The Fredric Brown Megapack (29 page)

None of us said anything for a minute and then I took a deep breath. “That,” I said, “tears it, right down the middle. Planet, I dub thee Nothing Sirius.”

I bent down and hit the neck of the champagne bottle against the clay and it just dented the clay and wouldn’t break. I looked around for a rock to hit it on. There wasn’t any rock.

I took out a corkscrew from my pocket and opened the bottle instead. We all had a drink except Johnny, who took only a token sip because he doesn’t drink or smoke. Me, I had a good long one. Then I poured a brief libation on the ground and recorked the bottle; I had a hunch that I might need it more than the planet did. There was lots of whiskey in the ship and some Martian green-brew but no more champagne. I said, “Well, here we go.”

I caught Johnny’s eye and he said, “Do you think it wise, in view of the fact that there are—uh—inhabitants?”

“Inhabitants?” I said. “Johnny, whatever that thing that stuck its head over the hill was, it wasn’t an inhabitant. And if it pops up again, I’ll conk it over the head with this bottle.”

But just the same, before we started out, I went inside the
Chitterling
and got a couple more heatojectors. I stuck one in my belt and gave Ellen the other; she’s a better shot than I am. Ma couldn’t hit the side of an administration building with a spray-gun, so I didn’t give her one.

We started off, and sort of by mutual consent, we went the other direction from where we’d seen the whatever-it-was. The hills all looked alike for a while and as soon as we were over the first one, we were out of sight of the
Chitterling.
But I noticed Johnny studying a wrist-compass every couple of minutes, and I knew he’d know the way home.

Nothing happened for three hills and then Ma said, “Look,” and we looked.

About twenty yards to our left there was a purple bush. There was a buzzing sound coming from it. We went a little closer and saw that the buzzing came from a lot of things that were flying around the bush. They looked like birds until you looked a second time and then you saw that their wings weren’t moving. But they zoomed up and down and around just the same. I tried to look at their heads, but where the heads ought to be there was only a blur. A circular blur.

“They got propellers,” Ma said. “Like old-fashioned airplanes used to have.”

It did look that way.

I looked at Johnny and he looked at me and we started over toward the bush. But the birds, or whatever, flew away quick, the minute we started toward them. They skimmed off low to the ground and were out of sight in a minute.

We started off again, none of us saying anything, and Ellen came up and walked alongside me. We were just far enough ahead to be out of earshot, and she said, “Pop—”

And didn’t go on with it, so I answered, “What, kid?”

“Nothing,” she replied sorrowful-like. “Skip it.”

So of course I knew what she wanted to talk about, but I couldn’t think of anything to say except to cuss out Mars Polytech and that wouldn’t have done any good. Mars Polytech is just too good for its own good and so are its ramrods or graduates. After a dozen years or so outside, though, some of them manage to unbend and limber up.

But Johnny hadn’t been out that long, by ten years or so. The chance to pilot the
Chitterling
had been a break for him, of course, as his first job. A few years with us and he’d be qualified to skipper something bigger. He’d qualify a lot faster than if he’d had to start in as a minor officer on a bigger ship.

The only trouble was that he was too good-looking, and didn’t know it. He didn’t know anything they hadn’t taught him at Polytech and all they’d taught him was math and astrogation and how to salute, and they hadn’t taught him how not to.

“Ellen,” I started to say, “don’t—”

“Yes, Pop?”

“Uh—nothing. Skip it.” I hadn’t started to say that at all, but suddenly she grinned at me and I grinned back and it was just like we’d talked the whole thing over. True, we hadn’t got anywhere, but then we wouldn’t have got anywhere if we had, if you know what I mean.

So just then we came to the top of a small rise, and we stopped because just ahead of us was the blank end of a paved street.

An ordinary everyday plastipaved street just like you’d see in any city on Earth, with curb and sidewalks and gutters and the painted traffic line down the middle. Only it ran out to nowhere, where we stood, and from there at least until it went over the top of the next rise, and there wasn’t a house or a vehicle or a creature in sight.

I looked at Ellen and she looked at me and then we both looked at Ma and Johnny Lane, who had just caught up with us. I said, “What is it, Johnny?”

“It seems to be a street, sir.”

He caught the look I was giving him and flushed a little. He bent over and examined the paving closely and when he straightened up his eyes were even more surprised.

