Originally published in Astounding Science Fiction, March 1951.
Torth rose to conceal his impatience at the tone of the argument. He turned away from the Earthman and summoned a slave to heap up the cushions more comfortably.
“Dunno why I stopped here!” Donnelly complained again. “You got nothing worth trading. Still, it ain’t fun to go twenty light-years an’ not land on anything!”
He stared disgustedly at the painted picture-diagram hung on the wall by Torth’s orders. He apparently saw nothing of interest in Athazt’s satellites—Prittanok, the colonized moon, Riast, Trox, and the mysterious Ganph—depicted revolving about the planet.
Torth regarded him silently. I wonder why I ever bothered to learn your language, Dahn-el-ee, he thought. Was I mistaken in liking the first few Earthmen who came to Athast?
“You wouldn’t understand,” Donnelly continued. “You Athazatans never got any place but that first big moon…what do you call it again?”
“Prittanok,” answered Torth laconically, directing a bored glance out the wide, low window at the craggy mountains beyond the harbor and landing field.
He twitched one of his short antennae at the servant, who departed as silently as he had crept in. Torth wanted to go check up on the morning’s trading, but seated himself again.
He wondered at the animosity growing within him. After all, he and the Earthman were not irreconcilably different in looks. The visitor had skin of a pinkish brown in place of fine, dark-green scales; and his limbs ended in five stubby, jointed members rather than seven deft tentacles. Also, Torth was aware, he was unpleasantly warm to the touch. Nevertheless, in general configuration, they represented comparable results of independent evolutions.
Maybe I dislike being unable to read his expression, Torth decided.
By Athaztan standards, the Earthman’s face was fleshy and crowded. He had no antennae, save for flat, crinkled appendages at the side of the head where Torth had air vents. Only the smallness of his mouth made Torth conscious of the fanged gash across the smooth oval of his own face.
“You never landed on any of your other three moons,” said Donnelly. “Nor any of the four planets besides Athazt.”
“What need?” parried Torth. “Our astronomers report they are all either sterile or frozen. Except for Prittanok, there is nothing to attract us.”
He wondered idly whether that were quite accurate. For seven years, Athaztan scientists had been arguing about Ganph.
The Earthman lolled back on his cushions. Torth remembered how quickly he could move in Athazt’s gravity, despite his clumsy appearance, when he wanted to. His laziness must be due to boredom, not fatigue.
“What ails you?” Donnelly demanded. “You have the means for space travel, all right. Why no ambition?”
Torth rippled his hand-tentacles together in a rising motion that would be noncommittal in any language.
“Perhaps the Department of Exploration has not made the rewards great enough,” be suggested.
“You mean they actually have rewards posted for reaching those moons?”
“Ten thousand kaft, on which one might live very comfortably for an Athaztan year, for landing on Kiast or Trox—that is to say, ‘Two’ and ‘Three.’”
The Earthman expelled air from his mouth in a shrill whistle.
“And for reaching Ganph, the farthest, twenty thousand. There are like awards for sponsoring such expeditions.”
“What does Ganph mean—‘Four’?”
“No, it means ‘Unknown.’ We do not yet have as much knowledge of it as of the others, even the planets.”
“Oh, far out and sighted not too long ago?”
“That is about the case,” Torth agreed, with only slight reservations.
He welcomed the interruption of his televisor chime. Gliding over to the instrument, he switched it on and saw the visage of one of his underlings.
“That shipment of tunic from Kajif is trouble,” the latter reported with a worried expression. “All defective, and cheaper materials than we paid him for.”
“The bandit!” murmured Torth. He hissed thoughtfully, first from his right-hand air vent, then from the one on the opposite side of his neck.
“Well, I shall remember Kajif,” he replied after a pause, “but the first thing to do is save what kaft we can. Ship the lot up to Prittanok. They will buy anything there. We may even be able to raise the price, which would give Kajif a fever.” He switched off and wandered to the wide window. Vines and shrubbery along the neat street leading to the main section of the sprawling port city were turning a gentle blue in the spring season of Athazt, but his mind was on Kajif. Now that slippery robber was two deals up on him, and Torth did not relish inroads upon his hoard of kaft.
