From 3d913549de35a17d592755facd1bca65e29caa2e Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Roger Frank Date: Wed, 15 Oct 2025 01:45:03 -0700 Subject: initial commit of ebook 21627 --- 21627-h/21627-h.htm | 1796 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 21627-h/images/i-120.png | Bin 0 -> 310050 bytes 21627-h/images/i-120th.png | Bin 0 -> 56668 bytes 3 files changed, 1796 insertions(+) create mode 100644 21627-h/21627-h.htm create mode 100644 21627-h/images/i-120.png create mode 100644 21627-h/images/i-120th.png (limited to '21627-h') diff --git a/21627-h/21627-h.htm b/21627-h/21627-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7831db --- /dev/null +++ b/21627-h/21627-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1796 @@ + + + + + + +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gambler's World by Keith Laumer. + + + + + + + +
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gambler's World, by John Keith Laumer
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Gambler's World
+
+Author: John Keith Laumer
+
+Release Date: May 28, 2007 [EBook #21627]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GAMBLER'S WORLD ***
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+Produced by Robert Cicconetti, V. L. Simpson and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
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+

Transcriber's Notes

+ +

This etext was produced from Worlds of If November 1961.

+ +

Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed.

+ +

Obvious typesetting errors have been corrected.

+
+ +

GAMBLER'S
+WORLD
+By KEITH LAUMER +

+ +

Illustrated by GAUGHAN

+ +

I

+ +

Retief paused before a +tall mirror to check the overlap of the four sets of lapels that +ornamented the vermilion cutaway of a First Secretary and Consul.

+ +

"Come along, Retief," Magnan said. "The Ambassador has a word to say +to the staff before we go in."

+ +

"I hope he isn't going to change the spontaneous speech he plans to +make when the Potentate impulsively suggests a trade agreement along the +lines they've been discussing for the last two months."

+ +

"Your derisive attitude is uncalled for, Retief," Magnan said +sharply. "I think you realize it's delayed your promotion in the +Corps."

+ +

Retief took a last glance in the mirror. "I'm not sure I want a +promotion," he said. "It would mean more lapels."

+ +

Ambassador Crodfoller pursed his lips, waiting until Retief and +Magnan took places in the ring of Terrestrial diplomats around him.

+ +

"A word of caution only, gentlemen," he said. "Keep always foremost +in your minds the necessity for our identification with the Nenni Caste. +Even a hint of familiarity with lower echelons could mean the failure of +the mission. Let us remember that the Nenni represent authority here on +Petreac. Their traditions must be observed, whatever our personal +preferences. Let's go along now. The Potentate will be making his +entrance any moment."

+ +

Magnan came to Retief's side as they moved toward the salon.

+ +

"The Ambassador's remarks were addressed chiefly to you, Retief," he +said. "Your laxness in these matters is notorious. Naturally, I believe +firmly in democratic principles myself—"

+ +

"Have you ever had a feeling, Mr. Magnan, that there's a lot going on +here that we don't know about?"

+ +

Magnan nodded. "Quite so. Ambassador Crodfoller's point exactly. +Matters which are not of concern to the Nenni are of no concern to +us."

+ +

"Another feeling I get is that the Nenni aren't very bright. Now +suppose—"

+ +

"I'm not given to suppositions, Retief. We're here to implement the +policies of the Chief of Mission. And I should dislike to be in the +shoes of a member of the staff whose conduct jeopardized the agreement +that will be concluded here tonight."

+ +

A bearer with a tray of drinks rounded a fluted +column, shied as he confronted the diplomats, fumbled the tray, grabbed +and sent a glass crashing to the floor.

+ +

Magnan leaped back, slapping at the purple cloth of his pants leg. +Retief's hand shot out to steady the tray. The servant rolled terrified +eyes.

+ +

"I'll take one of these, now that you're here," Retief said. He took +a glass from the tray, winking at the servant.

+ +

"No harm done," he said. "Mr. Magnan's just warming up for the big +dance."

+ +

A Nenni major-domo bustled up, rubbing his hands politely.

+ +

"Some trouble here?" he said. "What happened, Honorables, what, +what...."

+ +

"The blundering idiot," Magnan spluttered. "How dare—"

+ +

"You're quite an actor, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. "If I didn't know +about your democratic principles, I'd think you were really mad."

+ +

The servant ducked his head and scuttled away.

+ +

"Has this fellow...." The major-domo eyed the retreating bearer.

+ +

"I dropped my glass," Retief said. "Mr. Magnan's upset because he +hates to see liquor wasted."

+ +

Retief turned to find himself face-to-face with Ambassador +Crodfoller.

+ +

"I witnessed that," The Ambassador hissed. "By the goodness of +Providence, the Potentate and his retinue haven't appeared yet. But I +can assure you the servants saw it. A more un-Nenni-like display I would +find it difficult to imagine!"

+ +

Retief arranged his features in an expression of deep interest.

+ +

"More un-Nenni-like, sir?" he said. "I'm not sure I—"

+ +

"Bah!" The Ambassador glared at Retief, "Your reputation has preceded +you, sir. Your name is associated with a number of the most bizarre +incidents in Corps history. I'm warning you; I'll tolerate nothing." He +turned and stalked away.

+ +

"Ambassador-baiting is a dangerous sport, Retief," Magnan said.

+ +

Retief took a swallow of his drink. "Still," he said, "it's better +than no sport at all."

+ +

"Your time would be better spent observing the Nenni mannerisms. +Frankly, Retief, you're not fitting into the group at all well."

+ +

"I'll be candid with you, Mr. Magnan. The group gives me the +willies."

+ +

"Oh, the Nenni are a trifle frivolous, I'll concede," Magnan said. +"But it's with them that we must deal. And you'd be making a +contribution to the overall mission if you merely abandoned that rather +arrogant manner of yours." Magnan looked at Retief critically. "You +can't help your height, of course. But couldn't you curve your back just +a bit—and possibly assume a more placating expression? Just act a +little more...."

