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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3e9ab1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51768 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51768) diff --git a/old/51768-h.zip b/old/51768-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 17d796f..0000000 --- a/old/51768-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51768-h/51768-h.htm b/old/51768-h/51768-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index b15d07b..0000000 --- a/old/51768-h/51768-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1769 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Prospector's Special, by Robert Sheckley. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Prospector's Special, by Robert Sheckley - -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/license - - -Title: Prospector's Special - -Author: Robert Sheckley - -Release Date: April 15, 2016 [EBook #51768] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROSPECTOR'S SPECIAL *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="372" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>PROSPECTOR'S SPECIAL</h1> - -<p>By ROBERT SHECKLEY</p> - -<p>Illustrated by DILLON</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Science Fiction December 1959.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>Lost in the vast Scorpion Desert of Venus,<br /> -he needed all the courage a man could own—and<br /> -every bit of credit he could raise!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The sandcar moved smoothly over the rolling dunes, its six fat wheels -rising and falling like the ponderous rumps of tandem elephants. The -hidden sun beat down from a dead-white sky, pouring heat into the -canvas top, reflecting heat back from the parched sand.</p> - -<p>"Stay awake," Morrison told himself, pulling the sandcar back to its -compass course.</p> - -<p>It was his twenty-first day on Venus's Scorpion Desert, his -twenty-first day of fighting sleep while the sandcar rocked across the -dunes, forging over humpbacked little waves. Night travel would have -been easier, but there were too many steep ravines to avoid, too many -house-sized boulders to dodge. Now he knew why men went into the desert -in teams; one man drove while the other kept shaking him awake.</p> - -<p>"But it's better alone," Morrison reminded himself. "Half the supplies -and no accidental murders."</p> - -<p>His head was beginning to droop; he snapped himself erect. In front -of him, the landscape shimmered and danced through the polaroid -windshield. The sandcar lurched and rocked with treacherous gentleness. -Morrison rubbed his eyes and turned on the radio.</p> - -<p>He was a big, sunburned, rangy young man with close-cropped black hair -and gray eyes. He had come to Venus with a grubstake of twenty thousand -dollars, to find his fortune in the Scorpion Desert as others had done -before him. He had outfitted in Presto, the last town on the edge -of the wilderness, and spent all but ten dollars on the sandcar and -equipment.</p> - -<p>In Presto, ten dollars just covered the cost of a drink in the town's -only saloon. So Morrison ordered rye and water, drank with the miners -and prospectors, and laughed at the oldtimers' yarns about the sandwolf -packs and the squadrons of voracious birds that inhabited the interior -desert. He knew all about sunblindness, heat-stroke and telephone -breakdown. He was sure none of it would happen to him.</p> - -<p>But now, after twenty-one days and eighteen hundred miles, he had -learned respect for this waterless waste of sand and stone three times -the area of the Sahara. You really <i>could</i> die here!</p> - -<p>But you could also get rich, and that was what Morrison planned to do.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>His radio hummed. At full volume, he could hear the faintest murmur of -dance music from Venusborg. Then it faded and only the hum was left.</p> - -<p>He turned off the radio and gripped the steering wheel tightly in both -hands. He unclenched one hand and looked at his watch. Nine-fifteen -in the morning. At ten-thirty he would stop and take a nap. A man had -to have rest in this heat. But only a half-hour nap. Treasure lay -somewhere ahead of him, and he wanted to find it before his supplies -got much lower.</p> - -<p>The precious outcroppings of goldenstone <i>had</i> to be up ahead! He'd -been following traces for two days now. Maybe he would hit a real -bonanza, as Kirk did in '89, or Edmonson and Arsler in '93. If so, he -would do just what they did. He'd order up a Prospector's Special, and -to hell with the cost.</p> - -<p>The sandcar rolled along at an even thirty miles an hour, and Morrison -tried to concentrate on the heat-blasted yellow-brown landscape. That -sandstone patch over there was just the tawny color of Janie's hair.</p> - -<p>After he struck it rich, he and Janie would get married, and he'd go -back to Earth and buy an ocean farm. No more prospecting. Just one rich -strike so he could buy his spread on the deep blue Atlantic. Maybe some -people thought fish-herding was tame; it was good enough for him.</p> - -<p>He could see it now, the mackerel herds drifting along and browsing at -the plankton pens, himself and his trusty dolphin keeping an eye out -for the silvery flash of a predatory barracuda or a steel-gray shark -coming along behind the branching coral....</p> - -<p>Morrison felt the sandcar lurch. He woke up, grabbed the steering wheel -and turned it hard. During his moments of sleep, the vehicle had crept -over the dune's crumbling edge. Sand and pebbles spun under the fat -tires as the sandcar fought for traction. The car tilted perilously. -The tires shrieked against the sand, gripped, and started to pull the -vehicle back up the slope.</p> - -<p>Then the whole face of the dune collapsed.</p> - -<p>Morrison held onto the steering wheel as the sandcar flipped over on -its side and rolled down the slope. Sand filled his mouth and eyes. -He spat and held on while the car rolled over again and dropped into -emptiness.</p> - -<p>For seconds, he was in the air. The sandcar hit bottom squarely on its -wheels. Morrison heard a double boom as the two rear tires blew out. -Then his head hit the windshield.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When he recovered consciousness, the first thing he did was look at his -watch. It read 10:35.</p> - -<p>"Time for that nap," Morrison said to himself. "But I guess I'll survey -the situation first."</p> - -<p>He found that he was at the bottom of a shallow fault strewn with -knife-edged pebbles. Two tires had blown on impact, his windshield was -gone, and one of the doors was sprung. His equipment was strewn around, -but appeared to be intact.</p> - -<p>"Could have been worse," Morrison said.</p> - -<p>He bent down to examine the tires more carefully.</p> - -<p>"It <i>is</i> worse," he said.</p> - -<p>The two blown tires were shredded beyond repair. There wasn't enough -rubber left in them to make a child's balloon. He had used up his -spares ten days back crossing Devil's Grill. Used them and discarded -them. He couldn't go on without tires.</p> - -<p>Morrison unpacked his telephone. He wiped dust from its black -plastic face, then dialed Al's Garage in Presto. After a moment, the -small video screen lighted up. He could see a man's long, mournful, -grease-stained face.</p> - -<p>"Al's Garage. Eddie speaking."</p> - -<p>"Hi, Eddie. This is Tom Morrison. I bought that GM sandcar from you -about a month ago. Remember?"</p> - -<p>"Sure I remember you," Eddie said. "You're the guy doing a single into -the Southwest Track. How's the bus holding out?"</p> - -<p>"Fine. Great little car. Reason I called—"</p> - -<p>"Hey," Eddie said, "what happened to your face?"</p> - -<p>Morrison put his hand to his forehead and felt blood. "Nothing much," -he said. "I went over a dune and blew out two tires."</p> - -<p>He turned the telephone so that Eddie could see the tires.</p> - -<p>"Unrepairable," said Eddie.</p> - -<p>"I thought so. And I used up all my spares crossing Devil's Grill. -Look, Eddie, I'd like you to 'port me a couple of tires. Retreads are -fine. I can't move the sandcar without them."</p> - -<p>"Sure," Eddie said, "except I haven't any retreads. I'll have to 'port -you new ones at five hundred apiece. Plus four hundred dollars 'porting -charges. Fourteen hundred dollars, Mr. Morrison."</p> - -<p>"All right."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. Now if you'll show me the cash, or a money order which you -can send back with the receipt, I'll get moving on it."</p> - -<p>"At the moment," Morrison said, "I haven't got a cent on me."</p> - -<p>"Bank account?"</p> - -<p>"Stripped clean."</p> - -<p>"Bonds? Property? Anything you can convert into cash?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing except this sandcar, which you sold me for eight thousand -dollars. When I come back, I'll settle my bill with the sandcar."</p> - -<p>"<i>If</i> you get back. Sorry, Mr. Morrison. No can do."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" Morrison asked. "You know I'll pay for the tires."</p> - -<p>"And you know the rules on Venus," Eddie said, his mournful face set in -obstinate lines. "No credit! Cash and carry!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"I can't run the sandcar without tires," Morrison said. "Are you going -to strand me out here?"</p> - -<p>"Who in hell is stranding you?" Eddie asked. "This sort of thing -happens to prospectors every day. You know what you have to do now, Mr. -Morrison. Call Public Utility and declare yourself a bankrupt. Sign -over what's left of the sandcar, equipment, and anything you've found -on the way. They'll get you out."</p> - -<p>"I'm not turning back," Morrison said. "Look!" He held the telephone -close to the ground. "You see the traces, Eddie? See those red and -purple flecks? There's precious stuff near here!"</p> - -<p>"Every prospector sees traces," Eddie said. "Damned desert is full of -traces."</p> - -<p>"These are rich," Morrison said. "These are leading straight to big -stuff, a bonanza lode. Eddie, I know it's a lot to ask, but if you -could stake me to a couple of tires—"</p> - -<p>"I can't do it," Eddie said. "I just work here. I can't 'port you any -tires, not unless you show me money first. Otherwise I get fired and -probably jailed. You know the law."</p> - -<p>"Cash and carry," Morrison said bleakly.</p> - -<p>"Right. Be smart and turn back now. Maybe you can try again some other -time."</p> - -<p>"I spent twelve years getting this stake together," Morrison said. "I'm -not going back."</p> - -<p>He turned off the telephone and tried to think. Was there anyone else -on Venus he could call? Only Max Krandall, his jewel broker. But Max -couldn't raise fourteen hundred dollars in that crummy two-by-four -office near Venusborg's jewel market. Max could barely scrape up his -own rent, much less take care of stranded prospectors.</p> - -<p>"I can't ask Max for help," Morrison decided. "Not until I've found -goldenstone. The real stuff, not just traces. So that leaves it up to -me."</p> - -<p>He opened the back of the sandcar and began to unload, piling his -equipment on the sand. He would have to choose carefully; anything he -took would have to be carried on his back.</p> - -<p>The telephone had to go with him, and his lightweight testing kit. -Food concentrates, revolver, compass. And nothing else but water, all -the water he could carry. The rest of the stuff would have to stay -behind.</p> - -<p>By nightfall, Morrison was ready. He looked regretfully at the twenty -cans of water he was leaving. In the desert, water was a man's most -precious possession, second only to his telephone. But it couldn't -be helped. After drinking his fill, he hoisted his pack and set a -southwest course into the desert.</p> - -<p>For three days he trekked to the southwest; then on the fourth day he -veered to due south, following an increasingly rich trace. The sun, -eternally hidden, beat down on him, and the dead-white sky was like a -roof of heated iron over his head. Morrison followed the traces, and -something followed him.</p> - -<p>On the sixth day, he sensed movement just out of the range of his -vision. On the seventh day, he saw what was trailing him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Venus's own brand of wolf, small, lean, with a yellow coat and long, -grinning jaws, it was one of the few mammals that made its home in the -Scorpion Desert. As Morrison watched, two more sandwolves appeared -beside it.</p> - -<p>He loosened the revolver in its holster. The wolves made no attempt to -come closer. They had plenty of time.</p> - -<p>Morrison kept on going, wishing he had brought a rifle with him. But -that would have meant eight pounds more, which meant eight pounds less -water.