The Misplaced Battleship Lure

  'I am Admiral Thar, League Grand Fleet. These are my credentials. You had better check them.' Since they were as good as any real admiral's I didn't worry in the slightest. Ferraro went through them as carefully as she could in her rattled state, even checking the seals under UV. It gave her time to regain a bit of control and she used it to bluster.

  'What do you mean by entering my private quarters and burglaring--'

  'You're in very bad trouble,' I said in as gloomy a voice as I could muster.

  Ferraro's tanned face went a dirty gray at my words. I pressed the advantage.

  'I am arresting you for conspiracy, extortion, theft, and whatever other charges develop after a careful review of these documents. Seize her.' This last order was directed at the robot who was well briefed in its role. It rumbled forward and locked its hand around Ferraro's wrist, handcuff style. She barely noticed.

  'I can explain,' she said desperately. 'Everything can be explained. There is no need to make such charges. I don't know what papers you have there, so I wouldn't attempt to say they are all forgeries. I have many enemies you know. If the League knew the difficulties faced on a backward planet like this....'

  'That will be entirely enough,' I snapped, cutting her off with a wave of my hand. 'All those questions will be answered by a court at the proper time. There is only one question I want an answer to now. Why are you building that battleship?'

  * * * * *

  The woman was a great actor. Her eyes opened wide, her jaw dropped, she sank back into the chair as if she had been tapped lightly with a hammer. When she managed to speak the words were completely unnecessary; she had already registered every evidence of injured innocence.

  'What battleship!' she gasped.

  'The Warlord class battleship that is being built at the Cenerentola Spaceyards. Disguised behind these blueprints.' I threw them across the desk to her, and pointed to one corner. 'Those are your initials there, authorizing construction.'

  Ferraro still had the baffled act going as she fumbled with the papers, examined the initials and such. I gave her plenty of time. She finally put them down, shaking her head.

  'I know nothing about any battleship. These are the plans for a new cargo liner. Those are my initials, I recall putting them there.'

  I phrased my question carefully, as I had her right where I wanted her now. 'You deny any knowledge of the Warlord battleship that is being built from these modified plans.'

  'These are the plans for an ordinary passenger-freighter, that is all I know.'

  Her words had the simple innocence of a young child's. Was she ever caught. I sat back with a relaxed sigh and lit a cigar.

  'Wouldn't you be interested in knowing something about that robot who is holding you,' I said. She looked down, as if aware for the first time that the robot had been holding her by the wrist during the interview. 'That is no ordinary robot. It has a number of interesting devices built into its fingertips. Thermocouples, galvanometers, things like that. While you talked it registered your skin temperature, blood pressure, amount of perspiration and such. In other words it is an efficient and fast working lie detector. We will now hear all about your lies.'

  Ferraro pulled away from the robot's hand as if it had been a poisonous snake. I blew a relaxed smoke ring. 'Report,' I said to the robot. 'Has this woman told any lies?'

  'Many,' the robot said. 'Exactly seventy-four per cent of all statements she made were fake.'

  'Very good,' I nodded, throwing the last lock on my trap. 'That means she knows all about this battleship.'

  'The subject has no knowledge of the battleship,' the robot said coldly. 'All of her statements concerning the construction of this ship were true.'

  Now it was my turn for the gaping and eye-popping act while Ferraro pulled herself together. She had no idea I wasn't interested in her other hanky-panky, but could tell I had had a low blow. It took an effort, but I managed to get my mind back into gear and consider the evidence.

  If President Ferraro didn't know about the battleship, she must have been taken in by the cover-up job. But if she wasn't responsible--who was? Some militaristic clique that meant to overthrow her and take power? I didn't know enough about the planet, so I enlisted Ferraro on my side.

  This was easy--even without the threat of exposure of the documents I had found in her files. Using their disclosure as a prod I could have made her jump through hoops. It wasn't necessary. As soon as I showed her the different blueprints and explained the possibilities she understood. If anything, she was more eager than I was to find out who was using her administration as a cat's-paw. By silent agreement the documents were forgotten.