“How much do you know about Ganph?”
He had almost forgotten the wearisome Earthman, who had been so unimpressed with the goods Torth had to offer. He was not too certain of the location of this star Sol, but the technology of its distant planet must be far advanced. No use trying to sell them gadgets.
“Little is known definitely,” he said, gathering his thoughts. “Also, an astronomer could tell you better than I. Ganph travels about Athazt in a retrograde direction, taking about twelve of our days, and at a distance which I find difficult to translate offhand to your scale. It is quite small, probably little larger in diameter than the city out there, and some rather rare radiation has been detected about it.”
Donnelly sat up as if interested at last.
“What kind of radiation?” he asked.
“I am not a scientist,” Torth retorted. “Nor am I accustomed to the scientific terms of your language. To put it roughly, I suppose you might say Ganph is radioactive.”
“Radioactive!” Donnelly bounced to his feet with an excess of muscular power. “Why didn’t you say so? That might be worth lookin’ into. I certainly ain’t seen anything else around here worth my hauling it back to Sol.”
“It is true there is a reward for landing on the small moons,” said Torth thoughtfully. “Naturally, it was not intended…that is, with a star ship like yours, Dahn-el-ee, it would be a game for cubs.”
“What of it?” demanded the Earthman truculently. “If I take off and touch all three on one little trip, I got a good claim.”
“True,” admitted Torth, hissing quietly to himself.
“And you said they put up the same amount for the sponsor. What’s he supposed to do?”
“Build the ship, pay for supplies and equipment, and so on,” Torth told him.
“Well?” asked the Earthman, looking at him with what he suspected was intended to be a meaningful expression.
“You are hinting that I…back such a flight?” asked the Athaztan slowly.
“Sure! Won’t cost you a single kaft—I’ve got the ship. If an Athaztan backs the deal, your government ain’t likely to object about the rewards, are they?”
Torth walked deliberately over to his cushions and sat down. He felt that there was something more here than simple enthusiasm for progress and exploration.
“No,” he answered. “I suppose not.”
Torth tried to recall his earlier talk and remember when Donnelly had first shown interest in Ganph. Had it not been—? Yes, when radiation had been mentioned. And two days ago, the Earthman had inquired about obtaining radioactive metals. But the prices at which Torth had offered to supply them had been too high, and the quantities too small.
“Of course,” he said aloud, “there may be other profits. Should you discover any valuable ores, for instance—”
“Oh, well, I might take just a quick look,” said Donnelly, waving one of his big flat hands in a sweeping gesture.
Even Torth, used to prying meanings out of entirely different visages and bodily motions, could tell that the Earthman was disturbed by the question. He apparently forgot to inquire about Ganph’s retrograde motion, the only case known to the Athaztans. Torth debated explaining it as the result of Ganph’s having been captured seven years ago from the comet it was trailing.
“The government would naturally reserve a portion,” he added.
“And who gets the rest? Assuming I do find anything?” asked Donnelly intently.
“A large part would he divided between member of the expedition—in this case, just you—and the sponsor.”
“Humph! The more you tell, the more it shrinks. Maybe I’ll just stop off on my way out-system.”
He went over to the picture Torth’s slaves had hung on the wall, walking lightly despite his bulk. He studied it carefully. Torth made a shrewd guess as to what went on in the Earthman’s mind.
“Your star ship is very large,” he murmured. “And Ganph is a small moon.”
Donnelly pivoted to face him.
“So?” he challenged.
“So if you were to search Ganph thoroughly and use your machinery on it, you might he able to carry away a great percentage of any valuable ores, tax free. Is robbing us in your mind, Dahn-el-ee?”
The Earthman’s face shaded to an even more reddish color.
“Of course not I,” he denied loudly.