</p> - -<p>As he was pitching camp at dusk the eighth day, he heard a crackling -sound. He whirled around and located its source, about ten feet to his -left and above his head. A little vortex had appeared, a tiny mouth in -the air like a whirlpool in the sea. It spun, making the characteristic -crackling sounds of 'porting.</p> - -<p>"Now who could be 'porting anything to me?" Morrison asked, waiting -while the whirlpool slowly widened.</p> - -<p>Solidoporting from a base projector to a field target was a standard -means of moving goods across the vast distances of Venus. Any inanimate -object could be 'ported; animate beings couldn't because the process -involved certain minor but distressing molecular changes in protoplasm. -A few people had found this out the hard way when 'porting was first -introduced.</p> - -<p>Morrison waited. The aerial whirlpool became a mouth three feet in -diameter. From the mouth stepped a chrome-plated robot carrying a large -sack.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's you," Morrison said.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," the robot said, now completely clear of the field. -"Williams 4 at your service with the Venus Mail."</p> - -<p>It was a robot of medium height, thin-shanked and flat-footed, humanoid -in appearance, amiable in disposition. For twenty-three years it -had been Venus's entire postal service—sorter, deliverer, and dead -storage. It had been built to last, and for twenty-three years the -mails had always come through.</p> - -<p>"Here we are, Mr. Morrison," Williams 4 said. "Only twice-a-month -mail call in the desert, I'm sorry to say, but it comes promptly and -that's a blessing. This is for you. And this. I think there's one more. -Sandcar broke down, eh?"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="600" height="476" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"It sure did," Morrison said, taking his letters.</p> - -<p>Williams 4 went on rummaging through its bag. Although it was a -superbly efficient postman, the old robot was known as the worst gossip -on three planets.</p> - -<p>"There's one more in here somewhere," Williams 4 said. "Too bad about -the sandcar. They just don't build 'em like they did in my youth. Take -my advice, young man. Turn back if you still have the chance."</p> - -<p>Morrison shook his head.</p> - -<p>"Foolish, downright foolish," the old robot said. "Pity you don't have -my perspective. Too many's the time I've come across you boys lying in -the sand in the dried-out sack of your skin, or with your bones gnawed -to splinters by the sandwolves and the filthy black kites. Twenty-three -years I've been delivering mail to fine-looking young men like you, -and each one thinking he's unique and different."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The robot's eyecells became distant with memory. "But they <i>aren't</i> -different," Williams 4 said. "They're as alike as robots off the -assembly line—especially after the wolves get through with them. And -then I have to send their letters and personal effects back to their -loved ones on Earth."</p> - -<p>"I know," Morrison said. "But some get through, don't they?"</p> - -<p>"Sure they do," the robot said. "I've seen men make one, two, three -fortunes. And then die on the sands trying to make a fourth."</p> - -<p>"Not me," Morrison said. "I just want one. Then I'm going to buy me an -undersea farm on Earth."</p> - -<p>The robot shuddered. "I have a dread of salt water. But to each his -own. Good luck, young man."</p> - -<p>The robot looked Morrison over carefully—probably to see what he had -in the way of personal effects—then climbed back into the aerial -whirlpool. In a moment, it was gone. In another moment, the whirlpool -had vanished.</p> - -<p>Morrison sat down to read his mail. The first letter was from his -jewel broker, Max Krandall. It told about the depression that had hit -Venusborg, and hinted that Krandall might have to go into bankruptcy if -some of his prospectors didn't strike something good.</p> - -<p>The second letter was a statement from the Venus Telephone Company. -Morrison owed two hundred and ten dollars and eight cents for two -months' telephone service. Unless he remitted this sum at once, his -telephone was liable to be turned off.</p> - -<p>The last letter, all the way from Earth, was from Janie. It was filled -with news about his cousins, aunts and uncles. She told him about the -Atlantic farm sites she had looked over, and the wonderful little place -she had found near Martinique in the Caribbean. She begged him to give -up prospecting if it looked dangerous; they could find another way -of financing the farm. She sent all her love and wished him a happy -birthday in advance.</p> - -<p>"Birthday?" Morrison asked himself. "Let's see, today is July -twenty-third. No, it's the twenty-fourth, and my birthday's August -first. Thanks for remembering, Janie."</p> - -<p>That night he dreamed of Earth and the blue expanse of the Atlantic -Ocean. But toward dawn, when the heat of Venus became insistent, he -found he was dreaming of mile upon mile of goldenstone, of grinning -sandwolves, and of the Prospector's Special.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Rock gave way to sand as Morrison plowed his way across the bottom of a -long-vanished lake. Then it was rock again, twisted and tortured into a -thousand gaunt shapes. Reds, yellows and browns swam in front of his -eyes. In all that desert, there wasn't one patch of green.</p> - -<p>He continued his trek into the tumbled stone mazes of the interior -desert, and the wolves trekked with him, keeping pace far out on either -flank.</p> - -<p>Morrison ignored them. He had enough on his mind just to negotiate the -sheer cliffs and the fields of broken stone that blocked his way to the -south.</p> - -<p>By the eleventh day after leaving the sandcar, the traces were almost -rich enough for panning. The sandwolves were tracking him still, and -his water was almost gone. Another day's march would finish him.</p> - -<p>Morrison thought for a moment, then unstrapped his telephone and dialed -Public Utility in Venusborg.</p> - -<p>The video screen showed a stern, severely dressed woman with iron-gray -hair. "Public Utility," she said. "May we be of service?"</p> - -<p>"Hi," Morrison said cheerfully. "How's the weather in Venusborg?"</p> - -<p>"Hot," the woman said. "How's it out there?"</p> - -<p>"I hadn't even noticed," Morrison said, grinning. "Too busy counting my -fortune."</p> - -<p>"You've found goldenstone?" the woman asked, her expression becoming -less severe.</p> - -<p>"Sure have," Morrison said. "But don't pass the word around yet. I'm -still staking my claim. I think I can use a refill on these."</p> - -<p>Smiling easily, he held up his canteens. Sometimes it worked. -Sometimes, if you showed enough confidence, Public Utility would fill -you up without checking your account. True, it was embezzling, but this -was no time for niceties.</p> - -<p>"I suppose your account is in order?" asked the woman.</p> - -<p>"Of course," Morrison said, feeling his smile grow stiff. "The name's -Tom Morrison. You can just check—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't do that personally," the woman said. "Hold that canteen -steady. Here we go."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Gripping the canteen in both hands, Morrison watched as the water, -'ported four thousand miles from Venusborg, appeared as a slender -crystal stream above the mouth of his canteen. The stream entered the -canteen, making a wonderful gurgling sound. Watching it, Morrison found -his dry mouth actually was beginning to salivate.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="352" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Then the water stopped.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" Morrison asked.</p> - -<p>His video screen went blank. Then it cleared, and Morrison found -himself staring into a man's narrow face. The man was seated in front -of a large desk. The sign in front of him read <i>Milton P. Reade, Vice -President, Accounts</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Mr. Morrison," Reade said, "your account is overdrawn. You have been -obtaining water under false pretenses. That is a criminal offense."</p> - -<p>"I'm going to pay for the water," Morrison said.</p> - -<p>"When?"</p> - -<p>"As soon as I get back to Venusborg."</p> - -<p>"With what," asked Mr. Reade, "do you propose to pay?"</p> - -<p>"With goldenstone," Morrison said. "Look around here, Mr. Reade. The -traces are rich! Richer than they were for the Kirk claim! I'll be -hitting the outcroppings in another day—"</p> - -<p>"That's what every prospector thinks," Mr. Reade said. "Every -prospector on Venus is only a day from goldenstone. And they all expect -credit from Public Utility."</p> - -<p>"But in this case—"</p> - -<p>"Public Utility," Mr. Reade continued inexorably, "is not a -philanthropic organization. Its charter specifically forbids the -extension of credit. Venus is a frontier, Mr. Morrison, a <i>farflung</i> -frontier. Every manufactured article on Venus must be imported from -Earth at outrageous cost. We do have our own water, but locating it, -purifying it, then 'porting it is an expensive process. This company, -like every other company on Venus, necessarily operates on a very -narrow margin of profit, which is invariably plowed back into further -expansion. That is why there can be no credit on Venus."</p> - -<p>"I know all that," Morrison said. "But I'm telling you, I only need a -day or two more—"</p> - -<p>"Absolutely impossible. By the rules, we shouldn't even help you out -now. The time to report bankruptcy was a week ago, when your sandcar -broke down. Your garage man reported, as required by law. But you -didn't. We would be within our rights to leave you stranded. Do you -understand that?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, of course," Morrison said wearily.</p> - -<p>"However, the company has decided to stretch a point in your favor. If -you turn back immediately, we will keep you supplied with water for the -return trip."</p> - -<p>"I'm not turning back yet. I'm almost on the real stuff."</p> - -<p>"You must turn back! Be reasonable, Morrison! Where would we be if -we let every prospector wander over the desert while we supplied his -water? There'd be ten thousand men out there, and we'd be out of -business inside of a year. I'm stretching the rules now. Turn back."</p> - -<p>"No," said Morrison.</p> - -<p>"You'd better think about it. If you don't turn back now, Public -Utility takes no further responsibility for your water supply."</p> - -<p>Morrison nodded. If he went on, he would stand a good chance of -dying in the desert. But if he turned back, what then? He would be in -Venusborg, penniless and in debt, looking for work in an overcrowded -city. He'd sleep in a community shed and eat at a soup kitchen with -the other prospectors who had turned back. And how would he be able to -raise the fare back to Earth? When would he ever see Janie again?</p> - -<p>"I guess I'll keep on going," Morrison said.</p> - -<p>"Then Public Utility takes no further responsibility for you," Reade -repeated, and hung up.</p> - -<p>Morrison packed up his telephone, took a sip from his meager water -supply, and went on.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The sandwolves loped along at each side, moving in closer. Overhead, a -delta-winged kite found him. It balanced on the up-drafts for a day and -a night, waiting for the wolves to finish him. Then a flock of small -flying scorpions sighted the waiting kite. They drove the big creature -upstairs into the cloud bank. For a day the flying reptiles waited. -Then they in turn were driven off by a squadron of black kites.</p> - -<p>The traces were very rich now, on the fifteenth day since he had left -the sandcar. By rights, he should be walking over goldenstone. He -should be surrounded by goldenstone. But still he hadn't found any.</p> - -<p>Morrison sat down and shook his last canteen. It gave off no wet sound. -He uncapped it and turned it up over his mouth. Two drops trickled down -his parched throat.</p> - -<p>It was about four days since he had talked to Public Utility. He must -have used up the last of his water yesterday. Or had it been the day -before?</p> - -<p>He recapped the empty canteen and looked around at the heat-blasted -landscape. Abruptly he pulled the telephone out of his pack and dialed -Max Krandall in Venusborg.</p> - -<p>Krandall's round, worried face swam into focus on the screen. "Tommy," -he said, "you look like hell."</p> - -<p>"I'm all right," Morrison said. "A little dried out, that's all. Max, -I'm near goldenstone."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure?" Krandall asked.</p> - -<p>"See for yourself," Morrison said, swinging the telephone around. "Look -at the stone formations! Do you see the red and purple markings over -there?"