be necessary here.’
    ‘We’ll cope,’ promised someone.
    Ignoring him, the Ambassador finished, ‘However, all that is 
      in the future. Our real problem is in the present. It is in our laps 
      right now, namely, where are the reins of power and who is holding them? 
      We must solve that before we can make genuine progress. How are we going 
      to do it?’ Folding hands over his paunch, he added, ‘Get 
      your wits to work and let us have some bright suggestions.’
    Grayder stood up, a big, leather-bound book in his hands. ‘Your 
      Excellency, I don’t think we need exercise our minds about new 
      plans for making contact and gaining essential information. The next 
      move is likely to be imposed upon us.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I have a good many old-timers in my crew. There are some among 
      the troops as well. Space- lawyers, every one of them.’ He tapped 
      the book significantly. ‘They know Space Regulations as well as 
      I do. Sometimes I think they know too much.’
    ‘And so—?’
    Grayder opened the book. ‘Regulation 127 says that on a hostile 
      world the crew serves on a war-footing until back in free space. On 
      a non-hostile world they serve on a peace-footing.’
    ‘What of it?’
    ‘Regulation 131A says that on a peace-footing the crew—with 
      the exception of a minimum number required to keep the vessel’s 
      services in trim—is entitled to liberty immediately after unloading 
      cargo or within seventy-two Earth-hours of arrival, whichever period 
      is the shorter.’ He glanced up. ‘By mid- day the men will 
      be all set for land-leave and itching to go. There will be trouble if 
      they are not allowed out.’
    ‘Oh, will there?’ The Ambassador smiled lopsidedly. ‘What 
      if we declare this world to be hostile? That will pin their ears back, 
      won’t it?’
    Impassively consulting his book, Grayder said, ‘Regulation 148 
      says that a hostile world is defined as any planet that systematically 
      opposes Terran citizens by force.’ He turned to the next page. 
      ‘For the purpose of these regulations, force is defined as any 
      course of action calculated to inflict physical injury, regardless of 
      whether or not the said action succeeds in its intent.’
    ‘I don’t agree.’ The Ambassador frowned his strong 
      disapproval. ‘A world can be psychologically hostile without resorting 
      to force. We have an example right here. It can’t be called a 
      friendly world.’
    ‘There are no friendly worlds within the meaning of Space Regulations,’ 
      Grayder informed. ‘Every planet falls into one of two classifications: 
      hostile or non-hostile.’ He tapped the bare leather cover. ‘It’s 
      all in the book.’
    ‘We’d be prize fools to let a mere book order us around 
      or allow the crew to boss us, either. Throw it out of the port. Stick 
      it into the disintegrator. Get rid of it any way you like and forget 
      it.’
    ‘Begging your pardon, Your Excellency, but I can’t do that.’ 
      Grayder opened the tome at its beginning. ‘Basic regulations 1A, 
      lB and lC include the following: whether in space or on land, a vessel’s 
      personnel remain under direct command of its captain or his nominee 
      who will be guided solely and at all times by Space Regulations and 
      will be responsible only to the Space Committee situated on Terra. The 
      same applies to all troops, officials and civilian passengers aboard 
      a space-traversing vessel, whether said vessel is in flight or grounded, 
      regardless of rank or authority they are subordinate to the captain 
      or his nominee. A nominee is defined as a ship’s first, second 
      or third officer performing the duties of a captain when the latter 
      is incapacitated or absent.’
    ‘What all that rigmarole means is that you are king of your castle,’ 
      remarked the Ambassador, none too pleased. ‘If we don’t 
      like it we must get out of the ship.’
    ‘With the greatest respect, Your Excellency, I must agree that 
      that is the position. I cannot help it—regulations are regulations. 
      And the men know it!’ Grayder placed the book on the table, poked 
      it away from him. ‘It’s highly likely that the men will 
      wait until mid-day, pressing their pants, creaming their hair and generally 
      prettying themselves up. They will then make approach to me in proper 
      manner to which I cannot object. They will request the first mate to 
      submit their leave roster for my approval.’ He gave a deep sigh. 
      ‘The worst I could do would be to quibble about a few names and 
      switch some of them around. But I cannot refuse leave to a full quota.’
