Space Search (v1.)), page 4
Frowning, Venu took his interplanetary passport from the inner pocket of his achkan tunic, mystified.
The other said, “Look at the stamp the immigration officer put in it. It is of a special radioactive ink, with an identity number that applies only to you. The Medean police authorities have you on their direct-finder computers at all times. They know to within a square foot of where you are. If you left it somewhere, even by mistake, they would expel you from Medea. If you die, the radioactive element dies with you. Otherwise, the computers have a cross on you so long as you are on Medea. Besides that, your father had, of course, his personal transceiver. It is impossible to carry on ordinary day-by-day activities without it, since it is his interplanetary credit card as well as a means of communication. He could not eat, find lodging, transport himself, or buy either an object or a service without it. And the computers keep a cross on it as well. When your father, ah, disappeared, both crosses were lost.”
Venu said desperately, “Perhaps he left the planet.”
“If so, how? You must realize, Venu Jhabvola, that there is but one spaceport on Medea, the one where you landed. Medean authorities are most competent. Everything is most efficient on this world, to the point where it drives easy-going Harappans like us to despair. Your father could not have left Medea without them knowing.”
Venu closed his eyes. “What happened on the day of his disappearance?” he asked softly.
The other shook his head. “We don’t know. At one time he was at his hotel, preparing to making final arrangements for the trade of uranium to the planet Basque so that, in turn, they could trade it to us. He left the hotel for the appointment and was never seen again. Both his passport identification and that of his transceiver simply cut off, and the computers lost their cross on him.”
Venu said slowly, “On Harappa, they mentioned the fact that there were others dickering for Medea’s uranium.”
“Yes, several. The most progressive planets of Allied Worlds utilize uranium but it is not present on many of them to any extent. Medea has more than ample for its own needs, but not an unlimited supply. Harappa wished to corner its entire export allotment. So did other worlds.”
Venu said, “And when father was eliminated from the negotiating, who acquired the contract?”
“The planet Linus, whose agent was Hari Maroon. I assume you have heard of him?”
“No. Who is Hari Maroon, of the planet Linus?”
“He is not a citizen of Linus. He is a well-known free-lance, interplanetary trader.”
“What is his home planet?”
Rana Kumbha shook his head again. “I do not know. Nor does there seem to be any record. Perhaps he has none.”
“But everyone must have a home planet,” Venu said, frowning his puzzlement.
“Not necessarily. Some worlds have strange rulings. On Monet, for instance, if two other-world citizens have a child, it is not a Monet citizen. And if a child comes from a world that does not accept citizenship of an infant not bom on that world, then the child is worldless. If I am not mistaken, that is the status of Hari Maroon. He is somewhat of a notorious personage, though very wealthy.”
“I see. And where would I find this Hari Maroon, who seems to be the only person who has profited by my father’s disappearance?”
“I wouldn’t know. Upon achieving the contract for his patrons on Linus, he left this planet.”
Venu was in despair. “How could I possibly locate him? Obviously, he must be questioned. He alone has gained.”
The other said sadly, “Venu, I knew and honored your father, the rishi. I know he reared you in the best traditions. Revenge is not a worthy endeavor.”
“How would I possibly locate him?”
“Venu, he is constantly accompanied by two bodyguards from the planet Maffia.”
“I have never heard of the planet Maffia.”
“It is as well. I am astonished that Allied Worlds allowed it to join. It is a planet of what amounts to assassins, soldiers of fortune, dealers in violence. It is as far from the traditions of Harappa as it is possible to get. It is a nothing world.”
Venu rubbed his hands up and down his jodhpurs. “I realize that I am but a young man. Where could I find someone to assist me in finding this Hari Maroon and confronting him?”
Rana Kumbha sucked in breath. “Your father was a friend, as well as my superior. I cannot but accept his son. But vengeance, as Lord Krishna has told us, is a sad path.”
“Where can I find a man of violence to assist me?”
