Books by George!

Winston pulled his pocket notebook, jotted down bead colors and the author of the table.

 “Sorry I wasted your time with an unsolved mystery.”  He recovered the samples.

“No  not a waste,” Karl said, “and I’ll get you some names, people who are experts on naming minerals.  I’m just a well-studied amateur.  If you write them, say I sent you.”

“I’ll certainly do that, sir,” Winston answered.

His next stop was Rudolph Schudel, Swiss Jeweler.  The sign had ‘Swiss’ in particularly large letters, with a painting of the Swiss flag on each side.

Rudolph Schudel was a short, stocky man with a perpetual smile.

“Welcome to my humble establishment,” Schudel said, “what may I do for you?”

“I’m trying to solve a crime case,” Winston explained, “and I don’t even know if I actually have a clue.  However, I have two pieces of jewelry that were found on the ground near what might’ve been a crime scene.  I wonder what you might tell me about them.”

“I’m always happy to help an officer of the law,” Rudolph said. “I’m not what you would call an expert witness, but I can tell you what I see.”

“One might be an engagement ring, but there’s no sign of the stone. The other might be a wedding ring, but I don’t recognize the metal.” 

Winston pass the two items over to the jeweler, who pulled a loupe from one of his drawers and examined carefully the two rings.

“Considering first the engagement ring,” the jeweler finally announced, “Very odd. Appears to have been a theft.  There’s no sign of the gem. But the braces that should’ve been holding it in place look to be in perfect condition.  Possibly they weren’t sized correctly.”

Then he stared at the other ring, his face darkening.  “Where did you get this ring! I know it very well, since I did the sizing! You can see my store’s seal on the ring’s inner surface. The letters next to it are initials. That metal you didn’t recognize is platinum. But it should still be on the finger of Mrs. Jameson! What was done to her?”

“That’s what I’m trying to solve,” Winston said.  “As I said, I found the two rings on the ground, next to each other, but there wasn’t a body there. But if you’re sure that ring is hers, the sheriff’s office will lock it up until we can find her or her heirs.”

* * * * *

The sign next to the door read ‘Honest Ike’s.  Gemstones bought and sold.  Metal ores assayed.  Special offer on quartz geodes.’ Inside, several counters displayed rocks for sale.  A much older man sat at desk writing. A small bell jingled as Winston eased the door open.

“Hello?” Winston called. 

“Good afternoon, Deputy,” the man at the desk said as he stood.   “I’m Karl Eisenhower.  How may I help you?”

“I’m Winston Cooper, Sheriff’s assistant. I’m trying to solve an unfortunate incident, and have a clue I don’t understand.”

“I’m happy to help, but what can an assayer and gemnologist do for you?” Karl asked.

Winston opened his satchel took out a small bottle, and shook out from a single crystal. 

“I was curious if you could tell me what this is?” Winston asked. “It’s a beautiful color, but I don’t recognize it, and it was on the scene of the crime.”

Carl stared at the deep violet stone.  “Never seen the like,” he announced. He stared through magnifier. “Looks to be a nice clean crystal, no flaws or inclusions, more like quality window glass than one of our local gems. I can do two fast tests which might give a clue.  Do you have more?”

“Lots.  Don’t worry about breaking it.”  Winston watched while Karl did a few things with equipment on the shelf behind the counter, then shuffled through line of books.

“Specific gravity is way high,” Karl announced.  “It’s harder than corundum, not as hard as diamond.  My standard handbook doesn’t list anything like that. I’m embarrassed to say, Deputy, that it’s not a standard local mineral. It’s not even a rare local mineral. I’ve never seen it before. To say more, you need someone to crush it up, analyze it, say what it’s made of, but I don’t have the equipment for that, and I’d hate to destroy something this pretty. It’s very pretty, especially for a young woman with eyes close to that shade, so I suspect there’d be a market for it.”

“Well, sir, thank you anyhow,” Winston said, tipping his hat.

“Wait.  One more test,” Karl said.  “Takes a few minutes.  Borax bead analysis.  That sand will be the easier, unless those violet stones gave you some dust.”

“A tiny bit.”  Winston watched while Karl pulled out a bottle, ignited a Bunsen burner, touched something at the ends of two wires to the sand and the dust. Finally he pulled down another book and ran his finger down a long table.

“The colors should tell us which elements are present—yes, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”  Karl turned off the burner.  “Those combinations of bead colors…there’s no such thing, and that table is supposed to be complete, every known element.”

“I seem to recall that there are certain fees involved,” Broadbent said, “large fees, payable in Stellar Republic currency, a commodity in very short supply within the Anglic Union given your new trade regulations.” Let us see where he goes with that, she considered.

