Deep in space Ralph's ancestors lay in suspended
animation--a price on their heads. They left him a
map and a problem: awaken them--or collect the reward!...
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
January 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The Unterzuyder map was out of hiding. Relayed on a grapevine that
spanned the planets, the news caught on big in Marsport.
Bigger Bailes sat at a beer-bottle-colored glass desk in his underworld
retreat, announcing his intent to claim the reward money that for
eighty-five years had been piling up at compound interest in the
Terra-First National Bank of New York.
"Ralph Unterzuyder is here in Marsport," he stated. "Like all
Unterzuyders, he's clever and he's dangerous and he's shifty. He'll
travel the crookedest course you ever saw. At the moment, he's got his
identity pretty well covered up under the name of Carruthers Straley.
In the last three weeks he's organized a band of settlers from
Satterfield City who call themselves Titan Settlers, Ltd.
"Not that I'm fooled! I'm not saying the Unterzuyder hibernaculum is
on Titan. I'm not even saying Unterzuyder has the map. But I'm willing
to bet he's got a pretty good idea where the map is. I'm also willing
to bet that his father died without leaving him a cent, and that he
organized Titan Settlers, Ltd., just to get himself a free ride out
Saturn-way. He's capable of that kind of reasoning."
Bigger Bailes smiled rosily and reached for his hat. One of his men
held the door open for him.
"Right now, I'm on my way to see Carruthers Straley. Maybe he will cut
in with me. If not--" he thoughtfully rubbed at the fat of his big jaw
"--if not, I'll help him hang himself."
* * * * *
Ralph Unterzuyder, fourth generation descendant of the infamous
Unterzuyders, emerged testily from the Glass & Sand Bldg. where he
had just set up a law office under the name of Carruthers Straley. No
sooner had he set foot to the glass sidewalk than he was aware a big,
smiling man had fallen into step beside him. He backed up against the
wall of the building, his eyes wide and cautious behind dark glasses.
"What do you want?" he snapped.
Bigger Bailes smiled, introduced himself. Unterzuyder looked around as
if ready to make a break for it. Bailes stood in front of him. He shook
his head.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Unterzuyder."
At mention of the name, Unterzuyder smiled arrogantly.
"Really, does one have no privacy? But perhaps one of your caliber is
well acquainted with the advantages of using an alias!"
"There are advantages," Bigger nodded. "Your advantage lies in heading
a group of settlers who don't know you're using them to help you find
the asteroid where your ancestors have been sleeping for the past
eighty-odd years."
Unterzuyder's cane whipped around nervously. "I know nothing about a
map!"
Bigger's jowls quivered with mirth. "Seven weeks ago," he pointed out,
"your father died. He told you the map was hidden in an old book called
_Tertium Organum_, A Key To The Enigmas Of The World. By somebody named
Ouspensky."
Unterzuyder's eyes moved desperately to the street, down which a single
gyromobile moved.
"I have an appointment," he said stiffly. "Now if you will permit me to
be on my way before they turn the rain-makers on--"
"It won't rain for ten minutes. Better let me finish--if you don't want
your precious settlers to know who you really are!
"As soon as your aunt heard about your father's death, she put the
old Unterzuyder house up for auction to pay your father's creditors.
The furniture went mostly to junk-dealers, the rest to museums. All
the books, some ten thousand of them, were bought by a big New York
used-book company, Frangy & Sons, Ltd.
"Half of these books, the ones whose titles all began with the letters
of the alphabet up through 'M', were kept in their New York branch. The
remainder were sent to open a book store in Marsport. By the time you
got to Marsport from Earth, the book was reported already sold--to a
person unknown. That's all true, _isn't_ it?
"After having failed to find the map, Mr. Unterzuyder, you then sent
the story to a newspaper--anonymously."
"I did?" Unterzuyder looked arrogantly at Bailes.
"Yes." Bigger's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Unterzuyder surged angrily away from the wall. "I am not interested in
your questions. I have my chosen mission in life. It is not the making
of money!"
He brandished his cane. "I warn you, Mr. Bailes," he cried, "I am a
nervous man. If I am not permitted to leave--"
Bigger spread his hands, astonished. "Don't think for a minute I'm
keeping you. The only suggestion I wanted to make was that you and I
could work together."
Unterzuyder took off his glasses. There were red marks around his eyes
where the glasses had taken hold. He had inherited the famous thin
nose and receding chin of the Unterzuyders. His pale thin lips worked
nervously.
