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Read Ebook: Jekyll-Hyde Planet by Lewis Jack
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Ebook has 173 lines and 6898 words, and 4 pages
Claude flicked a look toward the far-off hills that were haloed by the last rays of a strange sun. Within moments it would be dark. And a few yards away a woman threw another log on the fire and the pungent aroma of boiling coffee drifted across his nostrils.
"I'm hungry," Billy repeated.
Claude held out his hand.
"I'm sorry," he said. "As you say: this isn't our fault. We're just caught in the middle."
They ate picnic-style, off plastic dishes, while Bruce Whiting kept up a continuous stream of conversation, aided from time to time by his comely wife.
The Whiting's story was a familiar one. He'd been with an advertising agency when the colonization urge had struck him.... That was ten years ago.... He'd talked it over with his wife, and together they'd weighed the chances of surviving the rigid tests that eliminated 97% of the applicants.
The story had a pattern you could play by ear. Just another man, and another woman, and another boy now in his teens, who'd grown tired of the struggle for survival in a world that begrudged a man the space occupied by his own body.
And when the meal was over, Joan helped Alice Whiting with the dishes, while the men sat around the fire and smoked. It was dark out now--a strange kind of darkness, split only by billions of incredibly bright stars and the nearby glow of the crackling wood fire.
Bruce Whiting's cordiality was contagious too. Claude found himself talking now; describing his wants, his ideas, and his ideals. And when the women returned to the circle, the conversation turned to other subjects. They discussed clothes, their children, and the future of the planet.
Only one subject was carefully avoided.
And that was the one that was foremost in the minds of all of them.
They were still talking when the fire had settled into weary heaps of smouldering embers. Then the two families excused themselves and retired to the canvas lean-to's wondering what the next day would hold in store for them.
The blue sun of Centauri was almost at zenith the next day, when the half-trac arrived with the supplies.
The driver--an amiable man--listened patiently while Bruce and Claude related the mixup, and as had been expected, agreed to transport them back to the base.
The two families rode together in the open back of the vehicle as it jounced over the mildly sloping terrain. And yet the ride was not unpleasant. The immensity of the planet was breathtaking. It was exactly as the colorcasts had pictured it--only better, incredibly better. No TV travelogue could adequately describe the tang of the air, or the scent of the sweet-smelling grass.
God had indeed been generous with this portion of the planet.
It was hard to believe that the opposite side was a rocky wasteland that would probably fight colonization for another thousand years.
Almost before they knew it, they were at the spaceport. Sometime during the night, another ship had arrived. It stood majestically at the far end of the apron, towering over a knot of tiny figures grouped around the rudder stanchions.
The driver swooped past them and brought the half-trac to a halt in front of the reception center where they observed the Colonization Director watching them through the window of his office.
Inside, Leon Stubbs greeted them cordially and ushered them into an inner office containing a metal desk and a dozen file cabinets.
The Director listened patiently, shaking his head from time to time and muttering remarks about government inefficiency.... When they'd finished, he ran his hand through his greying hair.
"This, of course, is an outrage, Gentlemen," he said. "But before I can do anything, I'll have to check both your claims." He indicated the file cabinets. "It may take a little time but I'll get at it right away. As a matter of fact I believe they're serving lunch at the mess hall now. Why don't you all have lunch and come back in about an hour. I'll know more about the situation then."
Leon Stubbs shuffled through some papers on the desk, indicating dismissal. The two men joined their families in the anteroom.
After an awkward silence, Bruce Whiting and his family excused themselves, leaving the Marshall's alone.
"What did he say, Claude? Tell me! What did he say?"
"He doesn't know yet, honey. He's checking the claims. We're supposed to come back in an hour."
"But it will be all right, won't it. It's got to be all right!"
"I don't know, Joan. So help me, I don't know.... We can't both have the land. That's for sure. One of us will have to settle for someplace else."
"But there's other land. We've only seen a small portion of the planet."
He shook his head.
"Not like this. This claim has everything. What's more, Whiting knows it. That's why he'll fight us on it all the way."
"They seem like nice people. Claude. Couldn't we talk to them ... make some sort of deal?"
"A deal? What sort of deal?"
"A hundred acres is a lot of land--an awful lot of land.... Maybe the Whitings would--"
"Uh uh. No good. I've already felt him out on that. I had the same idea last night, so I came right out and asked him if he'd settle for fifty acres apiece.... He refused. Oh, he was nice enough about it. But he gave me to understand it was all or nothing with him."
"I'm hungry," Billy said.
"Claude?"
"Yes, Joan."
"Let's not sit with them, if we meet them there."
"All right, honey. Let's not."
They were halfway to the door when Leon Stubbs came out of the inner office. He smiled.
"Mind stepping inside a moment?" he said.
When Claude hesitated, he added: "Perhaps Mrs. Marshall had better come in too."
They followed him inside where the Director indicated two chairs alongside the desk.
"I've been checking your claims," he said. "And since you were still here, I didn't think it advisable to prolong the suspense."
Claude glanced at his wife.
"You mean it's all right ... the land is ours?"
The Director sat down and spread open a pair of folders on the desk. For a long while he stared at them--comparing them. He shook his head.
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Marshall. I'm afraid it isn't all right."
"But our claim. It's valid, isn't it?"
Leon Stubbs ran a hand through his greying hair. "I don't know," he said. "Naturally the fault for processing duplicate claims lies with the colonization bureau in Washington. Eventually, I suppose it will be up to them to decide on the disposition of this case.... However, because of the time-lag in communications, I have full authority to pass down temporary decisions in matters of this type.... And because Mr. Whiting's claim is dated several days ahead of yours, I must in all fairness award the land to him.... You and your wife can appeal that decision of course."
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