“This planet is part of what might be called a ‘rim star system,’ way out at the edge of a galaxy. It might have gone overlooked had it not sent out some probes of its own. It gave its exact location, an imperial probe picked it up, and the rest is history.
“The Psychlo imperial government obtained title, quite valid, on the right of discovery. And this system’s title was entered on the books for the first time.
“That government sold the planet to Intergalactic Mining which, being short of cash, borrowed the purchase price from the Galactic Bank. All this is very routine, ordinary, and usual. Intergalactic Mining has done this countless times.
“Such loans are secured by lodging the deed of title of a planet with the Galactic Bank. The interest rate is usually two parts in eleven. Or, in non-Psychlo arithmetic, roughly eighteen percent per annum. The term was twenty-five hundred years.
“Intergalactic in the past always paid such loans off smoothly—they knew better than not to. In fact, this was the only planet they had bought in recent times; all the others had been paid off. Such a transaction is called a ‘mortgage.’ Are you following me so far?”
Jonnie was. He had begun to guess what was coming.
“There was a second mortgage also,” said His Excellency. “It was to pay for the expenses of military conquest by Intergalactic. But that was a minor matter and, being at a higher interest rate, was paid off in only five years.”
Jonnie got it. The Galactic Bank had financed the invasion of Earth. Financed the gas drone.
They must have detected that something had changed in his attitude.
Lord Voraz said, “It is just business. The bank tends to banking and the customers tend to their own affairs. It does not mean the bank was ever hostile to you. Actually we are not hostile now. This is all just routine. Ordinary banking business.”
“So anyway,” said Dries easily, not bothering to assert his prerogatives, “the basic mortgage has fourteen hundred years to run.”
Jonnie digested that, very warily, very alertly. “But I should think that a war and so on would tend to wipe out that mortgage.”
“Oh, dear no!” said Dries. “The simple fact of military take-over does not change the basic debt structure of a planet. That a government changes does not relieve the property of debt. Why, if that were true, then governments would just arrange to change hands every day and they would be rid of all their financial obligations.” He laughed. “No, no. A change of government or a military takeover does not change a country’s debts. The new owners have to pay.”
“The original conquest,” said Jonnie, “when Intergalactic took over Earth, did not assume any debts.”
“They would have been internal,” said Dries. “Internal debts have nothing to do with international debts. No, the planet was properly discovered, properly bought from the Psychlo imperial government by Intergalactic Mining. The mortgage papers were all properly executed. Everything was totally legal.”
“Totally,” said Lord Voraz.
“The debt is not in question,” said Dries. “Who pays it is in question.”
“You called this conference to see who pays the debt?” said Jonnie.
“Not precisely, but close. You see,” said Dries, “so long as combat was threatened and so long as one could not really determine who was and who would be the actual responsible government of this planet, I could not serve this paper.”
He was holding a big legal-looking piece of paper. He did not hand it over. Jonnie reached out his hand for it, but Dries said, “No, you are not a member of the government, by your own statement.”
“What happens when you do serve it?”
“Why, we have a meeting to arrange the possibility and terms of payment, and if no agreement can be reached, we foreclose.”
“And then what happens?” said Jonnie.
“Why, the planet is put up for public auction and sold to the highest bidder.”
Jonnie began to understand the feeling he had had about these two.
“And what happens to the planet’s people?” said Jonnie.
“Why, that is up to the buyer, of course. The title would not be clouded in any way. He could do with them pretty much as he liked. That is wholly outside the province of the bank.”
“And what do such buyers usually do?” said Jonnie.
“Oh, it all depends. Ordinarily they would pay cash or use their credit to pay for the auctioned planet—such buyers usually have credit or other collateral and they assume the balance of the mortgage. They often just move in, but if there is local protest, they get a short-term loan from the bank and engage in a swift military suppression of the population. Sometimes they sell the original population as slaves to meet their payments. Such buyers want to move in their own people, you know.”
Jonnie sat and looked at them. “I don’t think a buyer would find it so easy to take this planet.”