"I work alone, Mr. Bailes," he said haughtily. "And I work best when
such as you try to set your pitiful little traps! Threaten me as you
will, nothing can keep me from my purpose. And now good-day."
Bigger's voice was filled with disgust. "Your purpose being, of course,
to find asteroid X and free your ancestors so they can go to work on
the Solar System again!"
Unterzuyder glared, primly returned his glasses to his nose, and
stalked off.
"Scoundrel!" he muttered, putting his hand over his heart. He gasped.
It was racing. And he was sweating. Trembling. His mother, the
Unterzuyder matriarch, had been quite right. He should take care of his
health.
By the time he caught a one-wheeled gyromobile that came bowling down
the glass street, he was feeling much better.
"Take me to the Hotel de Mars," he told the driver. He leaned back
comfortably, gloved hands resting on the head of his cane while he
looked around him. A strange, glass-domed city, set in the heart of
Mars' desert wastelands. A thriving city, with low buildings touching
the glass roof of the dome.
The rain-maker went on, the first drops splattering down from the
overhead sprinkler system. Unterzuyder cringed.
"Driver, driver!" he cried, rapping smartly with his cane. "Do you want
me to catch my death?"
The driver hurriedly caused the separate halves of the glassteel cupola
to fold over the car. Unterzuyder settled back injuredly.
* * * * *
At the registration desk of the Hotel de Mars, he asked for, and was
shown to the room of, Mr. Nathaniel and Miss Fayette Beecher. The door
was thrown open by a tanned blonde girl in smart gray jodhpurs and
slick boots.
Her face at first registered a nervousness. Then it smoothed.
"Oh!" she sang out, blue eyes widening and taking him in from head to
toe. "You must be Mr. Straley." She cocked her lively face cutely to
one side. "_Are_ you?"
Unterzuyder's heart banged. He bit his lip. This was exactly the kind
of girl his dead mother warned him to stay away from. Coquettish. Sexy.
Treacherous, like most females. And he had lately noticed, to his
dismay, that he, an Unterzuyder, was becoming far too susceptible to
such unhealthy influences.
"I am Mr. Straley," he said coldly. "Carruthers Straley, founder of
Titan Settlers, Ltd. Shall I come in?"
"Please _do_. For a moment, I lost my wits."
She's making a play for me, like all females, he thought.
Discouragedly, Unterzuyder went in. He sat down on a sponge-plastic
chair, resting his gloved hands on his cane and looking upon the girl
sternly.
"Daddy!" she sang out. "Mr. Straley is here!"
A man with a half-bald head and a deep tan lunged into the room
carrying a heavy rocket-gun. His grin was wide, his voice reedy and
enthusiastic. He was happy to know Mr. Straley. He laid the gun
tenderly on the floor. Unterzuyder looked at it distrustfully.
Beecher's reedy laugh sounded. "It's not cocked," he explained. "You
caught me right in the middle of a clean-and-polish job. That ol' gun
o' mine's been everywhere, mister. Most of the Moons of Jupiter, out
on the deserts--even Africa. Yessir, our exploring expeditions have
taken us into every corner of the Solar System that's available."
The girl whipped open a drawer in the bottom of a boxy chair made of
crystal glassteel. "And here's _my_ pet!" She reached in to pull out
a long-snouted neutron gun with a triple trigger. Unterzuyder's heart
banged for the third time in an hour. In the drawer was one other
object: _Tertium Organum_, A Key To The Enigmas Of The World.
An old book. A musty book. The book from his beloved dead father's
library. The book that held the Unterzuyder map.
His breath hissed. Beecher leaned solicitously forward. "Anything
wrong, Mr. Straley?"
"Oh, no, nothing," said Unterzuyder, pain wrenching his face. "But I'm
not a healthy man. My heart--"
"Oh, what a shame." Fayette leaned over him, dizzying him with her
perfume. She put her warm little hand on his forehead. She held his
wrist to feel his pulse. She shook her blonde curls vigorously. "Nope.
No fever. The pulse _did_ seem to race a little when I held your hand.
Outside of that--" She surveyed him judicially. "I'll bet you're as
healthy as a Venusian peat-dog!"