“Nowhere on Medea.”
“Where?”
Rana Kumbha sighed again. “There are professional condottiere, soldiers of fortune, private eyes, if you will, to use the old idiom, on various backward worlds. They are for hire, mercenaries. The sister planet of Medea—Tangier—has various of them. It is a refuge planet; there are no extradition laws. A criminal is safe on Tangier. As safe, that is, as anyone else on Tangier. It is a barbarian world.”
“Do you know of any of these men?”
Rana Kumbha said unhappily, “Yes. Several. There is Billy Hickock, a professional assassin. There is West Hawkins, who is wanted on a dozen worlds and by Interplanpol.”
“Interplanpol?”
“Interplanetary Police, of Allied Worlds, whose home planet is Earth. Tangier is the only world that does not allow them to operate. So long as one does not offend Tangier law, one is welcome to remain there, at least so long as one has resources. It is a strange planet. Most of its interplanetary credits are derived from refugees who have nowhere else to go. They are, if you will remember the idiom, on the run.”
“I see. And of them all, who is the most … most efficient man of violence?”
Rana Rumbha thought. “It is not a subject with which I am well acquainted. However, I have heard of a man named Whip Gunther. If I am not mistaken, your father, the rishi, once utilized his services— before he became a fugitive.”
“My father!”
The interplanetary trader shook his head. “Your father was not an opportunist, Venu Jhabvola; however, he served his home world. When he met with unscrupulous adversaries he was not above meeting fire with fire. I might say that I have never met a Harappan who did not honor your father. Nevertheless, he was a man of strong opinions who never shrank from doing what he thought was needed to defend the interests of our world.”
“Where can I find this Whip Gunther?”
“He is on Tangier, but you might as well forget about him.”
“Why?”
“He is wanted by practically everybody, including Interplanpol. The moment he left Tangier, he would be seized.”
Venu lowered his head into his hands. “It makes no difference. I could not journey to this planet Tangier, even if I wished. Not to speak of hiring this man of violence. My uncle, the acting rishi, gave me no interplanetary credits whatsoever save my fare to and from Medea from Harappa.”
The other was staring at him. “No interplanetary credits? But you are the son of Rishi Sudhin Jhabvola. His oldest son?”
“I am his only son.”
“Then you are one of the richest men of Harappa.”
“No. I would think you would be aware of the fact that my father’s supposed wealth is actually that of the Expediter sub-caste, which is, of course considerable. But my uncle Mulk is now acting rishi and I am penniless.”
The other was still viewing him strangely. “Son of my friend,” he said, “your father evidently never informed you, but in his dealings among the many worlds, he made^-private investments. Sometimes, due to his inner knowledges in interplanetary affairs and as an expediter, they were unbelievably profitable. He once told me, in a saddened frame of mind, that the children of persons ranking as highly as he did could be faced with disaster. Hence it was that he deposited his private profits in the banks of the planet Geneva, the interplanetary banking clearinghouse. Young Venu, you are probably one of the wealthiest persons in Allied Worlds. You and your sister. I have forgotten her name.”
7
Venu Jhabvola’s trip from Medea to Tangier presented few difficulties. He’d had to remain on the world where his father had disappeared only for one night, which had involved his staying in a hotel for the first time in his life. Back on Harappa, if he ever took a journey which involved his sleeping away from home, he invariably had relatives or other members of the Vaishya caste who would gladly extend their utmost hospitality to him.
Rana Kumbha had taken over the details of seeing that his father’s account, in Geneva, was transferred to his name. It was mere formality, in spite of the fact that he was underage. Evidently, Sudhin Jhabvola had taken measures to insure that his son could inherit, no matter what his years.
It was a strange feeling for Venu. He had never possessed more than a small allowance, since his father was desirous of teaching his children the value of exchange, and the vanity of ostentatious living. But now that the young Harappan had all but unlimited interplanetary credit, expendible upon any of the Allied Worlds, he could think of nothing he wished to buy, other than what services he might need to either find his father or revenge him.
