Short Fiction Algis Budrys (best large ereader TXT) 📖

you to your death. Is it because you tried to kill him earlier? Did you get his Martian secret?”

Sollenar shook his head.

“You didn’t get it.” Ermine sighed. “That’s unfortunate. I’ll have to take steps.”

“Under the By-Laws,” Sollenar said, “I cry laissez faire.”

Ermine looked up, his eyes twinkling. “Laissez faire? Mr. Sollenar, do you have any idea how many of our members are involved in your fortunes? They will cry laissez faire, Mr. Sollenar, but clearly you persist in dragging them down with you. No, sir, Mr. Sollenar, my office now forwards an immediate recommendation to the Technical Advisory Committee of the I.A.B. that Mr. Burr probably has a system superior to yours, and that stock in Sollenar, Incorporated, had best be disposed of.”

“There’s a bench,” Sollenar said. “Let’s sit down.”

“As you wish.” Ermine moved beside Sollenar to the bench, but remained standing.

“What is it, Mr. Sollenar?”

“I want your help. You advised me on what Burr had. It’s still in his office building, somewhere. You have resources. We can get it.”

“Laissez faire, Mr. Sollenar. I visited you in an advisory capacity. I can do no more.”

“For a partnership in my affairs could you do more?”

“Money?” Ermine tittered. “For me? Do you know the conditions of my employment?”

If he had thought, Sollenar would have remembered. He reached out tentatively. Ermine anticipated him.

Ermine bared his left arm and sank his teeth into it. He displayed the arm. There was no quiver of pain in voice or stance. “It’s not a legend, Mr. Sollenar. It’s quite true. We of our office must spend a year, after the nerve surgery, learning to walk without the feel of our feet, to handle objects without crushing them or letting them slip, or damaging ourselves. Our mundane pleasures are auditory, olfactory, and visual. Easily gratified at little expense. Our dreams are totally interior, Mr. Sollenar. The operation is irreversible. What would you buy for me with your money?”

“What would I buy for myself?” Sollenar’s head sank down between his shoulders.

Ermine bent over him. “Your despair is your own, Mr. Sollenar. I have official business with you.”

He lifted Sollenar’s chin with a forefinger. “I judge physical interference to be unwarranted at this time. But matters must remain so that the I.A.B. members involved with you can recover the value of their investments in E.V. Is that perfectly clear, Mr. Sollenar? You are hereby enjoined under the By-Laws, as enforced by the Special Public Relations Office.” He glanced at his watch. “Notice was served at 1:27 a.m., City time.”

“1:27,” Sollenar said. “City time.” He sprang to his feet and raced down a companionway to the taxi level.

Mr. Ermine watched him quizzically.

He opened his costume, took out his omnipresent medical kit, and sprayed coagulant over the wound in his forearm. Replacing the kit, he adjusted his clothing and strolled down the same companionway Sollenar had run. He raised an arm, and a taxi flittered down beside him. He showed the driver a card, and the cab lifted off with him, its lights glaring in a Priority pattern, far faster than Sollenar’s ordinary legal limit allowed.

IV

Long Island Facility vaulted at the stars in great kangaroo-leaps of arch and cantilever span, jeweled in glass and metal as if the entire port were a mechanism for navigating interplanetary space. Rufus Sollenar paced its esplanades, measuring his steps, holding his arms still, for the short time until he could board the Mars rocket.

Erect and majestic, he took a place in the lounge and carefully sipped liqueur, once the liner had boosted away from Earth and coupled in its Faraday main drives.

Mr. Ermine settled into the place beside him.

Sollenar looked over at him calmly. “I thought so.”

Ermine nodded. “Of course you did. But I didn’t almost miss you. I was here ahead of you. I have no objection to your going to Mars, Mr. Sollenar. Laissez faire. Provided I can go along.”

“Well,” Rufus Sollenar said. “Liqueur?” He gestured with his glass.

Ermine shook his head. “No, thank you,” he said delicately.

Sollenar said: “Even your tongue?”

“Of course my tongue, Mr. Sollenar. I taste nothing. I touch nothing.” Ermine smiled. “But I feel no pressure.”

“All right, then,” Rufus Sollenar said crisply. “We have several hours to landing time. You sit and dream your interior dreams, and I’ll dream mine.” He faced around in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“Mr. Sollenar,” Ermine said gently.

“Yes?”

“I am once again with you by appointment as provided under the By-Laws.”

“State your business, Mr. Ermine.”

“You are not permitted to lie in an unknown grave, Mr. Sollenar. Insurance policies on your life have been taken out at a high premium rate. The I.A.B. members concerned cannot wait the statutory seven years to have you declared dead. Do what you will, Mr. Sollenar, but I must take care I witness your death. From now on, I am with you wherever you go.”

Sollenar smiled. “I don’t intend to die. Why should I die, Mr. Ermine?”

“I have no idea, Mr. Sollenar. But I know Cortwright Burr’s character. And isn’t that he, seated there in the corner? The light is poor, but I think he’s recognizable.”

Across the lounge, Burr raised his head and looked into Sollenar’s eyes. He raised a hand near his face, perhaps merely to signify greeting. Rufus Sollenar faced front.

“A worthy opponent, Mr. Sollenar,” Ermine said. “A persevering, unforgiving, ingenious man. And yet⁠—” Ermine seemed a little touched by bafflement. “And yet it seems to me, Mr. Sollenar, that he got you running rather easily. What did happen between you, after my advisory call?”

Sollenar turned a terrible smile on Ermine. “I shot him to pieces. If you’d peel his face, you’d see.”

Ermine sighed. “Up to this moment, I had thought perhaps you might still salvage your affairs.”

“Pity, Mr. Ermine? Pity for the insane?”

“Interest. I can take no part in your world. Be grateful, Mr. Sollenar. I am not the same gullible man I was when I signed my contract with I.A.B., so many years ago.”

Sollenar laughed. Then he stole a glance at Burr’s corner.

The ship came down at Abernathy Field, in Aresia, the Terrestrial city. Industrialized, prefabricated, jerry-built and