R. De Witt Miller

“ Rovance said, "that the basis of the matter is the strangling of free enterprise."
"I agree," said Lesquallan. "What right has Acme to interfere with free enterprise? They haven't a dollar to our million."
"What shall we do?" Neinfort-Whritings murmured.
"Follow Swenson's suggestion. We're going to the PCC—and we're going to our top contacts. They owe us plenty."
"Shall we dictate a memo?" Esrov put in.
"Call the PCC," Lesquallan ordered. "We're not dictating anything. And we're not sending any messages to anybody. Let the PCC send them!" ”

“ When Swenson came back the next morning, he was sober, ornery and disinclined to do any work. He cornered O'Toole, the labor relations man, and began talking women. O'Toole was intrigued but evasive.
"Your trouble," Swenson said, "is not with women. It's with evolution. I don't blame evolution for creating women. I blame it for abandoning the egg. ”

“ We have half a load of snuff for Mars. And we've been promised half a load of canned goods for Luna City. It's reduced rate freight that another company can't handle."
"Dovorkin told me about the snuff. That's a starter, anyway." Swenson turned back to the Dispatch Sheet and muttered to himself: "Always a good thing to have snuff for Mars." ”

“ If evolution had followed my theory, I, being a man, would not lay eggs. Women would and therefore they would escape—"
"Swenson," Mister Cerobie called from the door of the Board Room, "you are hired—tentatively—as a dispatcher, not an egg-evolution theorist. ”

“ Swenson crossed the room to the astrographer in the calculating booth and said: "Plot the free-falling curve for Number 5 to Mars." Then he followed Mister Cerobie into the Chairman's office.
Half an hour later, they came out and Swenson went back to his desk. First he glanced at the free-falling plot. Then he snorted, called the astrographer and fired him. Next he said to Mister Cerobie: "Is that half load of snuff...."
"Yes, it is. You know Martians as well as I do. With their type of nose, they must get quite a sensation. I understand they go a bit berserk. ”

“ You don't need any other, do you? I know most of the boys on your mobile junkyard. They trust me, so they'll trust you. You have my word that Cerobie will go for the idea."
"You talk to Cerobie and let me know what happens. Meanwhile, I'll think over your suggestions."
The ship-calling light blinked off and Swenson went back to coding the speech insert.
As he was finishing, O'Toole came in.
Swenson looked up. "O'Toole, sure and it's one hell of a job you're doing. You've got me in a fight with myself. My Swedish half wants to ignore you and my Irish half wants to punch you in the nose. ”

“ Swenson looked at O'Toole for a moment in silence. "No, I don't like eggs for eating. My theory concerns another aspect—"
"I know," said O'Toole resignedly.
Esrov's urbane voice came from the desk speaker. "Mr. Swenson, you have some information for us?"
"Yes, Esrov. I've just seen your message to our Board and I want you to know that I can certainly understand your position. I could not prevent the restraining order. However, I have a suggestion as to what you can do about it."
"We are doing everything we can."
"Didn't you support Senator Higby for re-election last year? ”

“ No employee of Acme Interplanetary Express had left the smoke-dense office when the ship-calling light went on: "Number 5 to Swenson. Verbold speaking."
"Dispatcher to Number 5. Go ahead."
"Uproar under control. I followed your instructions. A crew that's laughing won't mutiny. The crew sends thanks and their most pious wishes for the distress of Moulton. The men expect shares of the proceeds, if any, in the lawsuit. But they insist on being paid on Mars."
"They will be, Captain Verbold. Now I've got to keep this beam clear. Good luck." Swenson turned to Mister Cerobie. ”

“ Let's say your wife lays an egg and, at the moment, you don't have money enough to support another child. All you would have to do is put the egg in cold storage until your ship comes in. Then you can take the egg out and incubate it. Instead of being—"
The click of the latch as O'Toole closed the door caused Swenson to spin in his chair. Tossing his pencil on the Dispatch Sheet, he put on his coat and went home.
When the dispatcher for Acme Interplanetary Express arrived at the office the following morning, a Special Message lay in sublime isolation on his desk. ”

“ Swenson glanced at it:
Acme Interplanetary Express
147 Z Street
New York
Your ship Number 4 is hereby grounded at Luna City, pending an investigation of a riot involving your men, and for non-payment of bill for atomic slug purification. Your Number 4 is also charged with unpaid demurrage bill.
Planetary Commerce Commission
Swenson muttered: "Good!" and threw the Special Message in the wastebasket. Mister Cerobie, who had just entered the office, fished the form out and read it.
"It never rains, but it pours," he said.
"You can't stand long on one foot," Swenson answered without looking up. ”

“ They've got an in with the Planetary Commerce Commission. What's the demurrage?"
"Seventy-six thousand dollars."
"Can you raise it?"
"No."
Swenson glanced at the sheet. "How come Number 2 is in New York?" ”

“ Swenson said, "and alter course for Luna City. I'll send you the exact course in a few minutes. When you get to Luna, land beside the Moulton Trust's ship. Now stand by to record code."
Swenson reached back to Mister Cerobie. "Acme private code book."
Silently, the Chairman of the Board handed it to him. When Swenson had finished coding, he handed the original message to Mister Cerobie. The message read:
"Captain Elsing, have crew start fight with Moulton's crew. ”

“ That's why their government outlaws snuff as an Earth vice. However, our cargo release states that it is being sent for 'medicinal purposes.' It's no consequence to us what they use the snuff for. We're just hauling it. ”

“ If things get too bad, I might take advantage of our valiant guarders of the spaceways. All right, you said you had three suggestions. What's the third?"
"Some goons on a Moulton Trust ship, parked beside our number 2 on the Moon, started a fight and beat up our boys. We're about to sue Moulton for plenty. Tell your crew about it and suggest that if they behave, we'll cut them in on the proceeds from the suit, in addition to paying their wages as soon as a snuff cargo that I had to send into orbital gets to Mars."
"On whose authority am I to make such a statement?"
"Swenson's. ”