I queried, “Well, what is it? Caramel icing?”

“It’s Permaplast, sir. We aren’t the discoverers of this planet because that stuff’s a trademarked Earth product.”

“Urn,” I mumbled. “Couldn’t the natives here have discovered the same process? The same ingredients might be available.”

“Yes, sir. But the blocks are trademarked, if you’ll look closely.”

“Couldn’t the natives have—” Then I shut up because I saw how silly that was. But it’s tough to think your party has discovered a new planet and then have Earth-trademarked bricks on the first street you come to. “But what’s a street doing here at all?” I wanted to know.

“There’s only one way to find out,” said Ma sensibly. “And that’s to follow it. So what are we standing here for?”

So we pushed on, with much better footing now, and on the next rise we saw a building. A two-story red brick with a sign that read “Bon-Ton Restaurant” in Old English script lettering.

I said, “I’ll be a—” But Ma clapped her hand over my mouth before I could finish, which was maybe just as well, for what I’d been going to say had been quite inadequate. There was the building only a hundred yards ahead, facing us at a sharp turn in the street.

I started walking faster and I got there first by a few paces. I opened the door and started to walk in. Then I stopped cold on the doorstep, because there wasn’t any “in” to that building. It was a false front, like a cinema set, and all you could see through the door was more of those rolling greenish hills.

I stepped back and looked up at the “Bon-Ton Restaurant” sign, and the others walked up and looked through the doorway, which I’d left open. We just stood there until Ma got impatient and said, “Well, what are you going to do?”

“What do you want me to do?” I wanted to know. “Go in and order a lobster dinner? With champagne?—Hey, I forgot.”

The champagne bottle was still in my jacket pocket and I took it out and passed it first to Ma and then to Ellen, and then I finished most of what was left; I must have drunk it too fast because the bubbles tickled my nose and made me sneeze.

I felt ready for anything, though, and I took another walk through the doorway of the building that wasn’t there. Maybe, I figured, I could see some indication of how recently it had been put up, or something. There wasn’t any indication that I could see. The inside, or rather the back of the front, was smooth and plain like a sheet of glass. It looked like a synthetic of some sort.

I took a look at the ground back of it, but all I could see was a few holes that looked like insect holes. And that’s what they must have been, because there was a big black cockroach sitting (or maybe standing; how can you tell whether a cockroach is sitting or standing?) by one of them. I took a step closer and he popped down the hole.

I felt a little better as I went back through the front doorway. I said, “Ma, I saw a cockroach. And do you know what was peculiar about it?”

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I told her. “That’s the peculiar thing, there was nothing peculiar. Here the ostriches wear hats and the birds have propellers and the streets go nowhere and the houses haven’t any backs to them, but that cockroach didn’t even have feathers.”

“Are you sure?” Ellen wanted to know.

“Sure I’m sure. Let’s take the next rise and see what’s over it.”

We went, and we saw. Down in between that hill and the next, the road took another sharp turn and facing us was the front view of a tent with a big banner that said, “Penny Arcade.”

This time I didn’t even break stride. I said, “They copied that banner from the show Sam Heideman used to have. Remember Sam, and the good old days, Ma?”

“That drunken no-good,” Ma said.

“Why, Ma, you liked him too.”

“Yes, and I liked you too, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t or he isn’t—”

“Why, Ma,” I interrupted. But by that time we were right in front of the tent. Looked like real canvas because it billowed gently. I said, “I haven’t got the heart. Who wants to look through this time?”

But Ma already had her head through the flap of the tent. I heard her say, “Why, hello Sam, you old soak.”

I said, “Ma, quit kidding or I’ll—”

But by that time I was past her and inside the tent, and it was a tent, all four sides of one, and a good big one at that. And it was lined with the old familiar coin machines. There, counting coins in the change booth, was Sam Heideman, looking up with almost as much surprise on his face as there must have been on mine.

He said, “Pop Wherry! I’ll be a dirty name.” Only he didn’t say “dirty name”—but he didn’t get around to apologizing to Ma and Ellen for that until he and I had pounded each other’s backs and he had shaken hands around and been introduced to Johnny Lane.

It was just like old times on the carny lots of Mars and Venus. He was telling Ellen how she’d been “so high” when he’d seen her last and did she really remember him?