</p> - -<p>"Traces, all right," Krandall admitted dubiously.</p> - -<p>"There's rich stuff just beyond it," Morrison said. "There has to be! -Look, Max, I know you're short on money, but I'm going to ask you a -favor. Send me a pint of water. Just a pint, so I can go on for another -day or two. We can both get rich for the price of a pint of water."</p> - -<p>"I can't do it," Krandall said sadly.</p> - -<p>"You can't?"</p> - -<p>"That's right. Tommy, I'd send you water even if there wasn't anything -around you but sandstone and granite. Do you think I'd let you die of -thirst if I could help it? But I can't do a thing. Take a look."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Krandall rotated his telephone. Morrison saw that the chairs, table, -desk, filing cabinet and safe were gone from the office. All that was -left in the room was the telephone.</p> - -<p>"I don't know why they haven't taken out the phone," Krandall said. "I -owe two months on my bill."</p> - -<p>"I do too," said Morrison.</p> - -<p>"I'm stripped," Krandall said. "I haven't got a dime. Don't get me -wrong, I'm not worried about myself. I can always eat at a soup -kitchen. But I can't 'port you any water. Not you or Remstaater."</p> - -<p>"Jim Remstaater?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah. He was following a trace up north past Forgotten River. His -sandcar broke an axle last week and he wouldn't turn back. His water -ran out yesterday."</p> - -<p>"I'd bail him out if I could," said Morrison.</p> - -<p>"And he'd bail you out if he could," Krandall said. "But he can't and -you can't and I can't. Tommy, you have only one hope."</p> - -<p>"What's that?"</p> - -<p>"Find goldenstone. Not just traces, find the real thing worth real -money. Then phone me. If you really have goldenstone, I'll bring in -Wilkes from Tri-Planet Mining and get him to advance us some money. -He'll probably want fifty per cent of the claim."</p> - -<p>"That's plain robbery!"</p> - -<p>"No, it's just the high cost of credit on Venus," Krandall answered. -"Don't worry, there'll still be plenty left over. But you have to find -goldenstone first."</p> - -<p>"OK," Morrison said. "It should be around here somewhere. Max, what's -today's date?"</p> - -<p>"July thirty-first. Why?"</p> - -<p>"Just wondering. I'll call you when I've found something."</p> - -<p>After hanging up, Morrison sat on a little boulder and stared dully -at the sand. July thirty-first. Tomorrow was his birthday. His family -would be thinking about him. Aunt Bess in Pasadena, the twins in Laos, -Uncle Ted in Durango. And Janie, of course, waiting for him in Tampa.</p> - -<p>Morrison realized that tomorrow might be his last birthday unless he -found goldenstone.</p> - -<p>He got to his feet, strapped the telephone back in his pack beside the -empty canteens, and set a course to the south.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He wasn't alone. The birds and beasts of the desert marched with him. -Overhead, the silent black kites circled endlessly. The sandwolves -crept closer on his flanks, their red tongues lolling out, waiting for -the carcass to fall....</p> - -<p>"I'm not dead yet!" Morrison shouted at them.</p> - -<p>He drew his revolver and fired at the nearest wolf. At twenty feet, he -missed. He went down on one knee, held the revolver tightly in both -hands and fired again. The wolf yelped in pain. The pack immediately -went for the wounded animal, and the kites swooped down for their share.</p> - -<p>Morrison put the revolver back in its holster and went on. He could -tell he was in a badly dehydrated state. The landscape jumped and -danced in front of him, and his footing was unsure. He discarded the -empty canteens, threw away everything but the testing kit, telephone -and revolver. Either he was coming out of the desert in style or he -wasn't coming out at all.</p> - -<p>The traces continued to run rich. But still he came upon no sign of -tangible wealth.</p> - -<p>That evening he found a shallow cave set into the base of a cliff. He -crawled inside and built a barricade of rocks across the entrance. Then -he drew his revolver and leaned back against the far wall.</p> - -<p>The sandwolves were outside, sniffing and snapping their jaws. Morrison -propped himself up and got ready for an all-night vigil.</p> - -<p>He didn't sleep, but he couldn't stay awake, either. Dreams and -visions tormented him. He was back on Earth and Janie was saying to -him, "It's the tuna. Something must be wrong with their diet. Every -last one of them is sick."</p> - -<p>"It's the darnedest thing," Morrison told her. "Just as soon as you -domesticate a fish, it turns into a prima donna."</p> - -<p>"Are you going to stand there philosophizing," Janie asked, "while your -fish are sick?"</p> - -<p>"Call the vet."</p> - -<p>"I did. He's off at the Blake's place, taking care of their dairy -whale."</p> - -<p>"All right, I'll go out and take a look." He slipped on his face mask. -Grinning, he said, "I don't even have time to dry off before I have to -go out again."</p> - -<p>His face and chest were wet.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Morrison opened his eyes. His face and chest <i>were</i> wet—from -perspiration. Staring at the partially blocked mouth of the cave, he -could see green eyes, two, four, six, eight.</p> - -<p>He fired at them, but they didn't retreat. He fired again, and -his bullet richocheted off the cave wall, stinging him with stone -splinters. With his next shots, he succeeded in winging one of the -wolves. The pack withdrew.</p> - -<p>That emptied the revolver. Morrison searched through his pockets and -found five more cartridges. He carefully loaded the gun. Dawn couldn't -be far away now.</p> - -<p>And then he was dreaming again, this time of the Prospector's Special. -He had heard about it in every little saloon that bordered the -Scorpion. Bristly-bearded old prospectors told a hundred different -stories about it, and the cynical bartenders chimed in with their -versions. Kirk had it in '89, ordered up big and special just for him. -Edmonson and Arsler received it in '93. That was certain. And other men -had had it too, as they sat on their precious goldenstone claims. Or so -people said.</p> - -<p>But was it real? Was there such a thing as the Prospector's Special? -Would he live to see that rainbow-hued wonder, tall as a church -steeple, wide as a house, more precious than goldenstone itself?</p> - -<p>Sure he would! Why, he could almost see it now....</p> - -<p>Morrison shook himself awake. It was morning. Painfully, he crawled out -of the cave to face the day.</p> - -<p>He stumbled and crawled to the south, escorted closely by wolves, -shaded by predatory flying things. His fingers scrabbled along rock and -sand. The traces were rich, rich!</p> - -<p>But where in all this desolation was the goldenstone?</p> - -<p>Where? He was almost past caring. He drove his sunburned, dried-out -body, stopping only to fire a single shot when the wolves came too -close.</p> - -<p>Four bullets left.</p> - -<p>He had to fire again when the kites, growing impatient, started diving -at his head. A lucky shot tore into the flock, downing two. It gave the -wolves something to fight over. Morrison crawled on blindly.</p> - -<p>And fell over the edge of a little cliff.</p> - -<p>It wasn't a serious fall, but the revolver was knocked from his hand. -Before he could find it, the wolves were on him. Only their greed saved -Morrison. While they fought over him, he rolled away and retrieved his -revolver. Two shots scattered the pack. That left one bullet.</p> - -<p>He'd have to save that one for himself, because he was too tired to -go on. He sank to his knees. The traces were rich here. Fantastically -rich. Somewhere nearby....</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll be damned," Morrison said.</p> - -<p>The little ravine into which he had fallen was solid goldenstone.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He picked up a pebble. Even in its rough state he could see the deep -luminous golden glow, the fiery red and purple flecks deep in the -shining stone.</p> - -<p>"Make sure," Morrison told himself. "No false alarms, no visions, no -wild hopes. Make sure."</p> - -<p>He broke off a chunk of rock with the butt of his revolver. It still -looked like goldenstone. He took out his testing kit and spilled a few -drops of white solution on the rock. The solution foamed green.</p> - -<p>"Goldenstone, sure as sure," Morrison said, looking around at the -glowing cliff walls. "Hey, I'm rich!"</p> - -<p>He took out his telephone. With trembling fingers he dialed Krandall's -number.</p> - -<p>"Max!" Morrison shouted. "I've hit it! I've hit the real stuff!"</p> - -<p>"My name is not Max," a voice over the telephone said.</p> - -<p>"Huh?"</p> - -<p>"My name is Boyard," the man said.</p> - -<p>The video screen cleared, and Morrison saw a thin, sallow-faced man -with a hairline mustache.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, Mr. Boyard," Morrison said. "I must have gotten the wrong -number. I was calling—"</p> - -<p>"It doesn't matter who you were calling," Mr. Boyard said. "I am -District Supervisor of the Venus Telephone Company. Your bill is two -months overdue."</p> - -<p>"I can pay it now," Morrison said, grinning.</p> - -<p>"Excellent," said Mr. Boyard. "As soon as you do, your service will be -resumed."</p> - -<p>The screen began to fade.</p> - -<p>"Wait!" Morrison cried. "I can pay as soon as I reach your office. But -I must make one telephone call. Just one call, so that I—"</p> - -<p>"Not a chance," Mr. Boyard said decisively. "<i>After</i> you have paid your -bill, your service will be turned on immediately."</p> - -<p>"I've got the money right here!" Morrison said. "Right here in my hand!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Boyard paused. "Well, it's unusual, but I suppose we could arrange -for a special robot messenger if you are willing to pay the expenses."</p> - -<p>"I am!"</p> - -<p>"Hm. It's irregular, but I daresay we ... Where is the money?"</p> - -<p>"Right here," Morrison said. "You recognize it, don't you? It's -goldenstone!"</p> - -<p>"I am sick and tired of the tricks you prospectors think you can put -over on us. Holding up a handful of pebbles—"</p> - -<p>"But this is really goldenstone! Can't you see it?"</p> - -<p>"I am a businessman," Mr. Boyard said, "not a jeweler. I wouldn't know -goldenstone from goldenrod."</p> - -<p>The video screen went blank.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Frantically, Morrison tried to reach the operator. There was nothing, -not even a dial tone. His telephone was disconnected.</p> - -<p>He put the instrument down and surveyed his situation. The narrow -crevice into which he had fallen ran straight for about twenty yards, -then curved to the left. No cave was visible in the steep walls, no -place where he could build a barricade.</p> - -<p>He heard a movement behind him. Whirling around, he saw a huge old wolf -in full charge. Without a moment's hesitation, Morrison drew and fired, -blasting off the top of the beast's head.</p> - -<p>"Damn it," Morrison said. "I was going to save that bullet for myself."</p> - -<p>It gave him a moment's grace. He ran down the ravine, looking for an -opening in its sides. Goldenstone glowed at him and sparkled red and -purple. And the sandwolves loped along behind him.</p> - -<p>Then Morrison stopped. In front of him, the curving ravine ended in a -sheer wall.</p> - -<p>He put his back against it, holding the revolver by its butt. The -wolves stopped five feet from him, gathering themselves for a rush. -There were ten or twelve of them, and they were packed three deep in -the narrow pass. Overhead, the kites circled, waiting for their turn.</p> - -<p>At that moment, Morrison heard the crackling sound of 'porting -equipment. A whirlpool appeared above the wolves' heads and they backed -hastily away.</p> - -<p>"Just in time!" Morrison said.</p> - -<p>"In time for what?" asked Williams 4, the postman.</p> - -<p>The robot climbed out of the vortex and looked around.</p> - -<p>"Well, young man," Williams 4 said, "this is a fine fix you've gotten -yourself into. Didn't I warn you? Didn't I advise you to turn back? And -now look!"</p> - -<p>"You were perfectly right," Morrison said. "What did Max Krandall send -me?"</p> - -<p>"Max Krandall did not, and could not, send a thing."</p> - -<p>"Then why are you here?"</p> - -<p>"Because it's your birthday," Williams 4 said. "We of the Postal -Department always give special service for birthdays. Here you are."</p> - -<p>Williams 4 gave him a handful of mail, birthday greetings from Janie, -and from his aunts, uncles and cousins on Earth.</p> - -<p>"Something else here," Williams 4 said, rummaging in his bag. "I -<i>think</i> there was something else here. Let me see.... Yes, here it is."