American Science Fiction Five Classic Novels 1956-58 (13 page)

“Damn it, this is a ridiculous example of——”

“That’s how it is going to be, Bill.”

Corpsman left the room very suddenly. Clifton sighed. “Bill always has hated the notion that anybody but Mr. B. could give him instructions. But he’s an able man. Uh, Chief, how soon can you be ready to record? We patch in at sixteen hundred.”

“I don’t know. I’ll be ready in time.”

Penny followed me back into my office. When she closed the door I said, “I won’t need you for the next hour or so, Penny child. But you might ask Doc for more of those pills. I may need them.”

“Yes, sir.” She floated with her back to the door. “Chief?”

“Yes, Penny?”

“I just wanted to say don’t believe what Bill said about writing his speeches!”

“I didn’t. I’ve heard his speeches—and I’ve read this.”

“Oh, Bill does submit drafts, lots of times. So does Rog. I’ve even done it myself. He—
he
will use ideas from anywhere if he thinks they are good. But when he delivers a speech, it is
his
, every word of it.”

“I believe you. I wish he had written this one ahead of time.”

“You just do your best!”

I did. I started out simply substituting synonyms, putting in the gutty Germanic words in place of the “intestinal” Latin jawbreakers. Then I got excited and red in the face and tore it to pieces. It’s a lot of fun for an actor to mess around with lines; he doesn’t get the chance very often.

I used no one but Penny for my audience and made sure from Dak that I was not being tapped elsewhere in the ship— though I suspect that the big-boned galoot cheated on me and listened in himself. I had Penny in tears in the first three minutes; by the time I finished (twenty-eight and a half minutes, just time for station announcements) she was limp. I took no liberties with the straight Expansionist doctrine, as proclaimed by its official prophet, the Right Honorable John Joseph Bonforte; I simply reconstructed his message and his delivery, largely out of phrases from other speeches.

Here’s an odd thing—I believed every word of it while I was talking.

But, brother, I made a speech!

Afterwards we all listened to the playback, complete with full stereo of myself. Jimmie Washington was present, which kept Bill Corpsman quiet. When it was over I said, “How about it, Rog? Do we need to clip anything?”

He took his cigar out of his mouth and said, “No. If you want my advice, Chief, I’d say to let it go as it is.”

Corpsman left the room again—but Mr. Washington came over with tears leaking out of his eyes—tears are a nuisance in free fall; there’s nowhere for them to go. “Mr. Bonforte, that was
beautiful
.”

“Thanks, Jimmie.”

Penny could not talk at all.

I turned in after that; a top-notch performance leaves me fagged. I slept for more than eight hours, then was awakened by the hooter. I had strapped myself to my bunk—I hate to float around while sleeping in free fall—so I did not have to move. But I had not known that we were getting under way so I called the control room between first and second warning. “Captain Broadbent?”

“Just a moment, sir,” I heard Epstein answer.

Then Dak’s voice came over. “Yes, Chief? We are getting under way on schedule—pursuant to your orders.”

“Eh? Oh yes, certainly.”

“I believe Mr. Clifton is on his way to your cabin.”

“Very well, Captain.” I lay back and waited.

Immediately after we started to boost at one gee Rog Clifton came in; he had a worried look on his face I could not interpret —equal parts of triumph, worry, and confusion. “What is it, Rog?”

“Chief! They’ve jumped the gun on us! The Quiroga government has resigned!”

I was still logy with sleep; I shook my head to try to clear it.

“What are you in such a spin about, Rog? That’s what you were trying to accomplish, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yes, of course. But——” He stopped.

“But what? I don’t get it. Here you chaps have been working and scheming for years to bring about this very thing. Now you’ve won—and you look like a bride who isn’t sure she wants to go through with it. Why? The no-good-nicks are out and now God’s chillun get their innings. No?”

“Uh—you haven’t been in politics much.”

“You know I haven’t. I got trimmed when I ran for patrol leader in my scout troop. That cured me.”

“Well, you see, timing is everything.”

“So my father always told me. Look here, Rog, do I gather that if you had your druthers you’d druther Quiroga was still in office? You said he had ‘jumped the gun.’”

