Double Star

Six

I had not noticed until then that she had not once called me «Mr. Bonforte.» She could not, of course, for I was no longer he; I was again Lorrie Smythe, that actor chap they had hired to stand in for him.

I sat back and sighed, and let myself relax. «So it's over at last — and we got away with it.» I felt a great burden lift off me; I had not known how heavy it was until I put it down. Even my «lame» leg stopped aching. I reached over and patted Penny's hand on the wheel and said in my own voice, «I'm glad it's over. But I'm going to miss having you around, pal. You're a trouper. But even the best run ends and the company breaks up. I hope I'll see you again sometime.»

«I hope so too.»

«I suppose Dak has arranged some shenanigan to keep me under cover and sneak me back into the Tom Paine?»

«I don't know.» Her voice sounded odd and I gave her a quick glance and saw that she was crying. My heart gave a skip. Penny crying? Over us separating? I could not believe it and yet I wanted to. One might think that, between my handsome features and cultivated manners, women would find me irresistible, but it is a deplorable fact that all too many of them have found me easy to resist. Penny had seemed to find it no effort at all.

«Penny,» I said hastily, «why all the tears, hon? You'll wreck this car.»

«I can't help it.»

«Well — put me in it. What's wrong? You told me they had got him back; you didn't tell me anything else.» I had a sudden horrid but logical suspicion. «He was alive — wasn't he?»

«Yes — he's alive — but, oh, they've hurt him!» She started to sob and I had to grab the wheel.

She straightened up quickly. «Sorry.»

«Want me to drive?»

«I'll be all right. Besides, you don't know how — I mean you aren't supposed to know how to drive.»

«Huh? Don't be silly. I do know how and it no longer matters that — » I broke off, suddenly realizing that it might still matter. If they had roughed up Bonforte so that it showed, then he could not appear in public in that shape — at least not only fifteen minutes after being adopted into the Kkkah nest. Maybe I would have to take that press conference and depart publicly, while Bonforte would be the one they would sneak aboard. Well, all right — hardly more than a curtain call. «Penny, do Dak and Rog want me to stay in character for a bit? Do I play to the reporters? Or don't I?»

«I don't know. There wasn't time.»

We were already approaching the stretch of godowns by the field, and the giant bubble domes of Goddard City were in sight. «Penny, slow this car down and talk sense. I've got to have my cues.»

The driver had talked — I neglected to ask whether or not the bobby-pin treatment had been used. He had then been turned loose to walk back but had not been deprived of his mask; the others had barreled back to Goddard City, with Dak at the wheel. I felt lucky to have been left behind;voyageurs should not be allowed to drive anything but spaceships.

They went to the address the driver had given them, in Old Town under the original bubble. I gathered that it was the sort of jungle every port has had since the Phoenicians sailed around the shoulder of Africa, a place of released transportees, prostitutes, monkeypushers, rangees, and other dregs — a neighborhood where policemen travel only in pairs.

The information they had squeezed out of the driver had been correct but a few minutes out of date. The room had housed the prisoner, certainly, for there was a bed in it which seemed to have been occupied continuously for at least a week, a pot of coffee was still hot — and wrapped in a towel on a shelf was an old-fashioned removable denture which Clifton identified as belonging to Bonforte. But Bonforte himself was missing and so were his captors.

They had left there with the intention of carrying out the original plan, that of claiming that the kidnapping had taken place immediately after the adoption and putting pressure on Boothroyd by threatening to appeal to the Nest of Kkkah. But they had found Bonforte, had simply run across him in the street before they left Old Town — a poor old stumblebum with a week's beard, dirty and dazed. The men had not recognized him, but Penny had known him and made them stop.

She broke into sobs again as she told me this part and we almost ran down a truck train snaking up to one of the loading docks.

A reasonable reconstruction seemed to be that the laddies in the second car — the one that was to crash us — had reported back, whereupon the faceless leaders of our opponents had decided that the kidnapping no longer served their purposes. Despite the arguments I had heard about it, I was surprised that they had not simply killed him; it was not until later that I understood that what they had done was subtler, more suited to their purposes, and much crueler than mere killing.

«Where is he now?» I asked.

«Dak took him to the voyageurs' hostel in Dome 3.»

«Is that where we are headed?»