"Oh, come now," protested Beecher. "If the man says he's got a
galloping heart, that's what he's got. Think of the courage, the
idealism, the sheer fortitude of this man, who has gathered together a
group of settlers to brave the dangers of a jungle-world like Titan--a
planet no one has ever attempted to colonize! I personally _hand_ it to
the man!"
There was a fawning admiration on his unshaven, grinning face.
Unterzuyder settled back in his chair, feeling put upon.
"I'm afraid of guns," he told Fayette petulantly. "If you'd please put
it away--Besides--" He drew a clipping from his bill-fold. "--I am
already convinced of your prowess as explorers."
The headlines on the clipping read:
EXPLORERS RETURN FROM
GANYMEDE ICE TUNDRA
Father and daughter
make unique team
"It says quite a bit about the expeditions you two have headed.
Needless to say, I'm impressed! I am here, of course, to make you a
proposition."
* * * * *
He explained his purpose at some length. For several weeks he had been
engaged on a project dear to his heart. He believed in the future of
the human race. He wanted to spread mankind's dominion even beyond the
Moons of Jupiter. Titan had been viewed by only two men, both of whom
stated it was livable. It had soil. It had vegetation. Also, it had
dangerous animal life.
"That's for us!" said Fayette stoutly. She accidentally pointed the
neutron gun at Unterzuyder. She was squirming around on her chair with
repressed vitality. Her eyes melted on him. He wished he could get over
the feeling that she was laying it on too thick. That perfume. He must
not allow himself to be affected.
He cringed from the gun. She hastily put it on the floor. He wondered
how accidental it might have been. Probably these cheap opportunists
were perfectly capable of killing.
He would have to watch his step. They had the map, all right. The
bookseller's description of Fayette had been quite correct and helpful.
Fortunately, the bookseller had been willing to accept a bribe not to
give anybody else the information.
He spoke again.
"When I received your viso-call, Miss Beecher, I at once felt that
Titan Settlers could work with you. I seriously discussed with them
the possibility of giving you and your father titular command of the
expedition."
"Uh--" said Fayette. "You've already been capitalized?"
Unterzuyder coughed delicately. "My intrepid settlers are composed
of young husbands and wives and their children. I was able to sell
them--that is--the magic allure of a new world was really all that
was necessary to convince them that Titan is where their destiny lay.
They sold all their belongings, and--ah--invested the funds with me as
Treasurer of the organization."
Beecher smacked his hands together enthusiastically.
"Fine, fine! There's nothing the daughter and I like better than to
push on into a new frontier. Mr. Straley, for twenty thousand credits
we're bought!"
Unterzuyder sat bolt upright. "Ten thousand credits," he said severely,
"is the top amount we can offer. That is final. With one thousand
credits in advance!"
He whipped out a check book. He adjusted his glasses. Primly, he wrote
a check and extended it with a jabbing motion, holding it for perhaps
thirty seconds before Beecher's crestfallen face turned toward his
daughter. Fayette was looking with intense interest at the check.
"Why not? Mr. Straley, like you, we're idealists. Money means hardly
anything. I think you've made a deal!"
Beecher stowed the check in his wallet with satisfaction. "Now we'll
get busy. Of course, we'll have to have a drawing account. We'll have
to discuss details, such as the number of settlers to be transported
so I can buy or charter the proper type of space ship. There's the
matter of building supplies to be bought--grain seeds--food--a thousand
details which you can leave entirely in our hands, Mr. Straley!
"And while we're at it, I'd like to shake your hand! It's very few
people who'd endanger their own lives to further the progress of
mankind!"
The experience left Unterzuyder weak. He looked appealingly at Fayette.
"I wonder if a glass of water--" he said feebly.
Hurriedly she disappeared to the apartment kitchen. Unterzuyder slumped
lower in the seat, breathing hard.
"Maybe," he told Beecher helplessly, "a shot of whiskey would do the
trick better."
"Sure thing!" Beecher went after his daughter. As soon as they were
both out of the room, Unterzuyder got up and pulled open the drawer
containing _Tertium Organum_, A Key To The Enigmas Of The World.
Quickly he unfolded the chart in the back of the book. The map should
be there.
It wasn't.
He slapped the drawer shut, sank feebly back to his seat. The Beechers
were gone an inordinately long time. He thought he heard them
whispering in the kitchen. Then Beecher lunged back into the room
bearing a jigger of no doubt cheap rye. Unterzuyder gulped it down and
put the glass to one side.