“Let me explain. What we really wanted was to move a vote of confidence and win it, and thereby force a general election on them—but at our own time, when we estimated that we could win the election.”

“Oh. And you don’t figure you can win now? You think Quiroga will go back into office for another five years—or at least the Humanity Party will?”

Clifton looked thoughtful. “No, I think our chances are pretty good to win the election.”

“Eh? Maybe I’m not awake yet. Don’t you
want
to win?”

“Of course. But don’t you see what this resignation has done to us?”

“I guess I don’t.”

“Well, the government in power can order a general election at any time up to the constitutional limitation of five years. Ordinarily they will go to the people when the time seems most favorable to them. But they don’t resign between the announcement and the election unless forced to. You follow me?”

I realized that the event did seem odd, little attention as I paid to politics. “I believe so.”

“But in this case Quiroga’s government scheduled a general election, then resigned in a body, leaving the Empire without a government. Therefore the sovereign must call on someone else to form a ‘caretaker’ government to serve until the election. By the letter of the law he can ask any member of the Grand Assembly, but as a matter of strict constitutional precedent he has no choice. When a government resigns in a body— not just reshuffling portfolios but quits as a whole—then the sovereign
must
call on the leader of the opposition to form the ‘caretaker’ government. It’s indispensable to our system; it keeps resigning from being just a gesture. Many other methods have been tried in the past; under some of them governments were changed as often as underwear. But our present system insures responsible government.”

I was so busy trying to see the implications that I almost missed his next remark. “So, naturally, the Emperor has summoned Mr. Bonforte to New Batavia.”

“Eh? New Batavia? Well!” I was thinking that I had never seen the Imperial capital. The one time I had been on the Moon the vicissitudes of my profession had left me without time or money for the side trip. “Then that is why we got under way? Well, I certainly don’t mind. I suppose you can always find a way to send me home if the
Tommie
doesn’t go back to Earth soon.”

“What? Good heavens, don’t worry about that now. When the time comes, Captain Broadbent can find any number of ways to deliver you home.”

“Sorry. I forget that you have more important matters on your mind, Rog. Sure, I’m anxious to get home now that the job is done. But a few days, or even a month, on Luna would not matter. I have nothing pressing me. But thanks for taking time to tell me the news.” I searched his face. “Rog, you look worried as hell.”

“Don’t you see? The Emperor has sent for Mr. Bonforte. The
Emperor
, man! And Mr. Bonforte is in no shape to appear at an audience. They have risked a gambit—and perhaps trapped us in a checkmate!”

“Eh? Now wait a minute. Slow up. I see what you are driving at—but, look, friend, we aren’t at New Batavia. We’re a hundred million miles away, or two hundred million, or whatever it is. Doc Capek will have him wrung out and ready to speak his piece by then. Won’t he?”

“Well—we hope so.”

“But you aren’t sure?”

“We can’t be sure. Capek says that there is little clinical data on such massive doses. It depends on the individual’s body chemistry and on the exact drug used.”

I suddenly remembered a time when an understudy had slipped me a powerful purgative just before a performance. (But I went on anyhow, which proves the superiority of mind over matter—then I got him fired.) “Rog—they gave him that last, unnecessarily big dose not just out of simple sadism—but to set up this situation!”

“
I
think so. So does Capek.”

“Hey! In that case it would mean that Quiroga himself is the man behind the kidnaping—and that we’ve had a
gangster
running the Empire!”

Rog shook his head. “Not necessarily. Not even probably. But it would indeed mean that the same forces who control the Actionists also control the machinery of the Humanity Party. But you will never pin anything on
them
; they are unreachable, ultrarespectable. Nevertheless, they could send word to Quiroga that the time had come to roll over and play dead—and have him do it. Almost certainly,” he added, “without giving him a hint of the real reason why the moment was timely.”

“Criminy! Do you mean to tell me that the top man in the Empire would fold up and quit, just like that? Because somebody behind the scenes ordered him to?”

“I’m afraid that is just what I do think.”

I shook my head. “Politics is a dirty game!”

“No,” Clifton answered insistently. “There is no such thing as a dirty game. But you sometimes run into dirty players.”

