The MERCHANTS Of Venus
By A. H. PHELPS, Jr.
Illustrated by FREAS
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science FictionMarch 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that theU.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The telephone rang. Reluctantly, Rod Workham picked it up. Nothing goodhad come from that phone in six years, and his sour expression wasalmost an automatic reflex.
"Workham here," he said.
He held the phone an inch away from his ear, but the tirade exceeded hisexpectations—it would have been audible a foot away:
"Workham! How long do you think we're going to stand for this! At therate you're going, there won't be a man left on Venus or a dollar in thebudget! What kind of a personnel director are you? Don't you know thisproject is vital to every person on Earth? Thirty more resignations camein on this last mail flight."
Rod put the receiver gently on his desk. General Carlson raved andranted this way every time a colonist quit, and Rod knew he was notexpected to answer, even if given the chance. The general would carry onfor about five minutes and then would slam down the phone himself.
He dialed another number on the other phone.
"This is Rod, Dave," he said when he got an answer. "Carlson is on theother phone, yelling at my desk blotter. He says thirty moreresignations came in just now. That right?"
"Close enough, Rod—twenty-three pulled out. That makes seventy-eightper cent resigned in less than—"
"Spare me the statistics—Carlson's probably blatting them right now.How do they break down? Are they mostly farmers or technicians?"
"There were only nine technicians left, and all of them quit with thisbunch. The rest were farmers." Dave Newson must be smoking his pipe, Roddecided—grinding sounds were coming over the phone. "That doesn't leavevery much on Venus to start a colony with—a few farmers, some trappers.And the scientific personnel—damn it, they seem to stick it out allright—"
"Their contracts are different," Rod reminded him. "They go on a twoyear hitch and then come back to Earth if they want to. The ones who arethere are the ones who can take it and are signed up again."
There was a speculative pause on the other end of the line. "Say, Rod,"Newson said slowly. "Why not leave this last batch of quitters rightwhere they are? Every one of them. They signed up for the project withtheir eyes open. Why don't you just refuse to bring them home? ...they'd have to make a go of the colony to save their filthy necks!"
Rod grinned nastily. "I'd like to do it—but even General Carlsonwouldn't dare. We'd never get another colonist off Earth, once it gotout. They wouldn't trust us. Our first problem is to get aself-supporting society on Venus—and that might do it, all right. Butour main job is to relieve the crowding on Earth, and that means largenumbers of people will have to go willingly later on. If we get toughwith these babies, who will take a chance later on that we won't repeatthe trick?"
"But we lose a hundred potential colonists every time one of thesequitters starts talking about why he left! More harm is done by lettingthem come back than would result from leaving them where they are."Again the speculative pause. "Maybe you could shoot them on arrival?"
"I'll suggest it to the general when I see him," Rod said, "if hedoesn't shoot me first. Now, can you get me the files on this latestgrou