Fayette was admiring. "For a man in poor health," she exclaimed, "you
take it without a whimper--or a chaser!"
"Eh?" Unterzuyder blinked, then drew himself up stiffly. "Whiskey is
the only medicine my doctor permits. And now, let's get down to the
matter of the contract!"
* * * * *
One month later.
Ralph Unterzuyder was furious. He stalked the darkened decks of the
trembling space ship _Ares_--a slick hundred-tonner with sixty square
feet of firing surface--and reflected that the Beechers were making a
worse sucker out of him than he'd expected them to.
First, they were a pair of fakers. That much had been obvious from the
start, with that phony newspaper write-up, all that bragging about
their knowledge of fire-arms when they didn't even know enough to keep
a weapon pointed toward the floor. Well, he'd expected that much. But
to discover they did not even have _basic_ knowledge of how to outfit
an expedition!
They had actually begun ordering _lumber_ for building, until he
pointed out the climate of Titan might be kinder to prefabricated
glassteel sections.
They had actually paid out money for seeds, bulbs, and saplings until
he showed that all farming on Titan must for the present be on an
experimental or at best highly speculative basis.
Not only that, they had attempted to charter a ship twice as big
as needed, one that used large quantities of chemical fuels. That
ridiculous error had been amended with a smaller ship sporting
atomic gas-thrust. As for the captain and crew, they had been hired
by Unterzuyder himself--and, by means of the secret passage of one
thousand credits from Titan Settlers' funds to Captain Foshag, the
captain and crew were bought.
Unterzuyder balanced himself angrily down a companionway. As he
passed a hanging ventilator, the drum-beat and skittering rhythm of
a jury-rigged orchestra echoed up from the ballroom. A dance was in
progress. Unterzuyder smiled sentimentally. Nothing like giving the
settlers a run for their money.
Of course, he reflected dourly, Fayette Beecher had got the best of
him in the matter of using the drawing account. Unterzuyder scowled.
What had got into him? Somehow, Fayette's roving blue eyes and fiery
touch did their work on him. Next thing he knew, he was in duress,
being dragged on the arm of that fluffy creature from one dress shop to
another.
An expense account to buy swirling party dresses?--with a smidgin here
and there for fancy explorers' outfits? The memory of his folly made
Unterzuyder squirm.
He sighed heavily as he came to C deck. Anyway, by his own cleverness,
he had a ship, he had the Beechers--who had the map!
And the hibernaculum asteroid, where his dozen infamous ancestors were
sleeping away the decades under the influence of a potent, forbidden
drug called somnolene, was somewhere out near Titan. Or _had been_.
That was the one thing he remembered when, as a child, his father
showed him the legendary map. At least he was headed for the area where
the asteroid _might be_.
And so might, he reflected glumly, that arrogant, impossible Bigger
Bailes!
* * * * *
The Beecher's double-state-room was on C deck. Just as he turned an L
in the corridor, he ran head-on into a gaily running figure clad in a
fluffy party dress.
For a moment they struggled in an attempt to regain their balance,
and when Unterzuyder came out of it he was holding Fayette Beecher
tightly, and he was kissing her warm little face. She responded just as
energetically. And suddenly he woke up to the horror of the role he had
assumed.
He shoved her away. She stumbled backward and there was a glassy
tinkling sound.
"Ooh, your glasses!" cried Fayette, making a grab for them. He grabbed,
too, suddenly convinced he had gone blind. "They're broken, Ralph,
honey!" she said. "You look so much better without them." She flung her
arms around him again, pressing him back to the wall. Her lips drooped
disappointedly.
"I--I'm fond of you," she said unhappily. "But you're so darned
peculiar. You fell all over yourself kissing me. Now you're backing
off. What's wrong?"
Unterzuyder was scared. It came as a shock to him that the extreme
emergency of the situation had given him, by some hypnotic process,
better vision than he'd ever had. In spite of the darkness of the hall,
he could see that Fayette was ravishing. She could make a strong man
weak. Well, he would not give her that opportunity.
Besides, something she'd said just now, something he couldn't put his
finger on, had subconsciously frightened him. What?
These treacherous Beechers!
Maybe she was using her indomitable weapon to win him over. To what?
