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Chapter 13

WILLIAMS PILED ON THE LUMES all the way from Ultimo to Eblis. Grimes was in a hurry; he wanted to get there before Reneck’s principal was fully advised as to what had been happening at Port Last. Ditmar, of course, could not legally use her deep space radio while in port, so any Carlottigrams originated by her master would have to be handled by the Port Last G.P.O. And the Port Last post office telegraphists were on strike. Grimes did not know how much Billinghurst had to do with this, but suspected that it was plenty. The cause of the stoppage had been the quite justifiable dismissal of a shop steward for insolence. Who was Billinghurst’s undercover man—the shop steward or the overseer who had fired him? Perhaps they were both customs agents. Perhaps—but this was unlikely—the strike was coincidental.

The more Grimes thought about it the more sure he became that Ebbs was the source of dreamy weed shipments to the other Rim Worlds. Inferno Valley was not a Rim Worlds’ port of entry, therefore there was no customs office on Eblis. In theory any ship bound for Eblis was supposed first to land on one of the worlds from which she could be entered inwards. Ditmar, for example, when she had first come out to the Rim had arrived at Port Edgell, on Thule, with a cargo of cheese from Elsinore. She had then loaded general cargo for Inferno Valley, and thereafter had shuttled between Eblis and the other Rim Worlds, mainly Ultimo, with regularity. As a foreign ship she had been liable to customs inspection every time in, but as she was not from a foreign port the inspection, until this last time, had been a mere formality. And as her contraband was always dropped before she entered the atmosphere even a rigorous going over, as on this last occasion, would have revealed nothing.

Insofar as Eblis was concerned, you could land a battle fleet unobserved as long as it was well away from any of the widely spaced centres of population. There was Aero-Space Control, of a sort, but it had no radar and talked only when talked to.

The dreamy weed was grown and processed on quite a few of the Inner Worlds, the Federated Planets. As far as the Federation was concerned anybody could smoke the stuff who wished. It was regarded as a rather superior marijuana, the use of which had been legalized, for centuries, on practically every planet of the Federation. If any world government, inside or outside the Federation, cared to make its use illegal it was up to that government to enforce its own laws. The Federation couldn’t care less, one way or the other, as long as it received whatever taxes and duties were due.

Grimes had his plan of campaign, such as it was, mapped out. He would land at Inferno Valley. He would tell Clavering, who had been made, some time ago, planetary commissioner on Eblis, that he was conducting a survey prior to the possible establishment of a naval base on the Hell Planet. He would use Rim Malemute for his excursions—she was a handy little brute and suitable for work inside an atmosphere—or, if necessary, he would hire air or ground transport. If Clavering were among the smugglers he would be liable to betray himself; if he were not he would afford every possible assistance to Grimes. The owner of a pleasure resort would profit rather than otherwise by the presence of recreation-hungry naval officers and ratings.

A subjective week after her lift-off from Port Last Rim Malemute was in orbit about Eblis. She circled the fiery world, her people gazing down in wonderment at the cloud envelope of black and brown and yellow smoke that, now and again, was riven by hurricane-force winds to uncover the fire-belching volcanoes on the surface. The night side was even more spectacular, in a frightening sort of way, than the day side. It seemed that life as we know it could not possibly survive in that caldron of incandescent gases.

Williams asked wryly, “Sure we’ve come to the right place, Skipper?”

“Quite sure, Commander Williams,” Grimes told him. “Call Aero-Space Control, will you?”

Rim Malemute to Aero-Space Control. Rim Malemute to Aero-Space Control. Do you read me? Over.”

After the seventh call the Inferno Valley duty officer came through.

“Eblis Aero-Space Control here. Vessel calling, say again your name, please. Over.”

Rim Malemute. Repeat, Rim Malemute. Over.”

Rim Malemute? Aren’t you the tug? Over.”

Grimes took the microphone from Williams. “This is the Rim Worlds Naval Auxiliary Rim Malemute, requesting berthing instructions. Over.”

“Have you been here before, Rim Malemute? The spaceport’s at the eastern end of Inferno Valley.” There was a long pause. “Latitude one three degrees, four five minutes north. Longitude oh, oh, oh degrees east or west. We reckon from the Inferno Valley meridian. The time here is 1149 hours, coming up for Mean Noon. Equation of Time zero as near as dammit. That any help to you? Over.”

“Yes, thank you. Now, if you’ll switch your beacon on . . .”

“Give me time, man, give me time. Nobody was expecting you. On now.”

Rim Malemute to Aero-Space Control. Beacon signal coming in. We are almost directly above you. Have you any further instructions for us? Over.”

“Yes. Listen carefully. Berth Number One—that’s the pad furthest to the east—has Sally Ann. She’s our ship. Berth Number Three—that’s the one furthest to the west—has Trans-Galactic Clipper’s cruise liner Sobraon. You should be able to get into Berth Number Two. I suppose you are the tug and not some dirty great battle cruiser with the same name? Over.”

“Yes, we are the tug. Over.”

“Watch the wind, Rim Malemute. In the Valley it is calm, but overhead we have west at seventy knots. Over.”

“Thank you, Aero-Space Control. We are coming in. Over.”

“We’re coming in,” repeated Williams. He cut the inertial drive and the little ship fell like a stone, applied vertical thrust to slow her descent only when her hull began to heat as she plunged into the outer atmosphere. He explained. “Have ter make it fast, Skipper. With all these bloody winds at umpteen knots we’ll be all over the place unless we get downstairs in a hurry.”

“Mphm,” grunted Grimes, who had almost swallowed his pipe.

They were into the first cloud layer now, rolling black vapor slashed by dazzling lightning flashes. They were through it, and dropping through a stratum of clear air—and through turbulence that shook the tug like a terrier shaking a rat. Below them a cloudscape of fantastic castles in black and brown and yellow rushed up to meet them. Williams had no eye for the scenery; he was watching his radar altimeter and the shifting blip of the beacon signal. The ship shuddered as he applied lateral thrust to compensate for the fast drift to leeward.

They were under the cloud ceiling at last. Inferno Valley lay almost directly beneath them, a rift in the red rocks, a canyon, but one formed by geological upheaval than by erosion. To the north and to the south towered the volcanoes, classical cones, the smoke and steam from their craters streaming out almost horizontally. At the eastern end of the valley stood a great monolith, a fantastic needle of rock. The spaceport must be to the west of this formation.

Lower dropped Rim Malemute and lower, with Williams fighting to keep her in position relative to her landing site, with his officers calling out instrument readings in voices that, for all their studied calmness, betrayed fear. The nearer of the volcanoes emitted a great burst of smoke and incandescent molten matter and the dull boom! was felt and heard through the insulated hull. A shift of wind blew the Malemute away from the valley, at right angles to the rift—and once again she shuddered and complained in every member as lateral thrust drove her back on to her planned line of descent.

Then, quite suddenly, she was below the rim of the canyon. Below, deep, deep below, there was a silvery ribbon of water, the dark green of vegetation, the pastel colours of buildings. Below, looking from this altitude to be right alongside each other, were the metallic spires that were Sally Ann and Sobraon.

But there was room enough, and in this windless valley maneuvering was easy. Neatly, with no fuss and bother at all, Williams dropped Rim Malemute between the other two ships, in the exact centre of the triangle of brilliant red lights that marked his berth.


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Framed