</p> - -<p>He handed Morrison a small package.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hastily, Morrison tore off the wrappings. It was a birthday present -from his Aunt Mina in New Jersey. He opened it. It was a large box of -salt-water taffy, direct from Atlantic City.</p> - -<p>"Quite a delicacy, I'm told," said Williams 4, who had been peering -over his shoulder. "But not very satisfactory under the circumstances. -Well, young man, I hate to see anyone die on his birthday. The best I -can wish you is a speedy and painless departure."</p> - -<p>The robot began walking toward the vortex.</p> - -<p>"Wait!" Morrison cried. "You can't just leave me like this! I haven't -had any water in days! And those wolves—"</p> - -<p>"I know," Williams 4 said. "Do you think I feel <i>happy</i> about it? Even -a robot has some feelings!"</p> - -<p>"Then help me."</p> - -<p>"I can't. The rules of the Postal Department expressly and -categorically forbid it. I remember Abner Lathe making much the same -request of me in '97. It took three years for a burial party to reach -him."</p> - -<p>"You have an emergency telephone, haven't you?" Morrison asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes. But I can use it only for personal emergencies."</p> - -<p>"Can you at least carry a letter for me? A special delivery letter?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I can," the robot postman said. "That's what I'm here for. I -can even lend you pencil and paper."</p> - -<p>Morrison accepted the pencil and paper and tried to think. If he wrote -to Max now, special delivery, Max would have the letter in a matter of -hours. But how long would Max need to raise some money and send him -water and ammunition? A day, two days? Morrison would have to figure -out some way of holding out....</p> - -<p>"I assume you have a stamp," the robot said.</p> - -<p>"I don't," Morrison replied. "But I'll buy one from you. Solidoport -special."</p> - -<p>"Excellent," said the robot. "We have just put out a new series -of Venusborg triangulars. I consider them quite an esthetic -accomplishment. They cost three dollars apiece."</p> - -<p>"That's fine. Very reasonable. Let me have one."</p> - -<p>"There is the question of payment."</p> - -<p>"Here," Morrison said, handing the robot a piece of goldenstone worth -about five thousand dollars in the rough.</p> - -<p>The postman examined the stone, then handed it back. "I'm sorry, I can -accept only cash."</p> - -<p>"But this is worth more than a thousand postage stamps!" Morrison said. -"This is goldenstone!"</p> - -<p>"It may well be," Williams 4 said. "But I have never had any assaying -knowledge taped into me. Nor is the Venus Postal Service run on a -barter system. I'll have to ask for three dollars in bills or coins."</p> - -<p>"I don't have it."</p> - -<p>"I am very sorry." Williams 4 turned to go.</p> - -<p>"You can't just go and let me die!"</p> - -<p>"I can and must," Williams 4 said sadly. "I am only a robot, Mr. -Morrison. I was made by men, and naturally I partake of some of their -sensibilities. That's as it should be. But I also have my limits, -which, in their nature, are similar to the limits most humans have on -this harsh planet. And, unlike humans, I cannot transcend my limits."</p> - -<p>The robot started to climb into the whirlpool. Morrison stared at him -blankly, and saw beyond him the waiting wolfpack. He saw the soft glow -of several million dollars' worth of goldenstone shining from the -ravine's walls.</p> - -<p>Something snapped inside him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>With an inarticulate yell, Morrison dived, tackling the robot around -the ankles. Williams 4, half in and half out of the 'porting vortex, -struggled and kicked, and almost succeeded in shaking Morrison loose. -But with a maniac's strength Morrison held on. Inch by inch he dragged -the robot out of the vortex, threw him on the ground and pinned him.</p> - -<p>"You are disrupting the mail service," said Williams 4.</p> - -<p>"That's not all I'm going to disrupt," Morrison growled. "I'm not -afraid of dying. That was part of the gamble. But I'm damned if I'm -going to die fifteen minutes after I've struck it rich!"</p> - -<p>"You have no choice."</p> - -<p>"I do. I'm going to use that emergency telephone of yours."</p> - -<p>"You can't," Williams 4 said. "I refuse to extrude it. And you could -never reach it without the resources of a machine shop."</p> - -<p>"Could be," said Morrison. "I plan to find out." He pulled out his -empty revolver.</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do?" Williams 4 asked.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to see if I can smash you into scrap metal <i>without</i> the -resources of a machine shop. I think your eyecells would be a logical -place to begin."</p> - -<p>"They would indeed," said the robot. "I have no personal sense of -survival, of course. But let me point out that you would be leaving all -Venus without a postman. Many would suffer because of your anti-social -action."</p> - -<p>"I hope so," Morrison said, raising the revolver above his head.</p> - -<p>"Also," the robot said hastily, "you would be destroying government -property. That is a serious offense."</p> - -<p>Morrison laughed and swung the pistol. The robot moved its head -quickly, dodging the blow. It tried to wriggle free, but Morrison's two -hundred pounds was seated firmly on its thorax.</p> - -<p>"I won't miss this time," Morrison promised, hefting the revolver.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" Williams 4 said. "It is my duty to protect government property, -even if that property happens to be myself. You may use my telephone, -Mr. Morrison. Bear in mind that this offense is punishable by a -sentence of not more than ten and not less than five years in the -Solar Swamp Penitentiary."</p> - -<p>"Let's have that telephone," Morrison said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The robot's chest opened and a small telephone extruded. Morrison -dialed Max Krandall and explained the situation.</p> - -<p>"I see, I see," Krandall said. "All right, I'll try to find Wilkes. -But, Tom, I don't know how much I can do. It's after business hours. -Most places are closed—"</p> - -<p>"Get them open again," said Morrison. "I can pay for it. And get Jim -Remstaater out of trouble, too."</p> - -<p>"It can't be done just like that. You haven't established any rights to -your claim. You haven't even proved that your claim is valuable."</p> - -<p>"Look at it." Morrison turned the telephone so that Krandall could see -the glowing walls of the ravine.</p> - -<p>"Looks real," Krandall said. "But unfortunately, all that glitters is -not goldenstone."</p> - -<p>"What can we do?" Morrison asked.</p> - -<p>"We'll have to take it step by step. I'll 'port you the Public -Surveyor. He'll check your claim, establish its limits, and make sure -no one else has filed on it. You give him a chunk of goldenstone to -take back. A big chunk."</p> - -<p>"How can I cut goldenstone? I don't have any tools."</p> - -<p>"You'll have to figure out a way. He'll take the chunk back for -assaying. If it's rich enough, you're all set."</p> - -<p>"And if it isn't?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps we better not talk about that," Krandall said. "I'll get right -to work on this, Tommy. Good luck!"</p> - -<p>Morrison signed off. He stood up and helped the robot to its feet.</p> - -<p>"In twenty-three years of service," Williams 4 said, "this is the first -time anybody has threatened the life of a government postal employee. I -must report this to the police authorities at Venusborg, Mr. Morrison. -I have no choice."</p> - -<p>"I know," Morrison said. "But I guess five or ten years in the -penitentiary is better than dying."</p> - -<p>"I doubt it. I carry mail there, you know. You will have the -opportunity of seeing for yourself in about six months."</p> - -<p>"What?" said Morrison, stunned.</p> - -<p>"In about six months, after I have completed my mail calls around the -planet and returned to Venusborg. A matter like this must be reported -in person. But first and foremost, the mails must go through."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Williams. I don't know how—"</p> - -<p>"I am simply performing my duty," the robot said as it climbed into the -vortex. "If you are still on Venus in six months, I will be delivering -your mail to the penitentiary."</p> - -<p>"I won't be here," Morrison said. "So long, Williams!"</p> - -<p>The robot disappeared into the 'porting vortex. Then the vortex -disappeared. Morrison was alone in the Venusian twilight.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He found an outcropping of goldenstone larger than a man's head. He -chipped at it with his pistol butt, and tiny particles danced and -shimmered in the air. After an hour, he had put four dents in his -revolver, but he had barely scratched the highly refractory surface of -the goldenstone.</p> - -<p>The sandwolves began to edge forward. Morrison threw stones at them and -shouted in his dry, cracked voice. The wolves retreated.</p> - -<p>He examined the outcropping again and found a hairline fault running -along one edge. He concentrated his blows along the fault.</p> - -<p>The goldenstone refused to crack.</p> - -<p>Morrison wiped sweat from his eyes and tried to think. A chisel, he -needed a chisel....</p> - -<p>He pulled off his belt. Putting the edge of the steel buckle against -the crack, he managed to hammer it in a fraction of an inch. Three more -blows drove the buckle firmly into the fault. With another blow, the -outcropping sheared off cleanly. He had separated a twenty-pound piece -from the cliff. At fifty dollars a troy ounce, this lump should be -worth about twelve thousand dollars—if it assayed out as pure as it -looked.</p> - -<p>The twilight had turned a deep gray when the Public Surveyor 'ported -in. It was a short, squat robot with a conservative crackle-black -finish.</p> - -<p>"Good day, sir," the surveyor said. "You wish to file a claim? A -standard unrestricted mining claim?"</p> - -<p>"That's right," Morrison said.</p> - -<p>"And where is the center of the aforesaid claim?"</p> - -<p>"Huh? The center? I guess I'm standing on it."</p> - -<p>"Very well," the robot said.</p> - -<p>Extruding a steel tape, it walked rapidly away from Morrison. At a -distance of two hundred yards, it stopped. More steel tape fluttered as -it walked, flew and climbed a square with Morrison at the center. When -it had finished, the surveyor stood for a long time without moving.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="566" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"What are you doing?" Morrison asked.</p> - -<p>"I'm making depth-photographs of the terrain," the robot said. "It's -rather difficult in this light. Couldn't you wait till morning?"</p> - -<p>"No!"</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll just have to cope," the robot said.</p> - -<p>It moved and stood, moved and stood, each subterranean exposure taking -longer than the last as the twilight deepened. If it had had pores, it -would have sweated.</p> - -<p>"There," said the robot at last, "that takes care of it. Do you have a -sample for me to take back?"</p> - -<p>"Here it is," Morrison said, hefting the slab of goldenstone and -handing it to the surveyor. "Is that all?"</p> - -<p>"Absolutely all," the robot said. "Except, of course, that you haven't -given me the Deed of Search."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Morrison blinked. "I haven't given you the what?"</p> - -<p>"The Deed of Search. That is a government document showing that -the claim you are filing on is free, as per government order, of -fissionable material in excess of fifty per cent of the total mass to a -depth of sixty feet. It's a mere formality, but a necessary one."</p> - -<p>"I never heard of it," Morrison said.</p> - -<p>"It became a requirement last week," explained the surveyor. "You don't -have the Deed? Then I'm afraid your standard unrestricted claim is -invalid."</p> - -<p>"Isn't there anything I can do?"</p> - -<p>"Well," the robot said, "you <i>could</i> change your standard unrestricted -claim to a special restricted claim. That requires no Deed of Search."</p> - -<p>"What does the special restricted part mean?"</p> - -<p>"It means that in five hundred years all rights revert to the -Government of Venus."</p> - -<p>"All right!" Morrison shouted. "Fine! Good! Is that all?"</p> - -<p>"Absolutely all," the surveyor said. "I shall bring this sample -back and have it assayed and evaluated immediately. From it and the -depth-photographs we can extrapolate the value and extent of your -claim."</p> - -<p>"Send me back something to take care of the wolves," Morrison said. -"And food. And listen—I want a Prospector's Special."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. It will all be 'ported to you—if your claim is of -sufficient value to warrant the outlay."