Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. A Transmutation of Muddles by H. B. Fyfe (novels for beginners txt) 📖
- Author: H. B. Fyfe
Book online «A Transmutation of Muddles by H. B. Fyfe (novels for beginners txt) 📖». Author H. B. Fyfe
"Very well, Judge," said Melin. "Here are the figures on—"
"Please round them off," said Mayne. "If I have to listen to a long list in centicredits, I'll probably go off to see what kind of beer they brew here."
"You wouldn't like it," muttered Voorhis, staring sourly at the village.
"No doubt," grinned Mayne.
Melin swallowed and returned to an inner pocket a sheaf of papers he had withdrawn.
"Speaking very loosely," he went on, as if hating to do anything loosely, "the coverage was about as follows: for the Gemsbok herself, two million; but that was really a nominal figure accorded as a sort of courtesy. Otherwise, at her true worth, the authorities would hardly have permitted Captain Voorhis to take her into space—"
"Get on with it," urged Mayne, to forestall any wrangle.
"Er ... yes. Then on the cargo, the purchase cost of two hundred thousand credits."
Voorhis visibly flinched and began to acquire a ruddy hue.
"And, finally, on the fuel load, the cost price of three hundred thousand. Of course, Judge, there are detailed clauses as to normal use of fuel. He was actually insured against defects, premature explosions, accidental loss, et cetera."
Mayne did some addition in his head.
"So your company," he said aloud, "is prepared to pay two and a half million for the loss sustained by Captain Voorhis. What seems to be wrong with that?"
Both men began to talk but Melin, struggling less with temper, got the lead.
"Actually," he said, "we feel liable for only three hundred thousand."
Now it will get tough, thought Mayne. He silently awaited elucidation.
The combined stares of all parties, including the enigmatic glance of Eemakh, calmed the spluttering Voorhis. Melin continued.
"In the first place, the true value of the ship, even if we consider her to be incapacitated—which we do not—is only about one hundred and fifty thousand."
"She's worth more than that as scrap!" bellowed Voorhis.
"No, captain, just about that. It is exactly how we valued her. Do you have any idea, Judge, of how old that crock is?"
"Let's not go into that just yet," suggested Mayne.
"As to the fuel," said Melin, "I am willing, as a gesture of good will, to stick my company's neck out—and mine with it, you may be sure—and honor a full claim."
"Even though he used about half the fuel getting here?" asked Mayne.
"We'll ignore that. We admit that he is out of fuel, and we want to—"
"You want to give me a moon and take a star," said Voorhis.
"Just a minute!" Mayne held up his hand. "That's the ship and the fuel. What about the cargo?"
"Why, as to that, Judge, we do not admit that it is lost. It is right over there, easily accessible. We consider it more the job of the Space Force to restore rightful possession than it is the responsibility of the company to reimburse Captain Voorhis for the inflated value he sets upon it."
"I begin to see," murmured Mayne. "You can't stick each other, so you're out to slip me the bill."
That aroused a babble of denials. Mayne eventually made himself heard and demanded to know how the spacer's evaluation differed from Melin's. Voorhis pulled himself together, glowering at the insurance man.
"In the first place," he growled, "I don't want his lousy payment for fuel. I said I'd take the blame for that, an' I will. On the ship ... well, maybe she ain't worth two million. Maybe she ain't been for a few years now—"
Melin made a show of counting on his fingers.
"... But they charged me premiums by that figure an' I say they oughta pay by that figure."
"But can you prove she's a total loss, captain?" asked Mayne.
Voorhis grimaced and spat upon the ground.
"Try to get near her, Judge! You'll get proof fast enough!"
"Well ... about the cargo, then?"
"That's where he's gouging me!" exploded Voorhis. "The idea of using the cost as of loading on Rigel IX! Hell, you know the margin of profit there is in trading on these new planets, twenty to one at least. I figured to lift off with four million worth of ores, gems, curios, and whatnot."
"So your point is that the mere transportation of the goods through space to this planet increased their value. What about that, Mr. Melin?"