  We agreed that the next logical step would be the Cenerentola Spaceyards. She had some idea of sniffing around quietly first, trying to get a line to her political opponents. I gave her to understand that the League, and the League Navy in particular, wanted to stop the construction of the battleship. After that she could play her politics. With this point understood she called her car and squadron of guards and we made a parade to the shipyards. It was a four-hour drive and we made plans on the way down.

  * * * * *

  The spaceyard manager was named Rocca, and she was happily asleep when we arrived. But not for long. The parade of uniforms and guns in the middle of the night had her frightened into a state where she could hardly walk. I imagine she was as full of petty larceny as Ferraro. No innocent woman could have looked so terror stricken. Taking advantage of the situation, I latched my motorized lie detector onto her and began snapping the questions.

  Even before I had all the answers I began to get the drift of things. They were a little frightening, too. The manager of the spaceyard that was building the ship had no idea of its true nature.

  Anyone with less self-esteem than myself--or who had led a more honest early life--might have doubted her own reasoning at that moment. I didn't. The ship on the ways still resembled a warship to six places. And knowing human nature the way I do, that was too much of a coincidence to expect. Occam's razor always points the way. If there are two choices to take, take the simpler. In this case I chose the natural acquisitive instinct of woman as opposed to blind chance and accident. Nevertheless I put the theory to the test.

  Looking over the original blueprints again, the big superstructure hit my eye. In order to turn the ship into a warship that would have to be one of the first things to go.

  'Rocca!' I barked, in what I hoped was authentic old space-bitch manner. 'Look at these plans, at this space-going front porch here. Is it still being built onto the ship?'

  She shook her head at once and said, 'No, the plans were changed. We had to fit in some kind of new meteor-repelling gear for operating in the planetary debris belt.'

  I flipped through my case and drew out a plan. 'Does your new gear look anything like this?' I asked, throwing it across the table to her.

  She rubbed her jaw while she looked at it. 'Well,' she said hesitatingly, 'I don't want to say for certain. After all these details aren't in my department, I'm just responsible for final assembly, not unit work. But this surely looks like the thing they installed. Big thing. Lots of power leads--'

  It was a battleship all right, no doubt of that now. I was mentally reaching around to pat myself on the back when the meaning of her words sank in.

  'Installed!' I shouted. 'Did you say installed?'

  Rocca collapsed away from my roar and gnawed her nails. 'Yes--'she said, 'not too long ago. I remember there was some trouble....'

  'And what else!' I interrupted her. Cold moisture was beginning to collect along my spine now. 'The drives, controls--are they in, too?'

  'Why, yes,' she said. 'How did you know? The normal scheduling was changed around, causing a great deal of unnecessary trouble.'

  The cold sweat was now a running river of fear. I was beginning to have the feeling that I had been missing the boat all along the line. The original estimated date of completion was nearly a year aw
ay. But there was no real reason why that couldn't be changed, too.

  'Cars! Guns!' I bellowed. 'To the spaceyard. If that ship is anywhere near completion, we are in big, big trouble!'

  * * * * *

  All the bored guards had a great time with the sirens, lights, accelerators on the floor and that sort of thing. We blasted a screaming hole through the night right to the spaceyard and through the gate.

  It didn't make any difference, we were still too late. A uniformed watchman frantically waved to us and the whole convoy jerked to a stop.

  The ship was gone.

  Rocca couldn't believe it, neither could the president. They wandered up and down the empty ways where it had been built. I just crunched down in the back of the car, chewing my cigar to pieces and cursing myself for being a fool.

  I had missed the obvious fact, being carried away by the thought of a planetary government building a warship. The government was involved for sure--but only as a pawn. No little planet-bound political mind could have dreamed up as big a scheme as this. I smelled a rat--a staynless steel one. Someone who operated the way I had done before my conversion.

