The Continent Makers and Other Tales of the Viagens by L. Sprague de Camp Read Free Book Online Page A

them everything in sight. When it was over, the males lined up and signed checks, using their claws as pens, as fast as Chapman could quote them prices. Although these prices were fantastically high they did not, of course, cover the cost of bringing the sample trunk to Osiris, but there was no point either in giving the things away or in blowing a few grand more hauling them back to Earth.
    After all the samples had been sold, the female Osirians wanted to buy the girls’ personal clothes—all of them. It took all Chapman’s persuasion to get rid of them.
    “Whew!” he said as the last Osirian belle stalked out, a beret perched on her cockscomb and a halter around her breastless torso. “That—uh—that show you, eh, Thafahiya?”
    “Magnificent!” said the Osirian. “We shall sign the contract forthwith. What a pity that with our bodily temperature control, we have never felt the need of this charming custom of wearing clothes? Come, I shall give you your contract and your first payment. When may we expect our first portfolio of designs?”
    “They—they on way,” said Chapman in his stumbling Sha’akhfi. “Are being sent here by ship, for deposit with Viagens, and released to you if contract has been closed. Let us hurry, for we not want to miss Camões’ return trip.”
    “No great matter; one of our own ships leaves for your star a few days later . . .”
    Chapman hurried nevertheless. Osirians slept on the floor, did not use chairs, and subsisted on the meat of other reptiles which they domesticated. While he’d heard their spaceships made special provisions for human passengers, as those of the Viagens did for e.t.s, he did not care to test their sleeping accommodations and cuisine himself.

    ###

    When he had stowed his copy of the contract between Greenfarb’s and Thafahiya’s syndicate safely in Captain Almeida’s safe, Cato Chapman said: “Well, girls, guess our fortunes are made.” Then he yelped as he saw Bergerat’s name on the passenger list.
    “Well,” said Celia, “what did you expect the poor man to do?”
    Chapman said: “This may be embarrassing.”
    It did not, however, prove so. Bergerat grinned at him and said: “Where can we talk, my old? I have a proposition to make.”
    Later he said: “Look, I cannot go back to Tomaselli. He will not only fire me but will try to get me blacklisted in Paris. A very vengeful man, my little Tomaselli.
    “Now you and I, we have fought with what you call the bare knuckles—or is it brass knuckles?—and you have won. Bien. I congratulate you. But why can I not go back to Hollywood with you? It is the world’s other great style center. Perhaps you could put in a good word for me with your Miss Greenfarb.”
    “Hm,” said Chapman. “An idea. Can’t promise anything. Nettie’ll probably think Tomaselli is trying to plant you in her shop as a spy. Are you sure he isn’t?” Chapman looked hard at his friendly enemy.
    “No, no! That is easily proved. True, there is another motive in the case.”
    “Huh?”
    “A sentimental motive. Your Miss Zorn—ahum—ah . . .”
    “Oh. Well, I’ll do what I can. By the way, how’d you work that Mickey Finn trick on me? I carefully watched you drink the same stuff.”
    “That was simple,” said Bergerat. “I used a barbiturate that is counteracted by caffeine, and I filled myself with coffee before I visited your cabin. But we are all done with these games now, no?”

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    Five months later, subjective time, the shuttle rocket from Pluto landed at Mohave Spaceport. Chapman, with Anya clinging to his arm, walked down the ramp. There would be changes in twenty-two years. Fortunately, because of the great lengthening of the human lifespan in the last century, most of his old acquaintances would still be around. Including Miss Nettie.
    He puffed furiously on his pipe, the first smoke he’d been allowed since boarding the Camões. Behind him came Bergerat and Celia. As they passed through the