Perhaps to cut him in on the map. X marks the spot, indeed! X was a
moving asteroid. It had been moving for some eighty-odd years since the
map was made. To find its present location was a problem in celestial
mechanics. The map would have to be deciphered. Not only that, the
original maker of the map, being an Unterzuyder, had undoubtedly
confused the issue by making the job hard even for a mathematician.
Naturally, the Beechers hadn't dared take the map to anybody for
deciphering. To do so, might have brought the whole criminal element
in the Solar System after them. That of course, was a little thing
Unterzuyder himself had arranged--when he anonymously gave the details
of the story to the press.
The Beechers had been boxed in.
Now, in desperation, the Beechers probably figured that if Fayette
could make Carruthers Straley fall in love with her, that he, being a
lawyer, might have a devious enough mind to think like an Unterzuyder
and decipher the map! _And_ not betray them.
They did not understand that Ralph Unterzuyder, alias Carruthers
Straley, worked alone.
They would find it out. And so would Bigger Bailes.
He answered her direct question stiffly. "I shall continue to back
off, Fayette. Love is an emotion which can be defined in various
unflattering terms. I would not care to tumble your romantic castles!
My mother--"
"Aha! Your mother!" She leaped upon the word with a knowing and very
wide grin. Then she took advantage of his pinned position against the
bulkhead to kiss him again, determinedly and hard. For a wild half of
eternity, his senses were swept away on a skittering whirlwind. Then by
main force he tore away and lunged down the corridor.
"Mr. Straley!" There was a bubble of repressed laughter. "I was going
to ask if you'd take me to the dance!"
* * * * *
He did not answer. His flight was precipitous. It was not for several
minutes that he realized the loss of his glasses had not impeded his
vision. He leaned weakly against a bulkhead. Very early in life, his
parents had insisted that the inherited weak eyes of the Unterzuyders
be made normal with ocular aids. Indeed, powerful, dark eye-glasses had
grown, over the generations, to be a symbol of Unterzuyder autocracy.
His parents had been wrong.
Perhaps they had been wrong in other things.
He shuddered. Without his eye-glasses, he hardly felt himself to be an
Unterzuyder.
Slowly, memory of his original purpose in ordering Captain Foshag to
throw a dance came back.
In the ballroom, Beecher would be strutting to win the favor of
somebody's wife.
With a bit more success, Fayette would have a dozen young husbands
circling her moth-like.
Intrigue, thought Unterzuyder, and subtlety, is ever the adventurer's
most potent weapon. The great general indirectly entices the foe away
from his own most strongly held point!
Several minutes later, he was fitting his pass-key into the door of the
Beechers' stateroom. He closed the door, switched on the radi-lights.
The efficiently furnished little rooms were brightly illumined.
The map. Where? Start at the beginning. At first glance, _Tertium
Organum_ was not in the bookcase. Then he reached in back of the row of
lurid fiction titles and knew he had guessed correctly.
A little too correctly!
He felt one of the few cold chills of his life traveling on his spine.
He opened the book and the map fell out. He sat down weakly. His
fingers trembled as he smoothed out the heavy rag parchment.
A map of the Solar System. He dizzied. X marks the asteroid. Just as he
remembered seeing it that long ago day when his great father showed it
to him.
His father, that stern-faced giant in whom the valiant blood of the
hibernating Unterzuyders flowed, had been most explicit. One of these
years, the map would be given to Ralph. He would guard it with his
blood. In the course of time, Ralph would give it to _his_ son.
At long last, the hibernaculum would be opened, the dozen
hibernating Unterzuyders would be brought to life with injections of
anti-somnolene, and would once more take over their rightful place of
dominance in the Solar System.
The position they had been scourged from by a relentless political
regime which had smashed the Unterzuyders' fabulous tri-planet cartels,
leaving the remnants in the form of a thousand rigidly controlled small
holding companies.
The position they had been forced to flee from, leaving only their
children--and a hidden map.
Unterzuyder's fingers still shook. Sweat dribbled down his blonde
hair-line. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. The map itself
was hideously out of scale.
The traced orbits of the planets were circular, _not_ elliptical.
And the map itself.
_I should not have found it so easily_.
Counter-intrigue?
No time to lose.
From his inside pocket, he took the flat little duplico-camera,
adjusted the frame over the map. He flipped the shutter. Seconds later,
the map was back exactly where he'd taken it from.
There was only one sound in this quiet room, the tremor of the
gas-thrust shoving the ship through dark void into the spaces beyond
Jupiter. Suddenly, there was the scuffle of moving feet beyond the door.
