Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

THE WEDGE eyes might have flickered. He said, “It is an unfair advantage. You will at least put your promise in writing?” “And also become liable for execution? No, sir!” Pherl smiled a broad satisfaction. “No, sir! Only one of us is a fool.” The trader said in a small voice, agreed, then.” Gorov was released on the thirtieth day, and five hundred pounds of the yellowest gold took his place. And with him was released the quarantined and untouched abomination that was his ship. Then, as on the journey into the Askonian system, so on the journey out, the cylinder of sleek little ships ushered them on their way. Devers watched the dimly sun-lit speck that was Gorov’s ship while Gorov’s voice pierced through to him, clear and thin on the tight, distortion-bounded, ether-beam. He was saying, “But it isn’t what’s wanted, Devers. A transmuter won’t do. Where did you get one, anyway?” “TI didn’t,” Devers’ answer was patient. “[ juiced it up out of a food irradiation chamber. It isn’t any good, really. The power consumption is prohibitive on any large scale or the Foundation would use transmutation instead of chasing all over the Galaxy for heavy metals. It’s one of the standard tricks every trader uses, except that I never saw an iron-to-gold one before. But it’s impressive, and it works—very temporarily.” “All right. But that particular trick is no good.” “It got you out of a nasty spot.” “That is very far from the point. Especi- ally since I’ve got to go back, once we shake our solicitous comrades.” “Why?” “You yourself explained it to this politician of yours.” Gorov’s voice was on edge, “Your entire sales-point rested on the fact that the transmuter was a means to an end, of no value in itself; that he was buying the gold, not the machine. It was good psychology, since it worked, but—” “But?” Devers urged blandly and ob- tusely. The voice from the receiver grew shriller, “But we want to sell them a machine of value in itself; something they would want to use openly; something that would tend to force them out in favor of atomic tech- niques as a matter of self-interest.” “I understand all that,’ said Devers, gently. “You once explained it. But look “It is 43 at what follows from my sale, will you? As long as that transmuter lasts, Pherl will coin gold; and it will last long enough to buy him the next election. The present Grand Master won't last long.” “You count on gratitude?” asked Gorov, coldly. ““No—on intelligent self-interest. The transmuter gets him an election; other mechanisms—” “No! No! Your promise is twisted. It’s not the transmuter, he’ll credit—it’ll be the good, old-fashioned gold. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Devers grinned and shifted into a more comfortable position. All right. He’d baited the poor fellow sufficiently. Gorov was be- ginning to sound wild. The trader said, “Not so fast, Gorov. I haven’t finished. There are other gadgets already involved.” There was a short silence. Then, Gorov’s voice sounded cautiously, “What other gadgets?” Devers gestured automatically and use- lessly, “You see that escort?” “I do,” said Gorov shortly. about those gadgets.” “Tam... if you'll listen. That’s Pherl’s private navy escorting us. A special honor to him from the Grand Master that he managed to squeeze out.” | “So?- *““And where do you think he’s taking us? To his mining estates on the outskirts of Askone, that’s where. Listen!” Dever was suddenly fiery, “I told you I was in this to make money, not to save worlds. All right. I sold that transmuter for nothing. Nothing except the risk of the gas chamber and that doesn’t count towards the quota.” “Get back to the mining estates, Devers. Where do they come in?” “With the profits. We’re stacking up on tin, Gorov. Tin to fill every last cubic foot this old scow can scrape up, and then some more for yours. I’m going down with Pherl to collect, old man, and you’re going to cover me from upstairs with every gun you've got—just in case Pherl isn’t as sport- ing about the matter as he lets on to be. That tin’s my profit.” “For the transmuter?” “For my entire cargo of atomics. At double price, plus a bonus.” He shrugged, almost apologetically. “I admit I gouged him, but I’ve got to make quota, don’t I?” “Tell me Gorov was evidently lost. He = said, weakly, “Do you mind explaining?” Conic OolkkS.conm