“Make it march, Zack,” Lazarus urged. “Are we covered? Or not?”
“We are not. At least two of our cousins certain to be arrested are not so protected.”
Lazarus shrugged. “That tears it. Kinfolk, the game’s over. One shot in the arm of babble juice and the ‘Masquerade’ is over. It’s a new situation-or will be in a few hours. What do you propose to do about it?”
In the control room of the Antipodes Rocket Wallaby, South Flight, the telecom hummed, went spung! and stuck out a tab like an impudent tongue. The copilot rocked forward in his gymbals, pulled out the message and tore it off.
He read it, then reread it. “Skipper, brace yourself.”
“Trouble?”
“Read it.”
The captain did so, and whistled. “Bloody! I’ve never arrested anybody. I don’t believe I’ve even seen anybody arrested. How do we start?”
“I bow to your superior authority.”
“That so?” the captain said in nettled tones. “Now that you’re through bowing you can tool aft and make the arrest.”
“Uh? That’s not what I meant. You’re the bloke with the authority. I’ll relieve you at the conn.”
“You didn’t read me. I’m delegating the authority. Carry out your orders.”
“Just a moment, Al, I didn’t sign up for—”
“Carry out your orders!”
“Aye aye, sir!”
The copilot went aft. The ship had completed its reentry, was in its long, flat, screaming approach-glide; he was able to walk-he wondered what an arrest in free-fall would be like? Snag him with a butterfly net? He located the passenger by seat check, touched his arm. “Service, sir. There’s been a clerical error. May I see your ticket?”
“Why, certainly.”
“Would you mind stepping back to the reserve stateroom? It’s quieter there and we can both sit down.”
“Not at all.”
Once they were in the private compartment the chief officer asked the passenger to sit down, then looked annoyed. “Stupid of me!-I’ve left my lists in the control room.” He turned and left. As the door slid to behind him, the passenger heard an unexpected click. Suddenly suspicious, he tried the door. It was locked.
Two proctors came for him at Melbourne. As they escorted him through the skyport he could hear remarks from a curious and surprisingly unfriendly crowd: “There’s one of the laddies now!” “Him? My word, he doesn’t look old.” “What price ape glands?” “Don’t stare, Herbert.” “Why not? Not half bad enough for him.”
They took him to the office of the Chief Provost, who invited him to sit down with formal civility. “Now then, sir,” the Provost said with a slight local twang, “if you will help us by letting the orderly make a slight injection in your arm—”
“For what purpose?”
“You want to be socially cooperative, I’m sure. It won’t hurt you.”
“That’s beside the point. I insist on an explanation. I am a citizen of the United States.”
“So you are, but the Federation has concurrent jurisdiction in any member state-and I am acting under its authority. Now bare your arm, please.”
“I refuse. I stand on my civil rights.”
“Grab him, lads.”
It took four men to do it. Even before the injector touched his skin, his jaw set and a look of sudden agony came into his face. He then sat quietly, listlessly, while the peace officers waited for the drug to take effect. Presently the Provost gently rolled back one of the prisoner’s eyelids and said, “I think he’s ready. He doesn’t weigh over ten stone; it has hit him rather fast. Where’s that list of questions?”
A deputy handed it to him; he began, “Horace Foote, do you hear me?’
The man’s lips twitched, he seemed about to speak. His mouth opened and blood gushed down his chest.
The Provost bellowed and grabbed the prisoner’s head, made quick examination. “Surgeon! He’s bitten his tongue half out of his head!”
The captain of the Luna City Shuttle Moonbeam scowled at the message in his hand. “What child’s play is this?” He glared at his third officer. “Tell me that, Mister.”
The third officer studied the overhead. Fuming, the captain held the message at arm’s length, peered at it and read aloud: “-imperative that subject persons be prevented from doing themselves injury. You are directed to render them unconscious without warning them.” He shoved the flimsy away from him. “What do they think I’m running? Coventry? Who do they think they are?-telling me in my ship what I must do with my passengers! I won’t-so help me, I won’t! There’s no rule requiring me to … is there, Mister?”
The third officer went on silently studying the ship’s structure.
The captain stopped pacing. “Purser! Purser! Why is that man never around when I want him?”
“I’m here, Captain.”
“About time!”
“I’ve been here all along, sir.”
“Don’t argue with me. Here-attend to this.” He handed the dispatch to the purser and left.
A shipfitter, supervised by the purser, the hull officer, and the medical officer, made a slight change in the air-conditioning ducts to one cabin; two worried passengers sloughed off their cares under the influence of a nonlethal dose of sleeping gas.
“Another report, sir.”
“Leave it,” the Administrator said in a tired voice.
“And Councilor Bork Vanning presents his compliments and requests an interview.”
“Tell him that I regret that I am too busy.”
“He insists on seeing you, sir.”
Administrator Ford answered snappishly, “Then you may tell the Honorable Mr. Vanning that be does not give orders in this office!” The aide said nothing; Administrator Ford pressed his fingertips wearily against his forehead and went on slowly, “Na, Gerry, don’t tell him that. Be diplomatic but don’t let him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
When he was alone, the Administrator picked up the report. His eye skipped over official heading, date line, and file number: “Synopsis of Interview with Conditionally Proscribed Citizen Arthur Sperling, full transcript attached. Conditions of Interview: Subject received normal dosage of neosco., having previously received unmeasured dosage of gaseous hypnotal. Antidote—”How the devil could you cure subordinates of wordiness? Was there something in the soul of a career civil servant that cherished red tape? His eye skipped on down:
“-stated that his name was Arthur Sperling of the Foote Family and gave his age as one hundred thirty-seven years. (Subject’s apparent age is forty-five plus-or-minus four: see bio report attached.) Subject admitted that he was a member of the Howard Families. He stated that the Families numbered slightly more than one hundred thousand members. He was asked to correct this and it was suggested to him that the correct number was nearer ten thousand. He persisted in his original statement.”
The Administrator stopped and reread this part.
He skipped on down, looking for the key part: “-insisted that his long life was the result of his ancestry and had no other cause. Admitted that artificial means had been used to preserve his youthful appearance but maintained firmly that his life expectancy was inherent, not acquired. It was suggested to him that his elder relatives had subjected him without his knowledge to treatment in his early youth to increase his life span. Subject admitted possibility. On being pressed for names of persons who might have performed, or might be performing, such treatments he returned to his original statement that no such treatments exist.
“He gave the names (surprise association procedure) and in some cases the addresses of nearly two hundred members of his kin group not previously identified as such in our records. (List attached) His strength ebbed under this arduous technique and he sank into full apathy from which he could not be roused by any stimuli within the limits of his estimated tolerance (see Bio Report).