The Pirates of Zan. Murray Leinster

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      COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

      Copyright © 1959 by Ace Books.

      CHAPTER I

      It had not been impulsive action when Bron Hoddan had started for the planet Walden by stowing away on a police ship that had come to his native planet to hang all his relatives. He’d planned it long before. Getting to Walden had been his long-cherished dream. As it had turned out, his relatives had not been hanged. This they had avoided with their usual technique of acting aggrieved and innocent. They had given proof that they were simple people leading blameless lives. They had made their would-be executioners feel ashamed and apologetic. And, as soon as the strangers had left, Bron knew that these “simple, blameless” folk had returned to their normal way of life, which was piracy.

      Bron’s stow-away ride had only taken him partway to Walden. It had taken him a long time to earn the rest of his passage, since he had to travel from one solar system to another. But he had held to his idea. Walden was the most civilized planet in that part of the galaxy. On Walden Bron had intended, (a) to achieve splendid things as an electronic engineer, (b) to grow satisfyingly rich, (c) to marry a delightful girl, and (d) end his life with the reputation of being a great man.

      He had spent his first two years on Walden trying to achieve the first of his objectives.

      And it was only the night before the police broke into his room, that the accomplishment of his first objective seemed imminent.

      He had gone to bed and slept soundly. He was calmly sure that his ambitions were about to be realized. At practically any instant his brilliance would be discovered and he’d be well-to-do; his friend Derec would admire him, and even Nedda would probably decide to marry him right away.

      Bron was happy to be on Walden, it was a fine world. Outside the capital city was the spaceport that received shipments of luxuries and raw materials from halfway across the galaxy. Its landing-grid reared skyward and tapped the planet’s ionosphere for power with which to hoist ships to clear-space and pluck down others from emptiness. There was commerce and manufacturing, wealth and culture, and Walden modestly admitted that its standard of living was the highest in the Nurmi cluster. Its citizens had no reason to worry about anything but a supply of tranquilizers to enable them to stand the boredom of their lives.

      Even Hoddan was satisfied, as of the moment. On his native planet there wasn’t even a landing-grid. The few battered ships the inhabitants owned had to take off precariously on rockets. They came back blackened and more battered and sometimes they were accompanied by great hulls whose crews and passengers were mysteriously missing. These extra ships had to be landed on their emergency rockets, and of course couldn’t take off again, but they always vanished quickly just the same. And the people of Zan, on which Hoddan had been born, always affected innocent indignation when embattled spacecraft came and furiously demanded that they be produced.

      There were some people who said that all the inhabitants of Zan were space-pirates and ought to be hanged; compared with such a planet, Walden seemed a very fine place indeed. So on a certain night Bron Hoddan went confidently to bed and slept soundly until three hours after sunrise. Then the police broke in his door.

      They made a tremendous crash in doing it, but they were in great haste. The noise waked Hoddan, and he blinked his eyes open. Before he could stir, four uniformed men grabbed him and dragged him out of bed. They searched him frantically for anything like a weapon. Then they stood him against a wall with two stun-pistols on him, and the main body of cops began to tear his room apart. He could not guess what they were looking for. Then his friend Derec came hesitantly to the door and looked at him remorsefully. He wrung his hands.

      “I had to do it, Bron,” he said agitatedly. “I couldn’t help doing it!”

      “What’s happened?” asked Hoddan blankly. “What’s this about?”

      Derec said miserably:

      “You killed someone, Bron. An innocent man! You didn’t mean to, but you did…it’s terrible!”

      “Me, kill somebody! That’s ridiculous!” protested Hoddan.

      “They found him outside the power-house,” said Derec bitterly. “Outside the Mid-Continent station that you—”

      “Mid-Continent? Oh!” Hoddan was relieved. It was amazing how much he was relieved. He’d had a terrible fear for a moment that somebody might have found out he’d been born and raised on Zan. This would have ruined everything. It was almost impossible to imagine, but still it was a great relief to find out he was only suspected of a murder he hadn’t committed. And he was only suspected because his first great achievement as an electronic engineer had been discovered. “They found the thing at Mid-Continent, eh? But I didn’t kill anybody. And there’s no harm done. The thing’s been running two weeks, now. I was going to the Power Board in a couple of days.” He addressed the police. “I know what’s up, now,” he said. “Give me some clothes and let’s go get this straightened out.”

      A cop waved a stun-pistol at him.

      “One word out of line, and it’s pfft!”

      “Don’t talk, Bron!” said Derec in panic. “Just keep quiet! It’s bad enough! Don’t make it worse.”

      A cop handed Hoddan a garment. He put it on. He became aware that the cop was scared. So was Derec. Everybody in the room was scared except himself. Hoddan found himself incredulous. People didn’t act this way on super-civilized, highest-peak-of-culture Walden.

      “Who’d I kill?” he demanded. “And why?”

      “You wouldn’t know him, Bron,” said Derec mournfully. “You didn’t mean to do murder. But it’s only luck that you killed only him instead of everybody.”

      “Everybody!” Hoddan stared.

      “No more talk!” snapped the nearest cop. His teeth were chattering. “Keep quiet or else!”

      Hoddan shut up. His clothing was inspected and then handed to him. He dressed while the cops completed the examination of his room. They were insanely thorough, though Hoddan hadn’t the least idea what they might be looking for. When they began to rip up the floor and pull down the walls, the other cops led him outside.

      There was a fleet of police trucks in the shaded street. They piled him in one, and four cops climbed after him, keeping stun-pistols trained on him during the maneuver. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Derec climbing into another truck. The entire fleet sped away. The whole affair had been taken with enormous seriousness by the police. Traffic was detoured from their route. When they swung up on an elevated expressway, there was no other vehicle in sight. They raced on downtown.

      They rolled off the expressway, then down a cleared avenue. Hoddan recognized the Detention Building. Its gate swung wide. The truck he rode in went inside. The gate closed. The other trucks went away, rapidly. Hoddan alighted and saw that the grim, gray wall of the courtyard had a surprising number of guards mustered to sweep the open space with gunfire if anybody made a suspicious movement.

      He shook his head. Nobody had mentioned Zan, so this simply didn’t make sense. His conscience was wholly clear except about his native planet. This was insanity! He went curiously into the building and into the hearing-room. His guards surrendered him to courtroom guards and went away with almost hysterical haste. Nobody wanted to be near him.

      Hoddan stared about. The courtroom was highly informal. The justice sat at an ordinary desk. There were comfortable chairs. The air was clean. The atmosphere was that of a conference room in which reasonable men could discuss differences of opinion in calm leisure. Only on a world like Walden would a police prisoner be dealt with in such surroundings.

      Derec came in by another door, with him a man Hoddan recognized as the attorney who’d represented Nedda’s father in certain past interviews. There’d been no mention of Nedda at these meetings; it had been strictly business. Nedda’s father was chairman of the Power Board, a director of the Planetary Association of Manufacturers, a committeeman of the Bankers’ League, and he held other important posts. Hoddan had been thrown out of his offices several times. He now scowled ungraciously