Ole Doc Methuselah (4 page)

Hope
was the prevailing emotion and there was not a man there who did not consider
himself a potential millionaire to such a degree that they were giving each
other notes of hand payable thirty days hence to enormous sums. But so far as
actual cash was concerned, from what Ole Doc could glean, there remained but a
few dollars in the whole town. The rest he correctly judged was safely drowned
in the depths of Edouard Blanchard's safe. The town was restricted between a
river and a ridge and every inch of ground between these natural boundaries was
deeded to someone other than Edouard Blanchard, as Ole Doc, later in the
afternoon, ascertained after a short session with the clerk. He was forced to
waken the clerk several times during his inspection of the books. That gentleman
was happily asleep when some of the ledgers not generally opened were closely
inspected.

Ole
Doc stood in the sunlight for a while, thoughtful, barely avoiding a blaster
fight which broke out in a
swill parlor
. Finally he
understood that Edouard Blanchard probably intended to leave the area for good
before another dawn came.

Ole
Doc had for some time been aware of shadowing of the
Morgue
. But before
he went back to his ship he decided to take an unusual step.

This
did not consume many minutes, for there were only five space vessels in the
crude port and all of these had come from more or less regular runs amongst
known systems. His business transacted, he went back to the golden vessel.

 

That
evening, after a pleasant dinner over which Miss Elston graciously presided,
Ole Doc and Hippocrates left the ship on an expedition. They had reached the
bottom of the ladder when Ole Doc turned to his slave.

“Hippocrates,
over there on the left you behold some trees. Under them you will find a
Martian. You will make a wide circuit and come up upon him while I distract his
attention from in front. Without injury to the fellow you will hold him and
make him prisoner. We will then put him away safely in the
Morgue
and go
about our business.”

Dart,
squirming and shuddering a little bit in the cold, and perhaps with a
premonition that he should not expect the evening to deliver anything but evil,
suddenly felt himself struck solidly and expertly from behind. As he went down
he half drew a blaster but there was no chance to use it. Dreaming peacefully
of his beloved canals, he was carried back to the ship and consigned to an
escape-proof compartment.

In
a businesslike way then Hippocrates picked up his burden and trudged after Ole
Doc around the outskirts of the town toward the higher level of ground where
the river had been diverted into three reservoirs which provided the water
supply.

Hippocrates
was under a double burden, the sack which he carried on his back and the burden
which lay in his mind. As they made their way through the night, the heavy
little being shaking the solid ground of Spico with every step no matter how
light he intended it, and Ole Doc regarding the stars with a musing eye,
Hippocrates rattled off the code from start to finish. Then he began again. Soon,
newer arguments for sanity occurred to him and he started to quote at length:

On
Woman

The
stronger the woman
The
safer the man
As
he ventures afar
On
the Spaces that span.

For
love may be lovely
In
summer's soft haze
And
days may be sweeter
When
fond passions blaze.

But
far out on Astri
With
light frying hot
Adventure
can't live
When
there's naught in the pot.

Her
sweet curling ringlets
Can't
warm you at night
And
the dew in her eyes
May
but lead you to fight.

No!
Take woman stronger
Than
Vega
's bright blare
For
then you live longer
Yea,
live to get there!

(Tales
of the Space Rangers)

Hippocrates
finished this quotation with considerable satisfaction which lasted only long
enough to see that Ole Doc hadn't even heard it. He glumly subsided, despairing,
for there was no mistaking the elasticity of Ole Doc's step, nor the softness
of his eye.

It
was a beautiful night. Spico's several moons made the ground iridescent and
played in triangular patterns upon the reservoirs. Ole Doc was very cheerful.
“Now there,” he said, “dump a third of that sack in each one of these and back
we'll go.”

It
was not until now that Hippocrates gave way to the most gloomy forebodings. He
had seen Ole Doc busy with his tubes. He had seen this white powder gushing out
into the sacks but he had not associated it with the population of Junction City. Even if his reasoning powers might be feeble, it took no great effort on his
part to see that Ole Doc fully intended to poison every person there.
Hippocrates hesitated.

He
was trembling, so great was the effort to disobey Ole Doc. He had no
conversation to match his feelings about this. He could only look mutely,
appealingly, and stand still.

“Go
ahead,” said Ole Doc. And then, focusing more closely upon his slave, he
suddenly realized that that being was considerably afraid.

Hippocrates
tried to begin the Universal Medical Code once more but failed.

Although
it greatly taxed his strength, Ole Doc picked up the bag and began the task
himself. The white powder went instantly into solution and one could see it
spreading far out across the reservoir in the moonlight. When he had treated
all three of the repositories he gave the empty sack back to Hippocrates. Such
was the manner of the giving that Ole Doc's anger was clearly demonstrated in
it.

All
the way back to the
Morgue
Hippocrates lagged behind, head heavy against
his barrel chest,
gypsum
tears dripping slowly onto his doublet. It was the
first time Ole Doc had ever been angry with him.

Chapter Four

The
strains of various instruments and occasional shouts came on the night wind
from the more lawless quarter of Junction City. Closer at hand a campfire
burned and about it clustered the flame-bathed faces of pioneers. They listened
to a faint and plaintive Magri song which hung over them like some sad ghost of
night.

Ole
Doc passed close to the group but paused to listen to the woman who sang. In
his present mood he could understand the notes if not the words of the melody.
They called before his eyes the cascades of bright hair which he supposed
waited for him over at the
Morgue.
A wind was blowing softly from
Spico's white plains but there was a chill in it and those about the fire
huddled closer. They listened in deeper silence.

