that is threat enough foranyone to avoid crossing me, without feeling that I have wanted tothreaten or force them. As for the fugitives they pay enough bywanting the Belt to be organized as a nation independent of Earth, sothat the hand of the law can't stretch out and drag them back, andthey can become wealthy in open business, in the million chances forwealth that lie around them in the Belt. They don't know that theywant this yet, but they will see it when it is told to them. I can'tdo any of this now--it's suspended for as long as I am part of UT andhave to drag the dead weight of ten Earth-tied conservatives with mein every decision."
VIII
He stopped to set in the coordinates of the Moon for the robot pilot,but he found himself still wanting to talk. "Man has reached space--doyou think he'll ever go back to the ground? In space he has gravityonly when he wants it, and any weight of gravity he likes, dependingon how fast he spins his house. And no gravity when he wants that. Yousee what that means to engineers in the advantage of building things?No weight in transportation, no weight in travel, limitless speed andalmost no cost as long as he stays away from planet pulls. His houseis in the sky, and when he steps out of it he can fly like a bird. Andfood. To grow food there is sunlight Earth never dreamed of. For heatand power there is sunlight to focus. Space is flooded with heat,irradiated with power--
"It's not child's play taming it, and those on the ground don't see ityet. But the next step of mankind is out into space, and it's nevercoming back."
Pierce, sitting in one of the shock tank armchairs, asked, "What partdo you have in this?"
Bryce looked at him with a feeling almost of surprise, as if he hadbeen called back from a long distance. "Me?" he laughed, a little awedby the immensity of the goal, and the ease of it.... "First Presidentof the Belt and political boss for life. That's enough."
Enough to hold the solar system in the palm of his hand, if he chose.He who rules space, rules the planets. It was the first time he hadever mentioned his goal to anyone.
Roy Pierce asked, "What do I do about this 'friend' of yours who laystraps?"
The last attack had settled the question of who was behind the otherattacks, and who had told Beldman, but Orillo would still be a usefulpawn. All that was necessary was to evade his attempts at murder for amonth or so until partnership tied them too close for murder.
Bryce explained some of that to Pierce, setting up a chess board topass away the time until they arrived back at Moonbase City.
"What's my next assignment?" Pierce asked, when they were severalmoves into the game.
Bryce recalled a danger he had made no move to guard against. "TheBoard hired a psychologist, a mind hunter, to find out who's doing theundermining. He's one of the Manoba group. Remember the name, look itup and find out what their methods are, how to recognize them, andreport back what to do about it."
"I'll take care of him," Roy Pierce said absently, moving his knightto threaten Bryce's bishop.
"No unnecessary trouble. Remember I have to keep my name clean." Brycemoved a pawn one step to cover the bishop and leave room for his otherbishop to menace the knight.
"I'll be careful. There'll be no publicity. He won't get hurt,"Pierce said, moving the knight into Bryce's second line where itthreatened the king and a cornered castle. "Check." And he added, asif apologizing for having delayed his move, "I don't like to moveuntil I'm sure what's going on."
The remark didn't seem to be suited to the game, as if he had referredto something else.
* * * * *
It was during dinner on the Moon that he and Pierce loosened up forthe first time since the ambush. Pierce had been comparatively silentsince the chess game on the trip back and Bryce too, whether insympathy with him or in a naturally parallel mood, had little to say.But now the tension had diffused and, with the stimulus of aromaticfood, they climbed out of their depression of emotional solemnity.
The decorations of the dining room were lush. While they ate, thematerialism of their lives was reinforced. From silvered-and-tapestriedwall to wall there was life here, low-keyed with excitement in the blendof subdued talk and the shifting artistry of lights and music. Their tablewas almost in the center of the islands of tables and potted trees, andaround them were the diners, their voices washing up at them both,inviting them with gentle tugs to surrender their resistance, beckoningthem into the sea of simple pleasures.
"We owe ourselves some fun, Bryce."
At Pierce's words, Bryce sharpened his eyes on the face across thetable. There was a touch of seriousness in those words; more like astatement than a suggestion.
Pierce smiled wryly and took a vial out of his pocket and poured itinto his drink. He spun the empty bottle between thumb and fingers.
"We owe ourselves some fun," Pierce repeated. "We've nothing on thefire tonight, nothing to do that's crucial. It's a good night toexperiment."
The warm voice waves lapping at Bryce's mind suddenly receded and lefta chill. With instinctive wariness he thought of hypnotics andsingle-shot addictors.
Pierce couldn't have missed the emotionless freeze on the other'sface. Still twirling the vial casually, he began to explain. It was anew drug, he said, found being used by a tribe in Central Africa."I've heard of it for some time and what you mentioned a little whileback reminded me of it."
Bryce caught the hidden reference. Central Africa--and the Manobagroup. So Pierce had not dismissed the mind hunter from his thoughtsas a problem to be easily dealt with.
"It's still in the testing stage," Pierce added. "But some of it iscirculating among medical students. The tests have interestingeffects. And, as I say, tonight's a good night to experiment, it'scalled B'nyab i'io."
The chill in Bryce's head and spine was thawing out. "You're notconning me?" He said it with a grin, but there was an edge to thequestion which demanded an answer.
Pierce gave it to him, for a brief moment deadly serious. "Youcouldn't get addicted if you swam in it."
Bryce believed him. He stared at the glass. "What does it do to theI.Q.? We've got to collect some information here and there thisevening. I want to be able to read and talk." He smiled crookedly. "Noworse than usual, that is."
"Either raises the I.Q. or leaves it alone."
"What's the effect?"
"It affects different people different ways. After hearing the reportsI'd like to see how it hits us." Pierce pushed it towards him,grinning. "Leave half for me."
Bryce's wary thoughts touched poison and immunity and murder, butinwardly he began to scoff at his own habits of suspicion. However,before he could reach for the glass, Pierce had given a short snort asthough in recognition of his presumptuousness and drank his own sharefirst.
Then Bryce raised the cold glass to his lips.
As he put it down he could feel the change beginning to spread throughhis blood, warming and relaxing, bringing closer the memories ofpleasure and good times. The restaurant was now completely seductive,with the surf of voices pleasant in his ears, calling to him to jointhe world and its offers of uncomplicated pleasures. He felt himselfblending with the ethereal background mixture of light and sound.
"I like this," he decided.
"We should take notes." Pierce was smiling as he stuffed the emptyvial back in his pocket.
* * * * *
The next day Bryce looked back on that evening with pleasure. Everyonehad been remarkably pleasant, friendly and considerate, and Pierce hadalways had the right friendly word and gesture to reward them,speaking for Bryce, knowing his way around the cities of the Moon tothe right places for the information they sought, always speaking forBryce Carter, his employer, getting him the things he wanted, givingthe orders he wanted to give before Bryce had even fully realized thathe wanted them. Bryce had needed to say nothing the whole time except"Right. That's it," and everything went as he wanted it.
"A perfect left hand man," he smiled, stretching, and turned thepolarization dial to let in the sunlight.
&nb
sp; The telephone rang. He picked it up and the desk clerk said in adeferentially hushed voice, "Eight o'clock, Mister Carter."
For some reason the hushed voice struck him as funny. "Thanks, I'mup." He hung up and stretched again. It was soothing to have someonesolicitous that he arose on time, if only a hotel. The hotel had givenhim a lot of good service. He felt suddenly grateful for all thepleasures and luxuries and small services they surrounded him with. Itwas a good place. He was feeling good that morning. Maybe because thesun was so bright....
He liked the look of the people passing in the lobby as Pierce joinedhim, and he liked the