Astounding British Edition, Vol. 6, No. 8 — page 45: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

— ae ~o ™ — i eee THE GREAT AIR MONOPOLY the modish waistcoat and pink silk under- shirt. “Yes sir. Coming right up, sir. Won’t Keep you waiting a minute, sir. What Big Lem wants—” “Who says Big Lem wants anything?” came hugely from the door. “I,” he said waddling closer, chin outthrust, “do not like gents who go around spieling off orders I ain't issued. Now, whoever you are, let’s hear just why you impersonate a messenger for me.” Ole Doc looked at him rather wearily. He gripped the hypo gun in his pocket, but he never got a chance to use it. Some sixth sense told one of Tolliver’s bodyguard that an attack was-imminent and Ole Doc was seized from behind and held hard while the contents of his pockets were turned out by Tolliver, © The small meters and instruments, the minute boxes of pellets, the hypo gun itself, these meant nothing to Tolliver or anyone around him. But the gorget meant some- thinge— The solid gold ray rods of the U.M.S. which were chained to Ole Doc’s throat in such a position as to protect the most vulnerable point of the jugular. Tolliver tried to yank it off, failed to break the chain and so had to stare at it. “U.M.S.,” said Tolliver. “Huh.” A clerk had come in to aid his failen brother of the files and inkpots for the first one, under the stimulus of the narco slug and crossed orders had quietly fainted away. “Universal Medical Society,” said the new clerk. And then he realized what he had said and jumped back, letting his brother ie fall. He stared, mouth agape, at Ole oc. : “Univ—” began Tolliver. And then,his face went a little white. He bent as he stared at Ole Doc. Then, dismissing it. “He’d imitate a messenger. He’d pretend anything. He ain’t no Soldier of Light. Where’s the crowd- with him?” “They ... they operate alone,” said the second clerk. “I. . . IT read in the Universal Weekly that they—” “Bosh! What would they care about Arphon? U.M:S.,” blustered Tolliver, “is strictly big time. He’d never land here. Listen, you whatever-you-call-it, don’t give me no stuff about U.M.S. You're here for graft and I’m on to your game. Now, let’s see how good you are at crawling out of your lie. Go on, crawl!” Ole Doc sighed. He had seen such men before. “I suppose I am addressing Lem Tollander.” “Tolliver!” “Tem Tolliver, then. President or some such thing of Air, Limited.” “Correct, And you come here for a shake- down. Listen—” And then he stopped and looked at a new thing in the contents of the pockets. It was a slave ear tag. “Ah,” he said, snatching it up from the desk, “you've 43 been tampering with company propert already. Oh, yes. That girl—so you ware in that ship we blasted a few miles east of Minga, huh? Say, buddy, don’t you know where to stop? A guy’d think you were kind of confused. You’ve already lost an old tub of a space tramp, and lucky you got out with yourself in one chunk. What kind of nerve is — “Oh, do be quiet,” sighed Ole Doc. The flood of speech was dammed. It had been years and years since anyone had said such a thing to Big Lem Tolliver. Judging from the attitudes struck by the men in the office at this blasphemy, it was gomng to be years and years before anyone tried to say it again, too. _ But “Big Lem was a man of many con- victions and foremost amongst them was a decided prejudice in favor of his own vast greatness. He had been honeyed and but- tered and siruped so long by fawning menials that he had forgotten there were other ways to talk. Big Lem looked more closely at Ole Doc. “Who are you anyway?” “You seemed convinced of something else a moment ago. I’m a doctor.” “Ah,” said Big Lem. He brightened and rubbed his huge paws together. “A doctor. A crooked doctor impersonating a U.MSS. - soldier. Ah.” The whole thing was opened to a page he could read, He scooped up the print. This fellow had come here for a shakedown, im- personating a Soldier of Light. And because men are likely to best understand what they themselves actually are, Big Lem Tolliver was utterly satisfied. Grinning, the president of Air, Limited, had his men search the visitor for other weapons and equipment and then with every cordiality, ushered Ole Doc into an office big enough for a ballroom and ten times as fancy. “Sit down, sit down,” said Big Lem, sprawling into the oversize chair behind his -king-size desk. “Know very much about doctoring?” Ole Doc played it patient, stilling the urgency he felt now that his small pack radio had been taken from him. He sat down in a high-backed leather chair. “Others no doubt are much better informed,” he sighed. “Where and when did you pick it up?” “Well. . . a very long time ago. I may not know as much about modern medicine: as I might.” “Went to school maybe?” “Yes. But it was-a long time ago.” “Sure, sure. And probably got kicked out of the profession for some . . . well, we all make mistakes and recovery isn’t possible unless one uses his wits.’”” He winked pon- derously and laughed much beyond the need of it. “I tell you, doc, you wouldn’t think oO eomicbhoo! Se (EC) suddenly ’ me