  Now that the rodent was well out of the bag I knew just where to look, and had a pretty good idea of what I would find. Rocca, the spaceyard manager, had staggered back and was pulling at her hair, cursing and crying at the same time. President Ferraro had her gun out and was staring at it grimly. It was hard to tell if she was thinking of murder or suicide. I didn't care which. All she had to worry about was the next election, when the voters and the political competition would carve her up for losing the ship. My troubles were a little bigger.

  I had to find the battleship before it blasted its way across the galaxy.

  'Rocca!' I shouted. 'Get into the car. I want to see your records--all of your records--and I want to see them right now.'

  She climbed wearily in and had directed the driver before she fully realized what was happening. Blinking at the sickly light of dawn brought her slowly back to reality.

  'But ... admiral ... the hour! Everyone will be asleep....'

  I just growled, but it was enough. Rocca caught the idea from my expression and grabbed the car phone. The office doors were open when we got there.

  Normally I curse the paper tangles of bureaucracy, but this was one time when I blessed them all. These people had it down to a fine science. Not a rivet fell, but that its fall was noted--in quintuplicate. And later followed up with a memo, rivet, wastage, query. The facts I needed were all neatly tucked away in their paper catacombs. All I had to do was sniff them out. I didn't try to look for first causes, this would have taken too long. Instead I concentrated my attention on the recent modifications, like the gun turret, that would quickly give me a trail to the guilty parties.

  Once the clerks understood what I had in mind they hurled themselves into their work, urged on by the fires of patriotism and the burning voices of their superiors. All I had to do was suggest a line of search and the relevant documents would begin appearing at once.

  * * * * *

  Bit by bit a pattern started to emerge. A delicate webwork of forgery, bribery, chicanery and falsehood. It could only have been conceived by a mind as brilliantly crooked as my own. I chewed my lip with jealousy. Like all great ideas, this one was basically simple.

  A party or parties unknown had neatly warped the ship construction program to their own ends. Undoubtedly they had started the program for the giant transport, that would have to be checked later. And once the program was underway, it had been guided with a skill that bordered on genius. Orders were originated in many places, passed on, changed and shuffled. I painfully traced each one to its source. Many times the source was a forgery. Some changes seemed to be unexplainable, until I noticed the officers in question had a temporary secretary while their normal assistants were ill. All the girls had food poisoning, a regular epidemic it seemed. Each of them in turn had been replaced by the same boy. He stayed just long enough in each position to see that the battleship plan moved forward one more notch.

  This boy was obviously the assistant to the Mastermind who originated the scheme. She sat in the center of the plot, like a spider on its web, pulling the strings that set things into motion. My first thought that a gang was involved proved wrong. All my secondary suspects turned out to be simple forgeries, not individuals. In the few cases where forgery wasn't adequate, my mysterious X had apparently hired herself to do the job. X herself had the permanent job of Assistant Engineering Designer. One by one the untangled threads ran to this office. She also had a secretary whose 'illnesses'coincided with his employment in other offices.

  When I straightened up from my desk the ache in my back stabbed like a hot wire. I swallowed a painkiller and looked around at my drooping, sack-eyed assistants who had shared the sleepless seventy-two hour task. They sat or slumped against the furniture, waiting for my conclusions. Even President Ferraro was there, her hair looking scraggly where she had pulled out handfuls.

  'You've found them, the criminal ring?' she asked, her fingers groping over her scalp for a fresh hold.

  'I have found them, yes,' I said hoarsely. 'But not a criminal ring. An inspired mistress criminal--who apparently has more executive ability in one ear lobe than all your bribe-bloated bureaucrats--and her male assistant. They pulled the entire job by themselves. Her name, or undoubtedly pseudoname, is Pepa Nero. The boy is called Angelino....'

  'Arrest them at once! Guards ... guards--'Ferraro's voice died away as she ran out of the room. I talked to her vanishing back.

  'That is just what we intend to do, but it's a little difficult at the moment since they are the ones who not only built the battleship, but undoubtedly stole it as well. It was fully automated so no crew is necessary.'

  'What do you plan to do?' one of the clerks asked.

