Biggle, Lloyd Jr
Eye for an eye
Walter Dudley and his wife paused at the top of the ramp for their first glimpse of the independent world of Maylor. The bleak landscape stretched unbroken to the taut line of the horizon.
"It doesn't look very interesting," Dudley observed.
Eleanor Dudley was more emphatic. "It stinks."
"Maybe it'll be better in town," Dudley said, though he knew it wouldn't. One could not expect to find much of the tinsel of civilization on a world that was, admittedly, the last refuge of the failure.
A noisy, vilely malodorous groundcar arrived in a choking swirl of dust and fumes, and they climbed aboard with their hand luggage. Minutes later, bounced and jolted to the verge of nausea, they were deposited at the diminutive passenger terminal.
Hamal Bakr, the Galactic Insurance Company's temporary resident manager, was waiting for them. Dudley disliked him at sight. Not only was he tall and handsome, but his casual afternoon robe displayed his trim figure with the effectiveness of a military uniform. Dudley had met his type before - met it frequently, and always to his profound regret. Bakr would be the darling of his sector manager, and even his infrequent failures would count more than other men's successes.
He crushed Dudley's hand and bent low over Eleanor's, brushing her fingers with his mustache and murmuring that this world of Maylor's long-standing reputation as the abode of beautiful women had been sheer fraud until the moment of her arrival. Eleanor tittered.
"I've found an apartment for you," Bakr said. "You won't like it, but it's the best I could do on short notice. There's a terrible housing shortage here."
"Whatever it is, we've probably seen worse," Dudley said. But he doubted that, too.
"I have my 'car waiting," Bakr said. "I'll drive you."
He herded them through customs, bullying officials, snarling at baggage attendants, and frightening porters. Then he loaded them and their luggage into his sleek groundcar and triumphantly roared away with them, trailing clouds of acrid white dust.
"In case you're in suspense," he said to Dudley, "I can summarize the present condition of our business in three words: There isn't any."
"I gathered that the situation wasn't healthy."
"The Maylor business is worse than just unhealthy. It's deceased. If you're thinking of doing anything except arrange a decent burial, forget it."
Dudley scratched his head perplexedly. "It shouldn't be that bad. What's the competition? I know no one has better air vehicular coverage than Galactic, and our fire coverages -"
"There aren't any air vehicles on Maylor. They're prohibited. Too dangerous. But this -" Bakr swerved, narrowly missing an oncoming 'car that crowded the center of the road. "This they consider safe."
"They must have an appalling accident rate. How many groundcar policies do we have in force?"
"One."
Dudley stared. "Just one policy? On the entire planet? You can't be serious!"
"But I am serious. The Galactic Insurance Company has one groundcar policy in force on this planet, and it's mine. I only bought it to be patriotic. Because of the peculiar customs and legalities of Maylor, its citizens consider insurance unnecessary or incomprehensible or both. They won't buy it at any premium or under any circumstances. Wasn't this explained to you? I thought you were being sent out to wind things up and close the office."
"Nothing was explained to me," Dudley said grimly. "I was sent out to make the business go here - or else."
"Old man, I had no idea, or I'd have broken the news gently."
Eleanor drawled, "Think nothing of it. This is Walter's ninth assignment in four years. You might say he's used to failing."
They drove on in silence.
The atmosphere of Maylor's capital city, when they finally reached it, was a nerve-shattering blend of dirt and noise and confusion. Factories vomited smoke, groundcar traffic was deafening, and the low buildings were hideous. Dudley appraised the shoddy frame dwellings with the eye of an insurance expert and shuddered.
"Fire insurance?"
"One policy in force," Bakr said. "Mine."
The architecture improved markedly as they approached the center of the city. Buildings were of brick, some of them two or three stories high. The traffic situation became increasingly disorganized. Pedestrians and vehicles shared the narrow street, the foot traffic usually, but not always, keeping to the sides. Buildings fronted directly on the street. It was possible to take one cautious step from one's doorway and be struck by a groundcar.
"Hazards like this and no insurance?" Dudley asked incredulously.
Bakr did not answer.
Directly ahead of them, chaos swirled. Construction work was under way on one of the buildings. The workers and their equipment were scattered about in the street, and pedestrians and groundcars recklessly maneuvered among them.
"That's the place," Bakr said. "I might as well stop here." He edged to the side of the street, nudging pedestrians out of the way, and came to a stop almost grazing a building. "We'll get your stuff upstairs, and then I'll show you the office."
"What are they doing to the place?" Eleanor asked.
"They're adding another story."
"And we're supposed to live there with that racket on all sides?" she exclaimed.
"They only work during the day. It isn't a bad place, really. It's a luxury apartment, and it's within walking distance of the office - if you have the nerve to walk, that is. It could be a lot worse."
"I believe you," Dudley said gloomily.
Bakr and Dudley carried up the trunks and suitcases, and then, because Dudley wanted to look in at the office, they left Eleanor fuming in the three cramped rooms that constituted a luxury apartment on the world of Maylor. Back in the street, Dudley paused to watch the construction workers.
A man was hauling on a slender rope, which fed through a complex of pulleys and slowly raised an enormous load of brick. Pedestrians strolled indifferently beneath the swaying load. Dudley turned away, genuinely frightened. "Don't they take any safety precautions at all?"
"Sure. There's another workman standing by in case the one with the rope gets tired. If you'd ask them, they'd say they very rarely have an accident."
"Liability insurance?"
"They don't even understand what it is," Bakr said. "When you have a chance, take a close look at that rope. The hemp is of poor quality, and the rope only has two strands. If one parted, the other couldn't hold the load. Shall we go?"
Dudley nodded, and they climbed into Bakr's 'car.
"They're a fine-looking people, these Maylorites," Dudley observed. They were a sturdy, blond race, handsome and cheerful. Smiles greeted Dudley and Bakr from all sides.
"They are that," Bakr agreed. "Maylor is the abode of beautiful women. Good-looking men, too. But they're much too virtuous for my taste."
The Maylor office of Galactic Insurance was a small third-story room. It contained a desk, two chairs, and a row of empty filing cabinets. Unopened cartons of policy, endorsement, and record forms were stacked in a corner.
"No staff?" Dudley asked.
"No work," Bakr said. "I fired the one employee the day I took over."
"How long have you been here?"
"Three months. I was on my way back to the home office for reassignment when the Maylor resident manager was fired, and McGivern asked me to hold the fort until he assigned a new one. I've been recommending twice a week that the office be closed. I was afraid McGivern might promote me and give me the job. You have my sympathy, but there isn't much else I can do for you."
"You can fill me in on the situation. I understand that this office did very well when it first opened."
"Business was sensational. Galactic was the first insurance company on Maylor. Now it's the last. A couple of hundred others have come and gone."
"Stubbornness has made Galactic great," Dudley murmured.
"That's home office propaganda, and you know it. Stubbornness doesn't accomplish a thing on Maylor except to lose money. Business was sensational for the first six months. Then the claims started to come in, and in another six months the only policies in force were those of Galactic's employees."