The Misplaced Battleship
There was no doubt I was still in charge, but our relationship was
anything but formal.
"This tripe and nonsense," I told him, "is the bait that will snag our
fish. A trap for Pepe and his partner in crime."
"Who is this mysterious billionaire?"
"Me," I said. "I've always wanted to be rich."
"But this ship, the space yacht, where is it?"
"Being built now in the naval shipyard at Udrydde. We're almost ready to
go there now, soon as this batch of instructions goes out."
Captain Steng dropped the releases onto the table, then carefully wiped
his hands off to remove any possible infection. He was trying to be fair
and considerate of my views, and not succeeding in the slightest.
"It doesn't make sense," he growled. "How can you be sure this killer
will ever read one of these things. And if he does--why should he be
interested? It looks to me as if you are wasting time while he slips
through your fingers. The alarm should be out and every ship notified.
The Navy alerted and patrols set on all spacelanes--"
"Which he could easily avoid by going around, or better yet not even
bother about, since he can lick any ship we have. That's not the
answer," I told him. "This Pepe is smart and as tricky as a fixed
gambling machine. That's his strength--and his weakness as well.
Characters like that never think it possible for someone else to
outthink them. Which is what _I'm_ going to do."
"Modest, aren't you," Steng said.
"I try not to be," I told him. "False modesty is the refuge of the
incompetent. I'm going to catch this thug and I'll tell you how I'll do
it. He's going to hit again soon, and wherever he hits there will be
some kind of a periodical with my plant in it. Whatever else he is
after, he is going to take all of the magazines and papers he can find.
Partly to satisfy his own ego, but mostly to keep track of the things he
is interested in. Such as ship sailings."
"You're just guessing--you don't know all this."
His automatic assumption of my incompetence was beginning to get me
annoyed. I bridled my temper and tried one last time.
"Yes, I'm guessing--an informed guess--but I do know some facts as well.
_Ogget's Dream_ was cleaned out of all reading matter, that was one of
the first things I checked. We can't stop the battleship from attacking
again, but we can see to it that the time after that she sails into a
trap."
"I don't know," the captain said, "it sounds to me like...."
I never heard what it sounded like, which is all right since he was
getting under my skin and might have been tempted to pull my
pseudo-rank. The alarm sirens cut his sentence off and we foot-raced to
the communications room.
Captain Steng won by a nose, it was his ship and he knew all the
shortcuts. The psiman was holding out a transcription, but he summed it
up in one sentence. He looked at me while he talked and his face was
hard and cold.
"They hit again, knocked out a Navy supply satellite, thirty-four men
dead."
"If your plan doesn't work, _admiral_," the captain whispered hoarsely
in my ear, "I'll personally see that you're flayed alive!"
"If my plan doesn't work, _captain_--there won't be enough of my skin
left to pick up with a tweezer. Now if you please, I'd like to get to
Udrydde and pick up my ship as soon as possible."
The easy-going hatred and contempt of all my associates had annoyed me,
thrown me off balance. I was thinking with anger now, not with logic.
Forcing a bit of control, I ordered my thoughts, checking off a mental
list.
"Belay that last command," I shouted, getting back into my old space-dog
mood. "Get a call through first and find out if any of our plants were
picked up during the raid."
While the psiman unfocused his eyes and mumbled under his breath I
riffled some papers, relaxed and cool. The ratings and officers waited
tensely, and made some slight attempt to conceal their hatred of me. It
took about ten minutes to get an answer.
"Affirmative," the psiman said. "A store ship docked there twenty hours
before the attack. Among other things, it left newspapers containing the
article."
"Very good," I said calmly. "Send a general order to suspend all future
activity with the planted releases. Send it by psimen only, no mention
on any other Naval signaling equipment, there's a good chance now it
might be 'overheard.'"
I strolled out slowly, in command of the situation. Keeping my face
turned away so they couldn't see the cold sweat.
* * * * *
It was a fast run to Udrydde where my billionaire's yacht, the
_Eldorado_, was waiting. The dockyard commander showed me the ship, and
made a noble effort to control his curiosity. I took a sadistic revenge
on the Navy by not telling him a word about my mission. After checking
out the controls and special apparatus with the technicians, I cleared
the ship. There was a tape in the automatic navigator that would put me
on the course mentioned in all the articles, just a press of a button
and I would be on my way. I pressed the button.
It was a beautiful ship, and the dockyard had been lavish with their
attention to detail. From bow to rear tubes she was plated in pure gold.
There are other metals with a higher albedo, but none that give a richer
effect. All the fittings, inside and out, were either machine-turned or
plated. All this work could not have been done in the time allotted, the
Navy must have adapted a luxury yacht to my needs.
Everything was ready. Either Pepe would make his move--or I would sail
on to my billionaire's paradise planet. If that happened, it would be
best if I stayed there.
Now that I was in space, past the point of no return, all the doubts
that I had dismissed fought for attention. The plan that had seemed so
clear and logical now began to look like a patched and crazy makeshift.