“Oh!” said Dries, brushing it away. “The planet has no defenses worth mentioning. You have very few people. Modern arms could do it in a few days. This combined force you had here was just a buzzing of insects. The real fleets of these combatants weren’t even involved. But be calm. There is no reason to become alarmed. It is just business. Just a matter of a mortgage and paying one’s obligations. A banking matter.”
“So you are waiting now to see whether we win so you can serve that paper,” said Jonnie.
“Oh, I think you will win,” said Dries. “That is why we are talking with you tonight. We want you to arrange a meeting with your government the moment we know it really has won. And then we can serve this paper and discuss things. That’s all.”
“If I’m going to arrange a meeting for you,” said Jonnie, “you had better show me the paper so I will know what I am talking about.”
“I’m not serving this on you,” said Dries, “but you can look it over.”
Jonnie took it.
It had pages and pages of legal details, tracing the discovery, the loan, the payments made. And then it had a huge, single page attached to it. Jonnie had held each page of it up to catch the light better (and to expose it to the button camera that had been going in the upper corner of the room all evening), and he now held up the final one. It said:
NOTICE OF DELINQUENCY
To:______(legal owners and occupiers of planet at time of service) Date:______You are hereby summoned to a meeting with the duly appointed officials of THE GALACTIC BANK to: (a) Discuss terms for the discharge of this pressing financial obligation forthwith, well understanding that it is overdue by “one year and __days” without any payment of any kind and without any arrangements to extend or discharge.
(b) If such arrangements are found unsatisfactory by THE GALACTIC BANK, to surrender title, occupancy and use promptly to avoid further penalties, WITHIN ONE WEEK FROM ABOVE DATE. The undischarged amount of said loan and mortgage being FORTY TRILLION, NINE HUNDRED SIXTY BILLION, TWO HUNDRED SEVENTEEN MILLION, SIX HUNDRED FIVE THOUSAND, TWO HUNDRED SIXTEEN GALACTIC CREDITS (C40,960,217,605,216), being the unpaid remainder and interest of the initial loan, advanced in good faith to THE INTERGALACTIC MINING COMPANY of Psychlo, of SIXTY TRILLION GALACTIC CREDITS (C60,000,000,000,000), and paid by GALACTIC BANK TRANSFER at the order of said INTERGALACTIC MINING COMPANY to the account of THE IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT OF PSYCHLO, being, in full, payment for purchase of said planet “Earth, Solar System, Universe Sixteen.”
_____________________________
DRIES GLOTON
(Signed and sealed)
Branch Manager
THE GALACTIC BANK
Balor, Batafor System
Head Offices of Sector 4
Universe Sixteen
Jonnie said, “And what would be satisfactory ‘terms’ for its discharge?”
“Oh,” said Dries Gloton easily, “a payment of five trillion at once and some arrangement like five hundred billion a month would do. You see, legally, a whole loan becomes due and payable instantly if payments are missed. So you will reall
y find the bank very easy to do business with, for we could require the whole amount instanter! We really are your friends, you know. We always pride ourselves, not just on our total honesty and integrity, but on our customer relations.”
Five trillion! thought Jonnie. Five hundred billion a month! They only had two billion, two hundred million. They had no industry or income. No resources they could dig out of the ground would match the amount needed in that time period.
Dries saw through his fairly well hidden consternation. “You’d have a whole week! It is very liberal.”
“And as soon as this conference decides the fate of Schleim,” said Jonnie. “And the relationship to the other combatants—”
“Why, the planet will have a clear title!” said Dries triumphantly. “And you can arrange the meeting for us. And we can serve this paper and the whole thing will be handled!”
“The winning government,” said Lord Voraz, “would have days to discuss it and find where they were going to get the money.”
“You couldn’t lend it to us?” said Jonnie.
“Oh, dear no. It’s already been lent.”
“And who might buy this planet?” said Jonnie.
“Why, any one of the combatants would be glad to have it. They, unlike you here, have industry and credit and collateral.”