“The fees are very reasonable,” Bronkowski said, “and easily paid under our highly equitable trade regulations, namely the space yards in question agree to take a Stellar Republic spaceship construction firm as its senior investor, in which case the senior investor pays the fees.”

“I’ve heard of several of these,” Broadbent said.  She shook her head.  “It always seemed that after a while the senior investor ended up owning and then closing the yard in question.”

“Oh, on rare occasions business does poorly,” Bronkowski said, “and then the senior investor has to protect its investment in what was, after all, a small, fourth-rate shipyard.”

“I see,” Broadbent said.  “Of course, taking a foreign investor as a partner is illegal in the Anglic Union, so such arrangements are not worth discussing further here.  Foreign investment in the Union is illegal.”  She paused.  Bronkowski drew back.  Hadn’t he known, she wondered, how Union investment laws worked?  “So why would we want to register, ignoring financial issues?  You must have some good reasons.  Please tell me about them.”

“Madame Broadbent,” Brankowski said, “all across the galaxy, this is how things are done.  Before you build your spaceship, you must register it.  With us.”

“Curiously,” Broadbent said, “we are not someplace across the Galaxy.  We are here on Earth, the home world of mankind, in the successor state to the nation that gave mankind manned interplanetary flight.  We do not need to ask the permission of foreigners to build spaceships.  After all, we’ve been doing it since before your Republic did.”

“If you do not register it,” Brankowski said, “there are also practical consequences.”

“Actually, for that matter,” Broadbent asked, “why do you think we are planning on building spaceships?  You are not the first person to contact us on this topic, though most letters we get are nice people trying to sell us things.”

His Honor pointed at his automobile. “My office.  Back veranda is all shade.  Which reminds me, you must be Winston Cooper, mustn’t you?  Sheriff’s said lots of good things about you, how sharp you are, even if you did go to some Eastern college.”

“Yes, sir, Mayor Starling,” Winston answered.  “And the veranda sounds to be a fine idea.”

“Oh, Winston,” Radnor said,  “Three guys overflew the length of the rail line in an airplane.  They found the missing trains.  Destroyed.  No signs of survivors. The little towns are gone.  Governor wanted a posse to ride and look for people still living.  I said ‘not my jurisdiction’.  Thanks to the legislature, my jurisdiction stops at the Jameson Ranch.    Besides, something killed the two men in the signal tower.  It was locked up, but poison gas would do it.  I’m not riding into poison gas.”

“And I have waiting a pitcher or two of my mint tea,” John Starling said, “cooled overnight. You clearly need it.”

* * * * *

“…so that’s what I found,” Winston Cooper concluded.  He took another swallow of the Mayor’s tea.

“You’ll be writing it all up?” Grandpa Cooper did not make that sound like a question.

“Later,” Winston said.  “I still have three or four stops, detective work, before I get back to the office.”

“Just so it’s today,” Grandpa said, “so your memories are fresh.”

“Yes, sir.  And I appreciate your hospitality, Mayor Starling, but I must be on my way.”

* * * * *

Interesting, she thought.  Is it a random guess, or does know something that I don’t? “I’m sorry, Legate, but I seem to have missed something here,”  she answered.  “The Anglic Union to my knowledge does not register space ships.  Our ships have file entries in All the Galaxy’s Merchant Space Vessels, our entries now    actually being reasonably up to date, but that’s a courtesy to our regular customers, not a registration.”

“If you build a space ship,” Bronkowski said, “you have to register your construction project.  It’s  the law.”

“That’s a very interesting claim,” Broadbent said.  “Could you by some chance reference the Anglic Union Legislative Code section to which it corresponds?  I hadn’t been aware we regulated space ship construction.”  What, she wondered, is he talking about, given that we do not seem to be building spaceships, and why does the Stellar Republic care?

“I am not referring to Anglic Union Law,” Bronkowski said.  “I am referring to True Law as set down by the wealthiest, most progressive, and best-run star nation in the galaxy, namely the Stellar Republic.  Under our laws, before you start to build a starship, you must register your plans and have them approved by Republic inspectors.”

“I still seem to be missing something,” Broadbent said.  “We are in Northern California, a part of the Anglic Union, not someplace in the Stellar Republic.  Why do your laws matter here?”

“Of course, you are in the Anglic Union,” Bronkowski said calmly.  “I actually was aware of that.  However, it is generally the case that space yards in minor nations along our borders willingly and voluntarily agree to participate in our registration process.”

Big Gap Here.

Legate Bronkowski on Building Spaceships

Tara Broadbent leaned  back in her desk chair.  She had had her desk rotated through 180 degrees, so it now faced the coastline looking north, rather than facing her door.  The change also meant she had the sun at her side, not in her face, as it dipped into the Pacific. Today was a dreary late Fall day, with high but dark clouds promising heavy rain in the late evening.  She poked her autobrewer, setting it to making another large cup of tea.

