Norton, Andre - Anthology (14 page)

 
          
 
"Just a minute, Nolan.
What was the number of the boat again?"

 
          
 
Nolan told him.

 
          
 
"Just a moment.
Ah, yes. I see that the vessel is chartered to the Union for Human Privileges.
They're only semiofficial, of course—but they're a powerful organization."

 
          
 
"Not powerful enough to legally pitch
camp on my land," Nolan said.

 
          
 
"Well ... I think it's more than a
camping trip, Mr. Nolan. The UPH intends to set up a permanent relocation
facility for underprivileged persons displaced by overcrowding from the Welfare
Center."

 
          
 
"On my claim?"

 
          
 
"Well, as to that, your claim isn't
actually finalized, you realize. The five-year residency reqirement hasn't yet
been fulfilled, of course
if ..
."

 
          
 
"Nonsense.
That
approach wouldn't hold up in court for five minutes!"

 
          
 
"Perhaps—but it might be some years
before the case appeared on the agenda. Meanwhile . . . well, I'm afraid I
can't offer much encouragement, Mr. Nolan. You'll just have to adjust."

 
          
 
"Reed!"
Annette gasped. "There's a man with a power saw; he's cutting down one of
the sycamores!"

 
          
 
As Nolan turned to the window, a black-painted
personnel car pulled to a stop outside. The hatches popped up. Four men, a
stout woman, and a lath-thin youth stepped down. A moment later Nolan heard the
front door open. A short, heavily-built man with bristly reddish hair strolled
into the front hall, his retinue close behind him.

 
          
 
"Well, a fortunate find," a voice
said. "The structure seems sound enough. We'll establish my administrative
HO here, I think. And you can prepare personal quarters for me as well; much as
I'd prefer to share issue accommodations with our people, I'll need to remain
close to affairs."

 
          
 
"I think there's ample room for all the
staff here, Director Fraswell," another voice said, "if we make do
with a room apiece
.. ."

 
          
 
"Don't be afraid to share a little
hardship with the men, Chester." The man called Fraswell cut off his
subordinate's remark curtly. "I'll remind you . . ." He broke off
abruptly as he caught sight of Nolan and Annette.

 
          
 
"Who's this?" the plump man barked.
He had a mottled complexion and a wide, unsmiling mouth. He turned to the man
beside him. "What's this fellow doing here, Chester?"

 
          
 
"Here, who're you?" A lean, bony man
with a crooked face spoke sharply, coming forward from behind his chief.

 
          
 
"My name is Nolan—"

 
          
 
"Get his crew number," a third man
spoke up.

 
          
 
"Here, fellow, what's your number?"
the crooked-faced man said quickly.

 
          
 
"Who's the woman?" the plump man
barked. "I made it clear there was to be no fraternization!"

 
          
 
"Get the woman's number," Chester
said sharply.

 
          
 
"All right, crew and unit numbers,"
the man in the rear rank said, coming forward. "Let's see your wrists,
both of you."

 
          
 
Nolan stepped in front of Annette. "We
don't have numbers," he said. "We're not in your party. We live here.
My name is Nolan—"

 
          
 
"Eh?" The plump man interjected in
elaborate puzzlement. "Live here?"

 
          
 
"Live here?" his aide echoed.

 
          
 
"That's right. That's my dock you tied up
to. This is my house. I now ..."

 
          
 
"Oh, yes." The plump man nodded,
making a show of recalling a trivial datum. "You're the fellow . . .
what's his
name, ...
ah, Nolan. Yes. I was told you
had established some sort of squatter's claim here."

 
          
 
"My claim is on file at Toehold, ten
copies, notarized and fees paid. So I'd appreciate it if you'd load your
property back aboard your boat and take another look at your charts. I don't
know where you were headed, but I'm afraid this spot's taken."

 
          
 
The plump man's face went expressionless. He
looked past Nolan's left ear.

 
          
 
"I've requisitioned this site for the
resettlement of a quota of economically disadvantaged persons," he said
solemnly. "We constitute the advance party, to make ready the facilities
for the relocatees who're to follow. I trust we'll have your full cooperation
in this good work."

 
          
 
"The facilities as you call them, happen
to be private property—"

 
          
 
"You'd prate of selfish interests with
the welfare of hundreds at stake?" Fraswell barked.

 
          
 
Nolan looked at him. "Why here?" he
asked levelly.