“So after we win this war, if we win it, then we might lose it totally, even to the Tolneps!” said Jonnie.
“Well,” said Dries Gloton with an expressive hand gesture, “banking is banking. Business is business.”
6
Stormalong, folded across a desk in the ops room, was jolted out of the sleep of exhaustion. Groggy from days of directing battle, it was with alarm that he saw Jonnie.
“Wake up!” Jonnie was saying urgently. He was trying to shake the Buddhist communicator, Tinny, into some sign of life.
“What’s the matter?” Stormalong surged up. “Have they started attacking again?”
“Worse!” said Jonnie. “These small gray men! . . . Tinny, please wake up!” The woman was almost senseless after days of combat communication, all without sleep.
Jonnie had bowed the guests out. He had walked a full circle around the night-shrouded bowl. MacAdam! He knew he had to get hold of MacAdam of the Earth Planetary Bank in Luxembourg and get hold of him fast. He would arrange no meeting with the government. But he sure would arrange one with somebody who should know banking!
Tinny was coming wake. “MacAdam!” said Jonnie. “Get MacAdam on the radio!”
“What’s up?” said Stormalong. Jonnie was usually pretty cool and calm. “What can I do?”
Jonnie shoved a pair of disks at him, the recordings of the whole party. “Get me duplicates of these. It’s a dinner party.”
It made no sense at all to Stormalong but he went over to the disk duplicator and ran them off.
Tinny was trying to wake up Luxembourg, sleepily singing out the code call signs in Pali.
“If you’re calling Luxembourg,” said Stormalong, “they’re all gone.” Then he realized Jonnie had not had much briefing.
“It’s Russia,” said Stormalong. “The Singapore people got there and they can’t get near the place. It’s all on fire.”
Jonnie didn’t understand. An underground base on fire?
“You’ve been there,” said Stormalong. “I don’t know why but they had some material, some black stuff, inflammable, outside the main entrances. Do you know what it was?”
Coal! The Russian base had been piling coal up for the winter. “It’s coal,” said Jonnie. “A black rock that burns.”
“Well, whoever built that base built it next to or on or under a mine of this stuff, and in the fighting, it must have ignited. The Singapore team couldn’t get near the base. They were very few and they didn’t take any mine pumps, and even if they had, there was no water near there. They yelled for help. They had to get the fire out to get near the base. Luxembourg was the only defense area that was never hit and they had flying tankers there. About two hours ago they filled those tankers and flew to Russia. We have no further reports on the fate of the Russian base. And there’s no defense team left in Luxembourg.”
“Surely the Earth Planetary Bank had a radio!” said Jonnie.
“Yes,” said Stormalong doubtfully, “but at this hour of the night, I don’t think it would be manned. They’re not part of the defense network.”
“I’ve got to go then,” said Jonnie. “What planes are left—”
“Whoa!” said Stormalong. “I had direct orders from Sir Robert that you stay here!”
“But MacAdam can’t fly down here if there are no pilots. Not even one pilot left in Luxembourg?”
“Not one.”
Jonnie felt desperate. “Then how about detaching a pilot from Edinburgh and getting—”
“Not a chance,” said Stormalong. “They’re arrived there and it’s a screaming mess. The whole tunnel network under the rock has collapsed. You can’t get into the place to see whether there’s anyone still alive in the shelters. They’ve got atmosphere hoses and equipment to get air in to any survivors and they are bringing mine diggers up from Cornwall. But they need the pilots they have as machine operators. I don’t think I could persuade even one of them—”
“Do you have a plane here?”
“Of course I’ve got a plane here. I’ve got five planes here! But you are not leaving!”
The woman turned from the mike. “It is dead. There is no one answering from the Luxembourg minesite or the bank. And after all, it is two in the morning there.”
“I’m going,” said Jonnie.
“You’re not!” shouted Stormalong.
“Then you are!” shouted Jonnie.
