The Duplicators

“My business?”

“You’re the astrogator, ain’t you? You signed on last night; I had to help you hold the pen, but you signed on! Astrogator, third officer’s ticket, and you said you could astrogate a wash bucket from Sirius Three to the Rim with nothin’ but a root-rule and a logarithm table. That’s what you said! You said you’d astrogated a Norse spaceliner six hundred lightyears tail-first to port after her overdrive unit switched poles. You said—”

Link held up his hand.

“I… er… I recognize the imaginative style,” he said painfully. “It’s mine, in my more exuberant moments. But how did that land me… wherever I am?”

“You made a deal with me,” said the little man, truculently. “Thistlethwaite’s the name. You signed on this ship, the Glamorgan, an’ you said you were an astrogator and I made the deal on that representation. It’s four years in jail, on Trent, to sign on or act as a astrogator unless you’re duly licensed.”

“Morbid people, the lawmakers of Trent,” said Link. “What else?”

“You don’t draw wages,” said the whiskery man, as truculently as before. “You’re a junior partner in the business I’m startin’. You agreed to leave all matters but astrogation to me, on penalty of forfeitin’ all moneys due or accrued or to accrue. It’s a tight contract. I wrote it myself.”

“I am lost in admiration,” said Link politely. “But—”

“We’re goin’,” said Thistlethwaite sternly, “to a planet I know. Another fella and me, we landed there in a spaceboat after the ship we was in got wrecked. We made a deal with the… uh… authorities. We took off again in the spaceboat. It was loaded down with plenty valuable cargo! We was to go back, but my partner—he was the astrogator of the spaceboat—he took his share of the money and started celebratin’. Two weeks later he jumped out a window because he thought pink gryphs was coming out of the wall after him. That left me sole owner of the business, but strapped for cash. I’d been celebratin’ too. So I bought the Glamorgan with what I had, an’ bought a cargo for her.”

“A very fine ship, the Glamorgan,” said Link, politely. “But I’m a little dense this morning, or evening, or whatever it may be. How do I fit into the picture of commercial enterprise aboard this splendid ship the Glamorgan?”

The whiskery man spat, venomously.

“The ship’s junk,” he snapped. “I couldn’t get papers for her to go anywheres but to a junk yard on Bellaire to be scrapped. I hadda astrogator and a fella to spell me in the engine room. They believed we was going to the junkyard, but we had some trouble with the engines layin’ down, and she leaked air. Plenty! So when we got to Trent those two run off. They’re liable to two years in jail for runnin’ out on a contract concernin’ personal services. Hell! They didn’t think we’d make Trent! They wanted to take to the spaceboat and abandon ship halfway there! And me with all my capital tied up in it!”

Link regarded his companion uncomfortably. Thistlethwaite snapped, “So I was stuck on Trent with no astrogator an’ port-dues pilin’ up. Until you came along.”

“Ah!” said Link. “I came along! Riding a white horse, no doubt, and kissing my hand to the ladies. Then what?”

“I asked you if you was a astrogator, and you told me yes.”

“I hate to disappoint people,” said Link regretfully. “I probably wanted to brighten up your day, or evening. I tried.”

“Then,” said Thistlethwaite portentously, “I told you enough about what I’m goin’ after so you said it was a splendid venture, befittin’ such men as you and me. You’d join me, you said. But you wanted to fight some more policemen before liftin’ off. I’d already drug you out of a fight where the spaceport cops was usin’ fire-hoses on both sides. I told you fightin’ policemen carries six months in jail, on Trent. But you wouldn’t listen. Even after I told you why we had to take off quick.”

“And that reason was—”

“Spaceport dues,” snapped the little man. “On the Glamorgan. Landin’-grid fees. On the Glamorgan. I run out of money! Besides, there was grub and some parts for the engines that’d been givin’ trouble. I bought ’em and charged ’em, like a business man does, expectin’ to come back some day and pay for ’em. But the spaceport people got suspicious. They were goin’ to seize the ship tomorrow— today—and sell her if they could for the port bills and grub bills and parts bills.”

“I see,” said Link. “And I probably sympathized with you.”

“You said,” said the little man grimly, “that it was a conspiracy against brave an’ valiant souls like us two, an’ you’d only fight two more policemen—six months more on top of what you was already liable to—and then we’d defy such crass and commercial individuals and take off into the wild blue yonder.”

Link reflected. He shook his head in mild disapproval. “So what happened?”

“You fought four policemen,” said his companion succinctly. “In two separate scraps, addin’ a year in jail to what you’d piled up before.”

“It begins to look,” said Link, “as if I may have made myself unpopular on Trent. Is there anything else I ought to know?”

“They started to use tear gas on you,” the whiskery man told him, “so you set fire to a police truck. To let the flames lift up the gas, you said. That would be some more years in jail. But I got you in the Glamorgan—”

“And got the grid to lift us off?” When the little man shook his head, Link asked hopefully. “I got the grid to lift us off? We persuaded—”

“Nope,” said Thistlethwaite. “You just took off. On emergency rockets. Off the spaceport tarmac. With no clearance. Leavin’ the oiled tarmac on fire.” Link winced. The little man went on inexorably, “We hit for space at six gees acceleration and near as I can make out you kept goin’ at that till the first rockets burned out. And then you went down into the mess room.”

“I suppose,” said Link unhappily, “that I’d worked up an appetite. Or was there some way I could pile up a few more years to spend in jail?”

“You went to sleep,” said the little man. “And I wasn’t goin’ to bother you!”

Link thought it over.

“No,” he agreed. “I can see that you mightn’t have wanted to bother me. Do you intend to turn around and go back to Trent?”

“What for?” demanded the little man bitterly. “For jail? An’ for them to sell off the Glamorgan for port dues and such?”

“There’s that, of course,” acknowledged Link. “But I’d rather believe you wouldn’t leave a friend in distress, or jail. All right. I don’t want to go back to Trent either. I’m an outdoorsy sort of character and I wouldn’t like to spend the next eighteen years in jail.”

“Twenty-two,” said Thistlethwaite. “And six months.”

“So,” finished Link, “I’ll play along. Since I’m the astrogator I’ll try to find out where we are. Then you’ll tell me where you want to go. And after that, some evening when there’s nothing special to do, you’ll tell me why. Right?”

“The why,” snapped the whiskery man, “is I promised to make you so rich y’couldn’t spend the interest on y’money! And you a junior partner!”

“Carynths?” suggested Link.

Carynths were the galaxy’s latest and most fabulous status gems. They couldn’t be synthesized—they were said to be the result of meteoric impacts on a special peach-colored ore—and they were as beautiful as they were rare. So far they’d only been found on Glaeth. But if a woman had a carynth ring, she was somebody. If she had a carynth bracelet, she was Somebody. And if she had a carynth necklace, she ruled society on the planet on which she was pleased to reside. But—

“Carynths are garbage,” said Thistlethwaite contemptuously, “alongside of what’s waitin’ for us! For each one of what I’m tradin’ for, to bring it away from where we’re goin’, I’ll get a hundred million credits an’ half the profits after that! An’ I’ll have a shipload of ’em! And it’s all set! Now you do your stuff and I’ll check over the engines.”

He headed down the stairwell. He reached the first landing below. The second. Link heard a faint click and then a mechanical grunting noise. At the sound, the little man howled enragedly. Link jumped.

“What’s the matter?” he asked anxiously.