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THE PROBLEM MAKERS
By ROBERT HOSKINS
Illustrated by MACK
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine August 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
They had only one mission in the Galaxy, with its infinite problems--make more of 'em!
I
Clouds obscured the three moons as the men slipped into the village.They eased the double-bitted axes out of their belts and felt their waythrough the almost unrelieved blackness until their hands met the softyieldings of the door hangings. Waiting until the whisper of leathergliding over the ground stopped, telling him everyone was in position,Luke Royceton drew in a deep breath, then suddenly screamed:
”Aiieeeee!”
At his banshee signal, the other men took up the cry. Somebody kickedthe banked coals of the cooking fire into life and stuck in a handfulof twisted grass torches, then moved from man to man, handing them out.The men screamed again, touched their torches to the over-hanging ofthe huts, then tore down the hangings and leaped through the doors,torches flaming a path.
The interiors of the huts leaped to life. Forms hurtled by the men andinto the night as the pitch-caulked thatching blazed into an inferno.The rightful inhabitants of the huts crashed into the tall grass of thesurrounding plains, the sounds of their passage quickly dying away asfear lent wing to their rapidly fleeing heels.
The fires quickly burned through the thatching, sending little fingersof flame dancing along the lashed saplings that supported the roofs.Luke took one last look around the interior of his hut and started toleave, when he spotted something wriggling under a pile of skins.
Crossing the room in three strides, he tore away the coverings andgrabbed the native child by the scruff of its neck. He wheeled on oneheel and retraced his passage. He got out of the door just as thesaplings gave up the ghost and the fiery mass crashed to the ground.
Luke whistled and wiped sweat from his brow. The bronze head of the axecaught and reflected the fires from its myriad beaten facets. Using thehead, he beat out several sparks that had landed on his clothes, thenturned his attention to the child who still dangled from his other hand.
The child's eyes were rolled nearly into his head with his fright. Lukegrinned, baring his teeth. He brought the child up until their noseswere less than an inch apart. The fetid smell of the child's breathmade him choke. Yelping, the child twisted free and ran after itsalready-departed parents.
Luke laughed and turned his attention to his team.
The men were all out now, watching the huts crack under the intenseheat within. One shuddered, then collapsed inward, sending up chokingclouds of dust as it smothered the flames. After a moment, Lukewhistled. Half of the men melted into the grass and followed thenatives, while the others gathered around him, squatting and restingtheir axes on the ground. Luke waited until the others returned toreport no further sign of the villagers, then he squatted himself, andaccepted a canteen from someone. He drank his fill, gasped, wiped theback of his hand across his mouth and handed the canteen back.
”It's hot,” he said, conversationally.
”It'll be hotter before we're done,” said one of the team. They wereall dressed in rough-cured skins and leather moccasins. The axes werethe only tool they carried. Faces thick with war paint and grime, itwas impossible to tell them from natives.
”Anybody hurt?” asked Luke. Disclaimers came from the various membersof the group. ”Good.” He stood up and stretched. ”Well, gentlemen,shall we be on our way?”
”Might as well.”
Luke took his axe, twisted the unfinished handle a quarter-turn in hissocket, then held the head to his lips. ”Team B,” he said. ”Missionaccomplished.” He twisted the handle back and slipped the axe into hisbelt. A few moments later, the soft chatter of rotors cut through theair, and a copter dropped into the clearing by the cooking fire.
The team mounted by the dying glow of the fires. As soon as the lastman was in, the door swung shut and the copter took off into the night.
* * * * *
Sam Carter eased the scratchy material of the ruffed collar away fromhis neck, then shot his cuffs to return them to the socially acceptablehalf-inch showing beyond his jacket sleeve. He sighed, placed hishands on his knees and glanced for the umpteenth time at the armoredsoldiers guarding the door between the anteroom and Prince Kahl'sprivate chambers. The afternoon sun dipped below the level of the highwindow-slits, sending shadows scampering up the walls.