</p> - -<p>The robot climbed into the vortex and vanished.</p> - -<p>Time passed, and the wolves edged forward again. They snarled at the -rocks Morrison threw, but they didn't retreat. Jaws open and tongues -lolling, they crept up the remaining yards between them and the -prospector.</p> - -<p>Then the leading wolf leaped back and howled. A gleaming vortex had -appeared over his head and a rifle had fallen from the vortex, striking -him on a forepaw.</p> - -<p>The wolves scrambled away. Another rifle fell from the vortex. Then a -large box marked <i>Grenades, Handle With Care</i>. Then another box marked -<i>Desert Ration K</i>.</p> - -<p>Morrison waited, staring at the gleaming mouth of the vortex. It -crossed the sky to a spot a quarter of a mile away and paused there, -and then a great round brass base emerged from the vortex, and the -mouth widened to allow an even greater bulge of brass to which the -base was attached. The bulge grew higher as the base was lowered -to the sand. When the last of it appeared, it stood alone in the -horizon-to-horizon expanse, a gigantic ornate brass punchbowl in the -desert. The vortex rose and paused again over the bowl.</p> - -<p>Morrison waited, his throat raw and aching. Now a small trickle came -out of the vortex and splashed down into the bowl. Still Morrison -didn't move.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And then it came. The trickle became a roar that sent the wolves and -kites fleeing in terror, and a cataract poured from the vortex to the -huge punchbowl.</p> - -<p>Morrison began staggering toward it. He should have ordered a canteen, -he told himself thirstily, stumbling across the quarter of a mile of -sand. But at last he stood beneath the Prospector's Special, higher -than a church steeple, wider than a house, filled with water more -precious than goldenstone itself. He turned the spigot at the bottom. -Water soaked the yellow sands and ran in rivulets down the dune.</p> - -<p>He should have ordered a cup or glass, Morrison thought, lying on his -back with open mouth.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prospector's Special, by Robert Sheckley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROSPECTOR'S SPECIAL *** - -***** This file should be named 51768-h.htm or 51768-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/6/51768/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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/license - - -Title: Prospector's Special - -Author: Robert Sheckley - -Release Date: April 15, 2016 [EBook #51768] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROSPECTOR'S SPECIAL *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - PROSPECTOR'S SPECIAL - - By ROBERT SHECKLEY - - Illustrated by DILLON - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction December 1959. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - Lost in the vast Scorpion Desert of Venus, - he needed all the courage a man could own--and - every bit of credit he could raise! - - -The sandcar moved smoothly over the rolling dunes, its six fat wheels -rising and falling like the ponderous rumps of tandem elephants. The -hidden sun beat down from a dead-white sky, pouring heat into the -canvas top, reflecting heat back from the parched sand. - -"Stay awake," Morrison told himself, pulling the sandcar back to its -compass course. - -It was his twenty-first day on Venus's Scorpion Desert, his -twenty-first day of fighting sleep while the sandcar rocked across the -dunes, forging over humpbacked little waves. Night travel would have -been easier, but there were too many steep ravines to avoid, too many -house-sized boulders to dodge. Now he knew why men went into the desert -in teams; one man drove while the other kept shaking him awake. - -"But it's better alone," Morrison reminded himself. "Half the supplies -and no accidental murders." - -His head was beginning to droop; he snapped himself erect. In front -of him, the landscape shimmered and danced through the polaroid -windshield. The sandcar lurched and rocked with treacherous gentleness. -Morrison rubbed his eyes and turned on the radio. - -He was a big, sunburned, rangy young man with close-cropped black hair -and gray eyes. He had come to Venus with a grubstake of twenty thousand -dollars, to find his fortune in the Scorpion Desert as others had done -before him. He had outfitted in Presto, the last town on the edge -of the wilderness, and spent all but ten dollars on the sandcar and -equipment. - -In Presto, ten dollars just covered the cost of a drink in the town's -only saloon. So Morrison ordered rye and water, drank with the miners -and prospectors, and laughed at the oldtimers' yarns about the sandwolf -packs and the squadrons of voracious birds that inhabited the interior -desert. He knew all about sunblindness, heat-stroke and telephone -breakdown. He was sure none of it would happen to him. - -But now, after twenty-one days and eighteen hundred miles, he had -learned respect for this waterless waste of sand and stone three times -the area of the Sahara. You really _could_ die here! - -But you could also get rich, and that was what Morrison planned to do. - - * * * * * - -His radio hummed. At full volume, he could hear the faintest murmur of -dance music from Venusborg. Then it faded and only the hum was left. - -He turned off the radio and gripped the steering wheel tightly in both -hands. He unclenched one hand and looked at his watch. Nine-fifteen -in the morning. At ten-thirty he would stop and take a nap. A man had -to have rest in this heat. But only a half-hour nap. Treasure lay -somewhere ahead of him, and he wanted to find it before his supplies -got much lower. - -The precious outcroppings of goldenstone _had_ to be up ahead! He'd -been following traces for two days now. Maybe he would hit a real -bonanza, as Kirk did in '89, or Edmonson and Arsler in '93. If so, he -would do just what they did. He'd order up a Prospector's Special, and -to hell with the cost. - -The sandcar rolled along at an even thirty miles an hour, and Morrison -tried to concentrate on the heat-blasted yellow-brown landscape. That -sandstone patch over there was just the tawny color of Janie's hair. - -After he struck it rich, he and Janie would get married, and he'd go -back to Earth and buy an ocean farm. No more prospecting. Just one rich -strike so he could buy his spread on the deep blue Atlantic. Maybe some -people thought fish-herding was tame; it was good enough for him. - -He could see it now, the mackerel herds drifting along and browsing at -the plankton pens, himself and his trusty dolphin keeping an eye out -for the silvery flash of a predatory barracuda or a steel-gray shark -coming along behind the branching coral.... - -Morrison felt the sandcar lurch. He woke up, grabbed the steering wheel -and turned it hard. During his moments of sleep, the vehicle had crept -over the dune's crumbling edge. Sand and pebbles spun under the fat -tires as the sandcar fought for traction. The car tilted perilously. -The tires shrieked against the sand, gripped, and started to pull the -vehicle back up the slope. - -Then the whole face of the dune collapsed. - -Morrison held onto the steering wheel as the sandcar flipped over on -its side and rolled down the slope. Sand filled his mouth and eyes. -He spat and held on while the car rolled over again and dropped into -emptiness. - -For seconds, he was in the air. The sandcar hit bottom squarely on its -wheels. Morrison heard a double boom as the two rear tires blew out. -Then his head hit the windshield. - - * * * * * - -When he recovered consciousness, the first thing he did was look at his -watch. It read 10:35. - -"Time for that nap," Morrison said to himself. "But I guess I'll survey -the situation first." - -He found that he was at the bottom of a shallow fault strewn with -knife-edged pebbles. Two tires had blown on impact, his windshield was -gone, and one of the doors was sprung. His equipment was strewn around, -but appeared to be intact. - -"Could have been worse," Morrison said. - -He bent down to examine the tires more carefully. - -"It _is_ worse," he said. - -The two blown tires were shredded beyond repair. There wasn't enough -rubber left in them to make a child's balloon. He had used up his -spares ten days back crossing Devil's Grill. Used them and discarded -them. He couldn't go on without tires. - -Morrison unpacked his telephone. He wiped dust from its black -plastic face, then dialed Al's Garage in Presto. After a moment, the -small video screen lighted up. He could see a man's long, mournful, -grease-stained face. - -"Al's Garage. Eddie speaking." - -"Hi, Eddie. This is Tom Morrison. I bought that GM sandcar from you -about a month ago. Remember?" - -"Sure I remember you," Eddie said. "You're the guy doing a single into -the Southwest Track. How's the bus holding out?" - -"Fine. Great little car. Reason I called--" - -"Hey," Eddie said, "what happened to your face?" - -Morrison put his hand to his forehead and felt blood. "Nothing much," -he said. "I went over a dune and blew out two tires." - -He turned the telephone so that Eddie could see the tires. - -"Unrepairable," said Eddie. - -"I thought so. And I used up all my spares crossing Devil's Grill. -Look, Eddie, I'd like you to 'port me a couple of tires. Retreads are -fine. I can't move the sandcar without them." - -"Sure," Eddie said, "except I haven't any retreads. I'll have to 'port -you new ones at five hundred apiece. Plus four hundred dollars 'porting -charges. Fourteen hundred dollars, Mr. Morrison." - -"All right." - -"Yes, sir. Now if you'll show me the cash, or a money order which you -can send back with the receipt, I'll get moving on it." - -"At the moment," Morrison said, "I haven't got a cent on me." - -"Bank account?" - -"Stripped clean." - -"Bonds? Property? Anything you can convert into cash?" - -"Nothing except this sandcar, which you sold me for eight thousand -dollars. When I come back, I'll settle my bill with the sandcar." - -"_If_ you get back. Sorry, Mr. Morrison. No can do." - -"What do you mean?" Morrison asked. "You know I'll pay for the tires." - -"And you know the rules on Venus," Eddie said, his mournful face set in -obstinate lines. "No credit! Cash and carry!" - - * * * * * - -"I can't run the sandcar without tires," Morrison said. "Are you going -to strand me out here?" - -"Who in hell is stranding you?" Eddie asked. "This sort of thing -happens to prospectors every day. You know what you have to do now, Mr. -Morrison. Call Public Utility and declare yourself a bankrupt. Sign -over what's left of the sandcar, equipment, and anything you've found -on the way. They'll get you out." - -"I'm not turning back," Morrison said. "Look!" He held the telephone -close to the ground. "You see the traces, Eddie? See those red and -purple flecks? There's precious stuff near here!" - -"Every prospector sees traces," Eddie said. "Damned desert is full of -traces." - -"These are rich," Morrison said. "These are leading straight to big -stuff, a bonanza lode. Eddie, I know it's a lot to ask, but if you -could stake me to a couple of tires--" - -"I can't do it," Eddie said. "I just work here. I can't 'port you any -tires, not unless you show me money first. Otherwise I get fired and -probably jailed. You know the law." - -"Cash and carry," Morrison said bleakly. - -"Right. Be smart and turn back now. Maybe you can try again some other -time." - -"I spent twelve years getting this stake together," Morrison said. "I'm -not going back." - -He turned off the telephone and tried to think. Was there anyone else -on Venus he could call? Only Max Krandall, his jewel broker. But Max -couldn't raise fourteen hundred dollars in that crummy two-by-four -office near Venusborg's jewel market. Max could barely scrape up his -own rent, much less take care of stranded prospectors. - -"I can't ask Max for help," Morrison decided. "Not until I've found -goldenstone. The real stuff, not just traces. So that leaves it up to -me." - -He opened the back of the sandcar and began to unload, piling his -equipment on the sand. He would have to choose carefully; anything he -took would have to be carried on his back. - -The telephone had to go with him, and his lightweight testing kit. -Food concentrates, revolver, compass. And nothing else but water, all -the water he could carry. The rest of the stuff would have to stay -behind. - -By nightfall, Morrison was ready. He looked regretfully at the twenty -cans of water he was leaving. In the desert, water was a man's most -precious possession, second only to his telephone. But it couldn't -be helped. After drinking his fill, he hoisted his pack and set a -southwest course into the desert. - -For three days he trekked to the southwest; then on the fourth day he -veered to due south, following an increasingly