«I don't know. Rog just said to go pick you up, then they disappeared in the service door of the hostel. Uh, no, I don't think we dare go there. I don't know what to do.»

«Penny, stop the car.»

«Huh?»

«Surely this car has a phone. We won't stir another inch until we find out — or figure out — what we should do. But I am certain of one thing: I should stay in character until Dak or Rog decides that I should fade out. Somebody has to talk to newsmen. Somebody has to make a public departure for the Tom Paine. You're sure that Mr. Bonforte can't be spruced up so that he can do it?»

«What? Oh, he couldn't possibly. You didn't see him.»

«So I didn't. I'll take your word for it. All right, Penny, I'm “Mr. Bonforte” again and you're my secretary. We'd better get with it

«Yes — Mr. Bonforte.»

«Now try to get Captain Broadbent on the phone, will you, please?»

We couldn't find a phone list in the car and she had to go through «Information,» but at last she was tuned with the clubhouse of the voyageurs. I could hear both sides. «Pilots' Club, Mrs. Kelly speaking.»

Penny covered the microphone. «Do I give my name?»

«Play it straight. We've nothing to hide.»

'This is Mr. Bonforte's secretary,» she said gravely. «Is his pilot there? Captain Broadbent.»

«I know him, dearie.» There was a shout: «Hey! Any of you smokers see where Dak went?» After a pause she went on, «He's gone to his room. I'm buzzing him.»

Shortly Penny said, «Skipper? The Chief wants to talk to you,» and handed me the phone.

«This is the Chief, Dak.»

«Oh. Where are you — sir?»

«Still in the car. Penny picked me up. Dak, Bill scheduled a press conference, I believe. Where is it?»

He hesitated. «I'm glad you called in, sir. Bill canceled it. There's been a — slight change in the situation.»

«So Penny told me. I'm just as well pleased; I'm rather tired. Dak, I've decided not to stay dirtside tonight; my gimp leg has been bothering me and I'm looking forward to a real rest in free fall.» I hated free fall but Bonforte did not. «Will you or Rog make my apologies to the Commissioner, and so forth?»

«We'll take care of everything, sir.»

«Good. How soon can you arrange a shuttle for me?»

«The Pixie is still standing by for you, sir. If you will go to Gate 3, I'll phone and have a field car pick you up.»

«Very good. Out.»

«Out, sir.»

I handed the phone to Penny to put back in its clamp. «Curly Top, I don't know whether that phone frequency is monitored or not — or whether possibly the whole car is bugged. If either is the case, they may have learned two things — where Dak is and through that where he is, and second, what I am about to do next. Does that suggest anything to your mind?»

She looked thoughtful, then took out her secretary's notebook, wrote in it:Let's get rid of the car.

I nodded, then took the book from her and wrote in it:How far away is Gate 3?

She answered:Walking distance.

Silently we climbed out and left. She had pulled into some executive's parking space outside one of the warehouses when she had parked the car; no doubt in time it would be returned where it belonged — and such minutiae no longer mattered.

We had gone about fifty yards, when I stopped. Something was the matter. Not the day, certainly. It was almost balmy, with the sun burning brightly in clear, purple Martian sky. The traffic, wheel and foot, seemed to pay no attention to us, or at least such attention was for the pretty young woman with me rather than directed at me. Yet I felt uneasy.

«What is it, Chief?»

«Eh?That is what it is!»

«Sir?»

«I'm not being the “Chief.” It isn't in character to go dodging off like this. Back we go, Penny.»

She did not argue, but followed me back to the car. This time I climbed into the back seat, sat there looking dignified, and let her chauffeur me to Gate 3.

It was not the gate we had come in. I think Dak had chosen it because it ran less to passengers and more to freight. Penny paid no attention to signs and ran the big Rolls right up to the gate. A terminal policeman tried to stop her; she simply said coldly, «Mr. Bonforte's car. And will you please send word to the Commissioner's office to call for it here?»

He looked baffled, glanced into the rear compartment, seemed to recognize me, saluted, and let us stay. I answered with a friendly wave and he opened the door for me. «The lieutenant is very particular about keeping the space back of the fence clear, Mr. Bonforte,» he apologized, «but I guess it's all right.»

«You can have the car moved at once,» I said. «My secretary and I are leaving. Is my field car here?»