One of the Seldon Legionaires who occasionally guarded her commented on her increased assassination hazard.  She had her back to the door.   He’d been unable to explain why ‘idiot walking up corridor’ was more likely than ‘missile flying through window’, and dropped the matter. 

Her intercom chimed.  “Broadbent here,” she said.

“Ms. Broadbent?” Mable’s voice came through loud and clear.  “There is a call.  Republic Legate Bronkowski.  He wanted to talk to Doctor Chelan, but I told him legal calls all went to you, and you were both on the Governing Committee.”

“Just a moment.”  Tara pushed her desk documents to the rear of the desk, out of line of site of the screen camera.  “Ready.”

Bronkowski’s frowning faceappeared on her vidscreen.  “Legate Bronkowski,” she said.  “How nice to see you again.  I hope the weather in Anglic Center is treating you well?”

“Good morning, counsellor.  The weather is indeed well.  My view is doubtless less attractive than yours. I am calling on official business,” Bronkowski announced.  “On behalf of the Stellar Republic, I must raise with Bulger Space yards certain legal issues.  I expect to speak to Doctor Chelan, not be fobbed off on an assistant.”

“Thank you for confirming that you are calling about legal issues,” Broadbent said.  “A competent staff will undoubtedly have informed you that I am our Senior Legal Officer, so you actually did want to talk to me.” Of course, Tara thought, the likelihood that you have a competent staff is just a bit limited.  “If you had reached Doctor Chelan, whose expertise lies not in the practice of law, he would have passed you to me.”

“Fair enough,” Bronkowksi answered, has facing turning ruddier.  “In any event, it has been called to the attention of the Stellar Republic that Bulger Space yards is preparing to design and build unregistered space ships, which has serious legal consequences.  You need to register what you are going to build.”

Bill Gordon preceded him over the rail bed to the assembled dignitaries.

“Gentlemen, and ladies,” he said, “rails are out for a considerable distance, more than I’d care to walk in this heat, meaning we’re going to have to reroute trains. I’ve got no idea how far south the break is, only that it was further than I could see.”

“I have to get to Phoenix!” The speaker was a tall young woman, wearing the blue jeans and checkered shirt you’d expect of someone who spent most of her day on the back of a horse. Despite a very wide hat, her tan was deep.  A trim figure and well-cared-for tall boots confirmed Gordon’s interpretation of her career through life.

“Humble apologies, ma’am,” Gordon said, tipping his hat as he spoke, “but you can’t take a train where there are no rails, and the rails are simply gone. I’ve seen washouts before, but nothing like this.”

She held up her hands to the sky.  “What the Good Lord provides we must accept.  Someone here can tell me how long it’ll take to get to Phoenix.”

“Ma’am, the railroad will be moving as fast as possible to get you to your destination.”

That, Gordon thought, was the Prescott railmaster, doing something Gordon had almost never seen, namely being meekly polite to a customer.

“There just aren’t a lot of North-South lines, the rail master said apologetically, “I’m afraid it’s through Albuquerque and Tucson or through Los Angeles, and figure a two-day trip each way. That’s the best I can do, sorry.  But we will honor your ticket, whenever you want to go.”

“Thank you, sir. Into each life some rain must fall.” She turned around and walked off.

Winston turned sideways until he was facing his grandfather and the mayor.

“Your Honor, grandpa,” Cooper said, “I have something of a report, but as there may have been some murders I should give it privately.”

“Ongoing criminal investigation,” Grandpa Cooper said.  He glared at the newspaper editor.  “Mike, that means ‘Sheriff Cooper had no comment.’ Off the record, that means we don’t know if people were killed, or if they were struck by lightning, so we’re trying to find out.”

“You’ve got me,” Andrew said. “For Uncle Sam, starting well before the War, I’ve been in all sorts of interesting places. Rome, saw Pompeii and Herculaneum and how they were buried by a volcano. Saw a bit of the Gobi desert. Briefly stationed on the west coast of the Persian Gulf, next to some of the most desolate scenery you can imagine, a place the natives call ‘The Empty Quarter’, had a rail tour of India complete with seeing the Himalayas at a distance. Those are huge mountains. But I’ve never seen anything or heard of anything like this.”

“Call it a hidden volcano,” Cornelius suggested, “one that erupts burning-hot sand, and then disappears so you can’t find it again. Or simply say it’s a mystery. No explanation for disaster! Now that’s a fine subheading on your next edition of your newspaper.”

“Yes,” Charles said, “those are great ideas. And I bury the no explanation bit a few lines in so the editor doesn’t see it right off.”

“And while we’ve been jabbering,” Cornelius said, “we’ve come around so we’re headed near-on due south, that star is still at our nine-o’clock, so it’s got to be some sort of plane or balloon or something. And if you notice we’re going down, it’s that we’re approaching the Sky Harbor.”