    ‘Liberty to paint the town red might be a good thing after all,’ 
      suggested Shelton, not averse to doing some painting himself. ‘A 
      dump like this wakes up with a vengeance when the fleet’s in port. 
      We should make useful contacts by the dozens. And that’s what 
      we want, isn’t it?’
    ‘We want to pin down this planet’s political leaders,’ 
      retorted the Ambassador. ‘I can’t see them powdering their 
      faces, putting on their best hats and rushing out to give the yoohoo 
      to a crowd of hungry sailors.’ His plump features quirked. ‘We’ve 
      got to find the needles in this haystack and that job won’t be 
      done by ratings on the rampage.’
    ‘You may be right, Your Excellency,’ put in Grayder. ‘But 
      we’ll have to take a chance on it. If the men insist on going 
      out I lack the power to prevent them. Only one thing can give me the 
      power.’
    ‘And what is that?’
    ‘Clear, indisputable evidence enabling me to define this world 
      as hostile within the meaning of Space Regulations.’
    ‘Well, can’t we arrange that somehow?’ Without waiting 
      for a reply, the Ambassador pursued, ‘Every crew has its stupid 
      and incurable trouble-maker. Find yours, give him a double shot of Venusian 
      cognac, tell him he’s being granted immediate liberty—then 
      warn him that he may not enjoy it because these lousy Gands view us 
      as a reason why people dig up the drains. After that, push him out of 
      the airlock. When he returns with a black eye and a boastful story about 
      the other fellow’s condition, declare this world hostile.’ 
      He waved an expressive hand. ‘And there you are. Physical violence. 
      All according to the book.’
    ‘Regulation 148A,’ said Grayder, ‘emphasizing that 
      opposition by force must be systematic, warns that individual brawls 
      may not be construed as evidence of hostility.’
    The Ambassador turned an irate face upon the senior civil servant. 
      ‘When you return to Terra—if ever you do get back—you 
      can tell the appropriate department how the space service is balled 
      up, hamstrung, semi-paralysed and generally handicapped by bureaucrats 
      who write books.’
    Before the other could think up a reply in defence 
      of his own kind, without contradicting the Ambassador, 
      a knock came at the door. First Mate Morgan entered, 
      saluted smartly, offered Grayder a sheet of paper.
    ‘First leave roster, sir. Do you approve it?’
    



  More than four hundred men went to town in the early afternoon. They 
      advanced upon it in the usual manner of people long overdue for the 
      bright lights, that is to say, eagerly, expectantly, in gangs of two, 
      three, six or ten.
    Gleed attached himself to Harrison. They were two odd rankers, Gleed 
      being the only sergeant on liberty while Harrison was the only tenth 
      engineer. They were also the only two fish out of water since both were 
      in civilian clothes and Gleed missed his uniform, Harrison felt naked 
      without his bicycle. 
    These trifling features gave them enough in common to justify at least 
    one day’s companionship.
    ‘This one’s a honey,’ declared Gleed with great enthusiasm. 
      ‘I’ve been on a good many liberty jaunts in my time but 
      this one’s a honey. On all other trips the boys ran up against 
      the same problem: what to use for money. They had to go forth like a 
      battalion of Santa Clauses, loaded up with anything that might serve 
      for barter. Almost always nine-tenths of it wasn’t of any use 
      and had to be carted back to the ship.’
    ‘On Persephone,’ informed Harrison, ‘a long-shanked 
      Milik offered me a twenty-carat, blue-tinted, first-water diamond for 
      my bike.’
    ‘Jeepers, didn’t you take it?’
    ‘What was the good? I’d have had to go back sixteen light-years 
      for another bike.’
    ‘But, man, you could exist without a bike for a while.’
    ‘I can exist without a diamond. I can’t ride around on 
      a diamond.’
    ‘Neither can you sell a bicycle for the price of a sportster 
      Moon-boat.’
    ‘Yes, I can. I just told you this Milik offered me a rock like 
      an egg.’
    ‘It’s a crying shame. You could have got a fortune for 
      that blinder, if it had no flaws.’ Sergeant Gleed smacked his 
      lips at the thought of it. ‘Money and plenty of it, that’s 
      what I like. And that’s what makes this trip a winner. Every other 
      time we’ve gone out Grayder, Shelton and Bidworthy have lectured 
      us in turn about creating a favourable impression, behaving in a spacemanlike 
      manner and so forth. But this time Grayder talks about money.’