An
eager-faced young Earthman noticed Ole Doc and made way for him in the circle.
Ole Doc stumbled against the hydrant which studded this as well as every other
lot in Junction City. These people had no home, he observed, nor lumber with
which to build one. They were living instead on the bare ground using blanket
screens to protect their dressing. There were several children sprawled even
now outside the ring and one of them whimpered and a woman went to it.

The
song was done and the young man, offering his tobacco to Ole Doc, said with a
smile of camaraderie, “Where's your lot, stranger? Close by?”

“Pretty
close,” said Ole Doc.

“How
many in your party?” said the young man.

“Just
myself and a slave.”

A
woman nearby leaned over with a laugh, “Well, a young fellow like you,” she
said, “is going to need help when it comes to putting his house together. Why
don't you come and help us and then when you get ready we'll help you?”

The
young man laughed, several of the others joining in. “That's a fair bargain,”
he said. “There are fourteen of us and only two of you. That's a pretty good
ratio.”

The
woman looked smilingly on Ole Doc. “We got to remember this is a new country,”
she said, “and that we're all neighbors. And that if we don't all help each
other out then we'll never make anything of it.”

Ole
Doc looked around. “I don't see any building materials here yet,” he said.

The
young man shook his head, “Not yet. We're looking around to find a job. It took
what money we had to buy our passage and get the lot you're sitting on.”

An
older man across the circle joined in. “Well, according to Captain Blanchard,
that atomic power plant should be going up any day now and then we'll all have
work. If we don't build a palace first off, why, I guess that can wait for a
while. A solid roof is all I ask. This one we got now leaks.” He looked up at
the stars.

They
all laughed and the old man who had just spoken, finding the strain too much
for him, began to cough. He did so alarmingly, as though at any moment he would
spray his soul out on the ground before him. Ole Doc watched, eyes narrowed,
suddenly professional. He stood up.

“You
want to watch these cold nights, old man,” said Ole Doc. He fumbled through
his pockets but it was Hippocrates behind him who found what he sought. The
small black kit had been stowed in his boot pocket.

Ole
Doc took it out now and selected from it a very small but extremely potent
pill. He skirted the fire and gave it to the old man.

“Take
this and you'll feel better.”

There
was some question in the eyes about him and considerable reluctance on the part
of the old man. For all beware the unhappy human frailty of trying to
administer to everyone else's diseases.

“Go
ahead,” said Ole Doc, “I'm a physician.”

The
old man took the pill then and swallowed it.

“That
ought to cure you in an hour or so,” said Ole Doc. “And if you keep yourself
dry and warm, your asthma shouldn't be coming back on you very soon.”

There
was renewed attention about the circle. “Well, by Saturn,” said the old man,
“I never heard of no pill that'd cure asthma in two or three hours. What kind
of a doctor do you be?”

Unbidden,
phonograph-recordwise, Hippocrates was only too glad to answer this question.
“‘The Soldier of Light is no ordinary physician,”' he announced in his shrill
voice. “‘He is part of an organization of seven hundred who have dedicated
themselves to the ultimate preservation of mankind no matter the wars or
explorations of space. There are one hundred and seventy-six trillion human
beings throughout this galaxy. There is roughly one physician for every hundred
and sixty of these. There are only seven hundred Soldiers of Light. They give
allegiance to no government, need no passport; so long as they do not engage in
political activity, their persons are inviolate.

“‘An
apprenticeship of one hundred years is required to become a member of this
society and membership is not confirmed even then until the applicant has made
an undeniably great contribution to the health and happiness of mankind.
Members of the Universal Medical Society do not practice as do ordinary
physicians. They accept no fee. The organization is self-supporting.'

“You
see before you my master, Soldier of Light seventy-seven, known as Methuselah.”

Before
Ole Doc could stop them, all the members of the circle about the fire had risen
to their feet and the men had uncovered their heads. Not one person there had
failed to hear of the organization and several had heard of Ole Doc Methuselah.
None of them had ever before been privileged to behold a member of this awed
and sacred society.

Embarrassed
and a bit out of patience with his faithful slave, Ole Doc left hurriedly. He
was angry within himself in the realization that it was he himself who was at
fault, for he had never attempted to educate Hippocrates into intrigue. He
doubted that anyone could possibly impress upon the fellow that Ole Doc could
or would do anything which could not be published on every visioscreen in the galaxy.
True, there had been some peccadillos in the past but this was before the time
of Hippocrates. However, for all his good intentions, he could not bring
himself to address the slave in friendly terms and so walked on harshly ahead
of him.

Hippocrates,
disconsolate, outcast the second time, dropped far behind and finally sat down
on a stone beside the path to try to exude his misery into the night and so be
rid of it.

By
himself Ole Doc reached the ship. He was all the way into the dining salon
before he fully recognized the fact that it was empty. Miss Elston was gone.

At
first he thought she might have gone out to take a turn in the night but then a
piece of paper, icy white on the salon table, told him this was not the case.
It was in Miss Elston's handwriting.

 

Please do not try to find me or come for me. I
am doing this of my own accord and I have no wish to get you into trouble
knowing very well that you could be cast out of your society for engaging in
political affairs.

Alicia Elston

Ole
Doc read it through twice, trembling. Then throwing it savagely into the corner
he dashed to the cabinet where he had enclosed Dart. That worthy was gone.
Belatedly he bethought himself that the Martian might well have had his pocket
radiophones concealed about him.

The
cabinet containing Elston, being unknown, was, of course, undisturbed.

From
a locker Ole Doc grabbed a blaster, fifty rounds and a medical case. Still
buckling it on he ran across the field where the
Morgue
stood. He headed
straight for the building where he had that day seen Blanchard.