•For vengeance he was determined upon, in spite of what Rana Kumbha had said as to the unworthiness of the emotion. Even though he would lose merit, and upon his next reincarnation be degraded, he was determined upon it.
Rana Kumbha had found him a room in the Hotel Medea, a swank hostelry largely devoted to interplanetary travelers. So it was that Venu was able to witness the costume and sometimes strange languages of a score of worlds, in the lobby and other public rooms. Amer-English, indeed, was the most prevalent tongue spoken, but far from the only one. Venu was fascinated. Save for a few occasions when he had met, through his father, delegations to Harappa from other worlds, he had seldom indeed heard anyone speak in a language other than his own, which was itself Amer-English. When the colonists had left Earth to settle Harappa, they had mirrored Mother India in that they spoke fourteen major languages and over a hundred dialects. The only answer was to adopt a lingua franca, and Amer-English was chosen.
The first officer of the Hammerfest IV had been correct about the lack of appreciation of the arts on Medea. All of the arts, including cuisine. Venu had gone down to one of the hotel restaurants out of curiosity, but had not even gotten so far as to take a table. He was repelled by the food he saw before the diners. Practically every dish seemed to be dependent upon meat. Meat! Real meat! He had no illusions about what it was, not only through smell, but in actuality one could see the form of the bird, or small animal, on many plates. By the sacred fire, Agni, these people were cannibals! How could they know but that the chicken or other fowl or beast one ate might be the reincarnation of a dear relative?
He returned to his room and investigated the hamper the chief steward had given him. The other had been considerate enough, when Venu had first boarded the Hammerfest, to enquire about his eating prejudices, and had gone far out of his way to provide a vegetarian diet for the Harappan. And now, when Venu checked, he found the picnic basket full of fruits and vegetables and sweets, some of them cooked and in containers, but all of them cold by now, of course.
He made a satisfactory repast and decided that he might as well continue to carry the hamper. From time to time be could replenish it, undoubtedly, but if they dined on Tangier as they did on Medea, he doubted if he would ever get by in a restaurant. He could not trust any dish not to be possibly flavored with animal or fish or extracts from them such as fats or oils. No, he could not defile himself by exposure to such fare.
Following his meal, he was for a moment nonplused over what to do with himself until bedtime. He had no desire to go sightseeing about the capital city of Medea. Thus far, he had seen nothing to interest him on the planet of the Technocrats. All seemed to be commercial and drab, fast-paced and industrial. He decided, instead, to descend to the public rooms again and see what he could find in the hotel bookshop in the way of a guide to Tangier. He feared that he was going to have his troubles locating this Whip Gunther. There was not even a Harappan embassy on the refuge planet where he might have found assistance.
They did, indeed, have a small guide to Tangier. He put the booklet on his hotel bill, to be paid for the following day when his interplanetary credit was established, and started back for his room.
The attack came as a complete surprise. He had, of course, not expected it, and hence, had not taken even the slightest of precautions.
He had been only half aware of the fact that another had ridden up in the elevator with him. All he could have said about his fellow passenger was that the man was dressed in standard Medean garb.
The blow struck him on the back of his head. The book fell from his hands onto the carpeting of the hotel corridor. Venu went down onto his knees and then, blacking out, on his face, sprawling.
8
A voice came from a great distance. There was the voice and someone shaking his shoulder.
“Boy … young man! How are you?”
He opened his eyes, dazed. “What … what …”
There was a man beside him, down on one knee, and a woman standing. The woman was staring down the corridor. “He went around the corner there,” she said, her voice high.
The man said, “Are you all right?”
Venu sat up. “What … what happened?”
“Our room is further down. We came around the comer of the hall just as he was striking you on the back of the head. He had some sort of bludgeon in his hand.”