+ +

"Girlish?"

+ +

"Exactly." Magnan nodded, then looked sharply at Retief.

+ +

Retief drained his glass and put it on a passing tray.

+ +

"I'm better at acting girlish when I'm well juiced," he said. "But I +can't face another sorghum-and-soda. I suppose it would be un-Nenni-like +to slip the bearer a credit and ask for a Scotch and water."

+ +

"Decidedly." Magnan glanced toward a sound across the room.

+ +

"Ah, here's the Potentate now!" He hurried off.

+ +

Retief watched the bearers coming and going, bringing trays laden +with drinks, carrying off empties. There was a lull in the drinking now, +as the diplomats gathered around the periwigged Chief of State and his +courtiers. Bearers loitered near the service door, eyeing the notables. +Retief strolled over to the service door, pushed through it into a +narrow white-tiled hall filled with the odors of the kitchen. Silent +servants gaped as he passed, watching as he moved along to the kitchen +door and stepped inside.

+ +

II

+ +

A dozen or more low-caste Petreacans, gathered around +a long table in the center of the room looked up, startled. A heap of +long-bladed bread knives, French knives, carving knives and cleavers lay +in the center of the table. Other knives were thrust into belts or held +in the hands of the men. A fat man in the yellow sarong of a cook stood +frozen in the act of handing a knife to a tall one-eyed sweeper.

+ +

Retief took one glance, then let his eyes wander to a far corner of +the room. Humming a careless little tune, he sauntered across to the +open liquor shelves, selected a garish green bottle and turned +unhurriedly back toward the door. The group of servants watched him, +transfixed.

+ +

As Retief reached the door, it swung inward. Magnan, lips pursed, +stood in the doorway.

+ +

"I had a premonition," he said.

+ +

"I'll bet it was a dandy," Retief said. "You must tell me all about +it—in the salon."

+ +

"We'll have this out right here," Magnan snapped. "I've warned you!" +Magnan's voice trailed off as he took in the scene around the table.

+ +

"After you," Retief said, nudging Magnan toward the door.

+ +

"What's going on here?" Magnan barked. He stared at the men, started +around Retief. A hand stopped him.

+ +

"Let's be going," Retief said, propelling Magnan toward the hall.

+ +

"Those knives!" Magnan yelped. "Take your hands off me, Retief! What +are you men—?"

+ +

Retief glanced back. The fat cook gestured suddenly, and the men faded +back. The cook stood, arm cocked, a knife across his palm.

+ +

"Close the door and make no sound," he said softly.

+ +

Magnan pressed back against Retief. "Let's ... r-run...." he +faltered.

+ +

Retief turned slowly, put his hands up.

+ +

"I don't run very well with a knife in my back," he said. "Stand very +still, Magnan, and do just what he tells you."

+ +

"Take them out through the back," the cook said.

+ +

"What does he mean?" Magnan spluttered. "Here, you—"

+ +

"Silence," the cook said, almost casually. Magnan gaped at him, +closed his mouth.

+ +

Two of the men with knives came to Retief's side and gestured, +grinning broadly.

+ +

"Let's go, peacocks," one said.

+ +

Retief and Magnan silently crossed the kitchen, went out the back +door, stopped on command and stood waiting. The sky was brilliant with +stars. A gentle breeze stirred the tree-tops beyond the garden. Behind +them the servants talked in low voices.

+ +

"You go too, Illy," the cook was saying.

+ +

"Do it here," another said.

+ +

"And carry their damn dead bodies down?"

+ +

"Pitch 'em behind the hedge."

+ +

"I said the river. Three of you is plenty for a couple of Nenni. We +don't know if we want to—"

+ +

"They're foreigners, not Nenni. We don't know—"

+ +

"So they're foreign Nenni. Makes no difference. I've seen them. I +need every man here; now get going."

+ +

"What about the big guy? He looks tough."

+ +

"Him? He waltzed into the room and didn't notice a thing. But watch +the other one."

+ +

At a prod from a knife point, Retief moved off down the walk, two of +the escort behind him and Magnan, another going ahead to scout the +way.

+ +

Magnan moved closer to Retief.

+ +

"Say," he said in a whisper. "That fellow in the lead; isn't he the +one who spilled the drink? The one you took the blame for?"

+ +

"That's him, all right. He doesn't seem nervous any more, I +notice."

+ +

"You saved him from serious punishment," Magnan said. "He'll be +grateful; he'll let us go."

+ +

"Better check with the fellows with the knives before you act on +that."

+ +

"Say something to him," Magnan hissed, "Remind him."

+ + +

The lead man fell back in line with Retief and Magnan.

+ +

"These two are scared of you," he said, grinning and jerking a thumb +toward the knife-handlers. "They haven't worked around the Nenni like +me; they don't know you."

+ +

"Don't you recognize this gentleman?" Magnan said.

+ +

"He did me a favor," the man said. "I remember."

+ +

"What's it all about?" Retief asked.

+ +

"The revolution. We're taking over now."

+ +

"Who's 'we'?"

+ +

"The People's Anti-Fascist Freedom League."

+ +

"What are all the knives for?"

+ +

"For the Nenni; and for all you foreigners."

+ +

"What do you mean?" Magnan gasped.

+ +

"We'll slit all the throats at one time. Saves a lot of running +around."

+ +

"What time will that be?"

+ +

"Just at dawn; and dawn comes early, this time of year. By full +daylight the PAFFL will be in charge."

+ +

"You'll never succeed," Magnan said. "A few servants with knives! +You'll all be caught and killed."

+ +

"By who, the Nenni?" the man laughed. "You Nenni are a caution."

+ +

"But we're not Nenni—"

+ +

"We've watched you; you're the same. You're part of the same +blood-sucking class."

