Ole Doc Methuselah Part 21

he said, s.n.a.t.c.hing it up from the desk, "you've been tam- pering with company property already. Oh, yes. That girl- so you were in that s.h.i.+p we blasted a few miles east of Minga, huh? Say, buddy, don't you know where to stop?

A guy'd think you were kind of confused. You've already lost an old tub of a s.p.a.ce tramp, and lucky you got out with yourself in one chunk. What kind of nerve is this-"

"Oh, do be quiet," sighed Ole Doc.

The flood of speech was suddenly dammed. It had been years and years since anyone had said such a thing to Big Lem Tolliver. Judging from the att.i.tudes struck by the men in the office at this blasphemy, it was going to be years and years before anyone tried to say it again, too.

But Big Lem was a man of many convictions and foremost amongst them was a decided prejudice in favor of his own vast greatness. He had been honeyed and

b.u.t.tered and syruped so long by fawning menials that he had forgotten there were other ways to talk.

Big Lem looked more closely at Ole Doc. "Who are you anyway?"

"You seemed convinced of something else a moment ago. I'm a doctor."

"Ah," said Big Lem. He brightened and rubbed his huge paws together. "A doctor. A crooked doctor impersonat- ing a U.M.S. soldier. Ah."

The whole thing was opened to a page he could read.

He scooped up the print. This fellow had come here for a shakedown, impersonating a Soldier of Light. And because men are likely to best understand what they themselves actually are, Big Lem Tolliver was utterly satisfied.

Grinning, the president of Air, Limited, had his men search the visitor for other weapons and equipment and then with every cordiality, ushered Ole Doc into an office big enough for a ballroom and ten times as fancy.

"Sit down, sit down," said Big Lem, sprawling into the oversize chair behind his king-size desk. "Know very much about doctoring?"

Ole Doc played it patient, stilling the urgency he felt now that his small pack radio had been taken from him.

He sat down in a high-backed leather chair. "Others no doubt are much better informed," he sighed.

"Where and when did you pick it up?"

"Well ... a very long time ago. I may not know as much about modern medicine as I might."

"Went to school maybe?"

"Yes. But it was a long time ago."

"Sure, sure. And probably got kicked out of the profes- sion for some . . . well, we all make mistakes and recovery isn't possible unless one uses his wits." He winked ponder- ously and laughed much beyond the need of it. "I tell you, doc, you wouldn't think to look at me that I was just a typical trails-system tramp once. Look around. Them hang- ings cost a fortune and them pictures is worth a cold five million. They're originals and if they ain't and I ever find out about it, G.o.d help my agents." He laughed again.

"Well, doc, I guess you're wondering why I'm being so great about this thing, huh?"

"Somewhat."

"You're a cool one. I like that I like it very much.

Well, I tell you. I could use a doctor. I don't need a good one, see. You'll do just fine if you know anything at all."

"I thought there were doctors here."

"Them that was here up and went away." He enjoyed a brief chuckle and then sobered. "I had a doc as partner.

He'd been a good one in his day but drink and women had got too much for him. He died about five years back and we been kind of isolated for some time, like. So, I can use a doctor. A doctor that ain't all knocked around by professional ethics."

"And what's in it for him?"

"Thousands and thousands and thousands. Oh, I can pay all right. And pay very well indeed. Taxes, fees, sales ... I can pay. Air, Limited is just about as sound a concern as you'll ever find, my friend." He beamed jovially. "You give me quite a turn with that thingum-ajig on your throat. The U.M.S.-Well, you knew how to back up a play. If I thought you was on the level, you wouldn't be sitting there, but I know you ain't. Not an honest pill in your pockets. No stethoscope. A blaster. Oh, I can tell a thing or two."

"Where'd I slip up?" said Ole Doc innocently.

"Why, the blaster of course. The U.M.S. is death on violence. Oh, I've studied up, I have. And I figure the chances of one of their big patrols coming this way is about ten million to one at least in this century. We ain't nothing on Arphon and Sun12 is gone to pieces as a confederated system. We don't spread no germs around and we ain't in any kind of quarantine. So they won't come. But if one of them big gold s.h.i.+ps with the hundred men crews come around, why I want to be reasonable. So that's where we talk business. You seem to know the ropes."

"Yes," said Ole Doc. "One has to understand his fellow man to get along. Just why are you worried?"

"Well, doc, it ain't so much the U.M.S. Them Soldiers would never come here and wouldn't stay if they did. No, it's the way taxes have fallen off. I want you to do something about it. People don't pay their taxes. And then there's the fees-"

"Wait. Are you the government?"

"Well, in a way, yes. At least there ain't any other government on Arphon just now and we're a big commer- cial outfit. So, well we collect taxes for the machines."

"What machines?"

"The health machines of course." And here Big Lem began to laugh again.

"Maybe we can do business of one kind or another,"

said Ole Doc. "But there's one thing I've got to fix up. I want to get hold of an extraracial being named Bestin Karjoy. You let me find him and then I'll come back-"

Big Lem looked sly. "Some old partner in crime, eh?

Well, doc, if that's what you want, you'll get it."

"Now," said Ole Doc.

"When we've settled a thing or two," said Tolliver.

"You'll work for me?"

"We'll settle this when you've found this Bestin Karjoy for me," said Ole Doc. "It won't wait."

"I'm afraid it will, my friend. Will you sign on?"

"I'd have to know more," said Ole Doc, restraining a blow-up with difficulty and holding on to his cunning.

"Such as-"

"What taxes? What air? What are you doing?"

"We sell air," said Tolliver. "We sell it in small bombs or in cans and we get a hundred dollars for a flask big enough to keep a man a month. Now that's legal, isn't it?"

"Why air?"

"Why not?" said Tolliver. "Men have to breathe, don't they?"

"What taxes then," said Ole Doc.

"Why, the taxes to keep the machines running. Didn't you see the big machine central when you came into town?"