  'I shall do nothing,' I told her, with the snapped precision of an old space dog. 'The League fleet is already closing in on the renegades and you will be informed of the capture. Thank you for your assistance.'

  * * * * *

  I threw them as snappy a salute as I could muster and they filed out. Staring gloomily at their backs I envied for one moment their simple faith in the League Navy. When in reality the vengeful fleet was just as imaginary as my admiral's rating. This was still a job for the Corps. Inskipp would have to be given the latest information at once. I had sent her a psigram about the theft, but there was no answer as yet. Maybe the identity of the thieves would stir some response out of her.

  My message was in code, but it could be quickly broken if someone wanted to try hard enough. I took it to the message center myself. The psiman was in her transparent cubicle and I locked myself in with her. Her eyes were unfocused as she spoke softly into a mike, pulling in a message from somewhere across the galaxy. Outside the rushing transcribers copied, coded and filed messages, but no sound penetrated the insulated wall. I waited until her attention clicked back into the room, and handed her the sheets of paper.

  'League Central 14--rush,' I told her.

  She raised her eyebrows, but didn't ask any questions. Establishing contact only took a few seconds, as they had an entire battery of psimen for their communications. She read the code words carefully, shaping them with her mouth but not speaking aloud, the power of her thoughts carrying across the light-years of distance. As soon as she was finished I took back the sheet, tore it up and pocketed the pieces.

  I had my answer back quickly enough, Inskipp must have been hovering around waiting for my message. The mike was turned off to the transcribers outside, and I took the code groups down in shorthand myself.

  '... xybb dfil fdno, and if you don't--don't come back!'

  The message broke into clear at the end and the psiman smiled as she spoke the words. I broke the point off my stylus and growled at her not to repeat any of this message, as it was classified, and I would personally see her shot if she did. That got rid of the smile, but didn't make me feel any better
.

  The decoded message turned out not to be as bad as I had imagined. Until further notice I was in charge of tracking and capturing the stolen battleship. I could call on the League for any aid I needed. I would keep my identity as an admiral for the rest of the job. I was to keep her informed of progress. Only those ominous last words in clear kept my happiness from being complete.

  I had been handed my long-awaited assignment. But translated into simple terms my orders were to get the battleship, or it would be my neck. Never a word about my efforts in uncovering the plot in the first place. This is a heartless world we live in.

  This moment of self-pity relaxed me and I immediately went to bed. Since my main job now was waiting, I could wait just as well asleep.

  * * * * *

  And waiting was all I could do. Of course there were secondary tasks, such as ordering a Naval cruiser for my own use, and digging for more information on the thieves, but these really were secondary to my main purpose. Which was waiting for bad news. There was no place I could go that would be better situated for the chase than Cittanuvo. The missing ship could have gone in any direction. With each passing minute the sphere of probable locations grew larger by the power of the squared cube. I kept the on-watch crew of the cruiser at duty stations and confined the rest within a one hundred yard radius of the ship.

  There was little more information on Pepa and Angelino, they had covered their tracks well. Their origin was unknown, though the fact they both talked with a slight accent suggested an off-world origin. There was one dim picture of Pepa, chubby but looking too grim to be a happy fat girl. There was no picture of the boy. I shuffled the meager findings, controlled my impatience, and kept the ship's psiman busy pulling in all the reports of any kind of trouble in space. The navigator and I plotted their locations in her tank, comparing the positions in relation to the growing sphere that enclosed all the possible locations of the stolen ship. Some of the disasters and apparent accidents hit inside this area, but further investigation proved them all to have natural causes.

  I had left standing orders that all reports falling inside the danger area were to be brought to me at any time. The messenger woke me from a deep sleep, turning on the light and handing me the slip of paper. I blinked myself awake, read the first two lines, and pressed the action station alarm over my bunk. I'll say this, the Navy girls know their business. When the sirens screamed, the crew secured ship and blasted off before I had finished reading the report. As soon as my eyeballs unsquashed back into focus I read it through, then once more, carefully, from the beginning.