+ +

"There are better ways to, uh, adjust differences," Magnan said. +"This killing won't help you, I'll personally see to it that your +grievances are heard in the Corps Courts. I can assure you that the +plight of the downtrodden workers will be alleviated. Equal rights for +all—"

+ +

"These threats won't work," the man said. "You don't scare me."

+ +

"Threats? I'm promising +relief to the exploited classes +of Petreac!"

+ +

"You must be nuts," the man said. "You trying to upset the system or +something?"

+ +

"Isn't that the purpose of your revolution?"

+ +

"Look, Nenni, we're tired of you Nenni getting all the graft. We want +our turn. What good would it do us to run Petreac if there's no +loot?"

+ +

"You mean you intend to oppress the people? But they're your own +group."

+ +

"Group, schmoop. We're taking all the chances; we're doing the work. +We deserve the payoff. You think we're throwing up good jobs for the fun +of it?"

+ +

"You're basing a revolt on these cynical premises?"

+ +

"Wise up, Nenni. There's never been a revolution for any other +reason."

+ +

"Who's in charge of this?" Retief said.

+ +

"Shoke, the head chef."

+ +

"I mean the big boss. Who tells Shoke what all to do?"

+ +

"Oh, that's Zorn. Look out, here's where we start down the slope. +It's slippery."

+ +

"Look," Magnan said. "You."

+ +

"My name's Illy."

+ +

"Mr. Illy, this man showed you mercy when he could have had you +beaten."

+ +

"Keep moving. Yeah, I said I was grateful."

+ +

"Yes," Magnan said, swallowing hard. "A noble emotion, gratitude. You +won't regret it."

+ +

"I always try to pay back a good turn," Illy said. "Watch your step +now on this sea-wall."

+ +

"You'll never regret it," Magnan said.

+ +

"This is far enough," Illy motioned to one of the knife men. "Give me +your knife, Vug."

+ +

The man passed his knife to Illy. There was an odor of sea-mud and +kelp. Small waves slapped against the stones of the sea-wall. The wind +was stronger here.

+ +

"I know a neat stroke," Illy said. "Practically painless. Who's +first?"

+ +

"What do you mean?" Magnan quavered.

+ +

"I said I was grateful. I'll do it myself, give you a nice +clean job. You know these amateurs; botch it up and have a guy floppin' +around, yellin' and spatterin' everybody up."

+ +

"I'm first," Retief said. He pushed past Magnan, stopped suddenly, +drove a straight punch at Illy's mouth.

+ +

The long blade flicked +harmlessly over Retief's shoulder as Illy fell. Retief whirled, leaped +past Magnan, took the unarmed servant by the throat and belt, lifted him +and slammed him against the third man. Both scrambled, yelped and fell +from the sea-wall into the water.

+ +

Retief turned back to Illy. He pulled off the man's belt and strapped +his hands together.

+ +

Magnan found his voice.

+ +

"You.... we.... they...."

+ +

"I know," Retief said.

+ +

"We've got to get back," Magnan said, "Warn them!"

+ +

"We'd never get through the rebel cordon around the palace. And if we +did, trying to give an alarm would only set the assassinations off +early."

+ +

"We can't just...."

+ +

"We've got to go to the source; this fellow Zorn. Get him to call it +off."

+ +

"We'd be killed! At least we're safe here."

+ +

Illy groaned and opened his eyes. He sat up.

+ +

"On your feet, Illy," Retief said.

+ +

Illy looked around. "I'm sick," he said.

+ +

"The damp air is bad for you. Let's be going." Retief pulled the man +to his feet. "Where does Zorn stay when he's in town?" he demanded.

+ +

"What happened? Where's Vug and...."

+ +

"They had an accident. Fell in the pond."

+ +

Illy gazed down at the restless black water.

+ +

"I guess I had you Nenni figured wrong."

+ +

"Us Nenni have hidden qualities. Let's get moving before Vug and Slug +make it to shore and start it all over again."

+ +

"No hurry," Illy said. "They can't swim." He spat into the water. "So +long, Vug. So long, Toscin. Take a pull, at the Hell Horn for me." He +started off along the sea wall toward the sound of the surf.

+ +

"You want to see Zorn, I'll take you to see Zorn," he said. "I can't +swim either."

+ +

III

+ +

"I take it," Retief said, "that the casino is a front for his +political activities."

+ +

"He makes plenty off it. This PAFFL is a new kick. I never heard +about it until maybe a couple months ago."

+ +

Retief motioned toward a dark shed with an open door.

+ +

"We'll stop here," he said, "long enough to strip the gadgets off +these uniforms."

+ +

Illy, hands strapped behind his back, stood by and watched as Retief +and Magnan removed medals, ribbons, orders and insignia from the formal +diplomatic garments.

+ +

"This may help some," Retief said, "if the word is out that two +diplomats are loose."

+ +

"It's a breeze," Illy said. "We see cats in purple and orange +tailcoats all the time."

+ +

"I hope you're right," Retief said. "But if we're called, you'll be +the first to go, Illy."

+ +

"You're a funny kind of Nenni," Illy said, eyeing Retief, "Toscin and +Vug must be wonderin' what happened to 'em."

+ +

"If you think I'm good at drowning people, you ought to see me with a +knife. Let's get going."

+ +

"It's only a little way now," Illy said. "But you better untie me. +Somebody's liable to stick their nose in and get me killed."

+ +

"I'll take the chance. How do we get to the casino?"

+ +

"We follow this street. It twists around and goes under a couple +tunnels. When we get to the Drunkard's Stairs we go up and it's right in +front of us. A pink front with a sign like a big Luck Wheel."

+ +

"Give me your belt, Magnan," Retief said.

+ +

Magnan handed it over.

+ +

"Lie down, Illy," Retief said.

+ +

The servant looked at Retief.

