Citizen in Spase. Stories / Гражданин в Космосе. Рассказы. Книга для чтения на английском языке

In the early evening, Eldridge heard the key turn in his lock. Two men entered. One was middle-aged, with a small, well-trimmed beard. The other was about Eldridge’s age, broad-shouldered and deeply tanned.

“Do you remember me?” the middle-aged man asked.

“Should I?”

“You should. I was her father.”

“And I was her fiancé,” the young man said. He took a threatening step forward.

The bearded man restrained him. “I know how you feel, Morgel, but he will pay for his crimes on the gallows.”

“Hanging is too good for him, Mr. Becker,” Morgel argued. “He should be drawn, quartered, burned and scattered to the wind.”

“Yes, but we are a just and merciful people,” Becker said virtuously.

“Whose father?” Eldridge asked. “Whose fiancé?” The two men looked at each other.

“What did I do?” Eldridge asked. Becker told him.

He had come to them from Sector Two, loaded with loot, Becker explained. The people of Sector Three accepted him. They were a simple folk, direct and quick-tempered, the inheritors of a wasted, war-torn Earth. In Sector Three, the minerals were gone, the soil had lost its fertility. Huge tracts of land were radioactive. And the sun continued to beat down, the glaciers melted, and the oceans continued to rise.

The men of Sector Three were struggling back to civilization. They had the rudiments of a manufacturing system and a few power installations. Eldridge had increased the output of these stations, given them a lighting system, and taught them the rudiments of sanitary processing. He continued his explorations into the Unexplored Sectors beyond Sector Three. He became a popular hero and the people of Sector Three loved and protected him.

Eldridge had repaid this kindness by abducting Becker’s daughter.

This attractive young lady had been engaged to Morgel. Preparations were made for her marriage. Eldridge ignored all this and showed his true nature by kidnapping her one dark night and placing her in an infernal machine of his own making. When he turned the invention on, the girl vanished. The overloaded power lines blew out every installation for miles around.

Murder and sabotage!

But the irate mob had not been able to reach Eldridge in time. He had stuffed some of his loot into a knapsack, grabbed his Traveler and vanished.

“I did all that?” Eldridge gasped.

“Before witnesses,” Becker said. “Your remaining loot is in the warehouse. We could deduce nothing from it.”

With both men staring him full in the face, Eldridge looked at the ground.

Now he knew what he had done in Sector Three.

The murder charge was probably false, though. Apparently he had built a heavy-duty Traveler and sent the girl somewhere, without the intermediate stops required by the portable models.

Not that anyone would believe him. These people had never heard of such a civilized concept as habeas corpus[19].

“Why did you do it?” Becker asked.

Eldridge shrugged his shoulders and shook his head helplessly.

“Didn’t I treat you like my own son? Didn’t I turn back the police of Sector Two? Didn’t I feed you, clothe you? Why – why – did you do it?”

All Eldridge could do was shrug his shoulders and go on helplessly shaking his head.

“Very well,” Becker said. “Tell your secret to the hangman in the morning.”

He took Morgel by the arm and left.

If Eldridge had had a gun, he might have shot himself on the spot. All the evidence pointed to potentialities for evil in him that he had never suspected. He was running out of time. In the morning, he would hang.

And it was unfair, all of it. He was an innocent bystander, continually running into the consequences of his former – or later – actions. But only Eldridge I possessed the motives and knew the answers.

Even if his thefts were justified, why had he stolen potatoes, lifebelts, mirrors and such?

What had he done with the girl?

What was he trying to accomplish?

Wearily, Eldridge closed his eyes and drifted into a troubled half-sleep.

He heard a faint scraping noise and looked up. Viglin was standing there, a Traveler in his hands.

Eldridge was too tired to be very surprised. He looked for a moment, then said, “Come for one last gloat?”

“I didn’t plan it this way,” Viglin protested, mopping his perspiring face. “You must believe that. I never wanted you killed, Tom.”

Eldridge sat up and looked closely at Viglin. “You did steal my invention, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Viglin confessed. “But I was going to do the right thing by you. I would have split the profits.”

“Then why did you steal it?”

Viglin looked uncomfortable. “You weren’t interested in money at all.”

“So you tricked me into signing over my rights?”

“If I hadn’t, someone else would have, Tom. I was just saving you from your own unworldliness. I intended to cut you in – I swear it!” He wiped his forehead again. “But I never dreamed it would turn out like this.”

“And then you framed me for those thefts,” Eldridge said.

“What?” Viglin appeared to be genuinely surprised. “No, Tom. You did steal those things. It worked out perfectly for me – until now.”

“You’re lying!”