Cities in Flight

“We use almost no iron or steel,” Amalfi assured her. “We reclaim what we need, as you do—steel’s nearly indestructible, after all. What we’re after is germanium and some other rare-earth metals for instruments. You ought to have plenty of those to spare.” Amalfi saw no point in adding that germanium was the base of the present universal coinage. What he had said was true as far as it went, and in dealing with these backward planets, there were always five or six facts best suppressed until after the city had left.

“May I use your phone?”

Amalfi moved away from the desk, then had to come back again as the girl dabbed helplessly at the ’visor controls. In a moment she was outlining the conversation to the Utopian captain. Amalfi wondered if the Hruntans understood English; not that he was worried about the present interchange being overheard—the giant planet would block that most effectively, since the Utopians used ordinary radio rather than ultraphones or Dirac communicators—but it was of the utmost importance, if Hazleton’s scheme was to be made workable, that the Hruntans should have heard and understood the warning the Earth police had issued to the city. It was a point that would have to be checked as unobtrusively as possible.

It might also be just as well to restrict sharply the technical information the city passed out in this star system. If the Hamiltonians—or the Hruntans—suddenly blossomed out with Bethé blasters, field bombs, and the rest of the modern arsenal (or what had been modern the last time the city had been able to update its files, not quite a century ago), the police would be unhappy. They would also know whom to blame. It was comforting to know that nobody in the city knew how to build a Canceller, at least. Amalfi had a sudden disquieting mental picture of a mob of Hruntan barbarians swarming out of this system in spindizzy-powered ships, hijacking their way back to an anachronistic triumph, snuffing out stars like candle flames as they went.

“It is agreed,” the girl said. “Captain Savage suggests that I take your technicians back with me in the gig to save time. And is there also someone who understands the interstellar drive—”

“I’ll go along,” Hazleton said. “I know spindizzies as well as the next man.”

“Nothing doing, Mark. I need you here. We’ve plenty of grease monkeys for that purpose. We can send them your man Webster; here’s his chance to get off the city before we even touch ground.” Amalfi spoke rapidly into the vacated ’visor. “There. You’ll find the proper people waiting at your gig, young lady. If Captain Savage will phone us exactly one week from today and tell us where on Utopia we’re to land, we’ll be out of occultation with this gas planet, and will get the message.”

There was a long silence after the Utopian girl had left. At last Amalfi said slowly, “Mark, there is no shortage of women in the city.”

Hazleton flushed. “I’m sorry, boss. I knew it was impossible directly the words were out of my mouth. Still, I think we may be able to do something for them; the Hruntan Empire was a pretty nauseating sort of state, if I remember correctly.”

“That’s none of our business,” Amalfi said sharply. He disliked having to turn the full force of his authority upon Hazleton; the city manager was for Amalfi the next best thing to that son his position had never permitted him to father—for the laws of all Okie cities include elaborate safeguards against the founding of any possible dynasty. Only Amalfi knew how many times this youngster’s elusive, amoral intelligence had brought him close to being deposed and shot by the City Fathers; and a situation like this one was crucial to the survival of the city.

“Look, Mark. We can’t afford to have sympathies. We’re Okies. What are the Hamiltonians to us? What are they to themselves, for that matter? I was thinking a minute ago of what a disaster it’d be if the Hruntans got a Canceller or some such weapon and blackmailed their way back to a real empire again. But can you see a rebirth of Hamiltonianism any better—in this age? Superficially it would be easier to take, I’ll admit, than another Hruntan tyranny—but historically, it’d be just as disastrous. These two planets have been fighting each other over two causes that played themselves out half a millennium ago. They aren’t either of them relevant any more.”

Amalfi stopped for a breath, taking the mangled cigar out of his mouth and eyeing it with mild surprise. “I knew that the girl was disturbing your judgment the moment I realized that I’d have to read you the riot act like this. Ordinarily you’re the best cultural morphologist I’ve ever had, and every city manager has to be a good one. If you weren’t in a sexual uproar, you’d see that these people are the victims of a pseudomorphosis—dead cultures both of ’em, going through the pangs of decay, even though they both do think it’s rebirth.”

“The cops don’t see it that way,” Hazleton said abstractedly.