The Dark Design by Phillip Jose Farmer

The crew smelled New Bohemia half a day before arriving at its southern limits. The fumes of sulfur and coal stank throughout the area.

High earth walls had been erected along the banks. Steel weapons, including flintlock firearms, were everywhere. The River was patrolled by four large, steam-powered paddlewheeled boats, each carrying two cannons, and a large number of smaller boats with machine guns.

The crew of the Razzle Dazzle were astonished. Also, somewhat depressed. The fair valley was blighted. For too long, they had taken the clean air and pure blue skies, the green plains and hills, for granted.

Nur asked a local why it was necessary to foul the land and make all those weapons.

“We had to do so,” the man said. “If we hadn’t, then other states would have tried to take our ores away from us. And they would have embarked on conquest by arms. We made the weapons for self-defense.

“Of course, we make other artifacts, too. We trade these, and we get more tobacco, liquor, food, and ornaments than we can use.”

The man patted his fat paunch.

Nur smiled and said, “The grails provide enough for any per­son’s needs and some luxuries, too. Why tear up the land and make a stench to get far more than you need?”

“I just told you why.”

“It would have been best to have filled up the hole again,” Nur said. “Or never to have dug it in the first place.”

The man shrugged. Then, looking surprised, he walked up to Rider.

“Say, aren’t you the movie star Tom Mix?”

Tom smiled and said, “Not me, amiko. People have told me I look a little like him, though.”

“I saw you . . . him… when he came to Paris during his European tour. I was on a business trip then, and I stood in the crowds and cheered you … him … as he rode along on Tony. It was a great thrill for me. He was my favorite cowboy actor.”

“Mine, too,” Tom said, and he turned away.

Frigate called the captain and first mate to one side.

“You look excited, Pete,” Martin Farrington said. “You must be thinking of the same thing Tom and I were discussing just a minute ago.”

Frigate said, “Now, how could you do that? What is it?”

Martin looked sidewise at Tom and smiled. “Sure, what else could it be? We were talking about, just speculating, mind you, about how nice it would be if we had one of those small steam­boats.”

Frigate was astonished. “That wasn’t what I was thinking of! What do you mean, you’d steal it?”

“Sort of,” Tom drawled. “They could always make another one. We were thinking of how much faster we could get up-River on one of those handy-dandy paddle wheelers.”

“Aside from the ethics of the thing,” Frigate said, “it’d be dangerous. I assume they guard them at night.”

“Look who’s talking of ethics,” Martin said. “You stole your spear and bow and arrows, remember?”

Frigate’s face became red.

“Not really. I had made them myself. They were mine.”

“It was stealing,” Martin said. He gave one of his wonderfully charming smiles and slapped Frigate on the shoulder. “No need to get huffy. Your need was greater than the state’s, and you took something that could be easily replaced. We’re in the same situa­tion. We need to get up-River a lot faster.”

“Not to mention a lot more comfortably,” Tom said.

“You want us to risk getting killed?”

“Would you volunteer? I wouldn’t order anybody to do this. If you don’t care to do it, you won’t peach on us, will you?”

“Of course not!” Frigate said, getting red in the face again. “I’m not objecting because I’m afraid! Listen, I’d do it, if it was neces­sary. But what I have in mind is not that. It’s something that would get us far north a hell of a lot faster than a steamboat.”

“You mean have this Podebrad build us a speedboat?” Martin said. “A steam yacht?”

“No, I don’t. I-mean something that won’t go up The River. It’ll go over it!”

“Rub me for a saddlesore,” Tom said. “You mean an air­plane?”

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