The trade value of radio sets reached a new high level when Mactavish the space trader touched down on the outpost world. There was something just a bit peculiar about the trade goods, however.
Sun shone on green turf that might have been the fields of Earth. But a glance at the sky dispelled illusion. The p1anet's sun was a binary, its components now horizontal and shining like twin, adjacent electric bulbs, making a double outline to every shadow.
Jock Mactavish came round from behind his old spaceship, a pitted vessel that should have fallen to bits in space long before, his face grave.
“Rumours of a rake-off [= corrupt profit] travel faster than light!” he stated with dissatisfaction. “My gal Jill has just picked up a message on the ship-to-ship microwave. We’re having a visitor !"
He screwed up his wrinkled face. “It’s that Kennedy mon! That lyin’, schemin’ varmint ! If it wasn’t that me mother said I was never to use strong words, and the fear that my gal Jill might be listenin’, I’d tell ye what I thinks of him in no uncertain language !”
“You mean Captain Kennedy?” I asked. Kennedy and Mactavish had met before-several times ! Kennedy was slick, brisk, and could be mean.
Mactavish snorted. “Aye, Cap’n Kennedy! He’s following me -bent on ruining me, he is, honest old space-trader that I am!”
“Get loaded and away before he arrives,” I suggested.
“Can’t, laddie. I’m speeding things on, but we can’t make it, not with him burning his jets out to get a rake-off and do me in the eye.”
He snorted again with disgust and returned to the rickety old hut which had become his trading station. I followed. As a field worker for Planetary Records it was my duty to get a pretty clear picture of the natives, and I had not looked round much since landing with Jock.
A wire ran from the door of the spaceship to an insulator on the top of the hut. I wondered why. The natives were at a comparatively low level of civilisation. They certainly had no radio transmitters Jock might wish to pick up, while the special ship antennae took care of ship-to-ship and ship to-base communications.
Jock Mactavish had been lowering crates out of the hold and was opening them. Rows of wireless sets stood in the hut. He saw my astonishment and grinned like a gargoyle.
“A fine line of surplus medium wave battery sets, laddie!” He polished one of the sparkling blue cabinets lovingly. “Bought ’em for fourteen pounds a hundred. I’ve got five hundred.”
I recognised the model- a single waveband dry-battery three-valver in a fragile sprayed cabinet. The manufacturer had faded out- and deserved just that.
“They were dear at fourteen pounds a hundred,” I said.
Mactavish looked at me with pity. “You don’t appreciate true value laddie ! They’re all in working order, and with batteries.”
“Still dear.”
He did not answer but continued unpacking the receivers and p1acing them in lines around the hut. I climbed up into the ship. Jill was playing old-fashioned disc records on a turntable in the control cabin. She had the same blue eyes as her dad, mildly amused, but purposeful.
“This right about Kennedy coming?” I asked.
She put on a lively dance tune. “He’s almost here.”
I watched, wondering why she wasn’t helping Jock. She had said that she would marry a certain employee of Planetary Records-when her dad was nicely settled.
Jock’s voice floated up into the ship through the open port. “Found any nice tunes, Jill?”
She leaned out. “Three or four, dad.”
“Good. They'll do for now, lass.”
He returned to the hut, unseen but active, as the heaps of waste packing being pitched out proved. A low whine began somewhere far above- a sound I had heard before. Jock Mactavish’s head appeared in the hut door; Jill ceased hunting through the antique records which had probably cost nothing from some scrap dump, and I went to the ship’s entrance port.
A vessel twice the size of Jock’s but not a third its age was descending on braking jets. “It’s that Kennedy mon !” Jock roared above the din. “Out to ruin an honest old trader he is ! Calls me mean, he does, the lyin’ varmint!”
The glinting ship settled from view behind trees on a rise. Silence returned.
I wrote out the beginning of my report, then went out of the ship. The planet was in the childhood of its civilisation. Jock was talking to a native, and had apparently struck up a real friendship in the twenty-four hours since landing. I had come on his old tramp because it was part of my job and because I was that employee to whom Jill had made conditional promises.