* * * * *
Unterzuyder found himself in the position of a traveler in an alien
city where savage little children had switched all the street signs.
Nonetheless, he lunged for the door, threw off the lights in the
stateroom, opened the door, closed it, stood with his back pressed
against it.
Hurrying footsteps. Unterzuyder was after the sound.
The big, hurrying frame of Captain Foshag. Unterzuyder grabbed his
arm, whipped him around. Foshag's hairy, dignified face was wrenched
with astonishment.
"Mr. Straley," he said uncertainly. His brow clouded. He looked at
Unterzuyder's grip on his heavy arm and frowned with displeasure. He
shook off the hand. "I'm not used to being manhandled, sir! You've
perhaps imbibed too much at the party?" He was being sternly insulting.
Unterzuyder crumbled. He could be wrong.
"I--haven't been well. My heart--" He touched at his chest
apologetically. It wasn't too far from the truth. Pains in his chest.
His mother had always assured him the Unterzuyders were prone to heart
trouble. Just as she'd got around to making him wear glasses. Terrible
uncertainties were crowding him. He was surrounded by treachery. Had
Foshag been shadowing him?
Foshag's great frame rocked judicially on its toes.
"If you truly have a bad heart," he said measuredly, "you'd have
taken the long trail when the _Ares_ hit heaven. We humans often are
plagued with strange influences. Words spoken to the unguarded mind of
the child sometimes become fact to the grownup. I'd not worry about
the heart. And now, the reason I am away from the turret. I've been
looking for you."
He cleared his throat. "There's a king-sized ship of the Silver type
on our tail, Mr. Straley. I'm not the worrying kind, however. Worry is
indeed the prime cause of most kidney troubles, and, besides, beclouds
the mind when there's work to be done. Therefore, not until I observed
that the pursuing craft was indeed pursuing--"
"Come to the point!" Everything else was swept away. Unterzuyder was
suddenly furious at this big, stupid, philosophizing blunderer. "You're
trying to excuse yourself for not telling me right away. Let's get to
the turret!"
Unterzuyder went at full stride, his brain in high gear. They were
being pursued. That arrogant Bigger Bailes, no doubt! So what? Add one
more menace to those he was collecting. In fact, mess up the mess a
little more.
"Captain Foshag," he said, "you are a well-read man. Ever read
Ouspensky?"
Foshag nodded his square bearded chin. "A man of vast creative mental
power, Mr. Straley. A man who seemed able to step off our three
dimensions and look at the universe from a new viewpoint." Tentatively:
"You have an interest in the classical philosophers, perhaps?"
Unterzuyder muttered something garbled. He trotted ahead of Foshag up
the ramp to the glassed-in control turret, went past several instrument
men to the viewing disk assembly. Foshag hurriedly got the pursuing
ship on the cross-hairs. It was a great globoid catching golden-green
sun on one half, black interstellar shadow on the other.
"Raise it on the beam!" Unterzuyder ordered.
* * * * *
Moments later, Ralph Unterzuyder was looking into the detested face of
Bigger Bailes.
"That's me," smiled Bigger, his rosy face creasing. "Bigger Bailes. And
how are you, Mr. Ralph Unterzuyder?" His smile became even more rosy.
Unterzuyder gulped. He was completely dismayed. Captain Foshag showed
no reaction at the unmasking. Captain Foshag kept his face turned
studiously away.
Unterzuyder felt himself going into a spin.
But he drew himself up and said haughtily, "Kindly keep your inside
information to yourself, Mr. Bigger Bailes. I travel under the name of
Carruthers Straley merely because there is an unsavory flavor to the
name of Unterzuyder!
"Now, why are you following us?"
"Following you?" Bigger Bailes appeared injured. "I'm trying to catch
up with you. I intend to come aboard--"
"_You will not!_" Unterzuyder yelled the words so loud the crew members
in back of him half-jumped from their charts.
Bigger's image wavered on the screen as he leaned forward and settled
back.
"I didn't expect such a reaction, Mr.--Straley," he said. His little
eyes, almost hidden by fat, were penetrating. "I'd almost think you
were hiding something. Are you?"
Foshag raised a commanding hand. "That'll be enough of that," he
commanded. "We're a law-abiding ship. I myself am an honest man.
Secrecy gives rise to certain nervous disorders which I avoid. If you
wish to come aboard, perhaps you are taking advantage of some Space
Article?"
