“That is its weakness,” admitted Phorisci. “As I pointed out to the technician it suffers from a certain degree of inflexibility. It allows of only three variations, more than that and it is worse than useless. I shall be happy to show it to you.” #201 | | |
“Later,” said Jelkson. Chess, to the Denebians, was a ruling passion. Coldly logical in their emotions, they relished the game as being the ultimate in a test of skill. Jelkson, himself a good player, had spent many friendly hours with the Denebian Farm Director over the chessboard. #202 | | |
“Later?” Phorisci straightened a little in his chair. “Then your visit is not wholly social?” #203 | | |
“Unfortunately, no.” Jelkson drew at his cigarette, inhaled, and let the smoke trickle through his nostrils. The irritating taint in the air vanished beneath the more powerful fragrance of the tobacco smoke. #204 | | |
“Kenton, our Controller, asked me to call on you,” Jelkson said. “He would have come himself but other business has become pressing. He knows of our friendship and hopes that you will not consider it impolite for me to convey his request.” #205 | | |
“He was correct,” smiled Phorisci. “I do not consider it impolite. Where is Kenton now?” #206 | | |
“At the space field. He had business with our government representative.” #207 | | |
“Commander Ransom, your Port Authority.” Phorisci nodded. “I know him, he is a good man. Well, what is this request?” #208 | | |
“We have recently lost our entire crop of tobacco.” Jelkson gestured with his cigarette. “You know of our addiction to the plant. Kenton thought that it might be possible for you to have seeds that you would be willing to either sell or exchange. Have you?” #209 | | |
“Seeds of tobacco?” Phorisci smiled and shook his head. “What a strange idea! What use would we have for seeds of tobacco?” #210 | | |
“Experimentation, perhaps?” Jelkson stared at the Denebian. “We know each other too well for subterfuge, Director. There is no reason in the galaxy why you should not have tobacco seed or be growing tobacco plants in your tanks. It is a profitable crop and there is no harm in your trying to grow it. After all, you grow other, non-Denebian food in your buildings.” #211 | | |
“Do we?” Phorisci seemed to tense a little in his chair. “May I ask what makes you think that?” #212 | | |
“Because you would be foolish not to,” said Jelkson calmly. “There are only two hydroponic farms on Lubridgida, yours and ours. There are at least seven space-travelling races who call here. We ourselves grow alien foods for them and, naturally, so must you.” #213 | | |
“Admittedly we grow alien foods,” smiled Phorisci. “The Rigellians are our best customers, but tobacco?” He shook his head. “We could sell that only to your race. And how would we test it?” #214 | | |
Jelkson nodded. Phorisci had a point there. Both farms grew a certain amount of food for the alien races who might call at a wayward planet and the trade, while small, was regulated by strict regulations. Sample batches of all harvests had to be fed to test animals before being packaged and offered for sale. The test animals were native to the race for which the food was intended and, inevitably, served to ensure that the food was wholesome by alien standards. #215 | | |
There was no possible way for any alien farmer to test his tobacco. #216 | | |
“So you have no seed.” Jelkson shrugged and crushed out his cigarette. “Frankly, I didn’t think that you had, but we had to ask.” #217 | | |
“I’m sorry about your loss,” said Phorisci. “I wish that I were able to help, but…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Aside from basic chemicals and equipment there was little any one farm could do for another if it was alien. #218 | | |
“Never mind,” said Jelkson. “We’ll manage somehow.” #219 | | |
“Naturally.” Phorisci rose and moved towards the side table. “Now…” #220 | | |
He broke off as the communication box on his desk hummed to life. A blue-tinted face stared from the screen and said something in rapid Denebian. Phorisci answered him, listened for a moment, then cut the connection. #221 | | |
“I am afraid that I must leave you for a while,” he said to Jelkson. “A routine matter, nothing of importance, but my presence is essential.” #222 | | |
| | |
“No, nothing like that. We are ready to sterilise one of the buildings. A routine matter, as I said, but I am needed.” Phorisci hesitated, his eyes on the chessboard. “I hesitate to suggest it but perhaps you would like to accompany me?” #224 | | |
