C Kornbluth - His Share of Glory The Complete Short Science Fiction

"Then," he said, "since the illusion is saved, let's get to work. One hundred yards of silver wire—no, make it seventy; we can always buy more."

What's that thing?" asked Ann, peering curiously at an odd-looking setupTrain was working on. "A little something. I plan to scare hell out of Hartly with it. A frequency inductor—I can get the wavelength of his inter-office system and bellow in his ear."

"Very cute," she said thoughtfully. "What's the second tube for?"

"Steps up the tertiary vibrations. I could have used a seven-phase transformer with better effect, but a tube's cheaper and we happened to have one left over."

He twisted a final screw contact into place. "Finished," he announced,

"shall we call up T. J?"

The curiosity was gone. There was only sudden anguish in her eyes as she clung to him. "Barney!" She buried her face against his shoulder.

"What shall we do if anything goes wrong?"

For a brief second her fears leaped through him as he comforted her in the only way he knew. Then cold reason reached in. His voice was steady as he answered: "Nothing will. Independent Fourteen's checked and triple-checked. We've tested it and it clicks every time. What are you worried about?"

"Hartly's a smart man. He has to be to stay on top of World Research. He must have things up his sleeve that no one has ever dreamed about.

Wasn't he a scientist himself before he rose from the ranks to the executive department? It's men like that you have to watch out for.

Never trust a reformed technician."

Train smiled happily. "There's nothing to be afraid of. It's the nature of Independent Fourteen that has him licked before he can start. With this priceless gimmick we have a machine that will give us unlimited personal power and protection. I'm going to play our cards for everything they're worth."

"Barney, isn't there a chance that we might compromise?" She waved aside the protests that sprang to his lips. "I know," she said. "The Syndicate's the greediest octopus that ever got its suckers around the life-blood of a world. It's utterly contemptible—and yet, it's too powerful for its own good—and maybe for ours. Couldn't we compromise and lull their suspicions?"

"Not one bloody chance in a billion!" Train snapped harshly.

"Independent Fourteen's our only trump card, but it's the winner in this game as soon as we see fit to play it."

"I guess you're right, Barney," said Ann wearily. "Call up Mr. Hartly on that gimmick while I warm up Fourteen." She turned to a corner of the room cleared except for a bulky piece of machinery, protrusive with tubes and coils, built around heavy castings bolted together, mounted on wheels. Ann fingered a switchboard carefully, and tubes began to glow with fiery electrical life while sparks snapped from point to point.

"Mr. Hartly, please," said Train quietly into a grid of his instrument.

"Hartly speaking," boomed from a loudspeaker connected with the tiny device. "Who is this?"

"Dr. Train. Do you remember?"

There was a sudden click. "You can't hang up, Hartly. If you look, you'll find that your phone's blown out. I'm using irregular channels."

A long pause, then Hardy's voice came through again, this time tinged with wonder. "How did you get back from M-15, Train, and when did you do it?"

"You paid me to come back, Hartly. I drew the full salary of a guard while returning to Earth on his regular vacation. I've been here some twenty days."

"Extraordinary," breathed the great man. "And I suppose you've been setting up that silly machine of yours?"

"Not so silly," replied Train ominously. "It works like Merlin's wand—

that neat and efficient."

"Then it's no use my sending men around to Miss Riley's flat—I assume that is where you are—to arrest you as an escaped convict."

"No use whatsoever. I can make them feel very foolish, if I so desire. Or I can simply wipe them out without any fuss at all. I'm a practical man, Hartly. Most scientists are—you were one once, yourself, I understand."

"Bacteriologist. Occupied in saving lives. It was wonderful for awhile, but I found eventually that there was no future in it."

"Despicable attitude, Hartly. It shows up throughout your career. It was your career, by the by, that I want to discuss with you, anyway."

"What about my career?"

"Just two words, Hartly. It's over."

Hartly's chuckle was silk-smooth. "How so, Doctor? I was under the impression that it had barely begun."

"I'm warning you, Hartly, not to take this as a joke. I haven't forgotten what it was you wanted to do to me on M-15, and what I was supposed to be doing in the process. I'd have more scruples about killing a scorpion than you, Hartly."

"No doubt about that," came the answer. "So would many misguided persons. But the interesting thing about it is that they have always ended up among insuperable difficulties. You may make me a concrete proposition, Doctor."

"I may and I will! The proposition is this: your unqualified resignation from the directorship and organization of World Research Syndicate, and an assignment to me of unlimited reorganization powers for the period of one year."

Hartly's voice was mocking in tone. "Yes? World Research is a rather large enterprise. Do you think one year would be enough?"

"Ample. Your answer?"

A long pause, then: "My answer is unqualified refusal."

"Based on what? Make no mistake: I shan't hesitate to blot you out any longer than you would hesitate to do the same to me—unless you capitulate. And the difference, T J., is that I can do it and you cannot."

"Admitted," came back Hartly's voice cheerfully. "But surely, Doctor, you didn't think that I have not been preparing—in fact, been prepared—for just such an occasion as this ever since I came into power?"

"Explain," snapped the scientist. "And talk fast and straight."

Hartly's voice was now unperturbed. "When a question of conflict arises, it's either a matter of personal gain or benefit to the world. I've been faced by determined men before, Train. Those who were after personal advancement could be compromised with and later eliminated by quick thinking and quicker action.

"However, altruists presented a different problem. Most of them could not be bribed. Some of them were powerful enough, by reason of their ability or backing, or both, to issue a flat defiance to me. Those I threatened with the thing they loved most—humanity."

"Come to the point, Hardy. I'm not too patient a man in some ways."

"I was a bacteriologist once," went on Hartly. "And, in the course of my research, I developed a nasty variety of bread-mold. It attacks anything organic and spreads like wildfire. I know of nothing to check it, nor does anyone else. It thrives at any temperature and flourishes off corrosive agents."

"So?"

"So, Doctor Train, make one false move, as they say in melodrama, and I release an active culture of that mold; you will then see your flesh crumble away. I realize that alone wouldn't stop you, but the thought of what will then happen to the teeming millions of Earth will."

Another silence, then: "I decided long ago, Train, that no one would wipe me out. True, someone might come along with bigger and better power, even as you have done, but, as you can see, if there's any blotting out to be done, I shall do it myself.

"It will mean the end of World Research and of me. It will also mean the end of all animal life on this planet. If you want a Pyrrhic victory, Train, you may have it."

"It's horrible!" cried Ann, her eyes wide with the shock of it. "Can he do it, Barney?"

"Miss Riley," came through the voice. "Perhaps you remember the occasion of our first meeting. Do you think me the type of man to try a bluff?"