Robert Silverberg - The Planet Killers

There were calls from Smee and Weegan in the morning, wanting explanations of the delay. As clearly as he dared, Gardner told them the story: that Archer was dead, and that they would all have to hang fire until a replacement arrived. He let them infer that he had already sent the coded distress signal to Earth that would get a replacement on his way.

Weegan took the news philosophically enough. He hadn’t been on Lurion long enough for the assignment to have gotten under his skin.

But Smee was expectably agitated. “I can’t take much more of this, Gardner. Any day now I’m going to blow my stack. If there’s any more delay…”

Gardner calmed him, avoiding Smee’s eyes as he assured him soothingly that everything would proceed on schedule, that in a very short time the project would be completed. Smee seemed to accept the balm, although reluctantly. Gardner realized that Smee could not be counted on much longer.

There was no sign of Lori in the dining room when Gardner finally got off the screen and could go down for breakfast. After eating, Gardner repaired to the jewel exchange and looked around for Steeves.

Since the abortive luncheon date, Steeves and Gardner had seemed to avoid each other by unspoken mutual consent. The abrupt end of the little meeting had been too embarrassing.

Gardner reddened now in memory as he approached Steeves’ trading area.

“Steeves, can I talk to you for a moment? Not on business.”

The older man frowned. “What is it?” he said impatiently.

“It’s about that lunch we had, I want to say I’m sorry for charging out that way. I was… upset.”

“Well? What of it?”

“I’ve been thinking things over, Steeves. I’d like a chance to meet those two again.”

“Why? Planning to peddle them to the government?”

“You know I’m not an informer,” Gardner said sharply. “I want to talk to them again. I think I might be able to make them an offer of support. A considerably larger offer than you might expect me capable of.”

Steeves was thoughtfully silent. At length he said, “All right, Gardner. Tonight, at my place. The address is 623 Thuurin Square. But I warn you, if this is sonie kind of trick—”

“I’ll see you tonight. And thanks for giving me the second chance.”

Gardner walked rapidly away.

The day passed slowly. Gardner made, broke, remade his decisions a hundred times. He remembered how Karnes had said, “ I might as well tell you that I don’t think you’re the man for the job. But the computer does, though.” Chalk up another error for the computer. Karnes, with his merely human abilities, had been a shrewder judge of character.

He left the exchange early and returned to the hotel. A close, dank fog hung low over the city, blanketing the streets; and a warm, muggy rain was starting to fall. It was the kind of weather, Gardner thought, that caused rot—of clothing and of men’s souls.

The visi-screen was bleeping when he walked in. Quickly Gardner activated it.

It was Smee again.

This time Smee looked more upset than ever. His face was pale and shiny with sweat, and the few strands of his hair seemed glued to his scalp by perspiration. His hands, just visible in the lower corner of the screen, were quivering visibly.

“What is it?” Gardner asked. “Are you going to keep calling me every couple of hours?”

Smee’s face was piteous. “Listen, Gardner,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “I’m coming apart at the seams. I can’t take it any more.”

“You’ve lasted this long, Smee. Can’t you hang on a little while longer?”

“It’s been six months of hell. I… I nearly killed myself half an hour ago.”

“Smee!”

Gardner wanted to reach out into the screen, seize the other man by his thick shoulders, and shake him back into sanity. Smee’s head was bowed, his eyes downcast and weary-looking.

“I’m fighting it, Gardner. I want to do my part in the project. But, dammit, can’t you understand what this sort of life is doing to me?”

“Look, Smee, the replacement for Archer will be here soon,” Gardner lied. “A few days…”

“Weeks!”

“But the man is coming. Take hold of yourself, Smee. Don’t wreck everything for the rest of us. Try to hang on a little while longer.”

“It’s hard, Gardner.”

“Try.”

“I’ll… try.”

Gardner smiled. “Good man. Ease up, now. Call me again, if you have to. Remember, it’ll all be over soon.”

“I hope so,” Smee said. His voice was a harsh, doleful croak.

After the screen had cleared, Gardner sat back, anxiously knotting his hands together. He was dripping wet, as much from his own state of tension as from the mugginess of the weather.

Tonight, he thought, would see the tale told. Either he would throw up the project entirely, or he would proceed as ordered. In the latter instance, he would have to ask for replacements: a replacement for Archer and probably one for Smee. The man might possibly hold together for the weeks it would take for a new agent to arrive, but it was doubtful. Smee was going to pieces in a hurry. He would be no good for anything except a pension, whenever he did get off Lurion. No executioner, Gardner thought, should be required to hold the gun at his victim’s head for six, almost seven, solid months before pulling the trigger.

Someone knocked unexpectedly at the door.

Gardner glanced up, startled. “Who is it?”

“Lori. I want to talk to you, Roy.”

He opened the door. The girl looked tense and distraught. She was dressed in prim, unseductively severe clothes, in sharp contrast to the way she had looked the last time she had knocked on his door.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Roy?”

“I… suppose so.” He held the door open uncertainly. “But… I thought we had agreed not to see each other any more after last night, Lori.”

“That was our agreement. And maybe I shouldn’t have broken it. But, I think you owe me some explanations, Roy. That’s why I’m here.”

He remained standing, and so did she. “What sort of explanations?”

Her eyes did not meet his. “It was the wrong thing for me to do, I know,” she said in a hollow voice. “Call it schoolgirl jealousy, call it whatever you want. But I went to the Customs Office this morning and checked your immigration records.”

Gardner felt as though he had been butted in the stomach. But he said nothing.

Lori went on, in the same remote tone, “I told them I wanted to know if you were married. They didn’t like the idea of showing me your papers, but when I told them how you… you had…” She paused. “When I told them, and gave them some money besides, they were willing to let me look. Your entrance papers say you’re not married. Why did you tell me you were, Roy? Did you want that badly to get rid of me?”

Gardner was dumbfounded. He said lamely, “I never thought you’d check the records, Lori.”

“It’s terrible of me to come in here and accuse you like this. The ladylike thing to do would be to swallow my pride and forget the whole affair. But, Roy, how could you lie to me that way?”

“I had to.”

“To preserve your precious bachelorhood? I wasn’t going to entrap you forever,” she said bitterly. “You didn’t have to think I would spin a web around you and suck your blood.”

“It wasn’t anything like that,” Gardner said thickly. “I have… had… professional reasons for not wanting to get emotionally involved with’ anybody on Lurion.”

“Professional reasons?”

He nodded helplessly. The girl stared strangely at him. Quietly she said, “I wonder just what your profession is.”