UNFORTUNATELY
Ralph NC-5 sighed with relief as he caught sight of Planet Four of Arcturus in the spotter scope, just where his computer had told him it would be. Arcturus IV was the only inhabited or inhabitable planet of its primary and it was quite a few light-years to the next star system.
He needed food—his fuel and water supplies were okay but the commissary department on Pluto had made a mistake in stocking his scouter—and, according to the space manual, the natives were friendly. They’d give him anything he asked for.
The manual was very specific on that point; he reread the brief section on the Arcturians as soon as he had set the controls for automatic landing.
«The Arcturians,» he read, «are inhuman, but very friendly. A pilot landing here need only ask for what he wants, and it is given to him freely, readily, and without argument.
«Communication with them, however, must be by paper and pencil as they have no vocal organs and no organs of hearing. However, they read and write English with considerable fluency.»
Ralph NC-5’s mouth watered as he tried to decide what he wanted to eat first, after two days of complete abstinence from food, preceded by five days of short rations; a week ago he had discovered the commissary department’s mistake in stocking his lockers.
Foods, wonderful foods, chased one another through his mind.
He landed. The Arcturians, a dozen of them and they were indeed inhuman—twelve feet tall, six-armed, bright magenta—approached him and their leader bowed and handed him paper and pencil.
Suddenly he knew exactly what he wanted; he wrote rapidly and handed back the pad. It passed from hand to hand among them.
Then abruptly he found himself grabbed, his arms pinioned. And then tied to a stake around which they were piling brushwood and sticks. One of them lighted it.
He screamed protests but they fell, not on deaf ears but on no ears at all. He screamed in pain, and then stopped screaming.
The space manual had been quite correct in saying that the Arcturians read and write English with considerable fluency. But it had omitted to add that they were very poor at spelling; else the last thing Ralph NC-5 would have requested would have been a sizzling steak.
GRANNY’S BIRTHDAY
The Halperins were a very close-knit family. Wade Smith, one of the only two non-Halperins present, envied them that, since he had no family himself—but the envy was tempered into a mellow glow by the glass in his hand.
It was Granny Halperin’s birthday party, her eightieth birthday; everyone present except Smith and one other man was a Halperin, and was named Halperin. Granny had three sons and a daughter; all were present and the three sons were married and had their wives with them. That made eight Halperins, counting Granny. And there were four members of the second generation, grandchildren, one with his wife, and that made thirteen Halperins. Thirteen Halperins, Smith counted; with himself and the other non-Halperin, a man named Cross, that made fifteen adults. And there had been, earlier, three more Halperins, great-grandchildren, but they had been put to bed earlier in the evening, at various hours according to their respective ages.
And he liked them all, Smith thought mellowly, although now that the children had been abed a while, liquor was flowing freely and the party was getting a bit loud and boisterous for his taste. Everyone was drinking; even Granny, seated on a chair not unlike a throne, had a glass of sherry in her hand, her third for the evening.
She was a wonderfully sweet and vivacious little old lady, Smith thought. Definitely, though, a matriarch; sweet as she was, Smith was thinking; she ruled her family with a rod of iron in a velvet glove; he was just inebriated enough to get his metaphors mixed.
He, Smith, was here because he’d been invited by Bill Halperin, who was one of Granny’s sons; he was Bill’s attorney and also his friend. The other outsider, a Gene or Jean Cross, seemed to be a friend of several of the grandson-generation Halperins.
Across the room he saw that Cross was talking to Hank Halperin and noticed that whatever they were saying had suddenly led to raised and angry voices. Smith hoped there wouldn’t be trouble; the party was much too pleasant to be broken up now by a fight or even an argument. But suddenly Hank Halperin’s fist lashed out and caught Cross’s jaw and Cross went backward and fell. His head hit on the stone edge of the fireplace with a loud thunk and he lay still. Hank quickly ran and knelt beside Cross and touched him, and then Hank was pale as he looked up and then stood up. «Dead,» he said thickly. «God, I didn’t mean to— But he said—»
Granny wasn’t smiling now. Her voice rose sharp and querulously. «He tried to hit you first, Henry. I saw it. We all saw it, didn’t we?»
She had turned, with the last sentence, to frown at Wade Smith, the surviving outsider.
Smith moved uncomfortably. «I—I didn’t see the start of it, Mrs. Halperin.»
«You did,» she snapped. «You were looking right at them, Mr. Smith.»
Before Wade Smith could answer, Hank Halperin was saying, «Lord, Granny, I’m sorry—but even that’s no answer. This is real trouble. Remember I fought seven years in the ring as a pro. And the fists of a boxer or an ex-boxer are legally considered lethal weapons. That makes it second-degree murder even if he did hit first. You know that, Mr. Smith; you’re a lawyer. And with the other trouble I’ve been in, the cops will throw the book at me.»
«I—I’m afraid you’re probably right,» Smith said uneasily. «But hadn’t somebody better phone a doctor or the police, or both?»
«In a minute, Smith,» Bill Halperin, Smith’s friend, said. «We got to get this straightened out among ourselves first. It was self-defense, wasn’t it?»
«I—I guess. I don’t—»
«Wait, everybody,» Granny’s sharp voice cut in. «Even if it was self-defense, Henry’s in trouble. And do you think we can trust this man Smith once he’s out of here and in court?»
Bill Halperin said, «But, Granny, we’ll have to—»
«Nonsense, William. I saw what happened. We all did. They got in a fight, Cross and Smith, and killed each other. Cross killed Smith and then, dizzy from the blows he’d taken himself, fell and hit his head. We’re not going to let Henry go to jail, are we, children? Not a Halperin, not one of us. Henry, muss that body up a little, so it’ll look like he was in a fight, not just a one-punch business. And the rest of you—»
The male Halperins, except Henry, were in a circle around Smith now; the women, except Granny, were right behind them—and the circle closed in.
The last thing Smith saw clearly was Granny in her throne-like chair, her eyes beady with excitement and determination. And the last thing Smith heard in the sudden silence which he could no longer make his voice penetrate was the soft sound of Granny Halperin’s chuckling. Then the first blow rocked him.
CAT BURGLAR
The Chief of Police of Midland City owned two dachshunds, one of which was named Little Note and the other Long Remember. But this fact has nothing at all to do with cats or cat burglars, and this story concerns the concern of the said Chief of Police over a seemingly inexplicable series of burglaries—a one-man crime wave.