«I'll find out at the gate, sir.» He left. It was just the amount of audience I wanted, enough to tie it down solid that «Mr. Bonforte» had arrived by official car and had left for his space yacht. I tucked my life wand under my arm like Napoleon's baton and limped after him, with Penny tagging along. The cop spoke to the gatemaster, then hurried back to us, smiling. «Field car is waiting, sir.»

'Thanks indeed.» I was congratulating myself on the perfection of the timing.

«Uh...» The cop looked flustered and added hurriedly, in a low voice, «I'm an Expansionist, too, sir. Good job you did today.» He glanced at the life wand with a touch of awe.

I knew exactly how Bonforte should look in this routine. «Why, thank you. I hope you have lots of children. We need to work up a solid majority.»

He guffawed more than it was worth. «That's a good one! Uh, mind if I repeat it?»

«Not at all.» We had moved on and I started through the gate. The gatemaster touched my arm. «Er ... Your passport, Mr. Bonforte.»

I trust I did not let my expression change. «The passports, Penny.»

She looked frostily at the official. «Captain Broadbent takes care of all clearances.»

He looked at me and looked away. «I suppose it's all right. But I'm supposed to check them and take down the serial numbers.»

«Yes, of course. Well, I suppose I must ask Captain Broadbent to run out to the field. Has my shuttle been assigned a take-off time? Perhaps you had better arrange with the tower to “hold.”»

But Penny appeared to be cattily angry. «Mr. Bonforte, this is ridiculous! We've never had this, red tape before — certainly not on Mars.»

The cop said hastily, «Of course it's all right, Hans. After all, this is Mr. Bonforte.»

«Sure, but — »

I interrupted with a happy smile. «There's a simpler way out. If you — what is your name, sir?»

«Haslwanter. Hans Haslwanter,» he answered reluctantly.

«Mr. Haslwanter, if you will call Mr. Commissioner Boothroyd, I'll speak to him and we can save my pilot a trip out to the field — and save me an hour or more of time.»

«Uh, I wouldn't like to do that, sir. I could call the port captain's office?» he suggested hopefully.

«Just get me Mr. Boothroyd's number.I will call him.» This time I put a touch of frost into my voice, the attitude of the busy and important man who wishes to be democratic but has had all the pushing around and hampering by underlings that he intends to put up with.

That did it. He said hastily. «I'm sure it's all right, Mr. Bonforte. It's just — well, regulations, you know.»

«Yes, I know. Thank you.» I started to push on through.

«Hold it, Mr. Bonforte! Look this way.»

I glanced around. That i-dotting and t-crossing civil servant had held us up just long enough to let the press catch up with us. One man had dropped to his knee and was pointing a stereobox at me; he looked up and said, «Hold the wand where we can see it.» Several others with various types of equipment were gathering around us; one had climbed up on the roof of the Rolls. Someone else was shoving a microphone at me and another had a directional mike aimed like a gun.

I was as angry as a leading woman with her name in small type but I remembered who I was supposed to be. I smiled and moved slowly. Bonforte had a good grasp of the fact that motion appears faster in pictures; I could afford to do it properly.

«Mr. Bonforte, why did you cancel the press conference?»

«Mr. Bonforte, it is asserted that you intend to demand that the Grand Assembly grant full Empire citizenship to Martians; will you comment?»

«Mr. Bonforte, how soon are you going to force a vote of confidence in the present government?»

I held up my hand with the wand in it and grinned. «One at a time, please! Now what was that first question?»

They all answered at once, of course; by the time they had sorted out precedence I had managed to waste several moments without having to answer anything. Bill Corpsman came charging up at that point. «Have a heart, boys. The Chief has had a hard day. I gave you all you need.»

I held out a palm at him. «I can spare a minute or two, Bill. Gentlemen, I'm just about to leave but I'll try to cover the essentials of what you have asked. So far as I know the present government does not plan any reassessment of the relation of Mars to the Empire. Since I am not in office my own opinions are hardly pertinent. I suggest that you ask Mr. Quiroga. On the question of how soon the opposition will force a vote of confidence all I can say is that we won't do it unless we are sure we can win it — and you know as much about that as I do.»

Someone said, «That doesn't say much, does it?»