“Savvy ” Mactavish was saying. “You like nice music-box, yes?” He turned on one of the radios and dance music floated from the speaker. The tune seemed familiar.
“Lots of nice music-boxes, savvy ?” Mactavish waved a lordly hand over the lines of surplus receivers. “You like one, yes?”
The native nodded vigorously. He and his companions were obviously an intelligent lot; more so than any other races out this end of the Sirius constellation.
“One for you,” Jock said, grinning. “One for each of your friends, savvy?”
I knew that the list of things he required in return was coming. It always came last- but its length more than compensated! Precious metals and stones usually came first- he even had samples locked away in the to avoid errors or misunderstandings.
Voices sounded and I went outside. Captain Kennedy was coming down the slope, frowning, his hands in his belt. He scowled at me.
“Is that bankrupt miser Jock Mactavish about?”
Jock came from the hut. His face lit up. If he had heard he did not betray it, but pumped Kennedy’s hand.
"Kennedy, mon, what luck brings ye out this way ?"
Kennedy withdrew his hand and scowled. “None of your tricks, Mactavish ! Think I don’t know you for what you are, by now?”
“Shh, Cap’n !” Mactavish put a finger to his lips. “No hard words, now --me gal Jill is 1istenin’. An' I never was a mon to bear malice. Never bear malice, Jock, boy, me mother said.”
“You didn’t think of that on Cephenid 11 !" Kennedy snapped.
I chuckled. On Cephenid II Jock had got Kennedy’s ship loaded to the brim with material of a collapsed atomic structure so heavy that the ship would not rise. [see Plimsoll Line]. But it had been Kennedy’s fault. Now, Jock looked hurt.
“Still rememberin’ that, Cap’n? An’ didn’t I want to help ye, mon? Didn’t I try to make a fair deal afore ye tried to get back to Earth an’ knock the bottom out of the market? Saints, mon, is there to be no forgiveness among thieves ?”
Captain Kennedy flushed and snapped his mouth open. Jock frowned “Remember me gal Jill is 1istenin” he warned.
Kennedy turned on his heel. “You’ll not get the better of me this time Mactavish !” he snapped, and strode back up the hill.
Jock watched him go, shaking his head sadly. “He’s in a mean mood laddie, is that Kennedy mon !” he said regretfully. “An unforgiving mon and up to no good, I’ll lay.”
The twin suns were setting when a group of natives came to Mactavish’s hut, each anxious to exchange something for one of the portable radios. One opened a brown hand, disclosing stones that sparkled with many colours, and I saw Jock’s eyes sparkle too, but with inner light. The native put the stones on Jock’s rickety table.
“You want to exchange for music-box ?” Mactavish asked.
The man nodded.
“Music-boxes not make music for always,” Mactavish warned. “After short time all music used up. No more battery. After that no more music. Savvy?”
I left, glad that Jock was not trying to work a slick deal. In the ship Jill was playing records on the turntable. She looked tired.
“Want to die of boredom?” I asked.
She turned the disc over. A string orchestra sounded from the speaker. "What sort of a planet is this?” she asked.
“Fine. How about a walk ? I’ll show it you !”
“Not now,” she said.
"You re not forgetting your promise?"
"I never forget promises.”
I had to be satisfied with that and left her brooding over the old record-player. The natives were leaving Jock’s hut, each with a radio, and Jock stood in the doorway. He fastened the door and came up into the ship.
“Trading’s finished for to-night,” he said. “They’ll tell their pals an’ to-morrow there’ll be a queue, laddie. I couldna’ come at a better time. They’ve got a festival- a kind of May Day, when the suns are level. The
main thing seems to be to make as much row as they can, then! The bigger the noise, the more their ancestors like it, they say !”
He opened a hand and I saw that his part of the deal was certainly satisfactory. Jill’s admiration made me half-jealous.
“Remember your promise, Jill,” I said.
She smiled, and that was something to see. “I’m hoping I shall be able to keep it,” she said.
I hoped so, too, and wondered how many thousand per cent profit Jock was making on his outlay on the radios. Later, he went down into the ship. After a time he came back, muttering, the grime which no one ever cleaned from his holds clinging to him.