And then Ma sniffed.

When Ma sniffs like that, there’s something to look at, and I got my eyes off dear old Sam and looked at Ma and then at where Ma was looking. I didn’t sniff, but I gasped.

A woman was coming forward from the back of the tent, and when I call her a woman it’s because I can’t think of the right word if there is one. She was St. Cecilia and Guinevere and a Joan of Arc all ironed into one. She was like a sunset in New Mexico and the cold silver moons of Mars seen from the Equatorial Gardens. She was like a Venusian valley in the spring and like Dorzalski playing the violin. She was really something.

I heard another gasp from alongside me, and it was unfamiliar. Took me a second to realize why it was unfamiliar; I’d never heard Johnny Lane gasp before. It was an effort, but I shifted my eyes for a look at his face. And I thought, “Oh—oh. Poor Ellen.” For the poor boy was gone, no question about it.

And just in time—maybe seeing Johnny helped me—I managed to remember that I’m pushing fifty and happily married. I took hold of Ma’s arm and hung on. “Sam,” I said, “what on Earth—I mean on whatever planet this is—”

Sam turned around and looked behind him. He said, “Miss Ambers, I’d like you to meet some old friends of mine who just dropped in. Mrs. Wherry, this is Miss Ambers, the movie star.” Then he finished the introductions, first Ellen, then me, and then Johnny. Ma and Ellen were much too polite. Me, I maybe went the other way by pretending not to notice the hand Miss Ambers held out. Old as I am, I had a hunch I might forget to let go if I took it. That’s the kind of girl she was.

Johnny did forget to let go.

Sam was saying to me, “Pop, you old pirate, what are you doing here? I thought you stuck to the colonies, and I sure didn’t look for you to drop in on a movie set.”

“A movie set?” Things were beginning to make sense, almost.

“Sure. Planetary Cinema, Inc. With me as the technical advisor on carny scenes. They wanted inside shots of a coin arcade, so I just brought my old stuff out of storage and set it up here. All the boys are over at the base camp now.”

Light was just beginning to dawn on me. “And that restaurant front up the street? That’s a set?” I queried.

“Sure, and the street itself. They didn’t need it, but they had to film the making of it for one sequence.”

“Oh.” I went on, “But how about the ostrich with the bow tie and the birds with the propellers? They couldn’t have been movie props. Or could they?” I’d heard that Planetary Cinema did some pretty impossible things.

Sam shook his head a bit blankly. “Nope. You must have come across some of the local fauna. There are a few but not many, and they don’t get in the way.”

Ma said, “Look here, Sam Heideman, how come if this planet has been discovered we hadn’t heard about it? How long has it been known, and what’s it all about?”

Sam chuckled. “A man named Wilkins discovered this planet ten years ago. Reported it to the Council, but before it got publicized Planetary Cinema got wind of it and offered the Council a whopping rental for the place on the condition that it be kept secret. As there aren’t any minerals or anything of value here and the soil ain’t worth a nickel, the Council rented it to them on those terms.”

“But why secret?”

“No visitors, no distractions, not to mention a big jump on their competitors. All the big movie companies spy on one another and swipe one another’s ideas. Here they got all the space they want and can work in peace and privacy.”

“What’ll they do about our finding the place?” I asked. Sam chuckled again. “Guess they’ll entertain you royally now that you’re here and try to persuade you to keep it under your hat. You’ll probably get a free pass for life to all Planetary Cinema theaters too.”

He went over to a cabinet and came back with a tray of bottles and glasses. Ma and Ellen declined, but Sam and I had a couple apiece and it was good stuff. Johnny and Miss Ambers were over in a corner of the tent whispering together earnestly, so we didn’t bother them, especially after I told Sam that Johnny didn’t drink.

Johnny still had hold of her hand and was gazing into her eyes like a sick pup. I noticed that Ellen moved around so she was facing the other way and didn’t have to watch. I was sorry for her, but there wasn’t anything I could do. Something like that happens if it happens. And if it hadn’t been for Ma—

But I saw that Ma was getting edgy and I said we’d better get back to the ship and get dressed up if we were due to be entertained royally. Then we could move the ship in closer. I reckoned we could spare a few days on Nothing Sirius. I left Sam in stitches by telling him how we’d named the planet after a look at the local fauna.