Ultima Thule, Mack Reynolds [the mitten read aloud TXT] 📗

Tog was at her communicator when he entered the tiny ship's lounge. Ronny could see in the brilliant little screen of the compact device, the grinning face of Sid Jakes. Tog looked up at Ronny and smiled, then clicked the device off.

“What's new?” Ronny said.

She moved graceful shoulders. “I just called Supervisor Jakes. Evidently there's complete confusion on New Delos. Mobs are storming the temples. In the capital the priests tried to present a new God-King and he was laughed out of town.”

Ronny snorted cynically. “Sounds good to me. The more I read about New Delos and its God-King and his [pg 035] priesthood, the more I think the best thing that ever happened to the planet was this showing them up.”

Tog looked at him, the sides of her mouth tucking down as usual when she was going to contradict something he said. “It sounds bad to me,” she said. “Tommy Paine's work is done. He'll be off to some other place and we won't get there in time to snare him.”

Ronny considered that. It was probably true. “I wonder,” he said slowly, “if it's possible for us to get a list of all ships that have blasted off since the assassination, all ships and their destination from New Delos.”

The idea grew in him. “Look! It's possible that a dictatorial government such as theirs would immediately quarantine every spaceport on the planet.”

Tog said, “There's only one spaceport on New Delos. The priesthood didn't encourage trade or even communication with the outside. Didn't want its people contaminated.”

“Holy smokes!” Ronny blurted. “It's possible that Tommy Paine's on that planet and can't get off. Look, Tog, see if you can raise the Section G representative on New Delos and—”

Tog said demurely, “I already have taken that step, Ronny, knowing that you'd want me to. Agent Mouley Hassan has promised to get the name and destination of every passenger that leaves New Delos.”

Ronny sat down at a table and dialed himself a mug of stout. “Drink?” he said to Tog. “Possibly we've got something to celebrate.”

She shook her head disapprovingly. “I don't use depressants.”

There was nothing more to be discussed about New Delos, they simply would have to wait until their arrival. Ronny switched subjects. “Ever hear of the planet Shangri-La?” he asked her. He took a sip of his brew.

“Of course,” she said. “A rather small planet, Earth type within four degrees. Noted for its near perfect climate and its scenic beauty.”

“Captain was talking about it,” Ronny said. “Sounds like a regular paradise.”

Tog made a negative sound.

“Well, what's wrong with Shangri-La?” Ronny said impatiently.

“Static,” she said briefly.

He looked at her. “It sounds to me as though it's developed a near perfect socio-economic system. What do you mean, static?”

“No push, no drive,” Tog said definitely. “Everyone—what is the old term?—everyone has it made. The place is stagnating. I wouldn't be surprised to see Tommy Paine show up there sooner or later.”

Ronny said, “Look, since we've known each other, have I ever said anything you agree with?”

Tog raised her delicate eyebrows. “Why, Ronny. You know perfectly well we both agreed that the eggs for breakfast were quite inedible.”

Ronny came to his feet again. Considering her size, she certainly was an irritating baggage. “I think I'll go to my room and see if I can get any inspirations on tracking down our quarry.”

“Good night, Ronny,” she said demurely.

They ran into a minor difficulty upon arrival at New Delos. The captain called both Ronny Bronston and Tog Lee Chang Chu to the bridge.

He nodded in the direction of the communications screen. A bald headed, robed character—obviously a priest—scowled at them.

Captain Woiski said, “The Sub-Bishop informs me that the provisional government has ruled that any spacecraft landing on New Delos cannot take off again without permission and that every individual who lands, even United Planets personnel, will need an exit visa before being allowed to depart.”

Ronny said, “Then you can't land?”

The captain said reasonably, “My destination is Merlini. I've gone out of my way slightly to drop you off here. But I can't afford to take the chance of having my ship tied up for what might be an indefinite period. Evidently, there's considerably civil disorder down there.”

From the screen the priest snapped, “That is an inaccurate manner of describing the situation.”

“Sorry,” the captain said dryly.

Ronny Bronston said desperately, “But, captain, Miss Tog and I simply have to land.” He reached for his badge. “High priority, Bureau of Investigation.”

The captain shrugged his hefty shoulders. “Sorry, I have no instructions that allow me to risk tying up my ship. Here's a possibility. Can you pilot a landing craft? I could spare you one, then you and your assistant would be the only ones involved. You could turn it over to whatever Space Forces base we have here.”