    ‘The Ambassador put him up to it.’
    ‘I like it all the same,’ enthused Gleed. ‘An extra 
      one week’s pay, a bottle of cognac and double liberty for any 
      man who brings back to the ship an adult Gand, male or female, who is 
      sociable and willing to talk.’
    ‘It won’t be easily earned.’
    ‘One month’s extra pay for whoever gets the name and address 
      of the town’s chief civic dignitary. Two months’ for the 
      name and accurate location of the world’s capital city.’ 
      He whistled happily, added,’ somebody is going to make it rich 
      and it won’t be Bidworthy. His name didn’t come out of the 
      hat. I know—I was holding it.’
    Ceasing his chatter, he turned to watch a tall, lithe blonde striding 
      past. Harrison pulled at his arm.
    ‘Here’s Baines’ place that I told you about. Let’s 
      go in.’
    ‘Oh, all right.’ Gleed followed with reluctance, his attention 
      still directed down the street.
    ‘Good afternoon,’ said Harrison to Jeff Baines.
    ‘Which it isn’t,’ contradicted Baines. ‘Trade’s 
      bad. There’s a semi-final being played and it has drawn half the 
      town away. They’ll come home and start thinking about their bellies 
      long after I’ve closed. Probably they’ll make a rush on 
      me to-morrow morning and I won’t be able to serve them fast enough.’
    ‘How can trade be bad if you don’t make money even when 
      it’s good?’ inquired Gleed, reasonably applying the information 
      Harrison had given him.
    Jeff’s big moon eyes went over him slowly then turned to Harrison. 
      ‘So he’s another bum off your boat, eh? What’s he 
      talking about?’
    ‘Money,’ explained Harrison. ‘It’s stuff we 
      use to simplify trade. It’s printed stuff, like documentary obs 
      of various sizes.’
    ‘That tells me a lot,’ Jeff Baines observed. ‘It 
      tells a crowd that has to make a printed record of every ob is not to 
      be trusted - because they don’t even trust each other.’ 
      He waddled to his high stool and squatted on it. His breathing was laboured 
      and wheezy. ‘And that confirms what our schools have always taught, 
      namely, that an Antigand would swindle his widowed mother.’
    ‘Your schools have got it wrong,’ assured Harrison.
    ‘Maybe they have.’ Jeff saw no reason to argue the point. 
      ‘But we’ll play safe until we know different.’ He 
      looked them over. ‘What do you two want, anyway?’
    ‘Some advice,’ Gleed shoved in quickly. ‘We’re 
      out on the spree. We’d like to know the best places for food and 
      fun.’
    ‘How long have you got?’
    ‘Until nightfall tomorrow.’
    ‘No use.’ Jeff Baines shook his head sorrowfully. ‘It 
      would take you from now until then to plant enough obs to qualify for 
      anything worth having. Besides, plenty of people would rather drop dead 
      than let an Antigand dump an ob on them. They have their pride, see?’
    Harrison asked, ‘Can’t we get so much as a square meal?’
    ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’ Jeff thought it 
      over while massaging his several chins. ‘You might manage it—but 
      I can’t help you this time. There’s nothing I want of you 
      and so you can’t use any obs I’ve got stashed around.’
    ‘Can you offer any suggestions?’
    ‘If you were local citizens it would be lots different. You could 
      get all you want right now by taking on a load of obs to be wiped out 
      sometime in the future as and when the chances come along. But I can’t 
      see anybody giving credit to Antigands who are here today and gone tomorrow.’
    ‘Not so much of the gone tomorrow talk,’ advised Gleed. 
      ‘When an Imperial Ambassador arrives it means that Terrans are 
      here for keeps.’
    ‘Who says so?’
    ‘The Terran Empire says so. You’re part of it, aren’t 
      you?’
    ‘No,’ said Jeff positively. ‘We are not part of anything, 
      don’t want to be and don’t intend to be. What’s more, 
      nobody’s going to make us part of anything.’
    Leaning on the counter, Gleed gazed absently at a large can of pork.’ 
