He said, "I've always suspected, however, that the real reason for
Johnny's assassination struck Prunella, so to speak, like a bolt from
the blue when she walked under his nest in the tower. At any rate, I
saw her shoving her shirt into the disposer chute. Johnny had one bad
habit and all of us knew better than to get within his range, but
Prunella, being new with us, just didn't understand that bird."
He stopped, twirling his empty glass suggestively, with painful
memories obviously clouding his eyes while he stared into the
hypnotically flickering fire.
"Empty," he said mournfully, "just as my heart was." He bowed his head
to Johnny's memory as I hastily left him alone with his grief. I
quickly returned from the kitchen, bringing a fresh supply of the
medicinal spirits that Grandfather had advised for moments of stress
and, over Lee's feeble protests, forced a generous dosage into his
glass. He regarded it with a wan, pathetic smile, then, at my urging,
choked back his sorrow and nearly drained the goblet in a manful gulp.
Grandfather was right. The sorrow left Lee's eye and from somewhere he
found new courage to go on.
"The death of the bird seemed to crystalize the rebellion. That night,
the entire personnel of the station unanimously elected themselves as
joint chairmen of the Ways and Means Committee of the Xenon
Anti-Prunella and After-sundown Elbow-bending League and immediately
called a special meeting. The emergency session convened around a keg
of my illegal brandy which, in some miraculous manner, had escaped
Prunella's searching hatchet. Not wishing to offend the unknown gods
who had thus smiled upon us, we took small token sips as we
meditated."
Lee demonstrated with the glass in his hand. "How to throw off the
yoke of the oppressor who had come among us? How to ease the bite of
her lash on our quivering backs? How to restore our tiny, inoffensive
still whose musical, tinkling drip we loved so well? The suggestions
put before the committee that night were many and varied and
wonderful."
Lee tried to light a cigarette and nearly broiled the end of his nose
with the flame.
"Lopez, head of our camera team, wanted to pickle her in a barrel of
brandy and send her back to Venus Relay Station aboard the next
courier rocket. Sounded like a good idea, too, until Olsen, one of the
biologists, objected on the grounds that those bums on Venus never did
anything for us, so why should they get all that good brandy? The
motion was tabled as impractical when we saw the pit into which Lopez
and his wild ideas had nearly led us. A whole barrel of brandy! The
man must have been desperate to call for such extreme measures."
* * * * *
He shook his head. "Akermann, the chemist of the bunch, proposed
smoking her as one would a ham and then hanging her over the main gate
of the compound to keep away the beasties and things that go boomp in
the night. Now _that_ was what I thought a fine idea. Functional, you
might say. Might as well get some good out of her. But then Joe
smothered it with his observation that, after one look at that face of
hers, the good beasties would stay out of the compound, too.
"The dark and devious ways of the plotter were difficult for us to
assume, scientists and technicians that we were, and the trips to the
keg became more frequent as we sought the aid of the nameless gods who
had sent it to us." He paused again as Grandpa's brandy took another
beating. "The web of our own fuzzy thinking was entangling us more and
more when I was privileged to be present during the only true flash
of genius I've ever witnessed."
The wonder, the awe was still in his voice. "Akermann's assistant, the
Kid, was singled out for the touch and I must say for him that he held
up very nicely under the blow, but one could see that his sudden
responsibility set heavy on his narrow bony shoulders. The Kid drew
additional inspiration from the glass in his hand, then leaped to his
feet and as promptly sat down again. He gave the decking at his feet a
baleful glare and tried again, first choosing his footing carefully as
a man should when the floor shows that alarming tendency to tilt."
"'Men,' he said owlishly, 'le's fix it show see--I mean so she--won't
like it here an' maybe she'll go 'way. Le's set the puffs on her.'
"'On her what?' someone wanted to know.
"'On her nuthin'. Just on _her_!' the Kid said.
"'Oh.'
"There was another mass assault on the speedily diminishing supply of
illicit brandy while the committee prayed to the gods of the spacemen
for guidance. The committee decided to consider the motion.
"'Wunnerful idea,' Akermann beamed at his protege, 'but how you gonna
get 'em to bite through that protective goo she dunks herself in every
mornin'. Just how you gonna, huh?'"
* * * * *