«It was not intended to say much,» I retorted, softening it with a grin. «Ask me questions I can legitimately answer and I will. Ask me those loaded “Have-you-quit-beating-your-wife?” sort and I have answers to match.» I hesitated, realizing that Bonforte had a reputation for bluntness and honesty, especially with the press. «But I am not trying to stall you. You all know why I am here today. Let me say this about it — and you can quote me if you wish.» I reached back into my mind and hauled up an appropriate bit from the speeches of Bonforte I had studied. «The real meaning of what happened today is not that of an honor to one man. This» — I gestured with the Martian wand — «is proof that two great races can reach out across the gap of strangeness with understanding. Our own race is spreading out to the stars. We shall find — we are finding — that we are vastly outnumbered. If we are to succeed in our expansion to the stars, we must deal honestly, humbly, with open hearts. I have heard it said that our Martian neighbors would overrun Earth if given the chance. This is nonsense; Earth is not suited to Martians. Let us protect our own — but let us not be seduced by fear and hatred into foolish acts. The stars will never be won by little minds; we must be big as space itself.»

The reporter cocked an eyebrow. «Mr. Bonforte, seems to me I heard you make that speech last February.»

«You will hear it next February. Also January, March, and all the other months. Truth cannot be too often repeated.» I glanced back at the gatemaster and added, «I'm sorry but I'll have to go now — or I'll miss the tick.» I turned and went through the gate, with Penny after me.

We climbed into the little lead-armored field car and the door sighed shut. The car was automatized, so I did not have to play up for a driver; I threw myself down and relaxed. «Whew!»

«I thought you did beautifully,» Penny said seriously.

«I had a bad moment when he spotted the speech I was cribbing.»

«You got away with it. It was an inspiration. You — you sounded just like him.»

«Was there anybody there I should have called by name?»

«Not really. One or two maybe, but they wouldn't expect it when you were so rushed.»

«I was caught in a squeeze. That fiddlin' gatemaster and his passports. Penny, I should think that you would carry them rather than Dak.»

«Dak doesn't carry them. We all carry our own.» She reached into her bag, pulled out a little book. «I had mine — but I did not dare admit it.»

«Eh?»

«He had his on him when they got him. We haven't dared ask for a replacement — not at this time.»

I was suddenly very weary.

Having no instructions from Dak or Rog, I stayed in character during the shuttle trip up and on entering the Tom Paine. It wasn't difficult; I simply went straight to the owner's cabin and spent long, miserable hours in free fall, biting my nails and wondering what was happening down on the surface. With the aid of anti-nausea pills I finally managed to float off into fitful sleep — which was a mistake, for I had a series of no-pants nightmares, with reporters pointing at me and cops touching me on the shoulder and Martians aiming their wands at me. They all knew I was phony and were simply arguing over who had the privilege of taking me apart and putting me down the oubliette.

I was awakened by the hooting of the acceleration alarm. Dak's vibrant baritone was booming, «First and last red warning! One third gee! One minute!» I hastily pulled myself over to my bunk and held on. I felt lots better when it hit; one third gravity is not much, about the same as Mars' surface I think, but it is enough to steady the stomach and make the floor a real floor.

About five minutes later Dak knocked and let himself in as I was going to the door. «Howdy, Chief.»

«Hello, Dak. I'm certainly glad to see you back.»

«Not as glad as I am to be back,» he said wearily. He eyed my bunk. «Mind if I spread out there?»

«Help yourself.»

He did so and sighed. «Cripes, am I pooped! I could sleep for a week ... I think I will.»

«Let's both of us. Uh ... You got him aboard?»

«Yes. What a gymkhana!»

«I suppose so. Still, it must be easier to do a job like that in a small, informal port like this than it was to pull the stunts you rigged at Jefferson.»

«Huh? No, it's much harder here.»

«Eh?»

«Obviously. Here everybody knows everybody — and people will talk.» Dak smiled wryly. «We brought him aboard as a case of frozen canal shrimp. Had to pay export duty, too.»

«Dak, how is he?»

«Well...» Dak frowned. «Doc Capek says that he will make a complete recovery — that it is just a matter of time.» He added explosively, «If I could lay my hands on those rats! It would make you break down and bawl to see what they did to him — and yet we have to let them get away with it cold — for his sake.»

Dak was fairly close to bawling himself. I said gently, «I gathered from Penny that they had roughed him up quite a lot. How badly is he hurt?»

