The Cosmic Computer - H. Beam Piper (best black authors txt) 📗

Conn nor Gomez, who was a roboticist himself, would trust any of the workers or the two supervisors; their experiences out of control had rendered them unreliable. They took out their power units and left them to be torn down and repaired later. Other robots were brought in to replace them. When they were through, the power-unit cartridge plant was ready for operation.

Jerry Rivas wanted to start production immediately.

“We’ll have to go back to Poictesme pretty soon,” he said. “We don’t want to go back empty. Well, I know that no matter what we dug up, and what we could sell or couldn’t sell, there’s always a market for power-unit cartridges. Electric-light units, household-appliance units, aircar and airboat units, any size at all. We run that plant at full capacity for a few days and we can load the Harriett Barne full, and I’ll bet the whole cargo will be sold in a week after we get in.”

XV

The Harriet Barne settled comfortably at the dock, the bunting-swathed tugs lifting away from her. They had the outside sound pickups turned as low as possible, and still the noise was deafening. The spaceport was jammed, people on the ground and contragravity vehicles swarming above, with police cars vainly trying to keep them in order. All the bands in Storisende seemed to have been combined; they were blaring the “Planetary Hymn”;

“Genji Gartner’s body lies a-moldering in the tomb,
But his soul goes marching on!”

When they opened the airlock, there was a hastily improvised ceremonial barge, actually a farm-scow completely draped in red and white, the Planetary colors. They all stopped, briefly, as they came out, to enjoy the novelty of outdoor air which could actually be breathed. Conn saw his father in the scow, and beside him Sylvie Jacquemont, trying, almost successfully, to keep from jumping up and down in excitement. Morgan Gatworth to meet his son, and Lester Dawes to meet his. Kurt Fawzi, Dolf Kellton, Colonel Zareff, Tom Brangwyn. He didn’t see his mother, or his sister. Flora he had hardly counted on, but he was disappointed that his mother wasn’t there to meet him.

Sylvie was embracing her father as he shook hands with his; then she threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Conn, I’m so happy! I was watching everything I could on-screen, everything you saw, and all the places you were, and everything you were doing⁠ ⁠…”

The scow⁠—pardon, ceremonial barge⁠—gave a slight lurch, throwing them together. Over her shoulder, he saw his father and Yves Jacquemont exchanging grins. Then they had to break it up while he shook hands with Fawzi and Judge Ledue and the others, and by the time that was over, the barge was letting down in front of the stand at the end of the dock, and the band was still deafening Heaven with “Genji Gartner’s Body,” and they all started up the stairs to be greeted by Planetary President Vyckhoven; he looked like an elderly bear who has been too well fed for too long in a zoo. And by Minister-General Murchison, who represented the Terran Federation on Poictesme. He was thin and balding, and he looked as though he had just mistaken the vinegar cruet for the wine decanter. Genji Gartner’s soul stopped marching on, but the speeches started, and that was worse. And after the speeches, there was the parade, everybody riding in transparent-bodied aircars, and the Lester Dawes and the two ships of the new Planetary Air Navy and a swarm of gunboats in column five hundred feet above, all firing salutes.

In spite of what wasn’t, but might just as well have been, a concerted conspiracy to keep them apart, he managed to get a few words privately with Sylvie.

“My mother; she didn’t get here. Is anything wrong?”

“Is anything anything else? I’ve been in the middle of it ever since you went away. Your mother’s still moaning about all these companies your father’s promoting⁠—he never used to do anything like that, and it’s all too big, and it’s going to end in a big smash. And then she gets onto Merlin. You know, she won’t say Merlin, she always calls it, ‘that thing.’ ”

“I’ve noticed that.”

“Then she begins talking about all the horrible things that’ll happen when it’s found, and that sets Flora off. Flora says Merlin’s a big fake, and you and your father are using it to rob thousands of widows and orphans of their life savings, and that sets your mother off again. Self-sustaining cyclic reaction, like the Bethe solar-phoenix. And every time I try to pour a little oil on the troubled waters, I find I’ve gotten it on the fire instead. And then, Flora had this fight with Wade Lucas, and of course, she blames you for that.”

“Good heavens, why?”

“Well, she couldn’t blame it on herself, could she? Oh, you mean why the fight? Lucas is in business with your father now, and she can’t convince him that you and your father are a pair of quadruple-dyed villains, I suppose. Anyhow, the engagement is phttt! Conn, is my father going back to Koshchei?”

“As soon as we can round up some people to help us on the ship.”

“Then I’m going along. I’ve had it, Conn. I’m a combat-fatigue case.”

“But, Sylvie; that isn’t any place for a girl.”

“Oh, poo! This is Sylvie. We’re old war buddies. We soldiered together on Barathrum; remember?”

“Well, you’d be the only girl, and⁠ ⁠…”

“That’s what you think. If you expect to get any kind of a gang together, at least a third of them will be girls. A lot of technicians are girls, and when work gets slack, they’re always the first ones to get shoved out of jobs. I’ll bet there are a thousand girl technicians out of work here⁠—any line of work you want to name. I know what I’ll do; I’ll make a telecast appearance. I still have some news value, from the Barathrum business. Want to bet that I won’t be the working