+ +

"Vug and Toscin will be glad to see me," he said. "But they'll never +believe me." He lay down. Retief strapped his feet together and stuffed +a handkerchief in his mouth.

+ +

"Why are you doing that?" Magnan asked. "We need him."

+ +

"We know the way. And we don't need anyone to announce our arrival. +It's only on three-dee that you can march a man through a gang of his +pals with a finger in his back."

+ +

Magnan looked at the man. "Maybe you'd better, uh, cut his throat," +he said.

+ +

Illy rolled his eyes.

+ +

"That's a very un-Nenni-like suggestion, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. +"If we have any trouble finding the casino, I'll give it serious +thought."

+ +

There were few people in the narrow street. Shops were shuttered, +windows dark.

+ +

"Maybe they heard about the coup," Magnan said. "They're lying +low."

+ +

"More likely, they're at the palace picking up their knives."

+ +

They rounded a corner, stepped over a man curled in the gutter +snoring heavily and found themselves at the foot of a long flight of +littered stone steps.

+ +

"The Drunkard's Stairs are plainly marked," Magnan sniffed.

+ +

"I hear sounds up there," Retief said. "Sounds of merrymaking."

+ +

"Maybe we'd better go back."

+ +

"Merrymaking doesn't scare me," Retief said. "Come to think of it, I +don't know what the word means." He started up, Magnan behind him.

+ +

At the top of the long +stair a dense throng milled in the alley-like street.

+ +

A giant illuminated roulette wheel revolved slowly above them. A +loudspeaker blared the chant of the croupiers from the tables inside. +Magnan and Retief moved through the crowd toward the wide-open +doors.

+ +

Magnan plucked at Retief's sleeve. "Are you sure we ought to push +right in like this? Maybe we ought to wait a bit, look around...."

+ +

"When you're where you have no business being," Retief said, "always +stride along purposefully. If you loiter, people begin to get +curious."

+ +

Inside, a mob packed the wide, low-ceilinged room, clustered around +gambling devices in the form of towers, tables and basins.

+ +

"What do we do now?" Magnan asked.

+ +

"We gamble. How much money do you have in your pockets?"

+ +

"Why ... a few credits." Magnan handed the money to Retief. "But what +about the man Zorn?"

+ +

"A purple cutaway is conspicuous enough, without ignoring the +tables," Retief said. "We've got a hundred credits between us. We'll get +to Zorn in due course, I hope."

+ +

"Your pleasure, gents," a bullet-headed man said, eyeing the colorful +evening clothes of the diplomats. "You'll be wantin' to try your luck at +the Zoop tower, I'd guess. A game for real sporting gents."

+ +

"Why ... ah ..." Magnan said.

+ +

"What's a zoop tower?" Retief asked.

+ +

"Out-of-towners, hey?" The bullet-headed man shifted his dope-stick +to the other corner of his mouth. "Zoop is a great little game. Two +teams of players buy into the pot. Each player takes a lever; the object +is to make the ball drop from the top of the tower into your net. +Okay?"

+ +

"What's the ante?"

+ +

"I got a hundred-credit pot workin' now, gents."

+ +

Retief nodded. "We'll try it."

+ +

The shill led the way to an eight-foot tower mounted on gimbals. Two +perspiring men in trade-class pullovers gripped two of the levers that +controlled the tilt of the tower. A white ball lay in a hollow in the +thick glass platform at the top. From the center, an intricate pattern +of grooves led out to the edge of the glass. Retief and Magnan took +chairs before the two free levers.

+ +

"When the light goes on, gents, work the lever to jack the tower. You +got three gears. Takes a good arm to work top gear. That's this button +here. The little knob controls what way you're goin'. May the best team +win. I'll take the hundred credits now."

+ +

Retief handed over the +money. A red light flashed on, and Retief tried the lever.

+ +

It moved easily, with a ratcheting sound. The tower trembled, slowly +tilted toward the two perspiring workmen pumping frantically at their +levers. Magnan started slowly, accelerated as he saw the direction the +tower was taking.

+ +

"Faster, Retief," he said. "They're winning."

+ +

"This is against the clock, gents," the bullet-headed man said. "If +nobody wins when the light goes off, the house takes all."

+ +

"Crank it over to the left," Retief said.

+ +

"I'm getting tired."

+ +

"Shift to a lower gear."

+ +

The tower leaned. The ball stirred, rolled into a concentric channel. +Retief shifted to middle gear, worked the lever. The tower creaked to a +stop, started back upright.

+ +

"There isn't any lower gear," Magnan gasped. One of the two on the +other side of the tower shifted to middle gear; the other followed suit. +They worked harder now, heaving against the stiff levers. The tower +quivered, moved slowly toward their side.

+ +

"I'm exhausted," Magnan gasped. He dropped the lever, lolled back in +the chair, gulping air. Retief shifted position, took Magnan's lever +with his left hand.

+ +

"Shift it to middle gear," Retief said. Magnan gulped, punched the +button and slumped back, panting.

+ +

"My arm," he said. "I've injured myself."

+ +

The two men in pullovers conferred hurriedly as they cranked their +levers; then one punched a button and the other reached across, using +his left arm to help.

+ +

"They've shifted to high," Magnan said. "Give up, it's hopeless."

+ +

"Shift me to high," Retief said. "Both buttons!"

+ +

Magnan complied. Retief's shoulders bulged. He brought one lever +down, then the other, alternately, slowly at first, then faster. The +tower jerked, tilted toward him, farther.... The ball rolled in the +channel, found an outlet—

+ +

Abruptly, both Retief's levers froze.

+ +

The tower trembled, wavered and moved back. Retief heaved. One lever +folded at the base, bent down and snapped off short. Retief braced his +feet, took the other lever with both hands and pulled.

+ +

There was a rasp of metal friction, and a loud twang. The lever came +free, a length of broken cable flopping into view. The tower fell over +as the two on the other side scrambled aside.

