Frederik Pohl Super Pack. Frederik Pohl

Alan E. Nourse Super Pack: ISBN 978-1-51540-393-7

      (PSP #17) Space Science Fiction Super Pack: ISBN 978-1-51540-440-8

      (PSP #18) Wonder Stories Super Pack: ISBN 978-1-51540-454-5

      (PSP #19) Galaxy Science Fiction Super Pack #1: ISBN 978-1-51540-524-5

      (PSP #20) Galaxy Science Fiction Super Pack #2: ISBN 978-1-5154-0577-1

      (PSP #21) Weird Tales Super Pack #1: ISBN: 978-1-5154-0548-1

      (PSP #22) Weird Tales Super Pack #2: ISBN: 978-1-5154-1-107-9

      (PSP #23) Poul Anderson Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-51540-609-9

      (PSP #24) Fantastic Universe Super Pack #1: ISBN: 978-1-5154-0-981-6

      (PSP #25) Fantastic Universe Super Pack #2: ISBN: 978-1-5154-0-654-9

      (PSP #26) Fantastic Universe Super Pack #3: ISBN: 978-1-5154-0-655-6

      (PSP #27) Imagination Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-1-089-8

      (PSP #28) Planet Stories Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-1-125-3

      (PSP #29) Worlds of If Super Pack #1: ISBN: 978-1-5154-1-148-2

      (PSP #30) Worlds of If Super Pack #2: ISBN: 978-1-5154-1-182-6

      (PSP #31) Worlds of If Super Pack #3: ISBN: 978-1-5154-1-234-2

      (PSP #32) The Dragon Super Pack: 978-1-5154-1-124-6

      (PSP #33) Fritz Leiber Super Pack #1: ISBN: 978-1-5154-1-847-4

      (PSP #34) Wizard of Oz Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-1-872-6

      (PSP #35) The Vampire Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-3-954-7

      (PSP #36) The Doctor Dolittle Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-4-296-7

      (PSP #37) Charles Boardman Hawes Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-4-384-1

      (PSP #38) The Edgar Wallace Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-4-387-2

      (PSP #39) Inspector Gabriel Hanaud Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-4-385-8

      (PSP #40) Tarzan Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-4497-8

      (PSP #41) Algis Budry Super Pack: ISBN: 978-1-5154-4496-1

      (PSP #42) Max Brand Western Super Pack: ISBN 978-1-63384-841-2

      Preferred Risk

      by Frederik Pohl and Lester del Rey

      Chapter One

      The liner from Port Lyautey was comfortable and slick, but I was leaning forward in my seat as we came in over Naples. I had been on edge all the way across the Atlantic. Now as the steward came through the compartments to pick up our Blue Plate ration coupons for the trip, I couldn’t help feeling annoyed that I hadn’t eaten the food they represented. For the Company wanted everyone to get the fullest possible benefit out of his policies—not only the food policies, but Blue Blanket, Blue Bolt and all the others.

      We whooshed in to a landing at Carmody Field, just outside of Naples. My baggage was checked through, so I didn’t expect to have any difficulty clearing past the truce-team Customs inspectors. It was only a matter of turning over my baggage checks, and boarding the rapido that would take me into Naples.

      But my luck was low. The man before me was a fussbudget who insisted on carrying his own bags, and I had to stand behind him a quarter of an hour, while the truce-teams geigered his socks and pajamas.

      While I fidgeted, though, I noticed that the Customs shed had, high up on one wall, a heroic-sized bust of Millen Carmody himself. Just standing there, under that benevolent smile, made me feel better. I even managed to nod politely to the traveler ahead of me as he finally got through the gate and let me step up to the uniformed Company expediter who checked my baggage tickets.

      And the expediter gave me an unexpected thrill. He leafed through my papers, then stepped back and gave me a sharp military salute. “Proceed, Adjuster Wills,” he said, returning my travel orders. It hadn’t been like that at the transfer point at Port Lyautey—not even back at the Home Office in New York. But here we were in Naples, and the little war was not yet forgotten; we were under Company law, and I was an officer of the Company.

      It was all I needed to restore my tranquility. But it didn’t last.

      *

      The rapido took us through lovely Italian countryside, but it was in no hurry to do it. We were late getting into the city itself, and I found myself almost trotting out of the little train and up into the main waiting room where my driver would be standing at the Company desk.

      I couldn’t really blame the Neapolitans for the delay—it wasn’t their fault that the Sicilians had atomized the main passenger field at Capodichino during the war, and the rapido wasn’t geared to handling that volume of traffic from Carmody Field. But Mr. Gogarty would be waiting for me, and it wasn’t my business to keep a Regional Director waiting.

      I got as far as the exit to the train shed. There was a sudden high, shrill blast of whistles and a scurrying and, out of the confusion of persons milling about, there suddenly emerged order.

      At every doorway stood three uniformed Company expediters; squads of expediters formed almost before my eyes all over the train shed; single expediters appeared and took up guard positions at every stairwell and platform head. It was a triumph of organization; in no more than ten seconds, a confused crowd was brought under instant control.

      But why?

      There was a babble of surprised sounds from the hurrying crowds; they were as astonished as I. It was reasonable enough that the Company’s expediter command should conduct this sort of surprise raid from time to time, of course. The Company owed it to its policyholders; by insuring them against the hazards of war under the Blue Bolt complex of plans, it had taken on the responsibility of preventing war when it could. And ordinarily it could, easily enough.

      How could men fight a war without weapons—and how could they buy weapons, particularly atomic weapons, when the Company owned all the sources and sold only to whom it pleased, when it pleased, as it pleased? There were still occasional outbreaks—witness the recent strife between Sicily and Naples itself—but the principle remained… Anyway, surprise raids were well within the Company’s rights.

      I was mystified, though—I could not imagine what they were looking for here in the Naples railroad terminal; with geigering at Carmody Field and every other entry point to the Principality of Naples, they should have caught every fissionable atom coming in, and it simply did not seem reasonable that anyone in the principality itself could produce nuclear fuel to make a bomb.

      Unless they were not looking for bombs, but for people who might want to use them. But that didn’t tie in with what I had been taught as a cadet at the Home Office.

      *

      There was a crackle and an unrecognizable roar from the station’s public-address system. Then the crowd noises died down as people strained to listen, and I began to understand the words: “…where you are in an orderly fashion until this investigation is concluded. You will not be delayed more than a few minutes. Do not, repeat, do not attempt to leave until this man has been captured. Attention! Attention! All persons in this area! Under Company law, you are ordered to stop all activities and stand still at once. An investigation is being carried out in this building. All persons will stand still and remain where you are in an orderly fashion until this investigation…”

      The mounting babble drowned the speaker out again, but I had heard enough.

      I suppose I was wrong, but I had been taught that my duty was to serve the world, by serving the Company, in all ways at all times. I walked briskly toward the nearest