«Huh? You must have misunderstood Penny. Aside from being filthy — dirty and needing a shave — he was not hurt physically at all.»

I looked stupid. «I thought they beat him up. Something about like working him over with a baseball bat.»

«I would rather they had! Who cares about a few broken bones? No, no, it was what they did to his brain.»

«Oh...» I felt ill. «Brainwash?»

«Yes. Yes and no. They couldn't have been trying to make him talk because he didn't have any secrets that were of any possible political importance. He always operated out in the open and everybody knows it. They must have been using it simply to keep him under control, keep him from trying to escape.»

He went on, «Doc says that he thinks they must have been using the minimum daily dose, just enough to keep him docile, until just before they turned him loose. Then they shot him with a load that would turn an elephant into a gibbering idiot. The front lobes of his brain must be soaked like a bath sponge.»

I felt so ill that I was glad I had not eaten. I had once read up on the subject; I hate it so much that it fascinates me. To my mind there is something immoral and degrading in an absolute cosmic sense in tampering with a man's personality. Murder is a clean crime in comparison, a mere peccadillo. «Brainwash» is a term that comes down to us from the Communist movement of the Late Dark Ages; it was first applied to breaking a man's will and altering his personality by physical indignities and subtle torture. But that might take months; later they found a «better» way, one which would turn a man into a babbling slave in seconds — simply inject any one of several cocaine derivatives into his frontal brain lobes.

The filthy practice had first been developed for a legitimate purpose, to quiet disturbed patients and make them accessible to psychotherapy. As such, it was a humane advance, for it was used instead of lobotomy — «lobotomy» is a term almost as obsolete as «chastity girdle» but it means stirring a man's brain with a knife in such a fashion as to destroy his personality without killing him. Yes, they really used to do that — just as they used to beat them to «drive the devils out.»

The Communists developed the new brainwash-by-drugs to an efficient technique, then when there were no more Communists, the Bands of Brothers polished it up still further until they could dose a man so lightly that he was simply receptive to leadership — or load him until he was a mindless mass of protoplasm — all in the sweet name of brotherhood. After all, you can't have «brotherhood» if a man is stubborn enough to want to keep his own secrets, can you? And what better way is there to be sure that he is not holding out on you than to poke a needle past his eyeball and slip a shot of babble juice into his brain? «You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.» The sophistries of villains — bah!

Of course, it has been illegal for a long, long time now, except for therapy, with the express consent of a court. But criminals use it and cops are sometimes not lily white, for it does make a prisoner talk and it does not leave any marks at all. The victim can even be told to forget that it has been done.

I knew most of this at the time Dak told me what had been done to Bonforte and the rest I cribbed out of the ship's Encyclopedia Batavia. See the article on «Psychic Integration» and the one on «Torture.»

I shook my head and tried to put the nightmares out of my mind. «But he's going to recover?»

«Doc says that the drug does not alter the brain structure; it just paralyzes it. He says that eventually the blood stream picks up and carries away all of the dope; it reaches the kidneys and passes out of the body. But it takes time.» Dak looked up at me. «Chief?»

«Eh? About time to knock off that “Chief” stuff, isn't it? He's back.»

«That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Would it be too much trouble to you to keep up the impersonation just a little while longer?»

«But why? There's nobody here but just us chickens.»

'That's not quite true. Lorenzo, we've managed to keep this secret awfully tight. There's me, there's you.» He ticked it off on his fingers. «There's Doc and Rog and Bill. And Penny, of course. There's a man by the name of Langston back Earthside whom you've never met. I think Jimmie Washington suspects but he wouldn't tell his own mother the right time of day. We don't know how many took part in the kidnapping, but not many, you can be sure. In any case,they don't dare talk — and the joke of it is they no longer could prove that he had ever been missing even if they wanted to. But my point is this: here in the Tommie we've got all the crew and all the idlers not in on it. Old son, how about staying with it and letting yourself be seen each day by crewmen and by Jimmie Washington's girl and such — while he gets well? Huh?»

«Mmm ... I don't see why not. How long will it be?»

«Just the trip back. We'll take it slow, at an easy boost. You'll enjoy it.»

«Okay. Dak, don't figure this into my fee. I'm doing this piece of it just because I hate brainwashing.»