“There are rascals in this dishonest world who take advantage of a poor honest mon !” he stated to the heavens.
Jill looked at him quickly. “Why, dad?”
“Me fuel, lass, me fuel ! ’Tis cold tea an’ camphor is in me last tank not fuel at all! "Twas that rascal at Marsport. ‘Good fuel as any, Mac,’ he said to me. ‘Real cheap, too- a surplus, but with me personal guarantee’.” Mactavish scowled. “The colour looked right-- and the smell was there !” He gazed out and away over the hill. “Saints be, how can a mon live with such dishonesty in the world? Cold tea an’ camphor! Lucky Kennedy came, after all. Likely as not he’ll sell me a drum.”
He went out and through the trees to Kennedy’s ship. Kennedy was smoking and looked as if he’d been trying to do trade without luck.
“How do,” Mactavish halted. “I’m wondering if ye’ll do me a favour, Cap’n.”
Kennedy’s eyes grew wideawake. He did not speak.
“Nothin’ much,” Mactavish yawned. “Wondered, though, if ye’ve a drum or two of fuel ye’ll sell.”
Kennedy’s eyes glinted. “You’re stranded ?”
Mactavish shook his head and from his innocent expression I knew that he was going to tell a lie. “Stranded? Nay, mon ! But I wanted to make Earth without calling at Marsport. Quarantine regulations, ye ken.”
I was not sure whether the other believed him. Kennedy leaned back against the side of his ship.
“I’ll make a trade, Mactavish,” he stated.
It seemed too easy. Jock seemed to think so, too. “Not if it’s any trouble to ye, Cap’n,” he demurred warily.
Kennedy laughed: a nasty sound. “No trouble at all, Mactavish! Remember what happened on Pluto?”
“Ye wouldna’ be holding that against me still, mon?”
Kennedy heaved himself upright. “I’l1 make a trade-a drum of fuel for your radios !”
I knew, then, that Kennedy had tried to barter with the natives and failed; knew, too, that Kennedy realised Jock was right out of fuel.
Jock’s brows rose. “Me radios ? Saints, mon, they’re that without value I wouldna’ be pressing them on ye! Always make a fair deal, me mother said !”
Kennedy did not laugh. “Them or nothing !”
“But me radios !” Mactavish raised his hands expressively. “Fourteen pounds a hundred, they was, an’ dear at that! Mon, I’d be cheatin ye!
Nay, I haven’t the heart! I’ll pay ye full price for the fuel, freightin’ value an’ all- - -”
“The radios or nothing !” Kennedy stated.
Mactavish looked defeated. “But you’ll not be wanting 'em all, Cap’n ?”
“Yes, all. The whole consignment !”
Mactavish met my eyes. “By the comet, but the mon’s daft!” he whispered loudly. “Two lots o’ sun is too much for his ’ead!”
I thought of Jill’s promise. With no radios there would be no more trading with the natives by Jock. Kennedy had undoubtedly been watching things.
“Surely Captain Kennedy doesn’t mean he wants all the radios?” I put in, voice incredulous as I tried to do my bit.
Kennedy didn’t fall. “All,” he said. “And close the deal now, or it’s off.”
Mactavish shook his grey head. “But ye’re a hard mon, Cap’n! Ye knows I wants that fuel !”
We left, the deal completed. Kennedy brought the drum down the hill in a motorised runabout and took away the radios in four consignments. Tears were in Jock’s eyes when the last had gone.
“He’s hard, is that Kennedy mon !” was all he said.
With morning a stream of natives arrived at Jock’s hut- and left, no trade done, to wind over the hill to Kennedy’s ship. They wanted radios, nothing else. I had been about early, conscious that my report was unfinished, and Kennedy had been making preparations for a day’s bartering. When the last native had shaken his head at Jock and gone, taking his brilliant stones with him, we were alone and Jock sat on an empty case dolefully.
“Hope Kennedy don’t try any tricks on them,” he said sadly.
“They won’t stand for it. Always make a fair deal, me mother said.”
I felt downcast. “Seems as if we’re beaten.”