rich trace. The sun, -eternally hidden, beat down on him, and the dead-white sky was like a -roof of heated iron over his head. Morrison followed the traces, and -something followed him. - -On the sixth day, he sensed movement just out of the range of his -vision. On the seventh day, he saw what was trailing him. - - * * * * * - -Venus's own brand of wolf, small, lean, with a yellow coat and long, -grinning jaws, it was one of the few mammals that made its home in the -Scorpion Desert. As Morrison watched, two more sandwolves appeared -beside it. - -He loosened the revolver in its holster. The wolves made no attempt to -come closer. They had plenty of time. - -Morrison kept on going, wishing he had brought a rifle with him. But -that would have meant eight pounds more, which meant eight pounds less -water. - -As he was pitching camp at dusk the eighth day, he heard a crackling -sound. He whirled around and located its source, about ten feet to his -left and above his head. A little vortex had appeared, a tiny mouth in -the air like a whirlpool in the sea. It spun, making the characteristic -crackling sounds of 'porting. - -"Now who could be 'porting anything to me?" Morrison asked, waiting -while the whirlpool slowly widened. - -Solidoporting from a base projector to a field target was a standard -means of moving goods across the vast distances of Venus. Any inanimate -object could be 'ported; animate beings couldn't because the process -involved certain minor but distressing molecular changes in protoplasm. -A few people had found this out the hard way when 'porting was first -introduced. - -Morrison waited. The aerial whirlpool became a mouth three feet in -diameter. From the mouth stepped a chrome-plated robot carrying a large -sack. - -"Oh, it's you," Morrison said. - -"Yes, sir," the robot said, now completely clear of the field. -"Williams 4 at your service with the Venus Mail." - -It was a robot of medium height, thin-shanked and flat-footed, humanoid -in appearance, amiable in disposition. For twenty-three years it -had been Venus's entire postal service--sorter, deliverer, and dead -storage. It had been built to last, and for twenty-three years the -mails had always come through. - -"Here we are, Mr. Morrison," Williams 4 said. "Only twice-a-month -mail call in the desert, I'm sorry to say, but it comes promptly and -that's a blessing. This is for you. And this. I think there's one more. -Sandcar broke down, eh?" - -"It sure did," Morrison said, taking his letters. - -Williams 4 went on rummaging through its bag. Although it was a -superbly efficient postman, the old robot was known as the worst gossip -on three planets. - -"There's one more in here somewhere," Williams 4 said. "Too bad about -the sandcar. They just don't build 'em like they did in my youth. Take -my advice, young man. Turn back if you still have the chance." - -Morrison shook his head. - -"Foolish, downright foolish," the old robot said. "Pity you don't have -my perspective. Too many's the time I've come across you boys lying in -the sand in the dried-out sack of your skin, or with your bones gnawed -to splinters by the sandwolves and the filthy black kites. Twenty-three -years I've been delivering mail to fine-looking young men like you, -and each one thinking he's unique and different." - - * * * * * - -The robot's eyecells became distant with memory. "But they _aren't_ -different," Williams 4 said. "They're as alike as robots off the -assembly line--especially after the wolves get through with them. And -then I have to send their letters and personal effects back to their -loved ones on Earth." - -"I know," Morrison said. "But some get through, don't they?" - -"Sure they do," the robot said. "I've seen men make one, two, three -fortunes. And then die on the sands trying to make a fourth." - -"Not me," Morrison said. "I just want one. Then I'm going to buy me an -undersea farm on Earth." - -The robot shuddered. "I have a dread of salt water. But to each his -own. Good luck, young man." - -The robot looked Morrison over carefully--probably to see what he had -in the way of personal effects--then climbed back into the aerial -whirlpool. In a moment, it was gone. In another moment, the whirlpool -had vanished. - -Morrison sat down to read his mail. The first letter was from his -jewel broker, Max Krandall. It told about the depression that had hit -Venusborg, and hinted that Krandall might have to go into bankruptcy if -some of his prospectors didn't strike something good. - -The second letter was a statement from the Venus Telephone Company. -Morrison owed two hundred and ten dollars and eight cents for two -months' telephone service. Unless he remitted this sum at once, his -telephone was liable to be turned off. - -The last letter, all the way from Earth, was from Janie. It was filled -with news about his cousins, aunts and uncles. She told him about the -Atlantic farm sites she had looked over, and the wonderful little place -she had found near Martinique in the Caribbean. She begged him to give -up prospecting if it looked dangerous; they could find another way -of financing the farm. She sent all her love and wished him a happy -birthday in advance. - -"Birthday?" Morrison asked himself. "Let's see, today is July -twenty-third. No, it's the twenty-fourth, and my birthday's August -first. Thanks for remembering, Janie." - -That night he dreamed of Earth and the blue expanse of the Atlantic -Ocean. But toward dawn, when the heat of Venus became insistent, he -found he was dreaming of mile upon mile of goldenstone, of grinning -sandwolves, and of the Prospector's Special. - - * * * * * - -Rock gave way to sand as Morrison plowed his way across the bottom of a -long-vanished lake. Then it was rock again, twisted and tortured into a -thousand gaunt shapes. Reds, yellows and browns swam in front of his -eyes. In all that desert, there wasn't one patch of green. - -He continued his trek into the tumbled stone mazes of the interior -desert, and the wolves trekked with him, keeping pace far out on either -flank. - -Morrison ignored them. He had enough on his mind just to negotiate the -sheer cliffs and the fields of broken stone that blocked his way to the -south. - -By the eleventh day after leaving the sandcar, the traces were almost -rich enough for panning. The sandwolves were tracking him still, and -his water was almost gone. Another day's march would finish him. - -Morrison thought for a moment, then unstrapped his telephone and dialed -Public Utility in Venusborg. - -The video screen showed a stern, severely dressed woman with iron-gray -hair. "Public Utility," she said. "May we be of service?" - -"Hi," Morrison said cheerfully. "How's the weather in Venusborg?" - -"Hot," the woman said. "How's it out there?" - -"I hadn't even noticed," Morrison said, grinning. "Too busy counting my -fortune." - -"You've found goldenstone?" the woman asked, her expression becoming -less severe. - -"Sure have," Morrison said. "But don't pass the word around yet. I'm -still staking my claim. I think I can use a refill on these." - -Smiling easily, he held up his canteens. Sometimes it worked. -Sometimes, if you showed enough confidence, Public Utility would fill -you up without checking your account. True, it was embezzling, but this -was no time for niceties. - -"I suppose your account is in order?" asked the woman. - -"Of course," Morrison said, feeling his smile grow stiff. "The name's -Tom Morrison. You can just check--" - -"Oh, I don't do that personally," the woman said. "Hold that canteen -steady. Here we go." - - * * * * * - -Gripping the canteen in both hands, Morrison watched as the water, -'ported four thousand miles from Venusborg, appeared as a slender -crystal stream above the mouth of his canteen. The stream entered the -canteen, making a wonderful gurgling sound. Watching it, Morrison found -his dry mouth actually was beginning to salivate. - -Then the water stopped. - -"What's the matter?" Morrison asked. - -His video screen went blank. Then it cleared, and Morrison found -himself staring into a man's narrow face. The man was seated in front -of a large desk. The sign in front of him read _Milton P. Reade, Vice -President, Accounts_. - - * * * * * - -"Mr. Morrison," Reade said, "your account is overdrawn. You have been -obtaining water under false pretenses. That is a criminal offense." - -"I'm going to pay for the water," Morrison said. - -"When?" - -"As soon as I get back to Venusborg." - -"With what," asked Mr. Reade, "do you propose to pay?" - -"With goldenstone," Morrison said. "Look around here, Mr. Reade. The -traces are rich! Richer than they were for the Kirk claim! I'll be -hitting the outcroppings in another day--" - -"That's what every prospector thinks," Mr. Reade said. "Every -prospector on Venus is only a day from goldenstone. And they all expect -credit from Public Utility." - -"But in this case--" - -"Public Utility," Mr. Reade continued inexorably, "is not a -philanthropic organization. Its charter specifically forbids the -extension of credit. Venus is a frontier, Mr. Morrison, a _farflung_ -frontier. Every manufactured article on Venus must be imported from -Earth at outrageous cost. We do have our own water, but locating it, -purifying it, then 'porting it is an expensive process. This company, -like every other company on Venus, necessarily operates on a very -narrow margin of profit, which is invariably plowed back into further -expansion. That is why there can be no credit on Venus." - -"I know all that," Morrison said. "But I'm telling you, I only need a -day or two more--" - -"Absolutely impossible. By the rules, we shouldn't even help you out -now. The time to report bankruptcy was a week ago, when your sandcar -broke down. Your garage man reported, as required by law. But you -didn't. We would be within our rights to leave you stranded. Do you -understand that?" - -"Yes, of course," Morrison said wearily. - -"However, the company has decided to stretch a point in your favor. If -you turn back immediately, we will keep you supplied with water for the -return trip." - -"I'm not turning back yet. I'm almost on the real stuff." - -"You must turn back! Be reasonable, Morrison! Where would we be if -we let every prospector wander over the desert while we supplied his -water? There'd be ten thousand men out there, and we'd be out of -business inside of a year. I'm stretching the rules now. Turn back." - -"No," said Morrison. - -"You'd better think about it. If you don't turn back now, Public -Utility takes no further responsibility for your water supply." - -Morrison nodded. If he went on, he would stand a good chance of -dying in the desert. But if he turned back, what then? He would be in -Venusborg, penniless and in debt, looking for work in an overcrowded -city. He'd sleep in a community shed and eat at a soup kitchen with -the other prospectors who had turned back. And how would he be able to -raise the fare back to Earth? When would he ever see Janie again? - -"I guess I'll keep on going," Morrison said. - -"Then Public Utility takes no further responsibility for you," Reade -repeated, and hung up. - -Morrison packed up his telephone, took a sip from his meager water -supply, and went on. - - * * * * * - -The sandwolves loped along at each side, moving in closer. Overhead, a -delta-winged kite found him. It balanced on the up-drafts for a day and -a night, waiting for the wolves to finish him. Then a flock of small -flying scorpions sighted the waiting kite. They drove the big creature -upstairs into the cloud bank. For a day the flying reptiles waited. -Then they in turn were driven off by a squadron of black kites. - -The traces were very rich now, on the fifteenth day since he had left -the sandcar. By rights, he should be walking over goldenstone. He -should be surrounded by goldenstone. But still he hadn't found any. - -Morrison sat down and shook his last canteen. It gave off no wet sound. -He uncapped it and turned it up over his mouth. Two drops trickled down -his parched throat. - -It was about four days since he had talked to Public Utility. He must -have used up the last of his water yesterday. Or had it been the day -before? - -He recapped the empty canteen and looked around at the heat-blasted -landscape. Abruptly he pulled the telephone out of his pack and dialed -Max Krandall in Venusborg. - -Krandall's round, worried face swam into focus on the screen. "Tommy," -he said, "you look like hell." - -"I'm all right," Morrison said. "A little dried out, that's all. Max, -I'm near goldenstone." - -"Are you sure?" Krandall asked. - -"See for yourself," Morrison said, swinging the telephone around. "Look -at the stone formations! Do you see the red and purple markings over -there?" - -"Traces, all right," Krandall admitted dubiously. - -"There's rich stuff just beyond it," Morrison said. "There has to be! -Look, Max, I know you're short on money, but I'm