Agent of Vega and Other Stories by James H. Schmitz

Hiskey said slowly, “Yeah. I guess I see your point.”

“Nor,” continued McNulty, “can we destroy some and spare others. A single surviving witness might become most inconvenient eventually. Therefore, we must also kill Gage’s sister. Since Gage will make a great deal of money as a participant in our operation, he may not object too strongly to that.”

Hiskey stared at him for a moment.

“Some things you just don’t get, McNulty,” he remarked. “Harold Gage is going to object like hell to having his sister killed!”

“He will? Well, I must accept your opinion on the point,” said McNulty. “It follows then—”

“I know. We’d have had to get rid of Gage anyway. He wouldn’t go along with taking over the asteroid even if his sister weren’t there and it wasn’t a killing job. We were friends once, but he’s been giving me a lot of trouble like that. Now we’re in Earthsystem, we don’t need a navigator. He goes with the asteroid people.”

“That will not cause trouble among your men?”

Hiskey shook his head. “He hasn’t had a friend on board for the past two years. We needed him, that’s all. If he’s eliminated, everybody gets that much better a split. There’ll be no trouble.”

“I’d gained the impression,” McNulty observed, “that he was a rather dangerous person.”

“He’s a bad boy to go up against with a gun,” Hiskey said. “But he won’t be wearing guns on a friendly visit to a private asteroid, will he? No, you needn’t worry about Gage.”

McNulty said he was glad to hear it. He added, “There is, incidentally, an additional advantage to disposing of the asteroid humans. Before I demonstrate the toziens to our prospective employers, they should be exercised. At present, after their long idleness on shipboard, they have become sluggish.”

Hiskey grimaced. “I thought those things were always ready to go . . .”

“No. Permit me.” McNulty reached into the front of his coat, paused with his hand just out of sight, made an abrupt shrugging motion. For an instant there was a glassy glittering in the opening of the coat. Then it was gone, and something moved with a hard droning sound along the walls of the cabin behind Hiskey. He sat very still, not breathing, feeling blood drain slowly from his face.

“Do not be disturbed, Jake,” said McNulty. “The drug I give you and your crew makes you as immune as a Rilf to the toziens’ killing reaction.” He lifted his hand. “Ah, now! It becomes conditioned. It adjusts! We no longer hear it.”

The drone was thinning to a whisper; and as McNulty stopped speaking, there was a sudden complete silence. But the unseen thing still moved about the cabin. Hiskey felt abrupt brief stirrings of air to right and left of his face, as if the tozien were inspecting him; and in spite of McNulty’s assurance he sat frozen and rigid.

“Well, enough of this,” McNulty said. Hiskey didn’t know what means the Rilf had of summoning the tozien back to him, but for a moment he saw it motionless on the front of McNulty’s coat, a clinging glassy patch about the size of a man’s hand. Then it disappeared beneath the coat and McNulty closed the coat, and Hiskey breathed again.

“That illustrates my point,” McNulty told him. “The tozien remained audible while I might have counted to twenty, slowly. They are all like that now.”

Hiskey wiped his forehead. “If they adjust in a few seconds, I can’t see it makes much practical difference.”

McNulty shook his head reprovingly.

“Those few seconds might give someone time to be warned, find shelter, and escape, Jake! In a tozien attack there should be no escape for foreign life which is not already behind thick walls or enclosed in strong armor. That is the beauty of it! On my last contract I was in a crowd of alert armed men when I released my toziens. In an instant the air was full of a thousand invisible silent knives, striking simultaneously. Some of the humans gasped as they died, but there were no screams. A clean piece of work! That is how it must be when we demonstrate the toziens to our Earth employers. And since I will be the demonstrator, I shall blood my swarm on the asteroid, on its humans and their livestock, and then they will be ready again.”

“Well, that part of it is your business,” Hiskey said, rather shakily.