"Taking advantage? If you want to put it that way. Two of my men
are down sick. The usual spastic seizures. We've run out of ATG.
We're coming aboard your ship to get some. Article 10b of the Space
Constitution gives us that right."
Unterzuyder brushed Foshag aside.
"I warn you, Mr. Bailes," he said thickly, "if you have any ulterior
motive, such as looting this ship, we will put up a fight! Our
settlers were chosen for their intrepid qualities. We have guns. We
have bombs. We have a flare-cannon. You will not find us easy prey!"
Bailes leaned back easily. "Relax, Unterzuyder. As far as guns
go, we've got our share. And we have got a brace of flare-cannons
embrasured into the bulkheads of the _Space-Queen_ ourselves, if you
want to get tough."
He spread his fat hands. "But who wants to get tough? See you
gentlemen, aboard your ship, twenty-four hours from now." With which
remark he broke contact.
Unterzuyder was at Foshag instantly.
"Not a word about my identity," he breathed. "After all, I did pay you
a thousand credits!"
"And for which I thanked you! Mr. Unterzuyder, I am not a secretive
man. If asked a direct question, I seldom impair my health by lying.
Now permit me to return to my duties."
Fuming, Unterzuyder left the control turret, went straight to the
ballroom. Here, without any hesitation whatever, he cut in on Fayette,
taking her away from the handsomest husband in the lot. No word of
apology.
* * * * *
He held her very close, very tight. He danced with a mathematical
precision. Even the soul of the dance, he reflected grimly, derives
from a mathematical formula. The dummy four-piece band haggered out
its hag-strut very effectively. He was rewarded as Fayette lost her
surprised stiffness, and began to melt into him in perfect rhythm to
the tune. Her blonde head gradually nestled into his shoulder, her eyes
closed, a small, sweet smile on her lips.
At the first opportunity, he swung her without a break to a small
observation lounge, and in the cold green glow of a million stars drew
her to him, letting himself be stunned by the warmth of her and the
drugging quality of her perfume. He kissed her. He was carried away
into a land of intricate enchantment where Love is All, and the Girl in
my Arms is You.
She opened her eyes, looking at him dreamily. "I love you," she
murmured.
"I know," said Unterzuyder.
"I don't know what your intentions are. I don't care what kind of a
sneaky, underhanded person you are, I still love you."
He kissed her again. She was crying. Unterzuyder took out his
handkerchief and wiped away her tears. "Now don't worry, Fayette," he
soothed. "Everything will turn out all right." He took her back to the
dance floor. By luck he found the young husband she'd been dancing
with. He gave her back.
"Sorry!" he said. He gave Fayette a fleeting smile and hurriedly took
off.
He went to his cabin and feverishly got to work. Plug up the loopholes
as you go along! A favorite axiom of the Unterzuyders. Now that Fayette
was in love with him, he could draw on her for any emergency.
Apparently the time was coming when he would need an ally.
He ran the negative through the hypo, put it in the dryer and paced
the floor. He rubbed at his lips with the back of his hand. He could
still smell Fayette's perfume. He could still feel her bare warm back.
Careful, careful. He went to a mirror and looked at his face. Weak. The
glassless eyes red-rimmed. Thin nose and lips. His spirits dropped. How
could Fayette be in love with him? Particularly when he was one of the
outlawed Unterzuyders.
The finished photograph went into the automatic pantograph. He blew
it up six times onto a square of Mirac paper. He smoothed the new map
onto the desk. Instantly he saw why at first the map had appeared so
impossibly distorted. The circles did not indicate the orbits of the
planets. They were merely a logarithmic indication of the scale of the
map.
Mercury, being some 43,000,000 miles from the Sun, was the basic unit.
And that was necessary.
The Solar System could not be drawn to scale unless the inner planets
were crowded in fractionally close to the Sun.
Here, the positions of the planets were indicated by dots whose
map-distance from the Sun receded inward in logarithmic ratio to actual
distance.
Pluto, for instance, being one hundred times farther from the Sun than
Mercury in real distance, appeared by the map to be only, roughly,
twenty times as far.
The position of the dot-planets on the map of course indicated the
_exact_ date of the day when the map was drawn.
The finely drawn X showed the position of the hibernaculum asteroid _on
that day_.
Since then, roughly eighty-two years ago, X had moved in its orbit.