+ +

"Hey!" Bullet-head yelled. "You wrecked my equipment!"

+ +

Retief got up and faced him.

+ +

"Does Zorn know you've got your tower rigged for suckers?"

+ +

"You tryin' to call me a cheat or something?"

+ +

The crowd had fallen back, ringing the two men. Bullet-head glanced +around. With a lightning motion, he plucked a knife from somewhere.

+ +

"That'll be five hundred credits for the equipment," he said. "Nobody +calls Kippy a cheat."

+ +

Retief picked up the +broken lever.

+ +

"Don't make me hit you with this, you cheap chiseler."

+ +

Kippy looked at the bar.

+ +

"Comin' in here," he said indignantly, looking to the crowd for +support. "Bustin' up my rig, callin' names...."

+ +

"I want a hundred credits," Retief said. "Now."

+ +

"Highway robbery!" Kippy yelled.

+ +

"Better pay up," somebody called.

+ +

"Hit him, mister," someone else said.

+ +

A broad-shouldered man with graying hair pushed through the crowd and +looked around. "You heard 'em, Kippy. Give," he said.

+ +

The shill growled but tucked his knife away. Reluctantly he peeled a +bill from a fat roll and handed it over.

+ +

The newcomer looked from Retief to Magnan.

+ +

"Pick another game, strangers," he said. "Kippy made a little +mistake."

+ +

"This is small-time stuff," Retief said. "I'm interested in something +big."

+ +

The broad-shouldered man lit a perfumed dope stick. "What would you +call big?" he said softly.

+ +

"What's the biggest you've got?"

+ +

The man narrowed his eyes, smiling. "Maybe you'd like to try +Slam."

+ +

"Tell me about it."

+ +

"Over here." The crowd opened up, made a path. Retief and Magnan +followed across the room to a brightly-lit glass-walled box.

+ +

There was an arm-sized opening at waist height. Inside was a hand +grip. A two-foot plastic globe a quarter full of chips hung in the +center. Apparatus was mounted at the top of the box.

+ +

"Slam pays good odds," the man said. "You can go as high as you like. +Chips cost you a hundred credits. You start it up by dropping a chip in +here." He indicated a slot.

+ +

"You take the hand grip. When you squeeze, it unlocks. The globe +starts to turn. You can see, it's full of chips. There's a hole at the +top. As long as you hold the grip, the bowl turns. The harder you +squeeze, the faster it turns. Eventually it'll turn over to where the +hole is down, and chips fall out.

+ +

"On the other hand, there's contact plates spotted around the bowl. +When one of 'em lines up with a live contact, you get quite a little +jolt—guaranteed nonlethal. All you've got to do is hold on long +enough, and you'll get the payoff."

+ +

"How often does this random pattern put the hole down?"

+ +

"Anywhere from three minutes to fifteen, with the average run of +players. Oh, by the way, one more thing. That lead block up +there—" The man motioned with his head toward a one-foot cube +suspended by a thick cable. "It's rigged to drop every now and again. +Averages five minutes. A warning light flashes first. You can take a +chance; sometimes the light's a bluff. You can set the clock back on it +by dropping another chip—or you can let go the grip."

+ +

Retief looked at the massive block of metal.

+ +

"That would mess up a man's dealing hand, wouldn't it?"

+ +

"The last two jokers who were too cheap to feed the machine had to +have 'em off. Their arms, I mean. That lead's heavy stuff."

+ +

"I don't suppose your machine has a habit of getting stuck, like +Kippy's?"

+ +

The broad-shouldered man frowned.

+ +

"You're a stranger," he said, "You don't know any better."

+ +

"It's a fair game, Mister," someone called.

+ +

"Where do I buy the chips?"

+ +

The man smiled. "I'll fix you up. How many?"

+ +

"One."

+ +

"A big spender, eh?" The man snickered, but handed over a large +plastic chip.

+ +

IV

+ +

Retief stepped to the +machine, dropped the coin.

+ +

"If you want to change your mind," the man said, "you can back out +now. All it'll cost you is the chip you dropped."

+ +

Retief reached through the hole, took the grip. It was leather padded +hand-filling. He squeezed it. There was a click and bright lights sprang +up. The crowd ah!-ed. The globe began to twirl lazily. The four-inch +hole at its top was plainly visible.

+ +

"If ever the hole gets in position it will empty very quickly," +Magnan said, hopefully.

+ +

Suddenly, a brilliant white light flooded the glass cage. A sound +went up from the spectators.

+ +

"Quick, drop a chip," someone called.

+ +

"You've only got ten seconds...."

+ +

"Let go!" Magnan yelped.

+ +

Retief sat silent, holding the grip, frowning up at the weight. The +globe twirled faster now. Then the bright white light winked off.

+ +

"A bluff!" Magnan gasped.

+ +

"That's risky, stranger," the gray-templed man said.

+ +

The globe was turning rapidly now, oscillating from side to side. The +hole seemed to travel in a wavering loop, dipping lower, swinging up +high, then down again.

+ +

"It has to move to the bottom soon," Magnan said. "Slow it down."

+ +

"The slower it goes, the longer it takes to get to the bottom," +someone said.

+ +

There was a crackle and Retief stiffened. Magnan heard a sharp intake +of breath. The globe slowed, and Retief shook his head, blinking.

+ +

The broad-shouldered man glanced at a meter.

+ +

"You took pretty near a full jolt, that time," he said.

+ +

The hole in the globe was tracing an oblique course now, swinging to +the center, then below.

+ +

"A little longer," Magnan said.

+ +

"That's the best speed I ever seen on the Slam ball," someone said. +"How much longer can he hold it?"

+ +

Magnan looked at Retief's knuckles. They showed white against the +grip. The globe tilted farther, swung around, then down; two chips fell +out, clattered down a chute and into a box.