* * *

Along the perennial solar orbit it shared with Earthplanet, the Alston asteroid soared serenely through space. Earth was never visible from the asteroid because the sun remained between them. The asteroid’s inhabitants had no regrets about that; they were satisfied with what they could see, as they might be. The surface of what had been a ragged chunk of metal and mineral had been turned into an unobtrusively cultivated great garden. The outer atmosphere was only two hundred yards thick, held in by a shell of multiple force fields; but looking up, one would have found it difficult to say how it differed from the day and night skies of Earth. Breezes blew and clouds drifted; and a rainfall could be had on order. And if clouds, breezes, sky blueness, and rainfall weren’t entirely natural phenomena, who cared? Or, at least, cared very much . . .

It had cost a great deal of money initially to bring the asteroid over from the Belt and install the machines which transformed its surface into a facsimile section of Earth, planted Earth gravity at its core, set it on Earth’s orbit and gave it measured momentum and a twenty-four hour spin. It cost considerably more money to bring in soil, selected plants, selected animals, along with all the other appurtenances of enclosed but very comfortable and purposeful human habitation and activity. But once everything had been set up, it cost nothing to keep the asteroid going. It was self-powered, very nearly self-maintaining and self-sustaining. A variety of botanical projects initiated by Professor Derek Alston, its present owner, incidentally produced crops of spices disposed of in Earthsystem, which more than covered current expenses.

On this morning Derek Alston sat cross-legged by the side of a miniature lake, listening to and sometimes taking part in the conversation between his wife Sally and Sally’s friend, Elisabeth Gage. Sally was a slightly tousled bronze blonde and Elisabeth had straight long jet-black hair sweeping about her shoulders, but Derek kept noticing points of resemblance between the two, in structure, motions, and mannerisms, almost as if they had been rather closely related, say first cousins. Though they were, Derek thought, in fact simply two excellent examples of the type of tall comely young women Earthsystem seemed to produce in increasing numbers each year. They had been fellow students at Solar U before Sally’s marriage a little less than a year ago now, and, until Elisabeth arrived yesterday at the asteroid, they hadn’t met in person since then. From what Sally had told him, Derek already knew a good deal about Elisabeth before he saw her.

The talk, naturally, mainly was about Elisabeth’s brother who should reach the asteroid in another hour or so. There was, Derek knew, in what was being said and in what was not being said between these two, a trace of awkwardness and uncertainty. Essentially, of course, it was an occasion for festivities and rejoicing. Elisabeth was happy. There was no question about that. Her face was filled with her reflections . . . dreamy dazed smiles, cheeks glowing, eyes brimming briefly now and then. Her brother was the only surviving member of her family, and they’d been very close throughout her childhood. And now there’d been eight years of separation, and she hadn’t known until Harold called that he’d come back to Earthsystem, or was even planning to come back. She’d had no reason to expect him. So she was happy, melting in happiness in fact. And Sally shared sympathetically in her friend’s feelings.

But there was the other side to this matter. It wasn’t to be mentioned now, but it couldn’t be dismissed either. . . .

* * *

“His voice hasn’t changed at all—” Elizabeth had just said. There was a tiny silence then, because she had touched, inadvertently, the other side of the matter, and it seemed to Derek the right moment to speak.

“Only twenty-eight years old,” he remarked. “Your brother’s very young to have put eight years of outsystem travel behind him.”

Elisabeth looked at him a moment and smiled. “Yes, I suppose he is,” she said. “He was just twenty when he was graduated from navigation school at the SP Academy. Dad was with the SP in Mars Underground, and I know he thought Harold would stay with the force. But after Dad died, Earthsystem looked too tame to Harold. He wanted real adventure and he wanted to make his fortune. Captain Hiskey was putting together his crew just then, and Harold signed as navigator. The pay wasn’t much, but the crew was to share in ship’s profits.” She gave a small shrug. “I’m afraid Harold hasn’t made his fortune yet, but he’s certainly had adventures. Even from the little he’s told me, I know the ship often must have been doing very risky work.”

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