      Seeing that I’m out of uniform and not on duty, I sympathize with 
      you though I still shouldn’t say it. I wouldn’t care myself 
      to be taken over body and soul by a gang of other-world bureaucrats. 
      But you folk are going to have a mighty tough time beating us off. That’s 
      the way it is.’
    ‘Not with what we’ve got,’ opined Jeff confidently.
    ‘You haven’t got much,’ scoffed Gleed, more in friendly 
      criticism than open contempt. He sought confirmation from Harrison. 
      ‘Have they?’
    ‘It wouldn’t seem so,’ said Harrison.
    ‘Don’t go by appearances,’ warned Jeff. ‘We’ve 
      more than you bums can handle.’
    ‘Such as what?’
    ‘Well, just for a start, we’ve got the mightiest weapon 
      ever thought up by the mind of man. We’re Gands, see? So we don’t 
      need ships and guns and similar playthings. We’ve something better. 
      It’s effective. There’s no defence against it.’
    ‘Man, I’d like to see it,’ Gleed challenged. Data 
      concerning a new and exceptionally powerful weapon should be a good 
      deal more valuable than the mayor’s address. Grayder might be 
      sufficiently impressed by the importance thereof to arrange a fabulous 
      reward. With some sarcasm, he added, ‘But, of course, we can’t 
      expect you to give away precious secrets.’
    ‘There is nothing secret about it,’ said Jeff, very surprisingly. 
      ‘You can have it free, gratis and for nothing any time you want. 
      Any Gand would give it to you for the mere asking. Like to know why?’
    ‘You bet.’
    ‘Because it works one way only. We can use it against you but 
      you can’t use it against us.’
    ‘Nonsense!’ declared Gleed. ‘There is no such thing. 
      There is no weapon inventable that the other fellow can’t employ 
      once he gets his hands on it and learns how to operate it.’
    ‘Are you sure about that?’
    ‘I am positive. I’ve been in the space service for twenty 
      years and you can’t be a trooper that long without learning all 
      about weapons of every conceivable kind from string bows to H-bombs. 
      You’re trying to kid me. Nothing doing. I’m too grey in 
      the hair and sharp in the tooth. A one-way weapon is impossible. And 
      that means im-poss-ible.’
    ‘Don’t argue with him,’ Harrison told Baines. ‘He’ll 
      never be convinced until he’s shown.’
    ‘I can see that.’ Jeff Baines’ face creased into 
      a massive grin. ‘I’ve told you that you can have our wonder-weapon 
      for the asking. Why don’t you ask?’
    ‘All right, I’m asking.’ Gleed put it without any 
      enthusiasm. A weapon that would be presented on request, without even 
      the necessity of first planting a minor ob, couldn’t be so mighty 
      after all. His imaginary large reward shrank 
      to a hand-full of small change and thence to nothing. ‘Hand it 
      over and let me look at it.’
     



  Edging ponderously around on his stool, Jeff reached to the wall, 
      removed a small, shiny plaque from its hook and passed it across the 
      counter.
    ‘You may keep it,’ he said. ‘And much good may it 
      do you.’
    Gleed examined it, turning it over and over between his fingers. It 
      was nothing more than an oblong strip of substance resembling ivory. 
      One side was polished and bare. The other bore three letters deeply 
      engraved in bold style:
    F.—I.W.
    Glancing up at Baines, his features puzzled, he said, ‘You call 
      this a weapon?’
    ‘Certainly.’
    ‘Then I don’t get it.’ He passed the plaque to Harrison. 
      ‘Do you?’
    ‘No.’ Harrison examined it with care. ‘What does 
      this F.—I.W. mean?’
    ‘Initial-slang,’ informed Baines. ‘Made correct by 
      common usage. It has become a worldwide motto. You’ll see it all 
      over the place if you haven’t noticed it already.’
    ‘I have seen it here and there but attached no importance to 
      it and thought nothing more about it. I remember now that it was inscribed 
      in several places including Seth’s and the fire depot.’
    ‘It was on the sides of that bus we couldn’t empty,’ 
    put in Gleed. ‘It didn’t mean anything to me.’
    It means plenty,’ said Jeff, ‘Freedom-I won’t!’ 
    ‘That kills me,’ Gleed responded. ‘I’m stone 
      dead already. 

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