+ +

"We're ahead," Magnan said. "Let's quit."

+ +

Retief shook his head. The globe rotated, dipped again; three chips +fell.

+ +

"She's ready," someone called.

+ +

"It's bound to hit soon," another voice added excitedly. "Come on, +Mister!"

+ +

"Slow down," Magnan said. "So it won't move past too quickly."

+ +

"Speed it up, before that lead block gets you," someone called.

+ +

The hole swung high, over the top, then down the side. Chips rained +out of the hole, six, eight....

+ +

"Next pass," a voice called.

+ +

The white light flooded the cage. The globe whirled; the hole slid +over the top, down, down.... A chip fell, two more....

+ +

Retief half rose, clamped his jaw and crushed the grip. Sparks flew. +The globe slowed, chips spewing. It stopped, swung back, weighted by the +mass of chips at the bottom, and stopped again with the hole +centered.

+ +
+ +illustration + +
+ +

Chips cascaded down the chute, filled the box before Retief, spilled +on the floor. The crowd yelled.

+ +

Retief released the grip and withdrew his arm at the same instant +that the lead block slammed down.

+ +

"Good lord," Magnan said. "I felt that through the floor."

+ +

Retief turned to the broad-shouldered man.

+ +

"This game's all right for beginners," he said. "But I'd like to talk +a really big gamble. Why don't we go to your office, Mr. Zorn?"

+ +

"Your proposition +interests me," Zorn said, grinding out the stump of his dope stick in a +brass ashtray. "But there's some angles to this I haven't mentioned +yet."

+ +

"You're a gambler, Zorn, not a suicide," Retief said. "Take what I've +offered. The other idea was fancier, I agree, but it won't work."

+ +

"How do I know you birds aren't lying?" Zorn snarled. He stood up, +strode up and down the room. "You walk in here and tell me I'll have a +task force on my neck, that the Corps won't recognize my regime. Maybe +you're right. But I've got other contacts. They say different." He +whirled, stared at Retief.

+ +

"I have pretty good assurance that once I put it over, the Corps will +have to recognize me as the legal government of Petreac. They won't +meddle in internal affairs."

+ +

"Nonsense," Magnan spoke up. "The Corps will never deal with a pack +of criminals calling themselves—"

+ +

"Watch your language, you!" Zorn rasped.

+ +

"I'll admit Mr. Magnan's point is a little weak," Retief said. "But +you're overlooking something. You plan to murder a dozen or so officers +of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne along with the local wheels. The +corps won't overlook that. It can't."

+ +

"Their tough luck they're in the middle," Zorn muttered.

+ +

"Our offer is extremely generous, Mr. Zorn," Magnan said. "The post +you'll get will pay you very well indeed. As against the certain failure +of your planned coup, the choice should be simple."

+ +

Zorn eyed Magnan. "Offering me a job—it sounds phony as hell. I +thought you birds were goody-goody diplomats."

+ +

"It's time you knew," Retief said. "There's no phonier business in +the Galaxy than diplomacy."

+ +

"You'd better take it, Mr. Zorn," Magnan said.

+ +

"Don't push me, Junior!" Zorn said. "You two walk into my +headquarters empty-handed and big-mouthed. I don't know what I'm talking +to you for. The answer is no. N-I-X, no!"

+ +

"Who are you afraid of?" Retief said softly.

+ +

Zorn glared at him.

+ +

"Where do you get that 'afraid' routine? I'm top man here!"

+ +

"Don't kid around, Zorn. Somebody's got you under their thumb. I can +see you squirming from here."

+ +

"What if I let your boys +alone?" Zorn said suddenly. "The Corps won't have anything to say then, +huh?"

+ +

"The Corps has plans for Petreac, Zorn. You aren't part of them. A +revolution right now isn't part of them. Having the Potentate and the +whole Nenni caste slaughtered isn't part of them. Do I make myself +clear?"

+ +

"Listen," Zorn said urgently, pulling a chair around. "I'll tell you +guys a few things. You ever heard of a world they call Rotune?"

+ +

"Certainly," Magnan said. "It's a near neighbor of yours. Another +backward—that is, emergent—"

+ +

"Okay," Zorn said. "You guys think I'm a piker, do you? Well, let me +wise you up. The Federal Junta on Rotune is backing my play. I'll be +recognized by Rotune, and the Rotune fleet will stand by in case I need +any help. I'll present the CDT with what you call a fait +accompli."

+ +

"What does Rotune get out of this? I thought they were your +traditional enemies."

+ +

"Don't get me wrong. I've got no use for Rotune; but our interests +happen to coincide right now."

+ +

"Do they?" Retief smiled grimly. "You can spot a sucker as soon as he +comes through that door out there—but you go for a deal like +this!"

+ +

"What do you mean?" Zorn looked angrily at Retief. "It's +fool-proof."

+ +

"After you get in power, you'll be fast friends with Rotune, is that +it?"

+ +

"Friends, hell! Just give me time to get set, and I'll square a few +things with that—"

+ +

"Exactly. And what do you suppose they have in mind for you?"

+ +

"What are you getting at?"

+ +

"Why is Rotune interested in your take-over?"

+ +

Zorn studied Retief's face. "I'll tell you why," he said. "It's you +birds. You and your trade agreement. You're here to tie Petreac into +some kind of trade combine. That cuts Rotune out. Well, we're doing all +right out here. We don't need any commitments to a lot of fancy-pants on +the other side of the Galaxy."

+ +

"That's what Rotune has sold you, eh?" Retief said, smiling.

+ +

"Sold, nothing!"

+ +

Zorn ground out his dope-stick, lit another. He snorted angrily.

+ +

"Okay; what's your idea?" he asked after a moment.

+ +

"You know what Petreac is getting in the way of imports as a result +of the agreement?"

+ +

"Sure. A lot of junk."