           
 
"There are thousands of unoccupied
islands available—" "This one seems most easily adaptable for our
purposes," Fraswell said flatly. "I estimate a thousand persons can
be accommodated here quite nicely ..."

 
          
 
"It's no different than any other island
in the chain."

            
Fraswell looked surprised.
"Nonsense.
The cleared land along the shore is ideal
for erection of the initial campsite; and I note various food plants are
available to supplement issue rations."

 
          
 
A man in a clerical collar came into the room,
rubbing his hands. "A stroke of luck, Director Fraswell," he cried.
"I've found a supply of non-issue foodstuffs, including a well-stocked
freezer . . ."He broke off as he saw Nolan and Annette.

 
          
 
"Yes, yes, Padre," Fraswell said.
"I'll conduct an inventory and see to an equitable distribution of items
found."

 
          
 
"Found—or stolen?" Nolan said.

 
          
 
"Whaaat?"

 
          
 
"Why can't these deserving cases of yours
produce their own supplies? The land's fertile enough
for .
.."

 
          
 
The cleric stared. "Our people are not
criminals, condemned to hard labor," he said indignantly. "They're
merely disadvantaged. They have the same right to Nature's bounty as
yourself
."

 
          
 
"Aren't you missing the distinction
between Nature's bounty and the product of human effort? There's an ample
supply of Nature on the next island. You have plenty of labor available. If you
take virgin land, in a year you can harvest your own crop."

 
          
 
"You expect me to subject these
unfortunate people to unnecessary hardships, merely out of your personal
selfishness?" Fraswell snorted.

 
          
 
"I cleared land; they can start off the
same way I did—"

           
 
"My instructions are to establish my
group at a certain standard; the more quickly that standard is reached—"

 
          
 
"The better you'll look back at HQ,
eh?"

 
          
 
A woman had followed the cleric into the room.
She was thick-necked, red-faced, with grimly frizzed gray hair, dressed in
drab-colored clothing and stout shoes. She looked indignantly at Nolan.

 
          
 
"The land and what's on it belongs to everyone,"
she snapped.
"The idea, one man trying to hog it all!
I guess you'd just set here in luxury and let women and children starve!"

 
          
 
"I'd let them clear their own land and
plant their own crops," Nolan said gently. "And build
their own
headquarters. This happens to be my family's
house. I built it—and the power plant, and the sewage
system
..
."

 
          
 
"Wonder where he got the money for all
that," the woman wondered aloud. "No honest man has that kind of
cash."

 
          
 
"Now, Milly," Fraswell said
indulgently.

 
          
 
"I saved eighty credits per month for
twenty-seven years, Madam," Nolan said.
"From a
very modest salary."

 
          
 
"So that makes you better than other
folk, eh?" She pursued the point. "Can't live in barracks, like
everybody else—"

 
          
 
"Now, Miltrude," Fraswell said
mildly, and turned back to Nolan.

 
          
 
"
Mr.
. . . ah .
. . Nolan, inasmuch as I'll be requiring information from you as to various
matters, you may as well be assigned a cot here at HQ. I'm sure that, now
you've considered it, you'll agree that the welfare of the community comes
first, though modest personal sacrifices may be required of the individual,
eh?"

 
          
 
"What about my wife?"

 
          
 
Fraswell looked grave. "I've ordered that
there'll be no sexual fraternization for the present—"

           
 
"How do we know she's your wife?"
Miltrude demanded.

 
          
 
Annette gasped and moved closer to Nolan; the
crooked-faced man caught at her arm. Nolan stepped forward and knocked it away.

 
          
 
"Oh, violence,
eh?"
Fraswell nodded as if in satisfaction.
"Call
Grotz in."
Chester hurried away. Annette clutched Nolan's hand.

 
          
 
"It's all right," he said.
"Fraswell knows how far he can go." He looked meaningfully at the
plump man. "This isn't an accident, is it?" he said. "I suppose
you've had your eye on our island for some time; you were just waiting until we
had it far enough along to make it worth stealing."

 
          
 
The big man from the boat came into the room,
looking around. He saw Nolan.

 
          
 
"Hey, you—"

 
          
 
Fraswell held up a hand.

 
          
 
"Now, Nolan—there'll be no more
outbursts, I trust. As I say, you'll be assigned quarters here at HQ provided
you can control yourself."

 
          
 
A lanky, teen-age lad with an unfortunate
complexion sauntered in through the open door. He had a small, nearly ripe
tomato in his hand, from which he had just taken a bite.