Iron Head: Science Fiction Mystery Tales by E. C. Tubb

Author:E. C. Tubb [Tubb, E. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Venture
Published: 2020-01-22T22:00:00+00:00

*

I opened my eyes and stared at a green-tinted ceiling. I lay on something soft, and the air smelt pure and fresh. I sat up and grabbed at my left leg. It was still there, and I relaxed. Harry came into the room as I was reaching for a cigarette. He handed me one and sat down beside the bed.

“We picked you up just in time,” he said. “You’d lost a lot of blood and your leg was badly frozen, but you’ll be as new in a couple of weeks.” He took something from his pocket and handed it to me. I stared at it. It was a cheque for one hundred thousand credits. “For your claim,” he said, and winked.

“Thanks.” I tucked it beneath my pillow. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“Yes. The recording cleared you, and so did the evidence of the police we took with us out to the rock. Jeff wasn’t dead when we found him and he spilled everything. The recorder has been impeached for conspiracy, half the police have resigned, and most of the claims office staff have been arrested.” He stared at his finger nails. “You did a good job, Jim.”

“You did a good job,” I corrected. “I was just your stooge, the man who pulled the trigger so Consolidated could keep in the clear. What happens now? Do you get what you wanted? Sovereign rights in the seventh, decant so that you can protect your investment, and everything made smooth so that the Company can concentrate on the job of making profits?”

“What makes you think that, Jim?”

“I had a week to think about it and, believe it or not, I’m not quite a moron. Criminals or businessmen, what’s the difference? Both are out to make all they can.”

“There’s a big difference, Jim,” he said quietly. “A very big difference. You, like most people, have the wrong idea about business. We want to make a profit, sure, but what’s wrong in that? To make it we must have labour; that means we must employ people; they benefit, we benefit, and civilisation mounts a little. How else can the Belt be developed? Who else but Consolidated would pour millions into this decant and so provide everything you and those like you need to exist?”

“You talk well, Harry,” I said tiredly. “You talk so well that I almost believe you, but not quite. A company, you told me once, has no heart or soul. It has an object and it will do anything to obtain it. Individual officers of a company have to fit their own ideas to the overall pattern. They have no individual responsibility, they go by the book, and they feel no guilt at what they do. And never forget this: it’s the customer, the small man like me and those like me, who have to pay, and pay, and keep on paying. Consolidated, like any other big business, is a potential dictatorship’”

“That’s nonsense.”

“Is it? How long will it be before you

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