“I don’t see the difference.”

“There is a world of difference. Quiroga is a third-rater and a stooge—in my opinion, a stooge for villains. But there is nothing third-rate about John Joseph Bonforte and he has never,
ever
been a stooge for anyone. As a follower, he believed in the cause; as the leader, he has led from conviction!”

“I stand corrected,” I said humbly. “Well, what do we do? Have Dak drag his feet so that the
Tommie
does not reach New Batavia until he is back in shape to do the job?”

“We
can’t
stall. We don’t have to boost at more than one gravity; nobody would expect a man Bonforte’s age to place unnecessary strain on his heart. But we can’t delay. When the Emperor sends for you, you come.”

“Then what?”

Rog looked at me without answering. I began to get edgy. “Hey, Rog, don’t go getting any wild notions! This hasn’t anything to do with
me
. I’m through, except for a few casual appearances around the ship. Dirty or not, politics is not my game—just pay me off and ship me home and I’ll guarantee never even to register to vote!”

“You probably wouldn’t have to do anything. Dr. Capek will almost certainly have him in shape for it. But it isn’t as if it were anything
hard
—not like that adoption ceremony—just an audience with the Emperor and——”

“The Emperor!” I almost screamed. Like most Americans, I did not understand royalty, did not really approve of the institution in my heart—and had a sneaking, unadmitted awe of kings. After all, we Americans came in by the back door. When we swapped associate status under treaty for the advantages of a full voice in the affairs of the Empire, it was explicitly agreed that our local institutions, our own constitution, and so forth, would not be affected—and tacitly agreed that no member of the royal family would ever visit America. Maybe that is a bad thing. Maybe if we were used to royalty we would not be so impressed by them. In any case, it is notorious that “democratic” American women are more quiveringly anxious to be presented at court than is anybody else.

“Now take it easy,” Rog answered. “You probably won’t have to do it at all. We just want to be prepared. What I was trying to tell you is that a ‘caretaker’ government is no problem. It passes no laws, changes no policies. I’ll take care of all the work. All you will have to do—if you have to do anything—is make the formal appearance before King Willem—and possibly show up at a controlled press conference or two, depending on how long it is before
he
is well again. What you have already done is much harder—and you will be paid whether we need you or not.”

“Damn it, pay has nothing to do with it! It’s—well, in the words of a famous character in theatrical history, ‘Include me
Out
.’ ”

Before Rog could answer, Bill Corpsman came bursting into my cabin without knocking, looked at us, and said sharply to Clifton, “Have you told him?”

“Yes,” agreed Clifton. “He’s turned down the job.”

“Huh? Nonsense!”

“It’s not nonsense,” I answered, “and by the way, Bill, that door you just came through has a nice spot on it to knock. In the profession the custom is to knock and shout, ‘Are you decent?’ I wish you would remember it.”

“Oh, dirty sheets! We’re in a hurry. What’s this guff about your refusing?”

“It’s not guff. This is not the job I signed up for.”

“Garbage! Maybe you are too stupid to realize it, Smythe, but you are in too deep to prattle about backing out. It wouldn’t be healthy.”

I went to him and grabbed his arm. “Are you threatening me? If you are, let’s go outside and talk it over.”

He shook my hand off. “In a spaceship? You really are simple, aren’t you? But haven’t you got it through your thick head that you caused this mess yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“He means,” Clifton answered, “that he is convinced that the fall of the Quiroga government was the direct result of the speech you made earlier today. It is even possible that he is right. But it is beside the point. Bill, try to be reasonably polite, will you? We get nowhere by bickering.”

I was so surprised by the suggestion that
I
had caused Quiroga to resign that I forgot all about my desire to loosen Corpsman’s teeth. Were they serious? Sure, it was one dilly of a fine speech, but was such a result possible?

Well, if it was, it was certainly fast service.

I said wonderingly, “Bill, do I understand that you are complaining that the speech I made was too effective to suit you?”

“Huh? Hell, no! It was a lousy speech.”

“So? You can’t have it both ways. You’re saying that a lousy speech went over so big that it scared the Humanity Party right out of office. Is that what you meant?”