going to ask you a -favor. Send me a pint of water. Just a pint, so I can go on for another -day or two. We can both get rich for the price of a pint of water." - -"I can't do it," Krandall said sadly. - -"You can't?" - -"That's right. Tommy, I'd send you water even if there wasn't anything -around you but sandstone and granite. Do you think I'd let you die of -thirst if I could help it? But I can't do a thing. Take a look." - - * * * * * - -Krandall rotated his telephone. Morrison saw that the chairs, table, -desk, filing cabinet and safe were gone from the office. All that was -left in the room was the telephone. - -"I don't know why they haven't taken out the phone," Krandall said. "I -owe two months on my bill." - -"I do too," said Morrison. - -"I'm stripped," Krandall said. "I haven't got a dime. Don't get me -wrong, I'm not worried about myself. I can always eat at a soup -kitchen. But I can't 'port you any water. Not you or Remstaater." - -"Jim Remstaater?" - -"Yeah. He was following a trace up north past Forgotten River. His -sandcar broke an axle last week and he wouldn't turn back. His water -ran out yesterday." - -"I'd bail him out if I could," said Morrison. - -"And he'd bail you out if he could," Krandall said. "But he can't and -you can't and I can't. Tommy, you have only one hope." - -"What's that?" - -"Find goldenstone. Not just traces, find the real thing worth real -money. Then phone me. If you really have goldenstone, I'll bring in -Wilkes from Tri-Planet Mining and get him to advance us some money. -He'll probably want fifty per cent of the claim." - -"That's plain robbery!" - -"No, it's just the high cost of credit on Venus," Krandall answered. -"Don't worry, there'll still be plenty left over. But you have to find -goldenstone first." - -"OK," Morrison said. "It should be around here somewhere. Max, what's -today's date?" - -"July thirty-first. Why?" - -"Just wondering. I'll call you when I've found something." - -After hanging up, Morrison sat on a little boulder and stared dully -at the sand. July thirty-first. Tomorrow was his birthday. His family -would be thinking about him. Aunt Bess in Pasadena, the twins in Laos, -Uncle Ted in Durango. And Janie, of course, waiting for him in Tampa. - -Morrison realized that tomorrow might be his last birthday unless he -found goldenstone. - -He got to his feet, strapped the telephone back in his pack beside the -empty canteens, and set a course to the south. - - * * * * * - -He wasn't alone. The birds and beasts of the desert marched with him. -Overhead, the silent black kites circled endlessly. The sandwolves -crept closer on his flanks, their red tongues lolling out, waiting for -the carcass to fall.... - -"I'm not dead yet!" Morrison shouted at them. - -He drew his revolver and fired at the nearest wolf. At twenty feet, he -missed. He went down on one knee, held the revolver tightly in both -hands and fired again. The wolf yelped in pain. The pack immediately -went for the wounded animal, and the kites swooped down for their share. - -Morrison put the revolver back in its holster and went on. He could -tell he was in a badly dehydrated state. The landscape jumped and -danced in front of him, and his footing was unsure. He discarded the -empty canteens, threw away everything but the testing kit, telephone -and revolver. Either he was coming out of the desert in style or he -wasn't coming out at all. - -The traces continued to run rich. But still he came upon no sign of -tangible wealth. - -That evening he found a shallow cave set into the base of a cliff. He -crawled inside and built a barricade of rocks across the entrance. Then -he drew his revolver and leaned back against the far wall. - -The sandwolves were outside, sniffing and snapping their jaws. Morrison -propped himself up and got ready for an all-night vigil. - -He didn't sleep, but he couldn't stay awake, either. Dreams and -visions tormented him. He was back on Earth and Janie was saying to -him, "It's the tuna. Something must be wrong with their diet. Every -last one of them is sick." - -"It's the darnedest thing," Morrison told her. "Just as soon as you -domesticate a fish, it turns into a prima donna." - -"Are you going to stand there philosophizing," Janie asked, "while your -fish are sick?" - -"Call the vet." - -"I did. He's off at the Blake's place, taking care of their dairy -whale." - -"All right, I'll go out and take a look." He slipped on his face mask. -Grinning, he said, "I don't even have time to dry off before I have to -go out again." - -His face and chest were wet. - - * * * * * - -Morrison opened his eyes. His face and chest _were_ wet--from -perspiration. Staring at the partially blocked mouth of the cave, he -could see green eyes, two, four, six, eight. - -He fired at them, but they didn't retreat. He fired again, and -his bullet richocheted off the cave wall, stinging him with stone -splinters. With his next shots, he succeeded in winging one of the -wolves. The pack withdrew. - -That emptied the revolver. Morrison searched through his pockets and -found five more cartridges. He carefully loaded the gun. Dawn couldn't -be far away now. - -And then he was dreaming again, this time of the Prospector's Special. -He had heard about it in every little saloon that bordered the -Scorpion. Bristly-bearded old prospectors told a hundred different -stories about it, and the cynical bartenders chimed in with their -versions. Kirk had it in '89, ordered up big and special just for him. -Edmonson and Arsler received it in '93. That was certain. And other men -had had it too, as they sat on their precious goldenstone claims. Or so -people said. - -But was it real? Was there such a thing as the Prospector's Special? -Would he live to see that rainbow-hued wonder, tall as a church -steeple, wide as a house, more precious than goldenstone itself? - -Sure he would! Why, he could almost see it now.... - -Morrison shook himself awake. It was morning. Painfully, he crawled out -of the cave to face the day. - -He stumbled and crawled to the south, escorted closely by wolves, -shaded by predatory flying things. His fingers scrabbled along rock and -sand. The traces were rich, rich! - -But where in all this desolation was the goldenstone? - -Where? He was almost past caring. He drove his sunburned, dried-out -body, stopping only to fire a single shot when the wolves came too -close. - -Four bullets left. - -He had to fire again when the kites, growing impatient, started diving -at his head. A lucky shot tore into the flock, downing two. It gave the -wolves something to fight over. Morrison crawled on blindly. - -And fell over the edge of a little cliff. - -It wasn't a serious fall, but the revolver was knocked from his hand. -Before he could find it, the wolves were on him. Only their greed saved -Morrison. While they fought over him, he rolled away and retrieved his -revolver. Two shots scattered the pack. That left one bullet. - -He'd have to save that one for himself, because he was too tired to -go on. He sank to his knees. The traces were rich here. Fantastically -rich. Somewhere nearby.... - -"Well, I'll be damned," Morrison said. - -The little ravine into which he had fallen was solid goldenstone. - - * * * * * - -He picked up a pebble. Even in its rough state he could see the deep -luminous golden glow, the fiery red and purple flecks deep in the -shining stone. - -"Make sure," Morrison told himself. "No false alarms, no visions, no -wild hopes. Make sure." - -He broke off a chunk of rock with the butt of his revolver. It still -looked like goldenstone. He took out his testing kit and spilled a few -drops of white solution on the rock. The solution foamed green. - -"Goldenstone, sure as sure," Morrison said, looking around at the -glowing cliff walls. "Hey, I'm rich!" - -He took out his telephone. With trembling fingers he dialed Krandall's -number. - -"Max!" Morrison shouted. "I've hit it! I've hit the real stuff!" - -"My name is not Max," a voice over the telephone said. - -"Huh?" - -"My name is Boyard," the man said. - -The video screen cleared, and Morrison saw a thin, sallow-faced man -with a hairline mustache. - -"I'm sorry, Mr. Boyard," Morrison said. "I must have gotten the wrong -number. I was calling--" - -"It doesn't matter who you were calling," Mr. Boyard said. "I am -District Supervisor of the Venus Telephone Company. Your bill is two -months overdue." - -"I can pay it now," Morrison said, grinning. - -"Excellent," said Mr. Boyard. "As soon as you do, your service will be -resumed." - -The screen began to fade. - -"Wait!" Morrison cried. "I can pay as soon as I reach your office. But -I must make one telephone call. Just one call, so that I--" - -"Not a chance," Mr. Boyard said decisively. "_After_ you have paid your -bill, your service will be turned on immediately." - -"I've got the money right here!" Morrison said. "Right here in my hand!" - -Mr. Boyard paused. "Well, it's unusual, but I suppose we could arrange -for a special robot messenger if you are willing to pay the expenses." - -"I am!" - -"Hm. It's irregular, but I daresay we ... Where is the money?" - -"Right here," Morrison said. "You recognize it, don't you? It's -goldenstone!" - -"I am sick and tired of the tricks you prospectors think you can put -over on us. Holding up a handful of pebbles--" - -"But this is really goldenstone! Can't you see it?" - -"I am a businessman," Mr. Boyard said, "not a jeweler. I wouldn't know -goldenstone from goldenrod." - -The video screen went blank. - - * * * * * - -Frantically, Morrison tried to reach the operator. There was nothing, -not even a dial tone. His telephone was disconnected. - -He put the instrument down and surveyed his situation. The narrow -crevice into which he had fallen ran straight for about twenty yards, -then curved to the left. No cave was visible in the steep walls, no -place where he could build a barricade. - -He heard a movement behind him. Whirling around, he saw a huge old wolf -in full charge. Without a moment's hesitation, Morrison drew and fired, -blasting off the top of the beast's head. - -"Damn it," Morrison said. "I was going to save that bullet for myself." - -It gave him a moment's grace. He ran down the ravine, looking for an -opening in its sides. Goldenstone glowed at him and sparkled red and -purple. And the sandwolves loped along behind him. - -Then Morrison stopped. In front of him, the curving ravine ended in a -sheer wall. - -He put his back against it, holding the revolver by its butt. The -wolves stopped five feet from him, gathering themselves for a rush. -There were ten or twelve of them, and they were packed three deep in -the narrow pass. Overhead, the kites circled, waiting for their turn. - -At that moment, Morrison heard the crackling sound of 'porting -equipment. A whirlpool appeared above the wolves' heads and they backed -hastily away. - -"Just in time!" Morrison said. - -"In time for what?" asked Williams 4, the postman. - -The robot climbed out of the vortex and looked around. - -"Well, young man," Williams 4 said, "this is a fine fix you've gotten -yourself into. Didn't I warn you? Didn't I advise you to turn back? And -now look!" - -"You were perfectly right," Morrison said. "What did Max Krandall send -me?" - -"Max Krandall did not, and could not, send a thing." - -"Then why are you here?" - -"Because it's your birthday," Williams 4 said. "We of the Postal -Department always give special service for birthdays. Here you are." - -Williams 4 gave him a handful of mail, birthday greetings from Janie, -and from his aunts, uncles and cousins on Earth. - -"Something else here," Williams 4 said, rummaging in his bag. "I -_think_ there was something else here. Let me see.... Yes, here it is." - -He handed Morrison a small package. - - * * * * * - -Hastily, Morrison tore off the wrappings. It was a birthday present -from his Aunt Mina in New Jersey. He opened it. It was a large box of -salt-water taffy, direct from Atlantic City. - -"Quite a delicacy, I'm told," said Williams 4, who had been peering -over his shoulder. "But not very satisfactory under the circumstances. -Well, young man, I hate to see anyone die on his birthday. The best I -can wish you is a speedy and painless departure." - -The robot began walking toward the vortex. - -"Wait!" Morrison cried. "You can't just leave me like this! I haven't -had any water in days! And those wolves--" - -"I know," Williams 4 said. "Do you think I feel _happy_ about it? Even -a robot has some feelings!" - -"Then help me." - -"I can't. The rules of the Postal Department expressly and -categorically forbid it. I remember Abner Lathe making much the same -request of me in '97. It took three years for a burial party to reach -him." - -"You have an emergency telephone, haven't you?" Morrison asked. - -"Yes. But I can use it only for personal emergencies." - -"Can you at least carry a letter for me? A special delivery letter?" - -"Of