+ +

"To be specific," Retief said, "there'll be 50,000 Tatone B-3 dry +washers; 100,000 Glo-float motile lamps; 100,000 Earthworm Minor garden +cultivators; 25,000 Veco space heaters; and 75,000 replacement elements +for Ford Monomeg drives."

+ +

"Like I said. A lot of junk."

+ +

Retief leaned back, looking sardonically at Zorn, "Here's the +gimmick, Zorn," he said. "The Corps is getting a little tired of Petreac +and Rotune carrying on their two-penny war out here. Your privateers +have a nasty habit of picking on innocent bystanders. After studying +both sides, the Corps has decided Petreac would be a little easier to do +business with. So this trade agreement was worked out. The Corps can't +openly sponsor an arms shipment to a belligerent. But personal +appliances are another story."

+ +

"So what do we do—plow 'em under with back-yard cultivators?" +Zorn looked at Retief, puzzled. "What's the point?"

+ +

"You take the sealed monitor unit from the washer, the repeller field +generator from the lamp, the converter control from the cultivator, et +cetera, et cetera. You fit these together according to some very simple +instructions. Presto! You have one hundred thousand Standard-class Y +hand blasters. Just the thing to turn the tide in a stalemated war +fought with obsolete arms."

+ +

"Good lord!" Magnan said. "Retief, are you—"

+ +

"I have to tell him," Retief said. "He has to know what he's putting +his neck into."

+ +

"Weapons, hey?" Zorn said. "And Rotune knows about it?"

+ +

"Sure they know about it. It's not too hard to figure out. And +there's more. They want the CDT delegation included in the massacre for +a reason. It will put Petreac out of the picture; the trade agreement +will go to Rotune; and you and your new regime will find yourselves +looking down the muzzles of your own blasters."

+ +

Zorn threw his dope-stick to the floor with a snarl.

+ +

"I should have smelled something when that Rotune smoothie made his +pitch." Zorn looked at his watch.

+ +

"I've got two hundred armed men in the palace. We've got about forty +minutes to get over there before the rocket goes up."

+ +

V

+ +

"You'd better stay here on +this terrace out of the way until I've spread the word," Zorn said. +"Just in case."

+ +

"Let me caution you against any ... ah ... slip-ups, Mr. Zorn," +Magnan said. "The Nenni are not to be molested—"

+ +

Zorn looked at Retief.

+ +

"Your friend talks too much," he said. "I'll keep my end of it. He'd +better keep his."

+ +

"Nothing's happened yet, you're sure?" Magnan said.

+ +

"I'm sure," Zorn said. "Ten minutes to go. Plenty of time."

+ +

"I'll just step into the salon to assure myself that all is well," +Magnan said.

+ +

"Suit yourself," Zorn said. "Just stay clear of the kitchen, or +you'll get your throat cut." He sniffed at his dope-stick. "What's +keeping Shoke?" he muttered.

+ +

Magnan stepped to a tall glass door, eased it open and poked his head +through the heavy draperies. As he moved to draw back, a voice was +faintly audible. Magnan paused, head still through the drapes.

+ +

"What's going on there?" Zorn rasped. He and Retief stepped up behind +Magnan.

+ +

"—breath of air, ha-ha," Magnan was saying.

+ +

"Well, come along, Magnan!" Ambassador Crodfoller's voice +snapped.

+ +

Magnan shifted from one foot to the other then pushed through the +drapes.

+ +

"Where've you been, Mr. Magnan?" The Ambassador's voice was +sharp.

+ +

"Oh ... ah ... a slight accident, Mr. Ambassador."

+ +

"What's happened to your shoes? Where are your insignia and +decorations?"

+ +

"I—ah—spilled a drink on them. Sir. +Ah—listen...."

+ +

The sound of an orchestra came up suddenly, blaring a fanfare.

+ +

Zorn shifted restlessly, ear against the glass.

+ +

"What's your friend pulling?" he rasped. "I don't like this."

+ +

"Keep cool, Zorn," Retief said. "Mr. Magnan is doing a little +emergency salvage on his career."

+ +

The music died away with a clatter.

+ +

"—My God," Ambassador Crodfoller's voice was faint. "Magnan, +you'll be knighted for this. Thank God you reached me. Thank God it's +not too late. I'll find some excuse. I'll get a gram off at once."

+ +

"But you—"

+ +

"It's all right, Magnan. You were in time. Another ten minutes and +the agreement would have been signed and transmitted. The wheels would +have been put in motion. My career ruined...."

+ +

Retief felt a prod at his back. He turned.

+ +

"Doublecrossed," Zorn said softly. "So much for the word of a +diplomat."

+ +

Retief looked at the +short-barreled needler in Zorn's hand.

+ +

"I see you hedge your bets, Zorn," he said.

+ +

"We'll wait here," Zorn said, "until the excitement's over inside. I +wouldn't want to attract any attention right now."

+ +

"Your politics are still lousy, Zorn. The picture hasn't changed. +Your coup hasn't got a chance."

+ +

"Skip it. I'll take up one problem at a time."

+ +

"Magnan's mouth has a habit of falling open at the wrong +time—"

+ +

"That's my good luck that I heard it. So there'll be no agreement, no +guns, no fat job for Tammany Zorn, hey? Well, I can still play it the +other way, What have I got to lose?"

+ +

With a movement too quick to follow, Retief's hand chopped down +across Zorn's wrist. The needler clattered as Zorn reeled, and then +Retief's hand clamped Zorn's arm and whirled him around.

+ +

"In answer to your last question," Retief said, "your neck."

+ +

"You haven't got a chance, doublecrosser," Zorn gasped.

+ +

"Shoke will be here in a minute," Retief said. "Tell him it's all +off."

+ +

"Twist harder, Mister," Zorn said. "Break it off at the shoulder. I'm +telling him nothing!"