“Willingly.” The botanist smiled his pleasure. “We have trouble sometimes of our own and I would be interested in seeing your methods.” #225 | | |
Phorisci nodded and led the way to the door. #226 | | |
| | |
Commander Ransom, the Terrestrial Port Authority and the highest power on Lubridgida, was a withered, thin-faced old man who had spent the best years of his life in space. Too old for command of one of the government vessels, he had accepted the sinecure of Port Authority on Lubridgida with the determination to run the planet as if it were a ship. His failure to make the residents agree with his ideas had long since soured his already acrid disposition. #228 | | |
He received Kenton in his office, made the customary offer of whisky and cigarettes, then leaned back and stared at the Controller. #229 | | |
“Before you say anything,” he snapped, “let me make one thing clear. I have no information of any ship likely to call here which is heading for Earth.” #230 | | |
“I didn’t think that you had,” said Kenton. There had been a time, a couple of years ago now, when he had almost driven the Commander frantic by his asking the unanswerable. Ships, aside from the courier vessels that carried news, messages, and nothing else, obeyed no strict rule. Company ships carried seeds and replaced personnel only. Private ships followed the path of profitable cargoes or lent themselves to outright charter. Traders operated on local routes, hopping from planet to planet and acting as interstellar carriers. Such ships were useless to anyone who had more than a hundred light years to travel. #231 | | |
Kenton had five hundred. #232 | | |
“I haven’t called to ask about shipping schedules,” he said. “At least not for personal reasons. We’ve had a little trouble at the farm and I think you should know about it.” #233 | | |
“Trouble?” Ransom jerked upright in his chair. “Bad trouble?” #234 | | |
“Bad enough. Our tobacco crop has had to be destroyed. On its own that wouldn’t be too important, but a week ago I discovered that all our stock seed had been ruined by spores. Now we have no plants and seed. Have you any in the warehouse?” #235 | | |
“No. I send all seed received straight up to you.” Ransom looked thoughtful. “All the stock seed ruined, you say?” #236 | | |
| | |
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” #238 | | |
“There didn’t seem to be any necessity for it. Accidents happen and we could have replaced it with seed from mature plants. Now, because of the crop failure, we can’t.” Kenton hesitated. “I held an inquiry. The results forced me to believe that someone has deliberately sabotaged our farm.” #239 | | |
“Sabotage!” Ransom looked sharply at the Controller. “Are you sure?” #240 | | |
“As sure as I can be about anything. One accident, yes. Two, no. Not just as it happened. The only seed ruined was the tobacco. The only crop infected was tobacco. What would you think?” #241 | | |
“Sabotage,” breathed Ransom. “It doesn’t seem possible. Have my idea who did it?” #242 | | |
“No, we went into all that at the inquiry. It could have been any one of the top staff.” #243 | | |
“Do you think that one of them did it?” #244 | | |
“I don’t know,” said Kenton miserably. “It seems incredible that anyone in such a position would even think of a thing like that I… I don’t like to think about it.” #245 | | |
“That’s no way to talk, Kenton,” snapped Ransom. “I don’t have to tell you how important the farm is to us. More now than ever. Now that…” He broke off and looked uncomfortable. #246 | | |
“Now what?” Kenton stared at the old Commander. “The farm is important, period. How can it be more important than before?” #247 | | |
“I shouldn’t tell you this, Kenton,” said Ransom slowly. “The fewer who know about it the better. Blake was in a couple of weeks ago. You know him?” #248 | | |
“I think so. Works for Farben Minerals, doesn’t he?” #249 | | |
“That’s right. He came in a couple of week ago with news of a big strike of copper he’d made back in the mountains. I sent him off on the next ship to carry the news to Base. If we can keep this quiet we can increase our population before the Denebians have a chance to catch up. Once we reach the minimum population superiority we can go to the Arbitration Council and claim Lubridgida as a Terrestrial planet. Now you know why the farm is more important now than ever.” #250 | | |