Ronny said miserably, “No. I'm not a space pilot.”

“I am,” Tog said softly. “The idea sounds excellent.”

“We shall expect you,” the Sub-Bishop said. The screen went blank.

Tog Lee Chang Chu piloted a landing craft with the same verve that she seemed to be able to handle any other responsibility. As he sat in the seat next to her, Ronny Bronston took in her practiced flicking of the controls from the side of his eyes. He wondered vaguely at the efficiency of such Section G officials as Metaxa and Jakes that they would assign an unknown quality such as himself to a task as important as running down Tommy Paine, and then as an assistant provide him with an experienced operative such as Tog. The bureaucratic mind can be a dilly, he decided. Was the fact that she was a rather delicately constructed girl a factor? He felt the weight of the Model-H gun nestled under his left armpit. Perhaps in the clutch Section G preferred men as agents.

They swooped into a landing that brought them as close to the control tower as was practical. In a matter of moments there was a guard of twenty or more sloppily uniformed men about their small craft.

Tog made a move. “Welcoming committee,” she said.

[pg 037]

They climbed out the circular port, and flashed their United Planets Bureau of Investigation badges to the youngish looking soldier who seemed in command. He was indecisive.

“United Planets?” he said. “All I know is I'm supposed to arrest anybody landing.”

Ronny snapped, “We're to be taken immediately to United Planets headquarters.”

“Well, I don't know about that. I don't take orders from foreigners.”

One of his men was nervously fingering the trigger of his submachine gun.

Ronny's mouth went dry. He had the feeling of being high, high on a rock face, inadequately belayed from above.

Tog said smoothly, “But, major, I'm sure whoever issued your orders had no expectation of a special delegation from the United Planets coming to congratulate your new authorities on their success. Of course, it's unknown to arrest a delegation from United Planets.”

“It is?” he frowned at her. “I mean, you are?”

“Yes,” Tog said sweetly.

Ronny took the hint. “Where can we find a vehicle, major, to get us to the capital and to United Planets headquarters? Evidently we arrived before we were expected. There should have been a big welcoming committee here.”

“Oh,” the obviously recently promoted lad said hesitantly. “Well, I suppose we can make arrangements. This way please.” He grinned at Tog as they walked toward the administration building. “Do all girls dress like you on Earth?”

“Well, no,” she said demurely.

“That's too bad,” he said gallantly.

“Why, major!” Tog said, keeping her eyes on the tarmac.

At the administration building there was little of order, but eventually they managed to arrange for their transportation. Luckily, they were [pg 038] supplied with a chauffeur driven helio-car.

Luckily, because without the chauffeur to help them run the gauntlet they would have been held up by parades, demonstrations and monstrous street meetings a dozen times before they ever reached their destination. Twice, Ronny stopped short of drawing his gun only by a fraction when half drunken demonstrators stopped them.

The driver, a wispy, sad looking type, shook his head. “There's no going back now,” he told them over his shoulder. “No going back. Last week I was all with the rest, I never did believe David the One was really Immortal. But you was just used to the idea, see? It'd always been that way, with the priests running everything and we was used to it. Now I wish we was still that way. At least you knew how you stood, see? Now, what's going to happen?”

“That's an interesting question,” Tog said politely.

Ronny said, “Possibly you'll have the chance to build a better world, now.”

The driver shot a contemptuous look over his shoulder. “Better world? What do I want with a better world? I just don't want to be bothered. I've been getting my three squares a day, got a nice little flat for my family. How do I know it's not going to be a worse world?”

“That's always a possibility,” Tog told him. “Do most people seem to feel the same?”

“Practically everybody I know does,” he said glumly. “But the fat's in the fire now. The priests are trying to hold on but their government is falling apart all over the place.”

“Well,” Ronny said, “at least you can figure just about anything in the way of a new government will be better than one based on superstition and inquisition. It couldn't get worse.”

“Things can always get worse,” the other contradicted him sadly.

They left the cab before an impressively tall, many windowed building in city center. As they mounted the steps, Ronny frowned at her. “You seemed to be encouraging that man in his pessimism. So far as I can see, the best thing that ever happened to this planet was toppling that phony priesthood.”

“Perhaps,” she said agreeably. “However, the man's mind was an ossified one.