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timetable called for it, and although Amalfi had already been forced to abandon much of Hazleton's strategy-Hazleton's timetable, for instance, had called for a treacherous Utopian landing on Gort, with the full force of the Hamiltonians thrown behind delivering the Hruntan planet into the hands of the Earth police-the notion of bargaining with the cops for the planet still seemed to have merit. Dismissing Carrel, Amalfi went to his office, where he took the flexible plastic dust cover off a little-used instrument: the Dirac transmitter. It was the only form of communication which the Hruntans-and, of course, the Hamiltonians-did not have; the want of it had cost them an empire, for it operated instantaneously over any distance. Amalfi thrust a cigar absently between his teeth and sent out a call for the captain of police. The obsolete model had no screen, but the captain's voice conveyed his feelings graphically. "If you're going to rub my nose in the fact that we're obliged to protect you because the Hruntans have violated the contract," he snarled, "you can save your breath. I've half a mind to blow up the planet anyhow. Some one of these years the Okie laws are going to be changed, and then--" "You wouldn't have blown up the planet in any case," Amalfi said tranquilly. "The shock wave would have detonated the local sun and destroyed the whole system, and your superiors would have had your scalp. What I'm trying to do is save you some trouble. If you're interested, make me an offer." The cop laughed. "All right," Amalfi said. "Laugh, you jackass. In about ten months you'll be yanked back to patrolling a stratosphere beat on Earth that sees a plane once every two years, and braying about how unjust it all is. As soon as the home office hears that you let the Hruntans and the Hamiltonians join forces, and that the war is going to cost Earth two or three hundred billion Oc dollars and last maybe twenty-five years--" "You're a bum liar, Okie," the cop said. The bravado behind the pun seemed a little strained, however. "They been fighting each other a century now." "Times change," Amalfi said. "In any event, the merger will be forcible, because if you don't want the Duchy of Gort, I'm going to offer it to Utopia. The combined arsenal will be impresive-each side has some stuff the other hasn't, and we couldn't prevent either of them from learning a few tricks from us. However--" "Wait a minute," the cop said cautiously. He was quite aware, Amalfi was more than certain, that this conversation was inevitably being overheard by hundreds and perhaps thousands of Dirac receivers throughout the inhabited galaxy, including those in police headquarters on Earth. That was one of the major characteristics of Dirac transmission-whether you called it a flaw or an advan-,tage depended largely on what use you made of it. "You mean you got the upper hand there already? How do I know you can hold it?" "You don't risk a thing. Either I deliver the planet to you, or I don't. All I want is for you to rescind the fine against the city, wipe the tape of the earlier Vacate order, and give us a safe-conduct out of this system. If we don't deliver, you don't pay." "Hm-mm." There was a muttering in the background, as though somebody were talking softly over the cop's shoulder. "How'd you pull it off?" "That," Amalfi said dryly, "would be telling. If you want to play, proof over the agreement." "No saop. You violated the Vacate order and you'll have to pay the fine-that's flat." That was good enough for Amalfi. The cop certainly was not going to promise to wipe his tape of evidence of a tort while he was talking on the Dirac; that he had picked this particular point to stick on indicated general agreement, however. "Just send me a safe-conduct under seal, then. I'll put the whole thing in the Margraf Hazca's strong room; you get it back when you get the planet." After a short silence, the cop said, "Well ... all right." The tape began to whir at Amalfi's elbow. Satisfied, he broke the contact. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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