Where to?
That was the problem.
Unterzuyder sweated. It was said by the Unterzuyders, with possible
justification, that only an Unterzuyder could think like an
Unterzuyder. How often his father had told him that. But he was
confused.
Naturally. The map was meant to confuse.
What were the figures at the bottom of the map?
s-1 .7452
c-1 -.202
and
(0, 3, 2)
(1, 1, 8)
And why, at the top corner, was the name unterzuyder printed _with a
small u_?
Nobody but an Unterzuyder would know.
Well, he didn't know.
* * * * *
Puzzled, he paced the room. Tomorrow Bigger Bailes would force his
way aboard ship. Little could be done to stop him, partly because he
insisted he needed ATG, a chemical staff of life necessary for muscular
action, but mostly because he had superior fire-power. Actually, he
wanted the map. If he didn't get it, he would inevitably loot the ship.
He paused before the mirror, again. Glassless, he didn't feel like an
Unterzuyder. Looking upon himself naked of face, he cringed. If only
the whole thing were over. If only he were in the observatory under the
greenly burning stars with--
Frantically he stopped that line of thought.
He hauled out a sheaf of maps. He had come prepared. He had brought the
duplico-camera, the film developing equipment, the pantograph, other
odds and ends. He had a shelf-full of celestial mechanic manuals, as
well as books on the more ordinary arithmetics.
But he had had only one year of math. Somewhere along the line, he had
outguessed his patriarch of a father and his matriarch of a mother: law
had been the result.
Well suited, he had felt at the time, to the trickery, the deceit, and
the orneriness of the typical Unterzuyder mind!
Anyway, he needed a slide-rule before he could tackle the equations.
For the present, he would work out the date the map was made. Then it
would be possible to discover X's present position.
All that was necessary was, mathematically, to rotate the present-time
position of the planets backward in time--clockwise, that is--until
they coincided with map-position.
The star-maps, the Emphemeris, and the Planet Catalogue should make
that fairly simple.
After an hour, his nerves began to quiver. He ran his hands
distractedly through his awry blonde hair. He had the answer. And it
was impossible. Except that it was correct.
Apparently, the map had been drawn up in prehistoric times.
50,000 years ago!
* * * * *
After a virtually sleepless sleep-period, he went to breakfast. The
settlers were in a happy chattering mood. Titan was only ten days away.
Unterzuyder ate with the pressure of the Beechers' eyes on him.
Nathaniel Beecher showed quiet menace on a face that ordinarily held
grinning, shifty-eyed comraderie. Fayette had sullen, angry shadows
under her eyes. Perhaps she was smarting under a humiliation that
might make her do dangerous things. He had left her rather abruptly at
the dance. Unterzuyder bit his lip. Perhaps he had not covered that
situation as well as he might.
Remorse was an emotion new to Unterzuyder. But then he had suffered
some kind of mental upset when his glasses shattered under Fayette's
heel. He could see as well as the next man, and consequently was
beginning to have some shattering doubts about the wisdom of his
immediate ancestors. And he _was_ a man.
He gulped. All these were dangerous thoughts. He must continue to think
like an Unterzuyder.
Something devious. Something tricky. Something that would competently
accomplish the task of fooling the Beechers, Bigger Bailes, and
possibly Foshag!
As he started out of the dining room, Beecher lunged after him,
trailing a rocket-stream of cigar smoke.
"A minute, Straley!" Beecher held him from the door, his close-set
eyes full of dislike. "Foshag told me Bigger Bailes is back there."
He jerked a shoulder. "You're a man with many small tricks, Straley,"
he went on slowly. "Probably you're the most dangerous man I've ever
encountered. I've been around."
"I'll bet you have!"
Beecher gestured with the cigar, turned on his grin, apparently to
convince anybody watching that this was a friendly conversation.
"But I'm not letting you get away with anything. We have to do
something about Bailes. I don't intend to be hi-jacked. Truthfully,
mister, I don't see why the settlers shouldn't be forewarned. They're a
decent bunch. We're not.
"In fact," his eyes were boring, "I've known from the first that you've
been using these people."
"As you have--and as you've attempted to use me!"
"Yes." Beecher's lips moved hesitantly. "You and I and Fayette are all
three getting a free ride to Titan, aren't we? No expenses. So now
that we've _almost_ laid our cards on the table, why shouldn't we join
forces?"