Dak bounced up and clapped me on the shoulder. «You're my kind of people, Lorenzo. Don't worry about your fee; you'll be taken care of.» His manner changed. «Very well, Chief. See you in the morning, sir.»

But one thing leads to another. The boost we had started on Dak's return was a mere shift of orbits, to one farther out where there would be little chance of a news service sending up a shuttle for a follow-up story. I woke up in free fall, took a pill, and managed to eat breakfast. Penny showed up shortly thereafter. «Good morning, Mr. Bonforte.»

«Good morning, Penny.» I inclined my head in the direction of the guest room. «Any news?»

«No, sir. About the same. Captain's compliments and would it be too much trouble for you to come to his cabin?»

«Not at all.» Penny followed me in. Dak was there, with his heels hooked to his chair to stay in place; Rog and Bill were strapped to the couch.

Dak looked around and said, «Thanks for coming in, Chief. We need some help.»

«Good morning. What is it?»

Clifton answered my greeting with his usual dignified deference and called me Chief; Corpsman nodded. Dak went on, «To clean this up in style you should make one more appearance.»

«Eh? I thought — »

«Just a second. The networks were led to expect a major speech from you today, commenting on yesterday's event. I thought Rog intended to cancel it, but Bill has the speech worked up. Question is, will you deliver it?»

The trouble with adopting a cat is that they always have kittens. «Where? Goddard City?»

«Oh no. Right in your cabin. We beam it to Phobos; they can it for Mars and also put it on the high circuit for New Batavia, where the Earth nets will pick it up and where it will be relayed for Venus, Ganymede, et cetera. Inside of four hours it will be all over the system but you'll never have to stir out of your cabin.»

There is something very tempting about a grand network. I had never been on one but once and that time my act got clipped down to the point where my face showed for only twenty-seven seconds. But to have one all to myself —

Dak thought I was reluctant and added, «It won't be a strain, as we are equipped to can it right here in the Tommie. Then we can project it first and clip out anything if necessary.»

«Well — all right. You have the script, Bill?»

«Yes.»

«Let me check it.»

«What do you mean? You'll have it in plenty of time.»

«Isn't that it in your hand?»

«Well, yes.»

«Then let me read it.»

Corpsman looked annoyed. «You'll have it an hour before we record. These things go better if they sound spontaneous.»

«Sounding spontaneous is a matter of careful preparation, Bill. It's my trade. I know.»

«You did all right at the skyfield yesterday without rehearsal. This is just more of the same old hoke: I want you to do it the same way.»

Bonforte's personality was coming through stronger the longer Corpsman stalled; I think Clifton could see that I was about to cloud up and storm, for he said, «Oh, for Pete's sake, Bill! Hand him the speech.»

Corpsman snorted and threw the sheets at me. In free fall they sailed but the air spread them wide. Penny gathered them together, sorted them, and gave them to me. I thanked her, said nothing more, and started to read.

I skimmed through it in a fraction of the time it would take to deliver it. Finally I finished and looked up.

«Well?» said Rog.

«About five minutes of this concerns the adoption. The rest is an argument for the policies of the Expansionist Party. Pretty much the same as I've heard in the speeches you've had me study.»

«Yes,» agreed Clifton. «The adoption is the hook we hang the rest on. As you know, we expect to force a vote of confidence before long.»

«I understand. You can't miss this chance to beat the drum. Well, it's all right, but — »

«But what? What's worrying you?»

«Well — characterization. In several places the wording should be changed. It's not the way he would express it.»

Corpsman exploded with a word unnecessary in the presence of a lady; I gave him a cold glance. «Now see here, Smythe,» he went on, «who knows how Bonforte would say it? You? Or the man who has been writing his speeches the past four years?»

I tried to keep my temper; he had a point. «It is nevertheless the case,» I answered, «that a line which looks okay in print may not deliver well. Mr. Bonforte is a great orator, I have already learned. He belongs with Webster, Churchill, and Demosthenes — a rolling grandeur expressed in simple words. Now take this word “intransigent,” which you have used twice. I might say that, but I have a weakness for polysyllables; I like to exhibit my literary erudition. But Mr. Bonforte would say “stubborn” or “mulish” or “pigheaded.” The reason he would is, naturally, that they convey emotion much more effectively.»

«You see that you make the delivery effective! I'll worry about the words.»