Sam had been waiting since noon. His stomach was repeating its rumbledprotests against that interrupted meal. Prince Kahl had sent word thatSam might wait upon his pleasure; quieting misgivings, Carter hadrushed to do just that.
He sighed again, and stifled a yawn. From the corner of his eye, hewatched the shadow line marching up the wall. When it touched thecobwebby corner of the ceiling, a slave came in and lighted a pair ofoil lamps. The soot-heavy smoke they gave off quickly had Sam wishingthe room had been left in darkness.
Another interminable hour passed, during which he several timesrepeated the operation with collar and cuffs, all the while envying theguards their ability to remain in one position like frozen statues,seemingly carved from the living rock of the palace. At last, just whenhe had resigned himself to the probability of spending the night in theanteroom, the inner door swung open and a chamberlain beckoned.
”Prince Kahl will grant you a moment now.”
Sam bowed his thanks, and followed the man into Kahl's chambers.
”Ah, my friend from the southern kingdoms!”
Prince Kahl was a lean, saturnine individual, uncomfortably aware thatthe prime of life was slipping through his grasp while his fatherobstinately held onto the throne. It was Kahl's considered opinion thatthe old man had lived long enough. It rankled him to realize that hehad held the same opinions as a youth barely out of his teens. Thethirty intervening years had been spent devising and trying methods toassure his succession; unfortunately his father had twenty years beforethat to safeguard his own rule.
”How go the southern kingdoms, my friend?” Kahl waved a particularlyenticing fruit as Carter stopped short, a dozen paces away.
”Tolerably well, your graciousness.” He neglected to add that it hadbeen nearly a year since he had visited the supposed lands of hisbirth. Kahl was fully aware how long Carter had been kept cooling hisheels. Palace protocol dictated how long foreign visitors might be keptwaiting. But even visiting royalty could not hope for an audience inless than a month's time. In his role as ambassador, Carter was happythat a year was all he had been kept waiting.
* * * * *
”Your lord and master's gifts were received,” said Kahl. ”You mayinform him of my royal gratitude.”
”My humble thanks, your graciousness.” Sam's mouth watered as Kahlpolished off the one fruit and selected another from a platter born bya manservant. Despite his now-long stay on the planet, Sam still couldnot understand why women were given no role at all in society, even asslaves.
”Not at all, not at all,” said Kahl. ”Now tell me. What is it thatbrought you so far from your home lands to grace my humble presence?”
”The usual business of politic, your graciousness,” said Sam, growingweary of the necessity to repeat the title with every reply to Kahl'swords. He also wished for a chair, despite the fact that he had beensitting all afternoon. He felt like a naughty schoolchild, standingalways in the man's presence. ”Trade treaties, mutual armament pacts,the like.”
”Ummm, so. You've discussed them wi
th my ministers?”
”They have permitted me this honor and, if I may be so bold, founda great deal to our mutual liking. Our countries are indeed farseparated, and the journey between arduous. I find much in yourprovinces in the way of technology and armaments that we totally lack.By the same token, I have thought of a few inconsequential things whichmight serve to ease your royal burdens, if but brought from my lands.”
”Possible, possible,” said Kahl. ”Of course, I have a large college oftinkerers and mechanics who probably would have produced the littletoys you speak of in their own good time. But why duplicate effort,eh? They are lazy dolts who grumble at my royal largesse as it is.”He chortled lustily, although Sam could see nothing even remotelyhumorous in his statement. But he was well-schooled in the idiocies ofdiplomacy; he laughed dutifully.
”But come!” said Kahl. ”Enough of childish prattle! You carry anotherload in your thoughts, my southern friend. Have out with it!”
”Your graciousness?”
”You needn't pretend,” he said, chortling again. ”My ministers are likethe winds. They cannot keep a single thing to themselves, but insteadneed spread it over the far reaches of the entire world. You've beentalking--foolishly perhaps--but I have perceived a certain sense withinyour nonsense, and I must confess that your words have aroused myinterest. You have a plan to see me king. Now out with