The Misplaced Battleship | Page 3

of the room and scowled out at the harsh dawn light.
"The more I look at this thing," he said, "the fishier it gets. This planet
seems to have no possible motive or use for a battleship. But they are
building one--that I will swear on a stack of one thousand credit notes
as high as this building. Yet what will they do with it when they have it
built? They have an expanding culture, no unemployment, a surplus of
heavy metals and ready markets for all they produce. No hereditary
enemies, feuds or the like. If it wasn't for this battleship thing, I would
call them an ideal League planet. I have to know more about them."
"I've already called the spaceport--in your name of course," I told him.
"Ordered a fast courier ship. I'll leave within the hour."
"Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself, diGriz," he said. Voice
chill as the icecap. "I still give the orders and I'll tell you when you're
ready for an independent command."
I was sweetness and light because a lot depended on his decision. "Just
trying to help, chief, get things ready in case you wanted more info.

And this isn't really an operation, just a reconnaissance. I can do that as
well as any of the experienced operators. And it may give me the
experience I need, so that some day, I, too, will be qualified to join the
ranks...."
"All right," he said. "Stop shoveling it on while I can still breathe. Get
out there. Find out what is going on. Then get back. Nothing else--and
that's an order."
By the way he said it, I knew he thought there was little chance of its
happening that way. Since my forced induction into the Corps six
months earlier I had been stuck on this super-secret planetoid that was
its headquarters and main base. I had very little sitting-down patience
anyway, and it had been long since exhausted.
* * * * *
It had been interesting at first. Particularly since up until the time I was
drafted into the Special Corps I wasn't even certain it really existed. It
was too much like a con man's nightmare to be real. A secret worry.
After a few happy years of successful crime you begin to wonder how
long it will last. Planetary police are all pushovers and you start to feel
you can go on forever if they're your only competition. What about the
League though? Don't they take any interest in crime? Just about that
time you hear your first rumor of the Special Corps and it fits the bad
dreams. A shadowy, powerful group that slip silently between the stars,
ready to bring the interstellar lawbreaker low. Sounds like TV drama
stuff. I had been quite surprised to find they really existed.
I was even more surprised when I joined them. Of course there was a
little pressure at the time. I had the alternative choice of instant death.
But I still think it was a wise move. Under the motto "Set a thief to
catch one," the Corps supposedly made good use of men like myself to
get rid of the more antisocial types that infest the universe.
This was still all hearsay to me. I had been pulled into headquarters and
given routine administration work for training. Six months of this had
me slightly ga-ga and I wanted out. Since no one seemed to be in a

hurry to give me an assignment I had found one for myself. I had no
idea of what would come if it, but I also had no intention of returning
until the job was done.
A quick stop at supply and record sections gave me everything I needed.
The sun was barely clear of the horizon when the silver needle of my
ship lifted in the gray field, then blasted into space.
The trip took only a few days, more than enough time to memorize
everything I needed to know about Cittanuvo. And the more I knew the
less I could understand their need for a battleship. It didn't fit.
Cittanuvo was a secondary settlement out of the Cellini system, and I
had run into these settlements before. They were all united in a loose
alliance and bickered a lot among themselves, but never came to blows.
If anything, they shared a universal abhorrence of war.
Yet they were secretly building a battleship.
Since I was only chasing my tail with this line of thought, I put it out of
my mind and worked on some tri-di chess problems. This filled the
time until Cittanuvo blinked into the bow screen.
One of my most effective mottoes has always been, "Secrecy can be an
obviousity." What the magicians call misdirection. Let