Short Fiction Mack Reynolds (best ereader for pdf and epub .txt) 📖

“Of course, captain,” Balt Haer flicked his swagger stick against his leg. “But to the point. Your squadron is to be deployed as scouts under my overall command. You’ve had cavalry experience, I assume.”

“Yes, sir. In various fracases over the past fifteen years.”

“Very well. Now then, to get to the reason I have summoned you. Yesterday in my father’s office you intimated that you had some grandiose scheme which would bring victory to the Haer colors. But then, on some thin excuse, refused to divulge just what the scheme might be.”

Joe Mauser looked at him unblinkingly.

Balt Haer said: “Now I’d like to have your opinion on just how Vacuum Tube Transport can extract itself from what would seem a poor position at best.”

In all there were four others in the office, two women clerks fluttering away at typers, and two of Balt Haer’s junior officers. They seemed only mildly interested in the conversation between Balt and Joe.

Joe wet his lips carefully. The Haer scion was his commanding officer. He said, “Sir, what I had in mind is a new gimmick. At this stage, if I told anybody and it leaked, it’d never be effective, not even this first time.”

Haer observed him coldly. “And you think me incapable of keeping your secret, ah, gimmick, I believe is the idiomatic term you used.”

Joe Mauser’s eyes shifted around the room, taking in the other four, who were now looking at him.

Bait Haer rapped, “These members of my staff are all trusted Haer employees, Captain Mauser. They are not fly-by-night freelancers hired for a week or two.”

Joe said, “Yes, sir. But it’s been my experience that one person can hold a secret. It’s twice as hard for two, and from there on it’s a decreasing probability in a geometric ratio.”

The younger Haer’s stick rapped the side of his leg, impatiently. “Suppose I inform you that this is a command, captain? I have little confidence in a supposed gimmick that will rescue our forces from disaster and I rather dislike the idea of a captain of one of my squadrons dashing about with such a bee in his bonnet when he should be obeying my commands.”

Joe kept his voice respectful. “Then, sir, I’d request that we take the matter to the Commander in Chief, your father.”

“Indeed!”

Joe said, “Sir, I’ve been working on this a long time. I can’t afford to risk throwing the idea away.”

Bait Haer glared at him. “Very well, captain. I’ll call your bluff, come along.” He turned on his heel and headed from the room.

Joe Mauser shrugged in resignation and followed him.

The old Baron wasn’t much happier about Joe Mauser’s secrets than was his son. It had only been the day before that he had taken Joe on, but already he had seemed to have aged in appearance. Evidently, each hour that went by made it increasingly clear just how perilous a position he had assumed. Vacuum Tube Transport had elbowed, buffaloed, bluffed and edged itself up to the outskirts of the really big time. The Baron’s ability, his aggressiveness, his flair, his political pull, had all helped, but now the chips were down. He was up against one of the biggies, and this particular biggy was tired of ambitious little Vacuum Tube Transport.

He listened to his son’s words, listened to Joe’s defense.

He said, looking at Joe, “If I understand this, you have some scheme which you think will bring victory in spite of what seems a disastrous situation.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two Haers looked at him, one impatiently, the other in weariness.

Joe said, “I’m gambling everything on this, sir. I’m no Rank Private in his first fracas. I deserve to be given some leeway.”

Balt Haer snorted. “Gambling everything! What in Zen would you have to gamble, captain? The whole Haer family fortunes are tied up. Hovercraft is out for blood. They won’t be satisfied with a token victory and a negotiated compromise. They’ll devastate us. Thousands of mercenaries killed, with all that means in indemnities; millions upon million in expensive military equipment, most of which we’ve had to hire and will have to recompensate for. Can you imagine the value of our stock after Stonewall Cogswell has finished with us? Why, every two by four trucking outfit in North America will be challenging us, and we won’t have the forces to meet a minor skirmish.”

Joe reached into an inner pocket and laid a sheaf of documents on the desk of Baron Malcolm Haer. The Baron scowled down at them.

Joe said simply, “I’ve been accumulating stock since before I was eighteen and I’ve taken good care of my portfolio in spite of taxes and the various other pitfalls which make the accumulation of capital practically impossible. Yesterday, I sold all of my portfolio I was legally allowed to sell and converted to Vacuum Tube Transport.” He added, dryly, “Getting it at an excellent rate, by the way.”

Balt Haer mulled through the papers, unbelievingly. “Zen!” he ejaculated. “The fool really did it. He’s sunk a small fortune into our stock.”

Baron Haer growled at his son, “You seem considerably more convinced of our defeat than the captain, here. Perhaps I should reverse your positions of command.”

His son grunted, but said nothing.

Old Malcolm Haer’s eyes came back to Joe. “Admittedly, I thought you on the romantic side yesterday, with your hints of some scheme which would lead us out of the wilderness, so to speak. Now I wonder if you might not really have something. Very well, I respect your claimed need for secrecy. Espionage is not exactly an antiquated military field.”

“Thank you, sir.”

But the Baron was still staring at him. “However, there’s more to it than that. Why not take this great scheme to Marshal Cogswell? And yesterday you mentioned that the Telly sets of the nation would be tuned in on this fracas, and obviously you are correct. The question becomes, what of it?”

The fat was in the fire now. Joe Mauser avoided the haughty stare of young Balt Haer and addressed himself