to come byout here than they are on Earth, and it's a devil of a lot easier tobuild spacecraft under low-gee conditions than it is under the pull ofEarth or Luna or Mars.
"Do you know anything about the experimental robotic ships being builton Eros?" Ravenhurst asked.
"Not much," I admitted. "I've heard about them, but I don't know anyof the details." That wasn't quite true, but I've found it doesn't payto tell everybody everything you know.
"The engineering details aren't necessary," Ravenhurst said. "Besides,I don't know them, myself. The point is that Viking is trying to builda ship that will be as easy to operate as a flitterboat--a one-mancargo vessel. Perhaps even a completely automatic job for cargo, andjust use a one-man crew for the passenger vessels. Imagine how thatwould cut the cost of transportation in the Solar System! Imagine howit would open up high-speed cargo transfer if an automatic vesselcould accelerate at twenty or twenty-five gees to turnover!"
I'll give Ravenhurst this: He had a light in his eyes that showed areal excitement about the prospect he was discussing, and it wasn'tdue entirely to the money he might make.
"Sounds fine," I said. "What seems to be the trouble?"
His face darkened half a shade. "The company police suspect sabotage,Mr. Oak."
"How? What kind?"
"They don't know. Viking has built six ships of that type--the McGuireclass, the engineers call it. Each one has been slightly differentthan the one before, of course, as they ironed out the bugs in theiroperation. But each one has been a failure. Not one of them would passthe test for space-worthiness."
"Not a failure of the drive or the ordinary mechanisms of the ship, Itake it?"
Ravenhurst sniffed. "Of course not. The brain. The ships became, asyou might say, _non compos mentis_. As a matter of fact, when the lastone simply tried to burrow into the surface of Eros by reversing itsdrive, one of the roboticists said that a coroner's jury would havereturned a verdict of 'suicide while of unsound mind' if there wereinquests held for spaceships."
"That doesn't make much sense," I said.
"No. It doesn't. It isn't sensible. Those ships' brains shouldn't havebehaved that way. Robot brains don't go mad unless they're giveninstructions to do so--conflicting orders, erroneous information, thatsort of thing. Or, unless they have actual physical defects in thebrains themselves."
"The brains can handle the job of flying a ship all right, though?" Iasked. "I mean, they have the capacity for it?"
"Certainly. They're the same type that's used to control theautomobile traffic on the Eastern Seaboard Highway Network of NorthAmerica. If they can control the movement of millions of cars, there'sno reason why they can't control a spaceship."
"No," I said, "I suppose not." I thought it over for a second, thenasked, "But what do your robotics men say is causing themalfunctions?"
"That's where the problem comes in, Mr. Oak." He pursed his pudgylips, and his eyes narrowed. "The opinions are divided. Some of themen say it's simply a case of engineering failure--that the bugshaven't been worked out of this new combination, but that as soon asthey are, everything will work as smoothly as butter. Others say thatonly deliberate tampering could cause those failures. And still otherssay that there's not enough evidence to prove either of those theoriesis correct."
"But your opinion is that it's sabotage?"
"Exactly," said Ravenhurst, "and I know who is doing it and why."
I didn't try to conceal the little bit of surprise that gave me. "Youknow the man who's responsible?"
He shook his head rapidly, making his jowls wobble. "I didn't meanthat. It's not a single man; it's a group."
"Maybe you'd better go into a little more detail on that, Mr.Ravenhurst."
He nodded, and this time his jowls bobbled instead of wobbled. "Somegroup at Viking is trying to run me out of the managerial business.They want Viking to be managed by Thurston Enterprises; they evidentlythink they can get a better deal from him than they can from me. Ifthe McGuire project fails, they'll have a good chance of convincingthe stock-holders that the fault lies with Ravenhurst. You follow?"
"So far," I said. "Do you think Thurston's behind this, then?"
"I don't know," he said slowly. "He might be, or he might not. If heis, that's perfectly legitimate business tactics. He's got a perfectright to try to get more business for himself if he wants to. I'veundercut him a couple of times.
"But I don't think he's too deeply involved, if he's involved at all.This smacks of a personal attack against me, and I don't think that'sThurston's type of play.
"You see, things are a little touchy right now. I won't go intodetails, but you know what the political situation is at the moment.
"It works this way, as far as Viking is concerned: If I lose themanagerial contract at Viking, a couple of my other contracts will goby the board, too--especially if it's proved that I've been lax inmanagement or have been expending credit needlessly.
"These other two companies are actually a little shaky at the moment;I've only been managing them for a little over a year in one case andtwo years in the other. Their assets have come up since I took over,but they'd still dump me if they thought I was reckless."
"How can they do that?" I asked. "You have a contract, don't you?"
"Certainly. They wouldn't break it. But they'd likely ask theGovernment Inspectors to step in and check every step of themanagerial work. Now, you and I and everybody else knows that you haveto cut corners to make a business successful. If the GI's step in,that will have to stop--which means we'll show a loss heavy enough toput us out. We'll be forced to sell the contract for a pittance.
"Well, then. If Viking goes, and these other two corporations go,it'll begin to look as if Ravenhurst can't take care of himself andhis companies anymore. Others will climb on the bandwagon. Contractsthat are coming up for renewal will be reconsidered instead ofcontinuing automatically. I think you can see where that would leadeventually."
I did. You don't go into the managing business these days unless youhave plenty on the ball. You've got to know all the principles and allthe tricks of organization and communication, and you've got to beable to waltz your way around all the roadblocks that are caused byGovernment laws--some of which have been floating around on the booksof one nation or another for two or three centuries.
Did you know that there's a law on the American statute books thatforbids the landing of a spaceship within one hundred miles of a city?That was passed back when they were using rockets, but it's never beenrepealed. Technically, then, it's almost impossible to land a shipanywhere on the North American continent. Long Island Spaceport isopenly flouting the law, if you want to look at it that way.
A managerial combine has to know all those little things and know howto get around them. It has to be able to have the confidence of thestock-holders of a corporation--if it's run on the Western Plan--orthe confidence of communal owners if it's run on the Eastern Plan.
Something like this could snowball on Ravenhurst. It isn't only therats that desert a sinking ship; so does anyone else who has anysense.
"What I want to know, Mr. Oak," Ravenhurst continued, "is who isbehind this plot, whether an individual or a group. I want to knowidentity and motivation."
"Is that all?" I eyed him skeptically.
"No. Of course not. I want you to make sure that the MG-YR-7 isn'tsabotaged. I want you to make sure it's protected from whatever kindof monkey wrenches are being thrown into its works."
"It's nearly ready for testing now, isn't it?" I asked.
"It is ready. It seems to be in perfect condition so far. Viking isalready looking for a test pilot. It's still in working order now, andI want to be certain that it will remain so."
I cocked my head to one side and gave him my Interrogative AndSuspicious Glance--Number 9 in the manual. "You didn't do any checkingon the first six McGuire ships. You wait until this one is done beforecalling me. Why the delay, Ravenhurst?"
It didn't faze him. "I became suspicious after McGu
ire 6 failed. I putColonel Brock on it."
I nodded. I'd had dealings with Brock. He was head of Ravenhurst'sSecurity Guard. "Brock didn't get anywhere," I said.
"He did not. His own face is too well known for him to haveinvestigated personally, and he's not enough of an actor to get awaywith using a plexiskin mask. He had to