Frigid Fracas Page 10
But it occurred to him that the boy might better appreciate a talewhich involved his father, the Telly reporter, and some act of daringthe small man had performed the better to serve his fracas-buffaudience.
He was well launched into the tale, boosting Freddy Soligen's partbeyond reality, but not impossibly so, when that worthy entered theroom, breaking it off.
While Freddy was shaking hands with his visitor, Sam said, "Hey, Papa,you never told me about that time you were surrounded by all the fieldartillery, and only you and Major Mauser and three other men got out."
Freddy grinned fondly at the boy and then looked his reproach at Joe."What're you trying to do, make the life of a Telly reporter soundromantic to the kid? Stick to the priesthood, son, there's morechicken dinners involved." He saw Joe was impatient to talk to him."How about leaving us alone for a while, Sam? We've got somebusiness."
"Sure, Papa. I've got to memorize some Greek chants, anyway. How comethey don't have all these rituals and all in some language everybodycan understand?"
"Then everybody might understand them," Freddy said sourly. "Thenwhat'd happen?"
His son said, "Major, maybe you can finish that story some other time,huh?"
Joe said, "Sure, sure, sure. It winds up with your father the hero andthey bump him up to Upper-Upper and make him head of CategoryCommunications."
"On the trank again," Freddy grumbled, but Joe sensed he wasn'tparticularly amused.
* * * * *
When the boy was gone, Joe Mauser told the Telly reporter of hisinterview with Stonewall Cogswell.
Freddy shook his head. "He wants you to fly that sailplane thing ofyours again, huh? No. That won't do it. We need some gimmick, Joe.Something--"
Joe said impatiently, "You keep saying that. But, look, I'm amercenary. A fighting man can't drop out of participation in thefracases if he expects the buffs to continue interest in him."
The little man tried to explain. "I'm not saying you're going to dropout of the fracases. But we need something where we can make youshine. Somewhere where you can be on every lens for a mile around."
Joe's face was still impatient.
Freddy said sourly, "Listen, you tried to handle all this by yourself,last time. You dreamed up that fancy glider gimmick and sold it to oldBaron Haer. But did you do yourself any good with the buffs? Like Zenyou did. All you did was louse up a perfectly promising fracas so faras they were concerned. Hardly a drop of blood was shed. StonewallCogswell just resigned when he saw what he was up against. Oh, sure,you won the battle for Vacuum Tube Transport, practically all byyourself, but that's not what the buff wants. He wants blood, he wantsaction, spectacular action. And you can't give it to him way up therein the air. Hey--!"
Joe looked at him, scowling questioningly.
Freddy said, slowly, "Why not?"
Joe Mauser growled, "What'd you mean, why not?"
Freddy said slowly, "Why can't you have some blood and guts combat,right up there in that glider?"
"Have you gone drivel-happy?"
But the little man was on his feet, pacing the floor quickly,irritably, but still happily. "A dogfight. A natural. Listen, you everheard about dogfights, major?"
"You mean pitdogs, like in Wales, in the old days?"
"No, no. In the First War. All those early fighters. Baron VonRichthofen, the German, Albert Ball, the Englishman, Rene Fonck, theFrenchman. And all the rest. Werner Voss and Ernst Udet, andRickenbacker and Luke Short."
Joe nodded at last. "I remember now. They'd have a Vickers or Spandaumounted so as to fire between the propeller blades. As I recall, thatGerman, Richthofen, had some eighty victories to his credit."
"O.K. They called them dogfights. One aircraft against another. You'regoing to reintroduce the whole thing."
Joe was staring at him. Once again the Telly reporter soundedcompletely around the bend.
Freddy was impatiently patient. "We'll mount a gun on your sailplaneand you'll attack those two gliders Cogswell says General McCord has."
Joe said, "The Sov-world observers would never stand still for it. Infact, there's a good chance that using gliders at all will beforbidden when the International Disarmament Commission convenes nextmonth. If the Sov-world delegates vote against use of gliders asreconnaissance craft, the Neut-world will vote with them. ThoseNeut-world delegates vote against everything." Joe grunted. "It's trueenough gliders were flown before the year 1900, but not the kind ofadvanced sailplanes you have to utilize for them to be practical.Certainly there were no gliders in use capable of carrying a machinegun."
Freddy demanded, "Look, what was the smallest machine gun in use in1900?"
Joe considered. "Probably the little French Chaut-Chaut gun. It wasportable by one man, the rounds were carried in a flat, circular pan.I think it goes back that far. They used them in the First War."
"Right! O.K., you had gliders. You had eight portable machine guns.All we're doing is combining them. It'll be spectacular. You'll be themost famous mercenary in Category Military and it'll be impossible forthe Department not to bounce you to colonel and Low-Upper. Especiallywith me and every Telly reporter and fracas-buff magazine we've bribedyelling for it."
Joe's mouth manifested its tic, but he was shaking his head. "Itwouldn't go, anyway. Suppose I caught one, or both, of those othergliders, busy at their reconnaissance and shot their tails off. Sowhat? The fans still wouldn't have their blood and gore. We'd be sohigh they couldn't see the action. All they would be able to see wouldbe the other glider falling."
Freddy stopped dramatically and pointed a finger at him in triumph."That's where you're wrong. I'll be in the back seat of yoursailplane with a portable camera. Get it! And every reporter on theground will have the word, and his most powerful telescopic lens atthe ready. Man, it'll be the most televized bit of fracas of this halfof the century!"
VIII
When Major Joe Mauser entered the swank Agora Bar, the littleafternoon dance band broke into a few bars of that tune which wasbeginning to pall on him.
_"... I knew her heart was breaking, And to my heart in anguish pressed, The girl I left behind me."_
Nadine looked up from the little table she occupied and caught the wryexpression on his face and laughed.
"What price glory?" she said.
He took the chair across from her and chuckled ruefully. "All right,"he said, "I surrender. However, if you think a theme song is bad,you'll be relieved at some of the other ideas my, ah, publicity agenthad which I turned down."
She said, "Oh, did he want you to dash into some burning building andsave some old lady's canary, or something?"
"Not exactly. However, he had a nightclub singer with a list of nineor ten victories behind her--"
"Victories?"
"Husbands. And I was to be seen escorting the singer around thenightclub circuit."
"A fate worse than death? But, truly, why did you turn him down?"
"I wanted to spend the time with you."
She made a moue. "So as to carry on our never-ending argument over thevalue of status?"
"No."
Her eyes dropped and there was a slight frown on her forehead. Joeinterpreted it to mean that she took exception to one of Mid-Middlecaste speaking to her in this wise. He said, flatly, "At least thetune is somewhat applicable tonight."
She looked up quickly, having immediately caught the meaning of hiswords. "Oh, Joe, you haven't taken another commission?"
"Why not? I'm a mercenary by trade, Nadine." He was vaguely irritatedby her tone.
"But you admittedly made a small fortune on the last fracas. You wereone of the very few investors in the whole country who expected VacuumTube Transport to boom, rather than go bankrupt. You simply don't_need_ to risk your life further, Joe!"
He didn't bother to tell her that already the greater part of hissmall
fortune had been siphoned off in Freddy Soligen's campaign tomake him a celebrity. He said, instead, "The stock shares I'll makearen't particularly important, Nadine. But Stonewall Cogswell haspledged that if I'll fly for him in the Carbonaceous Fuel-UnitedMiners fracas, he'll press my ambitions for promotion."
She said, her voice low, "Promotion in rank, or caste, Joe?"
"You know the answer to that."
"But, Joe, to risk your life, your _life_, Joe, for such a sillything--"
He said softly, "Such a silly