course I can," the robot postman said. "That's what I'm here for. I -can even lend you pencil and paper." - -Morrison accepted the pencil and paper and tried to think. If he wrote -to Max now, special delivery, Max would have the letter in a matter of -hours. But how long would Max need to raise some money and send him -water and ammunition? A day, two days? Morrison would have to figure -out some way of holding out.... - -"I assume you have a stamp," the robot said. - -"I don't," Morrison replied. "But I'll buy one from you. Solidoport -special." - -"Excellent," said the robot. "We have just put out a new series -of Venusborg triangulars. I consider them quite an esthetic -accomplishment. They cost three dollars apiece." - -"That's fine. Very reasonable. Let me have one." - -"There is the question of payment." - -"Here," Morrison said, handing the robot a piece of goldenstone worth -about five thousand dollars in the rough. - -The postman examined the stone, then handed it back. "I'm sorry, I can -accept only cash." - -"But this is worth more than a thousand postage stamps!" Morrison said. -"This is goldenstone!" - -"It may well be," Williams 4 said. "But I have never had any assaying -knowledge taped into me. Nor is the Venus Postal Service run on a -barter system. I'll have to ask for three dollars in bills or coins." - -"I don't have it." - -"I am very sorry." Williams 4 turned to go. - -"You can't just go and let me die!" - -"I can and must," Williams 4 said sadly. "I am only a robot, Mr. -Morrison. I was made by men, and naturally I partake of some of their -sensibilities. That's as it should be. But I also have my limits, -which, in their nature, are similar to the limits most humans have on -this harsh planet. And, unlike humans, I cannot transcend my limits." - -The robot started to climb into the whirlpool. Morrison stared at him -blankly, and saw beyond him the waiting wolfpack. He saw the soft glow -of several million dollars' worth of goldenstone shining from the -ravine's walls. - -Something snapped inside him. - - * * * * * - -With an inarticulate yell, Morrison dived, tackling the robot around -the ankles. Williams 4, half in and half out of the 'porting vortex, -struggled and kicked, and almost succeeded in shaking Morrison loose. -But with a maniac's strength Morrison held on. Inch by inch he dragged -the robot out of the vortex, threw him on the ground and pinned him. - -"You are disrupting the mail service," said Williams 4. - -"That's not all I'm going to disrupt," Morrison growled. "I'm not -afraid of dying. That was part of the gamble. But I'm damned if I'm -going to die fifteen minutes after I've struck it rich!" - -"You have no choice." - -"I do. I'm going to use that emergency telephone of yours." - -"You can't," Williams 4 said. "I refuse to extrude it. And you could -never reach it without the resources of a machine shop." - -"Could be," said Morrison. "I plan to find out." He pulled out his -empty revolver. - -"What are you going to do?" Williams 4 asked. - -"I'm going to see if I can smash you into scrap metal _without_ the -resources of a machine shop. I think your eyecells would be a logical -place to begin." - -"They would indeed," said the robot. "I have no personal sense of -survival, of course. But let me point out that you would be leaving all -Venus without a postman. Many would suffer because of your anti-social -action." - -"I hope so," Morrison said, raising the revolver above his head. - -"Also," the robot said hastily, "you would be destroying government -property. That is a serious offense." - -Morrison laughed and swung the pistol. The robot moved its head -quickly, dodging the blow. It tried to wriggle free, but Morrison's two -hundred pounds was seated firmly on its thorax. - -"I won't miss this time," Morrison promised, hefting the revolver. - -"Stop!" Williams 4 said. "It is my duty to protect government property, -even if that property happens to be myself. You may use my telephone, -Mr. Morrison. Bear in mind that this offense is punishable by a -sentence of not more than ten and not less than five years in the -Solar Swamp Penitentiary." - -"Let's have that telephone," Morrison said. - - * * * * * - -The robot's chest opened and a small telephone extruded. Morrison -dialed Max Krandall and explained the situation. - -"I see, I see," Krandall said. "All right, I'll try to find Wilkes. -But, Tom, I don't know how much I can do. It's after business hours. -Most places are closed--" - -"Get them open again," said Morrison. "I can pay for it. And get Jim -Remstaater out of trouble, too." - -"It can't be done just like that. You haven't established any rights to -your claim. You haven't even proved that your claim is valuable." - -"Look at it." Morrison turned the telephone so that Krandall could see -the glowing walls of the ravine. - -"Looks real," Krandall said. "But unfortunately, all that glitters is -not goldenstone." - -"What can we do?" Morrison asked. - -"We'll have to take it step by step. I'll 'port you the Public -Surveyor. He'll check your claim, establish its limits, and make sure -no one else has filed on it. You give him a chunk of goldenstone to -take back. A big chunk." - -"How can I cut goldenstone? I don't have any tools." - -"You'll have to figure out a way. He'll take the chunk back for -assaying. If it's rich enough, you're all set." - -"And if it isn't?" - -"Perhaps we better not talk about that," Krandall said. "I'll get right -to work on this, Tommy. Good luck!" - -Morrison signed off. He stood up and helped the robot to its feet. - -"In twenty-three years of service," Williams 4 said, "this is the first -time anybody has threatened the life of a government postal employee. I -must report this to the police authorities at Venusborg, Mr. Morrison. -I have no choice." - -"I know," Morrison said. "But I guess five or ten years in the -penitentiary is better than dying." - -"I doubt it. I carry mail there, you know. You will have the -opportunity of seeing for yourself in about six months." - -"What?" said Morrison, stunned. - -"In about six months, after I have completed my mail calls around the -planet and returned to Venusborg. A matter like this must be reported -in person. But first and foremost, the mails must go through." - -"Thanks, Williams. I don't know how--" - -"I am simply performing my duty," the robot said as it climbed into the -vortex. "If you are still on Venus in six months, I will be delivering -your mail to the penitentiary." - -"I won't be here," Morrison said. "So long, Williams!" - -The robot disappeared into the 'porting vortex. Then the vortex -disappeared. Morrison was alone in the Venusian twilight. - - * * * * * - -He found an outcropping of goldenstone larger than a man's head. He -chipped at it with his pistol butt, and tiny particles danced and -shimmered in the air. After an hour, he had put four dents in his -revolver, but he had barely scratched the highly refractory surface of -the goldenstone. - -The sandwolves began to edge forward. Morrison threw stones at them and -shouted in his dry, cracked voice. The wolves retreated. - -He examined the outcropping again and found a hairline fault running -along one edge. He concentrated his blows along the fault. - -The goldenstone refused to crack. - -Morrison wiped sweat from his eyes and tried to think. A chisel, he -needed a chisel.... - -He pulled off his belt. Putting the edge of the steel buckle against -the crack, he managed to hammer it in a fraction of an inch. Three more -blows drove the buckle firmly into the fault. With another blow, the -outcropping sheared off cleanly. He had separated a twenty-pound piece -from the cliff. At fifty dollars a troy ounce, this lump should be -worth about twelve thousand dollars--if it assayed out as pure as it -looked. - -The twilight had turned a deep gray when the Public Surveyor 'ported -in. It was a short, squat robot with a conservative crackle-black -finish. - -"Good day, sir," the surveyor said. "You wish to file a claim? A -standard unrestricted mining claim?" - -"That's right," Morrison said. - -"And where is the center of the aforesaid claim?" - -"Huh? The center? I guess I'm standing on it." - -"Very well," the robot said. - -Extruding a steel tape, it walked rapidly away from Morrison. At a -distance of two hundred yards, it stopped. More steel tape fluttered as -it walked, flew and climbed a square with Morrison at the center. When -it had finished, the surveyor stood for a long time without moving. - -"What are you doing?" Morrison asked. - -"I'm making depth-photographs of the terrain," the robot said. "It's -rather difficult in this light. Couldn't you wait till morning?" - -"No!" - -"Well, I'll just have to cope," the robot said. - -It moved and stood, moved and stood, each subterranean exposure taking -longer than the last as the twilight deepened. If it had had pores, it -would have sweated. - -"There," said the robot at last, "that takes care of it. Do you have a -sample for me to take back?" - -"Here it is," Morrison said, hefting the slab of goldenstone and -handing it to the surveyor. "Is that all?" - -"Absolutely all," the robot said. "Except, of course, that you haven't -given me the Deed of Search." - - * * * * * - -Morrison blinked. "I haven't given you the what?" - -"The Deed of Search. That is a government document showing that -the claim you are filing on is free, as per government order, of -fissionable material in excess of fifty per cent of the total mass to a -depth of sixty feet. It's a mere formality, but a necessary one." - -"I never heard of it," Morrison said. - -"It became a requirement last week," explained the surveyor. "You don't -have the Deed? Then I'm afraid your standard unrestricted claim is -invalid." - -"Isn't there anything I can do?" - -"Well," the robot said, "you _could_ change your standard unrestricted -claim to a special restricted claim. That requires no Deed of Search." - -"What does the special restricted part mean?" - -"It means that in five hundred years all rights revert to the -Government of Venus." - -"All right!" Morrison shouted. "Fine! Good! Is that all?" - -"Absolutely all," the surveyor said. "I shall bring this sample -back and have it assayed and evaluated immediately. From it and the -depth-photographs we can extrapolate the value and extent of your -claim." - -"Send me back something to take care of the wolves," Morrison said. -"And food. And listen--I want a Prospector's Special." - -"Yes, sir. It will all be 'ported to you--if your claim is of -sufficient value to warrant the outlay." - -The robot climbed into the vortex and vanished. - -Time passed, and the wolves edged forward again. They snarled at the -rocks Morrison threw, but they didn't retreat. Jaws open and tongues -lolling, they crept up the remaining yards between them and the -prospector. - -Then the leading wolf leaped back and howled. A gleaming vortex had -appeared over his head and a rifle had fallen from the vortex, striking -him on a forepaw. - -The wolves scrambled away. Another rifle fell from the vortex. Then a -large box marked _Grenades, Handle With Care_. Then another box marked -_Desert Ration K_. - -Morrison waited, staring at the gleaming mouth of the vortex. It -crossed the sky to a spot a quarter of a mile away and paused there, -and then a great round brass base emerged from the vortex, and the -mouth widened to allow an even greater bulge of brass to which the -base was attached. The bulge grew higher as the base was lowered -to the sand. When the last of it appeared, it stood alone in the -horizon-to-horizon expanse, a gigantic ornate brass punchbowl in the -desert. The vortex rose and paused again over the bowl. - -Morrison waited, his throat raw and aching. Now a small trickle came -out of the vortex and splashed down into the bowl. Still Morrison -didn't move. - - * * * * * - -And then it came. The trickle became a roar that sent the wolves and -kites fleeing in terror, and a cataract poured from the vortex to the -huge punchbowl. - -Morrison began staggering toward it. He should have ordered a canteen, -he told himself thirstily, stumbling across the quarter of a mile of -sand. But at last he stood beneath the Prospector's Special, higher -than a church steeple, wider than a house, filled with water more -precious than goldenstone itself. He turned the spigot at the bottom. -Water soaked the yellow sands and ran in rivulets down the dune. - -He should have ordered a cup or glass, Morrison thought, lying on his -back with open mouth. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prospector's Special, by Robert Sheckley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROSPECTOR'S SPECIAL *** - -***** This file should be named 51768.txt or 51768.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/6/51768/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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