“Bludgeon?” Venu muttered. He shook his head, still dazed.
The other took him by the arm and helped him to his feet. “Yes, we surprised him. He turned and ran.”
Venus rescuers were a very ordinary pair, fairly elderly. They must have been interplanetary tourists, or perhaps traders from another planet, since their dress was of a type Venu had never seen before.
He said, “I don’t understand. This … * assailant. What did he look like?”
The man had stood too, still holding the Harappan youth’s arm to steady him. He was looking at Venu in a queer way.
“I don’t know. It all happened so quickly. He hit you, and when you fell, began to bend over you as though he was about to hit you again. Do you have an enemy who would do such a thing?”
Venu shook his head. “I know only one person on this whole planet, a friend of my father’s at our embassy. Perhaps this man wished to rob me.”
“Rob you of what? On Medea they utilize a universal credit card. Or, if you are from another world, an interplanetary credit card. There is no money, and you obviously wear no jewelry. Do you carry anything of interest to a robber?”
Venu shook his head. “No. Not that I can think of.” He bent and retrieved his book.
He bowed to them. ‘‘May Lord Krishna reward you for your kindness to a stranger. Undoubtedly you have gained merit on your way to Nirvana.”
‘‘Wait a minute,” the man said. ‘‘Aren’t you going to notify the police?”
Venu Jhabvola shook his head blankly. “What would I tell them? I didn’t see this stranger, nor can you describe him. And he is gone. If I notify the police, perhaps they will detain me to find why it should be that I brought on a seemingly unprovoked attack. And I must be on my way tomorrow.”
The woman was still flustered. She said, “But you should tell someone.”
He bowed to her again, formally. “I will think about it in the quiet of my room, kind Shrimatee. May you reach moksha and Nirvana.”
He turned away from them and stumbled toward his room, fingering the bump that was already rising on the back of his head.
What had his attacker wanted? Who could it possibly have been? True, he was embarking on a path of vengeance, but thus far he did not even know whom he pursued. Was it this Hari Maroon? He could suspect, but he did not know. All, thus far, was mystery.
Well, this was added mystery. If his attacker had not been interrupted, would he have killed Venu Jhabvola? In all his life,
Venu had not been exposed to physical violence. It was practically unknown on the Hindu world of his birth. Certainly, he had never thought in terms of being in danger for his life.
9
Rana Kumbha saw him off at the spaceport the next day. The interplanetary trade representative had gone out of his way to complete the arrangements for Venu Jhab-vola’s utilization of the credits in Geneva, to secure reservations for him on the space shuttle, and even hotel reservations in Mek-nes, the capital and largest city of Tangier.
Venu did not bother to tell him of the attack of the night before. What would be accomplished? There was nothing to report.
He said, “Good friend, do you have any idea of how I might contact this Whip Gunther?”
Rana Kumbha shook his head. “It is most likely that he is in Meknes, for Meknes offers the most on Tangier in the way of entertainment for one of another world. However, it is not necessarily where he would be. Indeed, if it were not for the fact that he would be in danger if he left the sanctuary of the planet of Tangier, I would say that I am not sure that he is there at all.”
Venu nodded. “It does not seem the easiest thing to find one person on a whole planet.”
But the takeoff of the shuttle spacer was being announced. He made hurried but highly felt thanks to Rana Kumbha and was on his way.
For the first time, on the shuttle spacecraft, he felt the full enormity of his position. It had not quite come through to him on the Hammerfest IV. Deep down within, he had secretly thought that he would find it all a great mistake. That when he landed upon Medea his father would be there to greet him and all would be as it had always been. And they would both return to Harappa to restore the life of the past, when Venu and Santha attended the university, and Sudhin was rishi of their family and sub-caste.
But now he could realize what a fool’s dream that had been. And here was its immediate result. He was on a spacecraft headed for a sinister planet of which he had never heard before the first officer of the Hammerfest IV had mentioned it in passing.
