Planetary Agent X by Mack Reynolds (best fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

supervised the automated alleged amusement center would have ordered him from the premises. As it was, he leaned his face on a cupped hand, so that the fingers could cover his prominent teeth, his chin and part of the nose, and pretended to watch the fairly spicy canned Tri-D show.

He had to do something, and fast. As it was, the only thing he was accomplishing was to keep a few jumps ahead of the authorities. He knew it was only a few jumps by the inordinate number of police floaters on the streets. It had been nip and tuck a few times. They obviously knew he was in the Norfolk area. He had to do better than this, or it was just a matter of time before he slipped and they would have him.

At the thought of it, he loosened the gun. He would at least go out with a bang. He twisted his mouth at the thought. He undoubtedly would, but what would be accomplished? What percentage was there in his being able to take two or three more of the fuzz-yokes with him—or even a hundred more?

The usher was eyeing him.

Billy had sat down at a table where there were a couple of glasses, one of them with an inch of dregs still in the bottom. He had pretended this glass was his own, but even had the usher been fooled on that—his eyes hadn’t been on Billy when he’d entered—he had evidently gotten around to noticing that his new customer wasn’t doing much in the way of drinking up and dialing anew.

He had to do something, or leave. If the usher got around to coming to the table, he might recognize the Antrim features, even in this light.

Billy got to his feet and stepped over to the next table, which was occupied by a single customer, obviously deep in his cups. He couldn’t have been much more than in his early twenties himself, surly faced, soft in spite of his age, a trickle of drink-induced saliva at the side of his mouth. He was sloppy drunk.

“Ay,” Billy said, grinning, “ain’t you Steve Osterman, met at a party last week?”

The other glowered up at him. “No, I ain’t no Steve whatever. And we never met at no party.”

Billy shook his head in wonder and slid into a chair at the other’s table. “Well, we sure as hell met somewheres. I never forget a face.”

The other grunted. “Name’s Barry. Horace Barrymore. Ev’body calls me Barry.”

Billy snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Barry. Now I remember. It was a great party.”

The other scowled at him. “You from Detroit too?”

“Sure? Of course. That’s where the party was. What you doing in Greater Washington, Barry?”

The other squinted at him slyly. “Gotcha that time. I never been in Detroit. I’m from Miami-Havana, see? And I got you figured out, Buster.”

Billy’s hand dropped into his lap. “Oh, you have, eh?”

“Yeah. I know you, Buster.” The other chuckled to himself and picked up his glass. It was empty.

From the side of his eyes, Billy Antrim could see the usher making his way in their direction.

The self-named Barry grinned. “Yep. You’re a drink cadger. Thas what. You just kinda pretend you know a guy and get talkin’ to him, hopin’ he’ll spring for a drink. Well, Buster, let me tell you somethin’…” He hesitated for a long moment, as though having dropped his trend of thought. “Let me tell you somethin’.” He burped. “Let me tell you, you picked the right man, Buster. I’ll buy you a drink. Fact, I’ll buy you a whole flock of drinks.”

Billy let air out of his lungs, silently.

The other punched the auto-controls. “Pseudo-whisky and wasser, eh? Man’s drink. And where I’m goin’ there’s nothin’ but men needed.”

The drinks appeared and the usher sheered off and headed elsewhere.

Billy said, cautiously, hiding his face behind the glass. “You celebrating somethun’, Barry?”

“Damn right. I’m killing two birds with one stone, see? Two birds.” For a moment he seemed to have lost his trend again. But then he said, “Spending my credit, see? No good where I’m going. And same time, celebratin’ leavin’ this damn Earth.”

Billy said, keeping the conversation going, “You a spaceman?” He was wondering how best to approach his heaven-sent gift about ordering some food instead of more drink. The man might even have a hotel room he could be coaxed into sharing for the night.

“Spaceman!” the other sneered. “Do I look like a space rat? I’m a colonist. Par… part… participatin’ in foundin’ of a new worl’. Unnerstan’? Like the brochures said. Out into the glor… glorious far beyon’. Leave this stinkin’ Earth behine. A man don’t hava chance here. Never get anywhere. That right… whus your name? Have ‘nother drink. I know you’re nothin’ but… spunger. But thas all right. Havanother drink.”

“Make mine light ale, this time,” Billy said softly. “Look Barry, you interest me, like. How you go around gettin’ to be a colonist?” He ran his tongue over the bottom of his upper teeth.

The other grunted surly amusement, and rubbed thumb and forefinger together. “You inherit some ol’ family art objects and convert ‘em to credit. Thas how. Then you join up.”

“Join up what?” Billy said softly. His blue eyes were only slits now.

The other was impatient at his stupidity. “Join up one of the companies, course. Put up your share. Join company. Pioneers. Out inta glorious far beyon’. Start up new worl’. Plenty chances for everybody. Live glorious natural life of frontiersmen of old. Get rich, exploitin’ new worl’.”

Billy Antrim said the next very softly. “Teamed up with a lot of your friends, eh?”

“Frens, hell. None of my frens ever had ‘nough credit to make colonist. I just bough inta one of the new formin’ companies. You gotta belong to a company, with lotta pull. Get permission to leave stinkin’ ol’ Earth. Gotta have pull ina high place. New Arizona Company. Hire a spaceship from Space Freightways. Land on New Arizona. Stake out claims. Live glorious natural