Winston Cooper climbed down the ladder, then dropped to the gravel by the tracks. The second half of the trip, backing all the way, had been way slower than the first. In his head, he’d already composed his report as Associate Sheriff. There were dead people, they didn’t look to have died naturally, but that was why they had a town coroner, even if he had lots of other business.

He realized he should’ve expected: Waiting for them were the mayor, the publisher of the city’s newspaper, several women he didn’t know, a fellow in three-piece suit with gold chain pocket watch, and his grandfather. Gramps was in full Sheriff’s dress complete with vest, large bright-polished gold badge, a six-gun belted on each side of his waist, and two deputies flanking him. The deputies were carrying Browning Automatic Rifles, which they hardly ever broke out of the arms locker.

“I anticipate that the first of our ore haulers will be departing earth in the immediate future. Delayed maintenance on the others may take a while, though I gather for two of them flight will happen sooner rather than later.  One of our ore haulers appears to be mostly useful as a supply of parts. We are in the process of reviving the entirety of the space yards. Do we need all of it? Each segment of the yards is arranged to permit replacement of particular types of components of a ship. We can’t anticipate in advance which components will need replacement, so therefore we do have to bring the entire yard up into operation. Because we are busy paying off bond and note holders, the number of people we can pay for yard refurbishment is a bit limited. My message to the holders of Bulger debt is that we appear to be on schedule on repayments, recent changes mean that we will have significantly more income than had been expected, and therefore we may be repaying ahead of schedule.

“Since I must leave to meet with faculty and student leaders, in answer to the question ‘will Bulger be building more spaceships?’ the answer is still that we are too busy killing alligators to consider draining the swamp. Once we are done killing the alligators, that question becomes at least of hypothetical interest. Finally, I thank the local constabularies who appeared so that I could land and address the press.  Thank you also for separating the demonstrators and the counter-demonstrators, so that there will be no unpleasant events. And with that, I must advance.”

&&&&&

“To answer your question, I don’t think the Governor believed me.  We’re good friends, and he knows the medals I won over there, but what could do that?  He just doesn’t believe it. ” Andrew pointed over the side of the plane at the chrome-yellow sand.

“Been pondering the same,” Charles said. “I have my photos. I’m taking more. I really wish someone made useful color film.”

“You can make color photographs at all?” Cornelius said. “That’s amazing. It’s an age of wonders we live in. Mentioning wonders, I keep following this color border, changing course as we go, I gather Andrew keeps marking things on his map, but that line between yellow and not yellow is perfectly sharp.”

“The border looks to be a simple circle,” Andrew said. “If I’m right, in a couple minutes we pass over Wilhoit.”

“Meanwhile,” Charles said, “if I could have your attention for a moment, knowing you’re busy with that map?”

“We’re doing the amazing speed of 60 mph, give or take, but it still takes a little while for us to get someplace,” Andrew answered.

“That star you said wasn’t Venus,” Charles answered. “When we started following the sand area, headed more or less west, that star was more or less at nine-o-clock from us, and well above the horizon. We’ve gone far enough and turned enough that the sun, instead of being right behind us, is now over my left shoulder, at about 8 o’clock. But if I look out at 9 o’clock and up, that star is in exactly the same place. It can’t be a star, can it? It must be some sort of airplane.”

“Good eyes,” Andrew said. He fumbled with his map for a moment. “And if the sand area is some sort of a circle, which I’ll have checked by tonight, it must be sort of in the middle, give or take.”

“Checked?” Cornelius said.

“I anticipate the Governor wants to know the complete border of this whatever-it-is, meaning I get to go off and talk to him, Charles goes to his newspaper with all his film to develop, you get to have a full lunch, though by the way whoever made the sandwiches did a truly fine job, and that coffee is the best in town, but later this afternoon, say around three, I’m going to want to fly the other half-circuit, and probably take another observer along.”                                                           

“It pays for my house,” Cornelius said.  “Every so often I have enough cash to do some more work on it and a full day here makes a certain contribution to that.”

“You’re building it yourself?” Charles asked.

“I paid a good carpenter to put up the shell and floor,” Cornelius answered, “and I’m doing the rest.  I love flying, but I also love fine carpentry.”

“You keep writing notes to yourself, Charles,” Andrew observed.  “I’m staring at the sand, and see nothing different.”

“All the same, “Charles agreed.  ” ‘A zone of total devastation’, I call it.  Nothing remains.  No trees, no brush, no houses — I spotted a couple more foundations – no watercourses, except outside there are rivulets going dry.  And back inside no tracks, no ties, no phone poles, trains smashed flat.  I can write all the graphic details, but my editor will demand that I explain what happened. I am at wit’s end.”