"Hold on there, sailor," I said to myself. Using my best admiral's
voice. "Nothing has changed. It's still the best and _only_ plan
possible under the circumstances."
Was it? Could I be sure that Pepe, flying his mountain of a ship and
eating Navy rations, would be interested in some of the comforts and
luxuries of life? Or if the luxuries didn't catch his eye, would he be
interested in the planetary homesteading gear? I had loaded the cards
with all the things he might want, and planted the information where he
could get it. He had the bait now--but would he grab the hook?
I couldn't tell. And I could work myself into a neurotic state if I kept
running through the worry cycle. It took an effort to concentrate on
anything else, but it had to be made. The next four days passed very
slowly.
When the alarm blew off, all I felt was an intense sensation of relief.
I might be dead and blasted to dust in the next few minutes, but that
didn't seem to make much difference.
Pepe had swallowed the bait. There was only one ship in the galaxy that
could knock back a blip that big at such a distance. It was closing
fast, using the raw energy of the battleship engines for a headlong
approach. My ship bucked a bit as the tug-beams locked on at maximum
distance. The radio bleeped at me for attention at the same time. I
waited as long as I dared, then flipped it on. The voice boomed out.
"... That you are under the guns of a warship! Don't attempt to run,
signal, take evasive action, or in any other way...."
"Who are you--and what the devil do you want?" I spluttered into the
mike. I had my scanner on, so they could see me, but my own screen
stayed dark. They weren't sending any picture. In a way it made my act
easier, I just played to an unseen audience. They could see the rich cut
of my clothes, the luxurious cabin behind me. Of course they couldn't
see my hands.
"It doesn't matter who we are," the radio boomed again. "Just obey
orders if you care to live. Stay away from the controls until we have
tied on, then do exactly as I say."
There were two distant clangs as magnetic grapples hit the hull. A
little later the ship lurched, drawn home against the battleship. I let
my eyes roll in fear, looking around for a way to escape--and taking a
peek at the outside scanners. The yacht was flush against the
space-filling bulk of the other ship. I pressed the button that sent the
torch-wielding robot on his way.
* * * * *
"Now let me tell you something," I snapped into the mike, wiping away
the worried billionaire expression. "First I'll repeat your own
warning--obey orders if you want to live. I'll show you why----"
When I threw the big switch a carefully worked out sequence took place.
First, of course, the hull was magnetized and the bombs fused. A light
blinked as the scanner in the cabin turned off, and the one in the
generator room came on. I checked the monitor screen to make sure, then
started into the spacesuit. It had to be done fast, at the same time it
was necessary to talk naturally. They must still think of me as sitting
in the control room.
"That's the ship's generators you're looking at," I said. "Ninety-eight
per cent of their output is now feeding into coils that make an
electromagnet of this ship's hull. You will find it very hard to
separate us. And I would advise you not to try."
The suit was on, and I kept the running chatter up through the mike in
the helmet, relaying to the ship's transmitter. The scene in the monitor
receiver changed.
"You are now looking at a hydrogen bomb that is primed and aware of the
magnetic field holding our ships together. It will, of course, go off if
you try to pull away."
I grabbed up the monitor receiver and ran towards the air lock.
"This is a different bomb now," I said, keeping one eye on the screen
and the other on the slowly opening outer door. "This one has receptors
on the hull. Attempt to destroy any part of this ship, or even gain
entry to it, and this one will detonate."
I was in space now, leaping across to the gigantic wall of the other
ship.
"What do you want?" These were the first words Pepe had spoken since his
first threats.
"I want to talk to you, arrange a deal. Something that would be
profitable for both of us. But let me first show you the rest of the
bombs, so you won't get any strange ideas about co-operating."
Of course I _had_ to show him the rest of the bombs, there was no
getting out of it. The scanners in the ship were following a planned
program. I made light talk about all my massive armament that would
carry us both to perdition, while I climbed through the hole in the
battleship's hull. There was no armor or warning devices at this spot,
it had been chosen carefully from the blueprints.
"Yeah, yeah ... I take your word for it, you're a flying bomb. So stop
with this roving reporter bit and tell me what you have in mind."
This time I didn't answer him, because I was running and panting like a
dog, and had the mike turned off. Just ahead, if the blueprints were
right, was the door to the control room. Pepe should be there.
I stepped through, gun out, and pointed it at the back of his head.
Angelina stood next to him, looking at the screen.
"The game's over," I said. "Stand up slowly and keep your hands in
sight."
"What do you mean," he said angrily, looking at the screen in front of
him. The girl caught wise first. She spun around and pointed.
"He's _here_!"
They both stared, gaped at me, caught off guard and completely
unprepared.
"You're under arrest, crime-king," I told him. "And your girl friend."
Angelina rolled her eyes up and slid slowly to the floor. Real or faked,
I didn't care. I kept the gun on Pepe's pudgy form while he picked her
up and carried her to an acceleration couch against the wall.
"What ... what will happen now?" He quavered the question. His pouchy