Melin shifted uncomfortably on his bench. Mayne would have liked to change his own position, but feared splinters.
"There is an element of truth in that," admitted Melin. "Still, it would be rash to expect such a return every time a tramp spaceship lands to swap with some aboriginal easy marks."
"I suppose," said Mayne, "that our orange-eyed friends speak no Terran?"
"I hope not!" exclaimed Voorhis.
"Well, anyway," Melin said after a startled pause, "how can we be expected to pay off on hopes? He wants the paper figure for the ship; but he refuses the paper figure for the cargo."
Mayne shrugged. He turned to Haruhiku.
"If Captain Voorhis and Mr. Melin don't mind, lieutenant, I'd like to get the chief's view of all this."
"Hah!" grunted Voorhis, clapping both hands to his head.
Melin contented himself with rolling his eyes skyward.
With Haruhiku translating, Mayne began to get acquainted with the Kappans. The visitor from the neighboring city chose mostly to listen attentively, but Igrillik, the priest, occasionally leaned over to whisper sibilantly into Eemakh's recessed ear. Mayne fancied he saw a resemblance between the two, despite Igrillik's professional trappings—a long robe of rough material that had been dyed in stripes and figures of several crude colors, and a tall cap to which were attached a number of pairs of membraneous wings.
The first thing that Mayne learned was that the Gemsbok was not a spaceship; it was a symbol, a sign sent to the Kappans by the great god Meeg.
"And why did he send it?" asked Mayne.
He had sent it as a sign that he was impatient with his children. They had vowed him a temple, they had set aside the necessary land, and yet they had not begun the work.
"Is that why they're all over there, slaving away so feverishly?"
It was indeed the reason. After all, Meeg was the god of the inner moon, the one that passed so speedily across the sky. If he could guide the strangers' ship directly to his own plot of ground, he might just as easily have caused it to land in the center of the village. They had seen the flames that attended the landing. Could the honored chief from the stars blame them for heeding the warning?
"I see their point," muttered Mayne resignedly. "Well, maybe we can talk sense about the cargo. Tell them that there is much in the holds that would make their lives richer. Tools, gems, fine cloth—give them the story, lieutenant."
This time, Eemakh conferred with the high priest. It developed that the cargo was a sacred gift to be used or not as the god Meeg might subsequently direct. The chief meant no insult. The Kappans realized that Voorhis and his crew were no demons, but starmen such as had often brought valuable goods to trade. The Kappans had not sought to harm or sacrifice them, had they? This was because they were both welcome as visitors and respected as instruments of Meeg.
Eemakh wished to be fair. The starmen might think they had lost by the divine mission. Very well—they would be granted land, good land with forest for hunting and shoreline for fishing. But go near the temple they should not!
"Could I get in to inspect the cargo?" asked Mayne.
Haruhiku took this up with the Kappans, who softened but did not yield.
"The best I can get, Judge," said the pilot, "is that they wish it were possible but only those who serve the purposes of Meeg may enter."
"They would look at it that way," sighed Mayne. "Let's leave it at that, until we can think this over some more. It's time for a lunch break anyway."
He and Haruhiku were flown back to the scout ship. Mayne brooded silently most of the way. Voorhis thought he was entitled to about six million credits for ship and cargo; Melin thought half a million for the ship and fuel would be stretching it. Mayne foresaw that he would have to knock heads.
The two of them lunched in the pilot's cabin, with hardly room to drop a spoon. Except for companionship, Mayne would as soon have eaten standing in the galley.
He considered the vast area of the planet's land surface. Would it be wiser for the envoy to land elsewhere? What sort of ties were there between tribes?
"Loose," the pilot told him. "Still, word gets around, with no great mountain or ocean barriers. They've split into groups, but there is a lot of contact."
"So if the Space Force should seize the Gemsbok, they'll all hear about it?"
"Within a few weeks, sir. That kind of news has wings on any world. I think we could take her for you, but we might do some damage. The size of a scout crew doesn't lend itself to hand-to-hand brawls."
