“Nelson?'’ The Director extended his hand in greeting. “I'm Landon.” “Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Nelson. “Shall I call you Doctor, or Mister, or ... ?” “Just Landon will do,” said the Director. “Come on into my office and have a seat.” Nelson followed him into a room that was almost Spartan in its austerity. He hadn't known quite what to expect, but this certainly wasn't it: a plain wood desk, three chairs, two intercom devices, a small bookcase, a couple of rather common pastoral paintings which he suspected were prints, and a tray containing a pitcher of water and four glasses. The floor was badly scuffed, and made of a type of wood with which he was unfamiliar.
Landon activated a holo screen and began reading it, glancing at Nelson from time to time. “Bartholomew Nelson,” he said, half reading, half musing. “Seventeen years of service with the Pioneer Corps, degrees in geology, chemistry and sociology. Given twenty-four contracts, fulfilled sixteen, forfeited seven, one being processed in the courts.” He looked up. “Not a bad record, given some of those planets. You any relation to the Nelson who helped open up Bowman 29?” “He was my grandfather, sir,” said Nelson.
“Good man. Never met him, but I've heard him spoken of very highly. Did a beautiful job on Delphini
VII and VIII after Bowman died. However, I didn't bring you here to talk about your progenitors.” “I assumed as much, sir,” said Nelson.
“Right,” said Landon. “I've got a job for you, if you want it.” “Excuse me, sir,” said Nelson, “but isn't it highly irregular for the Director of Cartography to make assignments of this nature? I mean, I've always dealt with the Navy, or with some member of the Department of Geology.”
“Absolutely right,” agreed Landon. “It's highly irregular. Never been done before.” “Might I ask why the change?”
“You might indeed. Don't let the answer throw you.” “I won't.”
“All right, as long as we're being frank: I have a job for you that the Navy knows nothing about, and would doubtless never approve if they did know.” “Doesn't that amount to treason sir?” asked Nelson, more puzzled than shocked. “Depends on your point of view,” said Landon. “If it'll make you feel any more secure, you'll be working for the most powerful single organization in the galaxy.” “But you're just a bunch of mapmakers!” Nelson blurted out. Landon stared at him coldly for a moment, then continued as if there had been no interruption. “And, in all modesty, you'll be working for the most powerful man in all of human history: me.” “I'm not sure I know quite what to say, sir,” said Nelson. “I have a feeling that I'm being made the butt of some practical joke.”
“Feel anything you like,” said Landon. “However, if you complete the job to my specifications, I'm prepared to offer you half a billion dollars, or one hundred million credits, if you prefer this new-fangled currency.” He dug into his desk and withdrew a check. He slid it over to Nelson, who studied it and let out a low whistle. “Still think I'm joking?” “Let's say my reservations are weakening,” said Nelson. “There's nothing wrong with being a rich traitor; at least, not this rich a one.”
“There's no treason involved,” said Landon. “Once you've completed the job, you'll very likely be a bigger hero than me. It's just that things tend to get bogged down in red tape back on Earth, and it would take years to get this done through normal channels. If the damned fools would just listen to me, they'd move the whole government lock, stock, and barrel over to Deluros VIII: twenty times as big as Earth, same climate, and a hell of a lot closer to the center of things. It's inevitable, but they do love to drag their heels. Makes it damned hard for me to conquer their galaxy for them. I'll do it, of course, but they could make my job a lot easier.”
Nelson blinked his eyes several times. This was obviously no dream, and the Director wasn't like any
madman he had ever seen before, but everything he said was terribly out of focus. Mapmakers just didn't offer Pioneers half a billion dollars to commit treason, and then complain that the government was hindering their conquest of the stars.
“You look dubious,” said Landon dryly.
“Stunned is more the word for it,” said Nelson. “If what you say is true, it's a pretty big revelation. If not, then they've got a totally unbalanced egomaniac in charge of a pretty important governmental department. Either way, it's not something I was prepared for.” Landon laughed for the first time. “That's what I like about you Pioneers. Who else would tell the Director of Cartography that he's off his rocker? Tell you what. Why not come and take a little tour with me? It might help you make up your mind. And always remember: Mad or not, government checks don't bounce.”
“That's what's kept me here so far,” said Nelson frankly. “Good for you. I don't trust a man who doesn't watch out for his own interests. Come along.” With that, he rose and walked out the door into his outer office, followed by Nelson. As he left the larger enclosure, a quartet of security officers joined him. He walked over to a small battery-powered cart, motioned Nelson to sit beside him, waited for the officers to grab handholds, and began driving rapidly down a long corridor. Nelson tried to follow the various changes of direction Landon took, but soon became confused and settled back with a sigh. At no time did the cart move farther than fifty yards from one of the huge outside walls, and it seemed to Nelson that they were continuously ascending, although at a very slight angle.
At last the cart screeched to a halt, and Landon and Nelson got out. The security officers dismounted, but made no effort to follow them. The Director led the Pioneer to a small doorway. “Not prone to vertigo, are you?” he asked. “No, sir,” said Nelson.
“Good. When we walk through this door we'll be on a balcony. It's quite long and of more than ample width, but every now and then somebody starts getting dizzy on me; sometimes it's vertigo, sometimes it's just the map.”
Landon walked through the door, and Nelson fell into step behind him. And stopped.
And stared.
And almost fell off the balcony.
Below him stretched the galaxy. Not a map, not a bunch of dots on a wall chart, but thegalaxy . As far as the eye could see and farther, as deep as the eye could see and deeper, it spread out before him in all its gargantuan vastness, all its delicate beauty. Millions upon millions of stars, worlds without
end, natural and artificial, satellites spinning crazily in their orbits, here an interstellar comet, there a
meteor storm, way over there huge clouds of opaque gaseous matter. “What do you think of it?” asked Landon with the air of a proud father. “I never imagined...” muttered Nelson, unable to tear his eyes away. “I never guessed...” Landon chuckled. “Quite a piece of work, isn't it? It's 57.8 miles long, 6.2 miles deep, 38.1 miles wide. It contains every star in the galaxy, bar none, as well as every other body we've charted. For example, there are well over two million asteroids between Sirius XI and XII, though we'd have to magnify the field to show even the bigger ones.”
“It's awesome,” said Nelson fervently.