Stormalong blinked. After all, he had had about two hours worth of catnaps. “You’ll have to handle anything here by yourself,” he said. “Be in the air and at that mike at the same time if you have to fly defense.”
“I’d take Tinny and handle the network from the plane,” said Jonnie, “if I had to go up and fight. But that isn’t where the fight is! It’s right down here with these small gray men! Can you stay awake to Luxembourg?”
Stormalong shrugged and then nodded.
“All right,” said Jonnie. “You take those copies you made of the dinner party and you fly to Luxembourg and find MacAdam. Blast him out. Tell him I said it was vital he review those recordings right now. And he’s got to find some way to handle a debt. You tell him that.”
“A debt?” said Stormalong.
“Yes, a debt. And if we don’t pay or handle it, we’ve lost this whole war! Even if we win it!”
Part 29
1
The next two days were the most horrible in Jonnie’s life—cage, drone and all!
Stormalong had simply flown into thin air and vanished.
He didn’t answer on radio even when Jonnie said his name in clear.
The bank office in Luxembourg was open and answering, but there was just a girl there, and she didn’t speak any tongue anyone at Kariba could speak—French?—and even though they said “MacAdam” and she tried to tell them something back, they couldn’t make it out.
Jonnie could not leave here.
The emissaries in the conference room would go in and out. They were working on and on with the trial. They didn’t pay much attention to him.
Jonnie slept in the ops room and only got out when Chief Chong-won would spell him for a few minutes by standing in, in case anything urgent came through.
Truth told, there was not too much coming through that Jonnie had to handle. Even had he gotten urgent requests, he couldn’t have done anything about them, for he had no available pilots, troops or defense forces. He was actually the only one defending the planet. The woman, Tinny, was lots of help, but there was a limit to the number of hours anyone could stay awake, even a Buddhist nun.
Angus was spending some time with the transshipment rig. He had left the gyrocage on a Tolnep mountain to learn the f
ull fate of the moon Asart. “I wanted to see whether there were earthquakes on Tolnep,” he told Jonnie. “When you change mass in a system, you could expect changes in gravitational stresses. I read someplace that if our own moon got knocked out into space or something, it would cause earthquakes here. But Tolnep didn’t shake up our gyrocage.”
A few hours later, Jonnie had heard a motor running in the bowl and, edgy, had gone out to check. Angus was running a blade scraper. He was pushing a huge piece of the capital ship through the under-cable entrance; it was a piece that had hit the shore. Chief Chong-won was very sharp with him, for it was scraping up the pavement and Chief Chong-won had no men to repair the scars.
Angus said something about wanting to see whether the ultimate bomb were still active.
“Well, don’t bring anything back here that touches that area,” said Jonnie and went back in to answer a radio query.
The next morning Angus had come in to eat a bowl of noodles with him and tell him about it.
“I put that scrap metal way out beyond Asart,” said Angus. “I thought it would fall through the gas—”
“What gas?” said Jonnie.
“Oh, Asart just seems to be gas now,” said Angus. “Just a huge cloud of gas. It was blackish for a while, but then it cleared up. You can see it is a cloud of gas, but you can see through it. It’s pretty obvious now why the Psychlos never used that bomb. As mining people they needed metal, not gas!”
“So what happened to the scrap iron?” asked Jonnie.
“I thought it would fall through the gas and go on down and hit the surface of Tolnep. It didn’t. It fell all right, but it just went to the center of the gas cloud and it’s still there. Want to see a picture of it?”
“Just don’t fire into that cloud and bring any of that stuff back here on recoil!” said Jonnie.
“Oh, I won’t,” promised Angus. “But what I believe is, once that ultimate bomb converted everything to gas, it went null. It doesn’t have anything to work on and the reaction isn’t self-starting again once it’s complete. The metal trace says that it’s all very low-order gases now. Hydrogen.”
“Then the ultimate bomb brings about low-order fission,” said Jonnie. “It stimulates a split of the atoms of heavier metals. I’m no expert, but that’s what it seems you’re describing.”