"And if you sling a couple of torpedoes at the Kappan village, you'll probably wipe it out," said Mayne thoughtfully. "Give the story a month to spread, and no Terran would be trusted anywhere on the planet. Hm-m-m ... hardly practical!"
"There would also be a chance of damaging the Gemsbok."
"Actually, Eric, I'd hardly care if you blew her into orbit, with Voorhis and Melin riding the fins! But I'm supposed to spread sweetness and light around here—not scraps and parts of spaceships."
He gnawed moodily upon a knuckle, but saw no way to escape putting up some government money. Soaking the company would just make them appeal instead of Voorhis.
"This Meeg," he said to change the subject. "How important is he?"
Haruhiku considered a moment before replying.
"They have a whole mess of gods, like most primitive societies. Meeg is pretty important. I think he has a special significance to this tribe ... you know, like some ancient Terran cities has a special patron."
"He's the god of that little moon?" Mayne asked.
"Oh, more than that, I think. Really the god of speed, a message bearer for the other divinities. There always seems to be one in every primitive mythology."
"Yes," murmured Mayne. "Let's see ... one parallel would be the ancient Terran Hermes, wouldn't it?"
"Something like that," agreed Haruhiku. "I'm a little vague on the subject, sir. At least, he isn't one of the bloodthirsty ones."
"That helps," sighed Mayne, "but not enough."
He got a message blank from the pilot. With some labor, he composed a request to Terran headquarters on Rigel IX for authorization to spend two million credits on good-will preparations for the Terran-Kappan treaty conference.
It almost sounds diplomatic, he told himself before having the message sent.
The waiting period that followed was more to be blamed upon headquarters pussyfooting than upon the subspace transmission. When an answer finally came, it required a further exchange of messages.
Mayne's last communique might have been boiled down to, "But I need it!"
The last reply granted provisional permission to spend the sum mentioned; but gleaming between the lines like the sweep of a revolving beacon was a strong intimation that Mayne had better not hope to charge the item to "good will." The budget just was not made that way, the hint concluded.
"It's due to get dark soon, isn't it?" he asked Haruhiku, crumpling the final message into a side pocket. "I don't believe I'll resume the talks till morning. Maybe my head will function again by then."
In the morning, one of the scout's crew again took the pilot and Mayne to the meeting by helicopter. Mayne spent part of the trip mulling over a message Haruhiku had received. The spaceship Diamond Belt could be expected to arrive in orbit about the planet later the same day, bearing special envoy J. P. McDonald. The captain, having been informed of Haruhiku's presence, requested landing advice.
"I told him what I know," said the pilot. "We can give him a beam down, of course, unless you think we should send him somewhere else."
"Well ... let's see how this goes," said Mayne. "They seem to be waiting for us down there."
They landed to find Voorhis, Melin, and the native officialdom gathered at the hut facing the new "temple." After exchanging greetings, they sat down at the table as they had the day before.
"All right, gentlemen," said Mayne to the two Terrans. "You win. The government is going to have to put something in the pot. I want to make it as little as possible, so let us have no more nonsense about the true value of ship or cargo as they stand."
They looked startled at his tone. Mayne went on before they could recover.
"The object I have in mind, if it seems at all possible, is to put Captain Voorhis back in business without costing Mr. Melin his job. Now, let's put our heads together on that problem and worry about justifying ourselves later."
The most difficult part was to convince Voorhis to surrender his dream of fantastic profits; but sometime before Mayne got hoarse, the captain was made to see that he could not have his cake and eat it, too.
Melin agreed that he might pay the paper value of the Gemsbok if he could pay likewise for the cargo, in which case he would admit a loss. After all, a spaceship anchored by a temple might reasonably be termed unspaceworthy. He would take over the cargo and cut his losses by allowing the government to buy it at two million.
"You wanna come with me next trip?" invited Voorhis when he heard this. "If that's how you cut loose, we'll make a fortune!"
"Well, there it is," said Mayne, straightening up to ease his aching back. He must have been leaning tensely
Comments (0)