Councilman Curtis would never cooperate with MaxFleigh's plans for overthrow. But a duplicate of Curtis,a simulacrum which could not be distinguished from thereal man, would follow Fleigh's orders to perfection.And one man, Jeremiah Greek, knew the secret of makingthe duplications....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Future combined with Science Fiction Stories May-June 1950.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Max Fleigh's heavy jowls relaxed and he chuckled without humor as heexamined the knots that bound the man at his feet. Quite impersonally,he planted the toe of his boot in Curtis' ribs, listened to the muffledgrunt of pain, and decided that the gag was effective. For once, Slimhad done a good job, and there was nothing wrong. It was probablyunnecessary, anyway, but there could be no bungling when the future ofthe Plutarchy was at stake.
Incompetence had cost them an empire once, and there would be no thirdopportunity. The stupid democracies that had called themselves a WorldUnion had colonized the planets and ruled them without plan. And whenMars, Venus, and the Jovian Worlds had revolted and set up a PlanetCouncil, all that Earth could do was to come crawling to it, beggingpolite permission to join what they should have owned!
But that had been before practical realists had kicked out the dreamersand set up the Plutarchy under an iron discipline that could implementits plans. Now they were heading back toward their lost empire,colonizing the asteroids and establishing claims that gave them arough rule over the outlaws who had retreated there. With the Councilsoftened up by years of cautious propaganda, they were in a position toask and receive a Mandate over the scattered planetoids.
It was the opening wedge, and all they needed. Once the asteroidscould be given spurious independence to seek a Council seat, theywould be ready to strike at the Jovian Worlds. With proper incidents,propaganda, and quislings, plus the planetoids to separate Jupiter fromMars, there could be no question of the outcome. Earth would gain amajority of three votes, and the Council would be the basis of a newand greater Plutarchy.
Fleigh gave the bound body of Curtis another careless kick and wentforward to the cabin, where the lanky form of his companion was huncheddourly over the controls of the little space-craft. "How's it going,Slim?"
"So-so." Slim ejected a green stream of narcotic juice and grinnedsourly. "But I still say we been crowdin' our luck too hard!"
"Rot! Lay out the right moves, cover all possibilities, out-maneuveryour enemies, and you don't need luck! Ever play chess?"
"Nope, can't say I did. Played the horses on Mars, though, time weh'isted the Euphemeron. Won, too—after I bought my lucky ghostcharm; been in the chips ever since!" Slim's grin widened, but hisface remained stubbornly unconvinced.
Fleigh chuckled. If the planetoid outlaws depended on magic, while theCouncil visionaries spouted sentimental twaddle, so much the betterfor the realists. "Charms don't work in politics, Slim. We have toanticipate resistance. And you saw what happened to our fine MartianCouncilor Curtis when he decided to expose us and ruin the Mandate!"
"Yeah." Slim's yellow teeth chewed thoughtfully on his cud. "S'posehe'd stood on Mars, though?"
"We'd have dropped hints of just the information he needed on Ceres andtrapped him there—as we did. Checkmate!"
"Or check-out! So when he don't come back, they smell a rat—an' I