“But you seem to lose interest in the ‘progress’ you have been reproaching us for lacking.”
“Well…it just don’t look like such a good deal as I thought. Not enough in it for me.”
By Prittahok’s poles! thought Torth. He is preparing to bargain me down. The ignorance, the insolence of him!
“Forty thousand kaft?” he asked aloud. “Even if you must use it to purchase our inferior products to carry away, it would still he like picking up the money to one with a ship like yours.”
“Yeah…well, I dunno—” Should I let him cheat me? Torth asked himself. Even for “scientific progress”? But he is just begging in his obnoxious way for a chance to settle all arguments about Ganph. What would they say of me?
Donnelly had paced to the window, and turned to look hack at Torth.
“It would be a nice little profit for you, though,” he said pleasantly enough, “considerin’ that you really ain’t doin’ anything.”
“Except arranging the legal details and making it possible for you to collect.”
“Well, yeah. But that don’t cost you anything. It seems to me that maybe the rewards to the sponsor oughta cover that.”
And if I say no, thought Torth, he will either steal whatever he can find, or refuse to go at all—which might really be best. No! I would be perfectly justified in sending him at his terms; it is his plan.
“Well…forty thousand kaft,” he murmured. “As you say, clear profit. It would make up for a loss I had today.”
“Well, then?”
“You would not mind putting your mark on a brief document before you take off? To make sure I get at least the forty thousand? I should hate to do all that talking and then learn that you were your own sponsor!”
Torth hoped to imply that his disappointment might have unpleasant consequences, and was satisfied that he had succeeded.
“Sure,” agreed Donnelly. “Bring it on. Then I’ll get going. I can be clear ten minutes after I get to my ship.”
Torth summoned the attendant outside the chamber and sent him for a secretary. As soon as the latter arrived, the trader dictated a short statement. He translated the agreement to Donnelly, and they both burned their marks into the thin leather. After unplugging his electrical stylus, the secretary departed with orders to be discreet. Torth had a ground car brought around to his private gate for Donnelly, whereupon they parted.
When he was alone, a slave brought him warm lizard soup and he settled down to wait.
Presently, through the window, he detected activity out at the landing field. Sometime later, it ceased, and he saw the Earth ship rise through the air.
I wish I knew what he has for a drive, he reflected. The Athaztans still used rockets.
When the Earth ship was out of sight among the blue-gray clouds, he forsook the window for his televisor.
“Get me the Department of Exploration,” he ordered his operator. “Get the Director himself if you can.”
It took a few minutes, but in the end, he identified himself to the Director.
“I have the honor to announce,” Torth said after the required exchange of amenities, “that I am sponsoring a flight to Riast, Trox, and Ganph.”
“To land on them?” asked the Director. “Did you say Ganph?”
“That is correct. Believe me if you choose, but I found someone eager to try it. He is already on the way.”
“On the way?” The Director looked doubtful.
“Yes. That is why I must request to have astronomers assigned to observe Ganph immediately. I expect it to be first.”
“Well, I suppose I can do that,” said the Director. Pie wriggled his antennae uneasily. “Ganph…well! Are you ready to offer proof of your sponsorship? In case of rewards, I mean?”
Torth held up the agreement inscribed on the legal leather. Pie said, “I am always meticulous where money is concerned.”
The Director hissed with both air vents.
“Quite so. But you know the current scientific opinion! It has been all but proved.”
“Why, as to that,” said Torth, “there are but two possibilities. This document takes care of one.”
He paused briefly, thinking of how he had been scaled and gutted if that one turned out to be the actuality.
“Either way,” he continued, “it will end the arguments.”
The Director nodded reluctantly.
“And on the other hand,” finished Torth, rippling his hand tentacles together, “if your physicists are right, and Ganph really is negative matter, there will be a beautiful flare-up to prove my claim.”
He switched off the set and glided over to the window. He stood there a few moments, though he knew it was half a day too soon, gazing speculatively up at the sky.