MORAL EQUIVALENT
By KRIS NEVILLE
Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction January 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Why shouldn't a culture mimic another right
down to the last little detail? Because the
last detail may be just that—the final one!
The planet Lanit II had dwindled to a luminous speck. They were inclear space now, at Breakoff Point. Beliakoff held the ship in positionwhile Kelly set dials for the jump into the hyperspatial drift opening,which deep-space men knew as the Slot.
Beliakoff cracked his bony knuckles nervously. "Now, Johnny," he said,"easy this time. Real easy. Gentle her into it. She's not a new ship.She resents being slammed into the Slot."
"She'll take it," Kelly said, with a boyish grin of almost suicidalabandon.
"Maybe she will, but how about us? You sort of creased the Slot gettingus off Torriang. A little closer and—"
"I was still getting the touch. You ought to be glad I'm aninstinctive astrogator."
He set the last dial with a rapid twirl and reached for the kissoffswitch.
"You're out two decimal points," said Beliakoff, who worried about suchtrifles. "Enough to ionize us."
"I know, I know," Kelly grumbled, adjusting the dial. "I was justtouching it for luck. Here we go!"
He depressed the kissoff switch. Beliakoff shut his eyes as the shiplurched Slotward, wishing that Kyne, their government-inspected,college-graduated astrogator was still aboard. Kyne had been an expertat the job. But then, three planets back, he had suddenly gone aftera native stevedore with a micro-edge cleaver, screaming that no dirtyalien would ever marry his daughter.
Kyne had no daughter.
Currently he was confined in Azolith, awaiting transportationEarthside, to a padded little homy room in the Spaceman's Snug Port.
"How about that?" Kelly asked proudly, once the ship was locked inhyperspace. "Superior intelligence and steel nerves do the trick everytime."
"Poor devil, Kyne," Beliakoff sighed.
"A paranoid," Kelly diagnosed. "Did he ever tell you about the plot tokeep him out of the Luna Military Academy?"
"He never talked to me much."
"That's because you're a cold, distant, unsympathetic type," Kellysaid, with a complacent smile. "Me, he told everything. He applied toLuna every year. Studied all the textbooks on military organization,land tactics, sea tactics, space strategy, histories of warfare.Crammed his cabin with that junk. Knew it inside out. Fantastic memory!"
"Why didn't he get in?"
"Hemophilia. He couldn't pass the physical. He thought they wereplotting against him. Still, I'm grateful for the chance at a littleastrogation." With the barest hint of a smile, Kelly said, "Iunderstand it's possible to bring a ship sidewise through the Slot atTerra."
"Please don't try," Beliakoff begged, shuddering. "I knew we shouldhave waited for Kyne's replacement at Mala."
"We'd still be there, with a cargo of kvash turning sour."
"I was afraid it would sour anyhow," Beliakoff said, with a worrier'sknack for finding trouble. "Mala is the slowest loading port this sideof the Rift. I must admit, however, they didn't do badly this time."
"Noticed that, did you?" Kelly asked.
"Hm? Did you find a way of speeding them up?"
"Sure. Gave them Kyne's old dog-ea