Hard-Luck Diggings: The Early Jack Vance, Volume One Read Online Free PDF Page A

kill us both, by poison gas, possibly, or—”
    A splintering crash sounded. A section of the floor broke open, and from the dark gap uncoiled a dull-brown hawser-like object. It threshed, wove, swung toward Rogge and Magnus Ridolph.
    “Wait,” said Magnus Ridolph calmly. “Wait. You are intelligent beings. Wait, listen to what I have to say to you.”
    The great root swung toward them with no pause.
    “Wait,” said Magnus Ridolph calmly. “There will be no clearing and all rubble will be dumped into the bay.”
    The root hesitated, wavered in mid-air.
    “What malignant creatures!” breathed Rogge.
    “Not at all,” said Magnus Ridolph. “They are merely the denizens of a world defending their lives. Cooperation can be to our mutual benefit.” He addressed himself to the root.
    “Inthe future, if the trees will bar the animals from Diggings B and provide fruit at that location, men will in no way harm the trees. All waste will be transported to the ocean. In addition other men will come, discover your needs, make known our own desires. We will form a partnership beneficial to both our species. Men can irrigate and enrich sparse soils, curb insect parasites. Trees can locate minerals for man, synthesize complex organic compounds, grow him fruit.” He paused for a moment. The root lay flaccid on the broken floor.
    “If the trees understand and approve, let the root withdraw.”
    The root shivered, twisted, writhed—pulled itself to the gap in the floor. It was gone.
    Magnus Ridolph turned to the frozen superintendent.
    “There will be no more trouble.”
    Rogge seemed to come awake. He glanced at the splintered floor. “But the killings? Is there to be no punishment? The torment I’ve gone through—”
    Magnus Ridolph surveyed him with cool contempt. “Have not your men cut down many trees?”
    Rogge shook his head. “There’ll be an added expense taking that fill to the bay. I doubt if the diggings will pay. Why, man, with a couple incinerator tubes and a few bulldozerswe could clear off the whole area—” He caught Ridolph’s eye.
    “In my opinion,” said Magnus Ridolph, “you are short-sighted and ruthless. You also flout the law. In fact you are not a fit administrator for this project.”
    Rogge knitted his brow. “What law am I flouting?”
    “The statute created over thirty years ago for the protection and encouragement of friendly autochthones.”
    Rogge said nothing.
    “You will either cooperate completely, or I will request your removal.”
    Rogge looked away. “Perhaps you are right,” he muttered.
    A faint sound came to their ears. Turning, they looked to the gap in the floor. It was fast disappearing. Even as they watched, the splinters, strangely pliant, turned themselves down, knitted to a smooth gleaming surface. Where the gap had been now shone a small gleaming object.
    Magnus Ridolph strode forward, lifted it, displayed it wordlessly to Rogge. It was a complex crystal—blood-colored fire—perfectly formed except on one side, where it had been torn away from its matrix.
    “A ruby, I believe,” said Magnus Ridolph. He looked at the staring superintendent, then coolly returned to his inspection of the jewel.
     
     

Afterword to “Hard-Luck Diggings”
     
    Norma’s parents lived in Colton in southern California, and whenever opportunity offered we would drive down and spend time with them. On one occasion I had an experiment in mind. I was selling stories on a more or less regular basis, but the returns were not astronomical, and I thought to improve the situation by becoming a “million-word-a-year man”. I knocked out two stories in two days, the first of the Magnus Ridolph set. I sent the first drafts, without revision, to my agent Scott Meredith in New York. He sold them at once with no apparent difficulty. So much for the experiment. I was moderately pleased with this sudden gush of productivity, but I realized that in the long haul my temperament was not suited to