+ +

"The kidding's over, Zorn," Retief said. "Call it off or I'll kill +you."

+ +

"I believe you," Zorn said. "But you won't have long to remember +it."

+ +

"All the killing will be for nothing," Retief said. "You'll be dead +and the Rotunes will step into the power vacuum."

+ +

"So what? When I die, the world ends."

+ +

"Suppose I make you another offer, Zorn?"

+ +

"Why would it be any better than the last one, chiseler?"

+ +

Retief released Zorn's arm, pushed him away, stooped and picked up +the needler.

+ +

"I could kill you, Zorn. You know that."

+ +

"Go ahead!"

+ +

Retief reversed the needler, held it out.

+ +

"I'm a gambler too, Zorn. I'm gambling you'll listen to what I have +to say."

+ +

Zorn snatched the gun, stepped back. He looked at Retief.

+ +

"That wasn't the smartest bet you ever made, Mister; but go ahead. +You've got maybe ten seconds."

+ +

"Nobody doublecrossed you, Zorn. Magnan put his foot in it. Too bad. +Is that a reason to kill yourself and a lot of other people who've bet +their lives on you?"

+ +

"They gambled and lost. Tough."

+ +

"Maybe you haven't lost yet—if you don't quit."

+ +

"Get to the point!"

+ +

Retief spoke earnestly for a minute and a half. Zorn stood, gun +aimed, listening. Then both men turned as footsteps approached along the +terrace. A fat man in a yellow sarong padded up to Zorn.

+ +

Zorn tucked the needler in his waistband.

+ +

"Hold everything, Shoke," he said. "Tell the boys to put the knives +away. Spread the word fast. It's all off."

+ +

"I want to commend you, Retief," Ambassador +Crodfoller said expansively. "You mixed very well at last night's +affair. Actually, I was hardly aware of your presence."

+ +

"I've been studying Mr. Magnan's work," Retief said.

+ +

"A good man, Magnan. In a crowd, he's virtually invisible."

+ +

"He knows when to disappear all right."

+ +

"This has been in many ways a model operation, Retief." The +Ambassador patted his paunch contentedly. "By observing local social +customs and blending harmoniously with the court, I've succeeded in +establishing a fine, friendly, working relationship with the +Potentate."

+ +

"I understand the agreement has been postponed."

+ +

The Ambassador chuckled. "The Potentate's a crafty one. Through ... +ah ... a special study I have been conducting, I learned last night that +he had hoped to, shall I say, 'put one over' on the Corps."

+ +

"Great heavens," Retief said.

+ +

"Naturally, this placed me in a difficult position. It was my task to +quash this gambit, without giving any indication that I was aware of its +existence."

+ +

"A hairy position indeed," Retief said.

+ +

"Quite casually, I informed the Potentate that certain items which +had been included in the terms of the agreement had been deleted and +others substituted. I admired him at that moment, Retief. He took it +coolly—appearing completely indifferent—perfectly +dissembling his very serious disappointment."

+ +

"I noticed him dancing with three girls wearing a bunch of grapes +apiece. He's very agile for a man of his bulk."

+ +

"You mustn't discount the Potentate! Remember, beneath that mask of +frivolity, he had absorbed a bitter blow."

+ +

"He had me fooled," Retief said.

+ +

"Don't feel badly; I confess at first I failed to sense his +shrewdness." The Ambassador nodded and moved off along the corridor.

+ +

Retief turned and went into an office. Magnan looked up from his +desk.

+ +

"Ah," he said. "Retief. I've been meaning to ask you. About the ... +ah ... blasters. Are you—?"

+ +

Retief leaned on Magnan's desk, looked at him.

+ +

"I thought that was to be our little secret."

+ +

"Well, naturally I—" Magnan closed his mouth, swallowed. "How +is it, Retief," he said sharply, "that you were aware of this blaster +business, when the Ambassador himself wasn't?"

+ +

"Easy," Retief said. "I made it up."

+ +

"You what!" Magnan looked wild. "But the agreement—it's been +revised! Ambassador Crodfoller has gone on record...."

+ +

"Too bad. Glad I didn't tell him about it."

+ +

Magnan leaned back and +closed his eyes.

+ +

"It was big of you to take all the ... blame," Retief said, "when the +Ambassador was talking about knighting people."

+ +

Magnan opened his eyes.

+ +

"What about that gambler, Zorn? Won't he be upset?"

+ +

"It's all right," Retief said, "I made another arrangement. The +business about making blasters out of common components wasn't +completely imaginary. You can actually do it, using parts from an +old-fashioned disposal unit."

+ +

"What good will that do him?" Magnan whispered, looking nervous. +"We're not shipping in any old-fashioned disposal units."

+ +

"We don't need to," Retief said. "They're already installed in the +palace kitchen—and in a few thousand other places, Zorn tells +me."

+ +

"If this ever leaks...." Magnan put a hand to his forehead.

+ +

"I have his word on it that the Nenni slaughter is out. This place is +ripe for a change. Maybe Zorn is what it needs."

+ +

"But how can we know?" Magnan yelped. "How can we be +sure?"

+ +

"We can't," Retief said. "But it's not up to the Corps to meddle in +Petreacs' internal affairs." He leaned over, picked up Magnan's desk +lighter and lit a cigar. He blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. +"Right?"

+ +

Magnan looked at him, nodded weakly. "Right."

+ +

"I'd better be getting along to my desk," Retief said. "Now that the +Ambassador feels that I'm settling down at last—"

+ +

"Retief," Magnan said, "tonight, I implore you. Stay out of the +kitchen—no matter what."

+ +

Retief raised his eyebrows.

+ +

"I know," Magnan said. "If you hadn't interfered, we'd all have had +our throats cut. But at least," he added, "we'd have died in accordance +with regulations!"

+ + +

END

+ + + + + + + + +
+
+
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