«You don't understand, Bill. I don't care whether the speech is politically effective or not; my job is to carry out a characterization. I can't do that if I put into the mouth of the character words that he would never use; it would sound as forced and phony as a goat spouting Greek. But if I read the speech in words he would use, it will automatically be effective. He's a great orator.»

«Listen, Smythe, you're not hired to write speeches. You're hired to — »

«Hold it, Bill!» Dak cut in. «And a little less of that “Smythe” stuff, too. Well, Rog? How about it?»

Clifton said, «As I understand it, Chief, your only objection is to some of the phrasing?»

«Well, yes. I'd suggest cutting out that personal attack on Mr. Quiroga, too, and the insinuation about his financial backers. It doesn't sound like real Bonforte to me.»

He looked sheepish. «That's a bit I put in myself. But you may be right. He always gives a man the benefit of the doubt.» He remained silent for a moment. «You make the changes you think you have to. We'll can it and look at the playback. We can always clip it — or even cancel completely “due to technical difficulties.”» He smiled grimly. «That's what we'll do, Bill.»

«Damn it, this is a ridiculous example of — »

«That's how it is going to be, Bill.»

Corpsman left the room very suddenly. Clifton sighed. «Bill always has hated the notion that anybody but Mr. B. could give him instructions. But he's an able man. Uh, Chief, how soon can you be ready to record? We patch in at sixteen hundred.»

«I don't know. I'll be ready in time.»

Penny followed me back into my office. When she closed the door I said, «I won't need you for the next hour or so, Penny child. But you might ask Doc for more of those pills. I may need them.»

«Yes, sir.» She floated with her back to the door. «Chief?»

«Yes, Penny?»

«I just wanted to say don't believe what Bill said about writing his speeches!»

«I didn't. I've heard his speeches — and I've read this.»

«Oh, Bill does submit drafts, lots of times. So does Rog. I've even done it myself. He — he will use ideas from anywhere if he thinks they are good. But when he delivers a speech, it is his, every word of it.»

«I believe you. I wish he had written this one ahead of time.»

«You just do your best!»

I did. I started out simply substituting synonyms, putting in the gutty Germanic words in place of the «intestinal» Latin jawbreakers. Then I got excited and red in the face and tore it to pieces. It's a lot of fun for an actor to mess around with lines; he doesn't get the chance very often.

I used no one but Penny for my audience and made sure from Dak that I was not being tapped elsewhere in the ship — though I suspect that the big-boned galoot cheated on me and listened in himself. I had Penny in tears in the first three minutes; by the time I finished (twenty-eight and a half minutes, just time for station announcements, she was limp). I took no liberties with the straight Expansionist doctrine, as proclaimed by its official prophet, the Right Honorable John Joseph Bonforte; I simply reconstructed his message and his delivery, largely out of phrases from other speeches.

Here's an odd thing — I believed every word of it while I was talking.

But, brother, I made a speech!

Afterwards we all listened to the playback, complete with full stereo of myself. Jimmie Washington was present, which kept Bill Corpsman quiet. When it was over I said, «How about it, Rog? Do we need to clip anything?»

He took his cigar out of his mouth and said, «No. If you want my advice, Chief, I'd say to let it go as it is.»

Corpsman left the room again — but Mr. Washington came over with tears leaking out of his eyes — tears are a nuisance in free fall; there's nowhere for them to go. «Mr. Bonforte, that was beautiful.»

«Thanks, Jimmie.»

Penny could not talk at all.

I turned in after that; a top-notch performance leaves me fagged. I slept for more than eight hours, then was awakened by the hooter. I had strapped myself to my bunk — I hate to float around while sleeping in free fall — so I did not have to move. But I had not known that we were getting under way so I called the control room between first and second warning. «Captain Broadbent?»

«Just a moment, sir,» I heard Epstein answer.

Then Dak's voice came over. «Yes, Chief? We are getting underway on schedule — pursuant to your orders.»

«Eh? Oh yes, certainly.»

«I believe Mr. Clifton is on his way to your cabin.»

«Very well, Captain.» I lay back and waited.

Immediately after we started to boost at one gee Rog Clifton came in; he had a worried look on his face I could not interpret — equal parts of triumph, worry, and confusion. «What is it, Rog?»

«Chief! They've jumped the gun on us! The Quiroga government has resigned!»