Natives began to come down the slope, their radios playing dance music at full volume. Mactavish watched them go.
“Pity I didn’t do more trade last night,” he lamented. “Got scarcely a handful of jewels.”
During the whole of the day Kennedy did roaring business. We drifted over to watch, and Mactavish whistled. “Saints, mon, but he’s rich enough to buy the sun !” He pointed to where Kennedy was packing the precious stones into tin boxes.
When it was dark We went back to Mactavish’s ship and he prepared for take-off. Kennedy came into the clearing and Jock leaned out of an open port.
“Nice trade, Cap’n,” he called.
I nudged him. “You don’t seem put out.”
Jock frowned on me. “Saints, laddie, I’m no man to bear malice! Never wished anybody had luck, did Jock Mactavish !”
Kennedy’s voice drifted up. “You’re finished, Mactavish! My ship is fast. I can leave you a month behind, make my pile, and ruin the market ! That handful you’ve got won’t be worth the shoe-leather you wear away trying to sell ’em!”
Jock looked down at him. “I believe ye wishes me ill, Cap’n!
Kennedy snorted. “Remember Pluto!”
There was silence. Mactavish scratched his head. “I’m about to leave, Kennedy,” he declared at last. “But I never was the mon to bear malice. Tell you what, I’ve a hankering to stay an’ see that native festival to-night. I’ll stay if ye’ll split half and half with me on what ye’ve got-”
Kennedy swore. “You’re daft, Mactavish ! Why should I split half with you ?”
“Why ?” Mactavish sounded hurt. “ ’Cos I wishes ye well, Cap’n!"
Kennedy said something inaudible and stamped off.
“Cap’n, is that your last word P” Mactavish called. Kennedy did not deign to answer.
Ports sealed, the old ship lifted awkwardly. Below was jungle, Kennedy’s long, gleaming ship, and a clearing obviously to be the site of the night’s celebration of the planet’s longest day. Mactavish switched on the ship-to- ship microwave radio.
“I’m sorry to leave ye like this, Kennedy mon,” he said when communication was established.
Kennedy’s voice sounded irritated and Jock flipped off the receiver momentarily. He returned the switch.
“Tut, tut, mon, me gal Jill is 1istenin’,” he reproved. “Keep civil, Cap’n !” He paused. “Them natives is no fools, Cap’n. They wants a fair deal.”
“And haven’t they got it, Mactavish !”
Mactavish ignored the interruption. “When you takes back them radios off ’em you'll have to give back all them jewels, too ! And remember them natives can count ! But out o’ the kindness o’ me heart I’l1 offer ye seven pounds ten a hundred- supposing the radios is still in good order-for em - - -"
“You’re daft !” Kennedy’s voice declared.
“Nay, mon, only kind ! Where do ye think that music’s been coming from, on a wild planet like this where wireless ain’t been invented? An’ why do you think I kept me gal Jill in, playin’ records, when the sunshine would make her brown an’ bonny? ’Cos there ain’t no transmitters on this planet.”
Came silence, then' a howl. “Mactavish, you--”
“Jill is listenin’,"’ Jock warned. “An’ I gave ye a chance, Cap’n, Offered to stay on, I did.” He looked out of the port. Something had happened in the clearing. A stream of natives had started towards Kennedy’s hut, each carrying a silent radio.
“They’re on their way, Kennedy,” Mactavish said. “I bought me old medium wave transmitter and record-player from a dump ground. Ship-to-ship radios ain’t no good for that purpose, even if ye had the music, which ye ain’t. Meanwhile, I’ll be going on to do me trading with these jewels. Only a handful, as ye said- but a handful of real diamonds is rare valuable, eh, Kennedy mon?”
He turned the switch, silencing a stream of abuse, and lifted the ship towards the heavens.
“Me aerial was strung out to the shed for all to see,” he said innocently. “I ain’t tricked him.” He scratched his chin. “Can’t understand why that Kennedy mon seems to think I done him an injustice ! By the saints, but I ain’t the mon to hold a grudge, same as me mother always warned me!”
THE END
Francis G. Rayer.