Harry Harrison: Deathworld

Unhappiness rode like a weight on Kerk’s broad shoulders. After long moments of thought he moved visibly to shake it off. Returning his attention to his food and mopping the gravy from his plate, he voiced part of his feelings.

“I suppose there is no logical reason why we should stay and fight this endless war. Except that Pyrrus is our home.” The last piece of gravy-soaked bread vanished and he waved the empty fork at Jason.

“Be happy you’re an off-worlder and will never have to see it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Jason said as calmly as he could. “You see, I’m going back with you.”

“Don’t talk stupidly,” Kerk said as he punched for a duplicate order of steak. “There are much simpler ways of committing suicide. Don’t you realize that you’re a millionaire now? With what you have in your pocket you can relax the rest of your life on the pleasure planets. Pyrrus is a death world, not a sightseeing spot for jaded tourists. I cannot permit you to return with me.”

Gamblers who lose their tempers don’t last long. Jason was angry now. Yet it showed only in a negative way. In the lack of expression on his face and the calmness of his voice.

“Don’t tell me what I can or cannot do, Kerk Pyrrus. You’re a big man with a fast gun — but that doesn’t make you my boss. All you can do is stop me from going back on your ship. But I can easily afford to get there another way. And don’t try to tell me I want to go to Pyrrus for sightseeing when you have no idea of my real reasons.”

Jason didn’t even try to explain his reasons, they were only half realized and too personal. The more he traveled, the more things looked the same to him. The old, civilized planets sank into a drab similarity. Frontier worlds all had the crude sameness of temporary camps in a forest. Not that the galactic worlds bored him. It was just that he had found their limitations — yet had never found his own. Until he met Kerk he had acknowledged no man his superior, or even his equal. This was more than egotism. It was facing facts. Now he was forced to face the fact that there was a whole world of people who might be superior to him. Jason could never rest content until he had been there and seen for himself. Even if he died in the attempt.

None of this could be told to Kerk. There were other reasons he would understand better.

“You’re not thinking ahead when you prevent me from going to Pyrrus,” Jason said. “I’ll not mention any moral debt you owe me for winning that money you needed. But what about the next time? If you needed that much lethal goods once, you’ll probably need it again some day. Wouldn’t it be better to have me on hand — old tried and true — than dreaming up some new and possibly unreliable scheme?”

Kerk chewed pensively on the second serving of steak. “That makes sense. And I must admit I hadn’t thought of it before. One failing we Pyrrans have is a lack of interest in the future. Staying alive day by day is enough trouble. So we tend to face emergencies as they arrive and let the dim future take care of itself. You can come. I hope you will still be alive when we need you. As Pyrran ambassador to a lot of places I officially invite you to our planet. All expenses paid. On the condition you obey completely all our instructions regarding your personal safety.”

“Conditions accepted,” Jason said. And wondered why he was so cheerful about signing his own death warrant.

Kerk was shoveling his way through his third dessert when his alarm watch gave a tiny hum. He dropped his fork instantly and stood up. “Time to go,” he said. “We’re on schedule now.” While Jason scrambled to his feet, he jammed coins into the meter until the paid light came on. Then they were out the door and walking fast.

Jason wasn’t at all surprised when they came on a public escalator just behind the restaurant. He was beginning to realize that since leaving the Casino their every move had been carefully planned and timed. Without a doubt the alarm was out and the entire planet being searched for them. Yet so far they hadn’t noticed the slightest sign of pursuit. This wasn’t the first time Jason had to move just one jump ahead of the authorities — but it was the first time he had let someone else lead him by the hand while he did it. He had to smile at his own automatic agreement. He had been a loner for so many years that he found a certain inverse pleasure in following someone else.

“Hurry up,” Kerk growled after a quick glance at his watch. He set a steady, killing pace up the escalator steps. They went up five levels that way — without seeing another person — before Kerk relented and let the escalator do the work.

Jason prided himself on keeping in condition. But the sudden climb, after the sleepless night, left him panting heavily and soaked with sweat. Kerk, cool of forehead and breathing normally, didn’t show the slightest sign that he had been running.

They were at the second motor level when Kerk stepped off the slowly rising steps and waved Jason after him. As they came through the exit to the street a car pulled up to the curb in front of them. Jason had enough sense not to reach for his gun. At the exact moment they reached the car the driver opened the door and stepped out. Kerk passed him a slip of paper without saying a word and slipped in behind the wheel. There was just time for Jason to jump in before the car pulled away. The entire transfer had taken less than three seconds.

There had been only a glimpse of the driver in the dim light, but Jason had recognized him. Of course he had never seen the man before, but after knowing Kerk he couldn’t mistake the compact strength of a native Pyrran.

“That was the receipt from Ellus you gave him,” Jason said.

“Of course. That takes care of the ship and the cargo. They’ll be off-planet and safely away before the casino check is traced to Ellus. So now let’s look after ourselves. I’ll explain the plan in detail so there will be no slip-ups on your part. I’ll go through the whole thing once and if there are any questions you’ll ask them when I’m finished.”

The tones of command were so automatic that Jason found himself listening in quiet obedience. Though one part of his mind wanted him to smile at the quick assumption of his incompetence.

Kerk swung the car into the steady line of traffic heading out of the city to the spaceport. He drove easily while he talked.

“There is a search on in the city, but we’re well ahead of that. I’m sure the Cassylians don’t want to advertise their bad sportsmanship so there won’t be anything as crude as a roadblock. But the port will be crawling with every agent they have. They know once the money gets off-planet it is gone forever. When we make a break for it they will be sure we still have the goods. So there will be no trouble with the munition ship getting clear.”

Jason sounded a little shocked. “You mean you’re setting us up as clay pigeons to cover the take-off of the ship.”

“You could put it that way. But since we have to get off-planet anyway, there is no harm in using our escape as a smokescreen. Now shut up until I’ve finished, like I told you. One more interruption and I dump you by the road.”

Jason was sure he would. He listened intently — and quietly — as Kerk repeated word for word what he had said before, then continued.

“The official car gate will probably be wide open with the traffic through it. And a lot of the agents will be in plain clothes. We might even get onto the field without being recognized, though I doubt it. It is of no importance. We will drive through the gate and to the take-off pad. The Pride of Darkhan , for which we hold tickets, will be sounding its two-minute siren and unhooking the gangway. By the time we get to our seats the ship will take off.”