DOUBLE TROUBLE
by CARL JACOBI
Grannie Annie, that waspish science-fiction
writer, was in a jam again. What with red-spot
fever, talking cockatoos and flagpole trees,
I was running in circles—especially since
Grannie became twins every now and then.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
We had left the offices of Interstellar Voice three days ago, Earthtime, and now as the immense disc of Jupiter flamed across the sky,entered the outer limits of the Baldric. Grannie Annie strode in thelead, her absurd long-skirted black dress looking as out of place inthis desert as the trees.
Flagpole trees. They rose straight up like enormous cat-tails, withonly a melon-shaped protuberance at the top to show they were a form ofvegetation. Everything else was blanketed by the sand and the powerfulwind that blew from all quarters.
As we reached the first of those trees, Grannie came to a halt.
"This is the Baldric all right. If my calculations are right, we've hitit at its narrowest spot."
Ezra Karn took a greasy pipe from his lips and spat. "It looks like therest of this God-forsaken moon," he said, "'ceptin for them sticks."
Xartal, the Martian illustrator, said nothing. He was like that,taciturn, speaking only when spoken to.
He could be excused this time, however, for this was only our third dayon Jupiter's Eighth Moon, and the country was still strange to us.
When Annabella C. Flowers, that renowned writer of science fiction,visiphoned me at Crater City, Mars, to meet her here, I had thought shewas crazy. But Miss Flowers, known to her friends as Grannie Annie,had always been mildly crazy. If you haven't read her books, you'vemissed something. She's the author of Lady of the Green Flames,Lady of the Runaway Planet, Lady of the Crimson Space-Beast, andother works of science fiction. Blood-and-thunder as these books are,however, they have one redeeming feature—authenticity of background.Grannie Annie was the original research digger-upper, and when shelaid the setting of a yarn on a star of the sixth magnitude, only atransportation-velocity of less than light could prevent her fromvisiting her "stage" in person.
Therefore when she asked me to meet her at the landing field ofInterstellar Voice on Jupiter's Eighth Moon, I knew she had anothernovel in the state of embryo.
What I didn't expect was Ezra Karn. He was an old prospector Granniehad met, and he had become so attached to the authoress he now followedher wherever she went. As for Xartal, he was a Martian and was slatedto do the illustrations for Grannie's new book.
Five minutes after my ship had blasted down, the four of us met in theoffices of Interstellar Voice. And then I was shaking hands withAntlers Park, the manager of I. V. himself.
"Glad to meet you," he said cordially. "I've just been trying topersuade Miss Flowers not to attempt a trip into the Baldric."
"What's the Baldric?" I had asked.
Antlers Park flicked the ash from his cheroot and shrugged.
"Will you believe me, sir," he said, "when I tell you I've been outhere on this forsaken moon five years and don't rightly know myself?"
I scowled at that; it didn't make sense.
"However, as you perhaps know, the only reason for colonial activitieshere at all is because of the presence of an ore known as Acoustix.It's no use to the people of Eart