Cities in Flight

“Times change,” Amalfi said. “In any event, the merger will be forcible, because if you don’t want the duchy of Gort, I’m going to offer it to Utopia. The combined arsenal will be impressive—each side has some stuff the other hasn’t, and we couldn’t prevent either of them from learning a few tricks from us. However—”

“Wait a minute,” the cop said cautiously. He was quite aware, Amalfi was more than certain, that this conversation was inevitably being overheard by hundreds and perhaps thousands of Dirac receivers throughout the inhabited galaxy, including those in police headquarters on Earth. That was one of the major characteristics of Dirac transmission—whether you called it a flaw or an advantage depended largely on what use you made of it. “You mean you got the upper hand there already? How do I know you can hold it?”

“You don’t risk a thing. Either I deliver the planet to you, or I don’t. All I want is for you to rescind the fine against the city, wipe the tape of the earlier Vacate order, and give us a safe-conduct out of this system. If we don’t deliver, you don’t pay.”

“Hm-mm.” There was a muttering in the background, as though somebody were talking softly over the cop’s shoulder. “How’d you pull it off?”

“That,” Amalfi said dryly, “would be telling. If you want to play, proof over the agreement.”

“No soap. You violated the Vacate order and you’ll have to pay the fine-that’s flat.”

That was good enough for Amalfi. The cop certainly was not going to promise to wipe his tape of evidence of a tort while he was talking on the Dirac; that he had picked this particular point to stick on indicated general agreement, however.

“Just send me a safe-conduct under seal, then. I’ll put the whole thing in the Margraf Hazca’s strong room; you get it back when you get the planet.”

After a short silence, the cop said, “Well … all right.” The tape began to whir at Amalfi’s elbow. Satisfied, he broke the contact.

If this coup came off on schedule, it would become legendary—the police would be mighty tight-lipped about it, but the Okie cities would spread the tale all over the galaxy.

Somehow, the desertion of Hazleton made the prospect savorless.

Someone was shaking him. He wanted very badly to awaken, but his sleep was as deep as death, and it seemed that no possible struggle could bring him up to the rim of the pit. Shapes and faces whirled about him, and in the blackness he felt the approach of great steel teeth.

“Amalfi! Wake up, man! Amalfi, it’s Mark—wake up—”

The steel jaws came together with a terrible snapping report, and the wheeling faces vanished. Bluish light spilled into his eyes.

“Who? What is it?”

“It’s me,” Hazleton said. Amalfi blinked up at him uncomprehendingly. “Quick, quick. There’s only a little time.”

Amalfi sat up slowly and looked at the city manager. He was too stunned to know whether he was pleased or not, and the oppression of his nightmare was still with him, a persistent emotion lingering after dreamed events he could no longer remember.

“I’m glad to see you,” he said. Oddly, the statement seemed untrue; he could only hope it would become true later. “How’d you get through the police cordon? I’d have said it couldn’t be done.”

“By force, and fraud, the old combination. I’ll explain later.”

“You nearly didn’t make it,” Amalfi said, feeling a sudden influx of energy. “Is it still night here? Yes. The big blowup isn’t due much before noon, otherwise I wouldn’t have been asleep. After that, you’d have found no city here.”

“Before noon? That isn’t according to the timetable. But that can wait. Get up, boss, there’s work waiting.”

The door to Amalfi’s room slid aside suddenly, and the Utopian girl stood at the sill, her face pinched with anxiety. Amalfi reached hastily for his jacket.

“Mark, we must hurry. Captain Savage says he won’t wait but fifteen minutes more. And he won’t—he hates you underneath, I can tell, and he’d love to leave us here with the barbarians!”

“Right away, Dee,” Hazleton said, without turning.

The girl disappeared. Amalfi stared at the prodigal city manager. “Wait a minute,” he said. “What is all this, anyhow? Mark, you haven’t sold yourself on some idiotic personal rescue mission?”

“Personal? No.” Hazleton grinned. “We’re getting the whole city out of here, right on the timetable. I wanted to get word to you that we were following through as planned, but the Utopians have no Diracs, and I didn’t want to tip off the cops. Get dressed, that’s a good fellow, and I’ll explain as we go. These Hamiltonians have been working like demons, installing spindizzies in every available ship. They’d about decided to surrender to the cops—after all, they’ve more in common with Earth than with the Hruntans—but when I told them what we planned, and showed them how the spindizzy works, it was like giving them all new hearts.”

“They believed you as quickly as that?”