Within a few minutes after his return to Mercury, Scyth Radnor was
on his way back to Marandis to make the final arrangements. He took
the long way out of this part of the galaxy and wound his way in an
inextricable pattern to confuse any possible competition. Until the
through-route was surveyed and the first passage made from end to end,
there would be no exclusive franchise; another company might be able to
latch onto one open lane on this route and give them competition.
Considered as unimportant was the fact that Scyth Radnor took along
with him the beefed-up menslator that had put him on the mental trail
of Dusty Britton. Not that this mattered, the chances were almost
perfect that no one of them would have done anything with it anyway now
that their problem was settled. At least, not Chat or Bren. Scyth might
have played with it in an off moment. He alone had gotten an eyeful of
Barbara Crandall, and while Barbara seemed to be Dusty Britton's woman,
Scyth might have wondered whether there were any more at home like her.
But Scyth was on his way to the galactic center, out of range of
menslators, even the big permanent installations.
Scyth, Chat, and Bren are not to be criticized for leaving a job
undone. To them, a mere explanation covered the entire program. They
did not expect the natives to understand the complex ramifications
of the galactic culture any more than a certain native chief could
understand the danger of fishing in Bikini Lagoon some fifty years
earlier.
In fact, the three of them might have been highly amused at a primitive
culture that had committed the egregious error of placing such a high
value on something of no intrinsic value.
But back on Earth, the wires buzzed and the headlines screamed, and a
brace of Gramer's press agents were hard put to untangle the mess the
Marandanians had started.
* * * * *
From the teletypes of Worldwide Press Service:
UNITED STATES COAST GUARD RADIO TODAY REPORTED A DISTRESS SIGNAL
FROM SCHOONER BUCCANEER OFF COAST OF BAJA CALIFORNIA STOP BUCCANEER
ATTACKED BY QUOTE ALIEN SPACECRAFT ENDQUOTE STOP USE WITH DISCRETION
COMMA BUCCANEER OWNED BY DUSTY BRITTON OF MARTIN GRAMER STUDIOS STOP
An excerpt from the daily column of Garry Granger:
"There is something in the wind that smells like a publicity stunt.
Dusty Britton, our Space Patrol type Sir Galahad supposedly took
off for the Venus jaunt some three weeks ago, but has succeeded in
sending a distress signal from somewhere off the coast of Southern
California. Apparently The Space Patrol is about to meet up with
Moby Dick, or possibly it will be "Ten Thousand Leagues Under The
Sea" starring Dusty Britton. We would like to know two things: one
is whether our intrepid hero actually risked his million dollar
neck in a rocket or not, and the second thing is how much
hanky-panky the Coast Guard is going to stand for. Some things
should be kept sacred. We are not very religious here at the
office; but we do believe in the Brotherhood of Man, and somehow
we resent bitterly the use of distress signals as a means of
getting publicity."
Excerpt from a press release from Martin Gramer Productions, Inc.:
"Now it can be admitted! Dusty Britton has combined fact with
fantasy! No longer a mere actor, Dusty Britton was called from the
space rocket just a few minutes before take-off time to investigate
a secret report of space operations off the coast of Baja
California. If Dusty Britton reported an attack, it stands to
reason that the secrecy that surrounded the original report is no
longer necessary and Dusty Britton's presence on earth instead of
in the space rocket can be disclosed. We await more detailed
information as to the real nature of--"
From a press-conference held at Arlington, Virginia: